Lydia Martin. Beacon Hills' very own beautiful nutcase. Maybe not so much. Stiles was sure of it now. She wasn't a Shifter like them, and she wasn't just some traumatized girl that had run through a freezing forest for two days.
She was something. Something beyond what she was before Peter Hale closed his monstrous jaws around her midsection. Something that was seemingly clairvoyant-- connected to death and it's oncoming ill omens. Shared in images-- feelings, landscapes.
She knew nothing of The Blue-Eyed Beast. Nothing of the Hunters. And even less of the WereWolf Alpha, Derek Hale and his campaign to grow his pack to fend off the plethora of Hunters crawling through the city like rats in a dump.
Even so, she experienced some sort of episode and spoke pure madness into the cafeteria with a scream that was almost inhuman.
Fire over a land of ice. Lively heart over deathly cold.
Within her terrified ramblings Stiles sniffed out the truth.
Boyd. The only person in Beacon Hills' high that he knew worked in the ice rink. Now a possible candidate to join Dereks pack-- and as a result in the sights of the Hunters who wanted Derek as badly as they wanted the Blue-Eyed Beast.
Fire over a land of ice. Chaos in-between. Not good.
"Iles-- Stiles, stop!" Scott yelled, snapping Stiles out of his own mind as he raised his leg and stuck it into Stiles place to stomp the brakes.
The blue death machine on wheels skittered to a screeching stop as it slid over the cracked road leading toward the ice rink that loomed in the distance. The thick thunderclouds overhead only made the dark street and building feel more ominous.
They were still a few hundred feet away from it. But his car would take them no further due to the line of armored black jeeps blocking off the rest of the road like they were suddenly placed in a low budget crime film.
Speaking of crime, the sound of silenced gunshots rang out from the ice rink. A steady pitter patter with an occasional single pop and roar.
"Chaos in between...." Stiles mumbled in memory of Lydia's words.
"Looks like you were right." Scott said.
Stiles nodded in the silence.
"Let's go." Scott added before preparing to leave the jeep.
Stiles grabbed him by the shoulder, "What's the plan? Just based off how many cars are blocking this road, we're already dealing with more Hunters than ever. We can't just waltz through in the name of shapeshifter heroics."
Scott looked around before letting his eyes fall back on Stiles, "We have a plan..."
"..."
Stiles replied with a wave of his arms in an erratic and nerve-heavy motion that soundlessly conveyed the words, "Well what is it?"
"Fight off any Hunters we see. Get Boyd out."
Stiles growled as he let his face fall into his hands.
"Why-- Scott why are you f--" Stiles words were cut short as somebody began knocking on the window.
The heavy tap shocked them both considering they didn't hear a thing.
Stiles looked over to his window and found a police officer standing in the darkness. At least that's what he assumed; he couldn't make out much of the man's features due to the heavy-duty flashlight the man aimed at them. It's brightness potent enough to make Stiles sweat. Or maybe that was his nerves.
The smell of gunpowder and blood tended to do that to him.
Blood....
"This area for about another mile is currently under the control of local law enforcement, so I'm going to need you boys to go back the way you came." The officer said, his English accent was nothing short of surprising.
Before Stiles could say anything, an electronic buzzing sound shook the silence.
"--heck their identification. We've been instructed to watch out for a pair of male highschoolers that were seen exiting Beacon Hill's High School, over."
It took Stiles a moment to realize he was hearing the man's earpiece. He turned and found Scott with a similar expression.
"Before you leave, I'm going to need to see some identification. Sorry lads, it's a requirement for these types of things. Paperwork."
"Right...." Stiles replied hesitantly.
As he began searching through his car for Id's with Scott-- to buy themselves time, another cacophony of shots echoed down the dark stormy street followed by another inhuman roar.
"..."
"Awe.... bloody hell." The officer sighed.
Stiles looked up just in time to hear the sound of sharp metal grinding against an equally hard surface.
Immediately, the light fell and gave way to an imposing man lunging at his window with a shimmering silver blade pointed straight at him.
"WOA--" Stiles yelled, trying his best to avoid the silver blade as it busted through his window and slashed across his cheek.
As it ripped through his skin, the fake officer let out a yelp as if he felt Stile's pain. The blade dropped inside his car soon after and the smell of blood rose.
Without looking to find out what happened, Stiles kicked his door opened and rolled out onto the pavement, searching the darkness for his attacker with glowing eyes.
At the hood of his car, the man that previously wielded the silver sword limped away with an arrow through his knee.
Before he could get far, a black blur crashed into him and knocked him off his feet.
Scott didn't waste any time after tackling the man and sent a single punch to his face that knocked him out cold immediately.
The two looked around for the source of the arrow shot but found nothing as it began to rain. Stiles could feel Scott's anxiety rise at the thought of Alison being anywhere near such a place as this.
"Let's go get Boyd." Scott growled as he rose up from the Hunter.
"Yea-- so we're just going to ignore how he was wielding a sword? Ok, great." Stiles sighed before all his comedic fluff left his body in preparation for what was to come.
***
A half an hour later and the sounds of gunfire and roars only grew louder. So loud in fact that it was almost stunning every time Scott heard it.
Being less than a dozen feet from the source tended to do that to a shapeshifters ears.
They were in the mix now. In quite a literal sense.
Reaching the ice rink was like stepping into a different world.
Bodies littered the ice in droves, their blood mixing and freezing over the cold surface. Other Hunters slid and stomped around the rink, barking orders at each other as they fired at them. Their source of cover kept them out of harm's way, but it wouldn't forever. The massive grey ice resurfacer was already filled with bullet holes. Much like Derek..... well almost.
"Stop moving!" Scott yelled as he tried to rip pieces from his long-sleeved shirt to tie around Derek's grisly flesh wounds.
"We need to get out of here...." Derek mumbled from beneath the overpowering spray of gunfire.
"We need to get Boyd out first. You know Boyd? The one you put in danger?" Scott growled at the Alpha.
"It won't matter..." Derek mumbled.
"What?"
Derek's eyes flared with anger for a moment, "It won't matter if he's changed or not. None of it will matter if we can't grow our numbers fast enough! There's too many of them! Why won't you help me when we need more numbers!"
Just as he finished speaking, Stiles slid to a stop behind the vehicular ice-cleaning machine beside Derek.
"He's not wrong." Stiles mumbled as blood dripped from his cheek and shoulder.
For a moment, Scott felt hopeless from beneath the gunfire and smells of blood. They were falling behind.
And the Hunters were only growing.
Even now, as Derek lay bleeding out beside him. And Stiles held enough fear in his eyes to make Scott sick, he couldn't help but still feel the need to try.
He came to get Boyd out. Boyd was innocent. So was Erica-- and he failed her. More than anything, he wanted to make a difference this time.
The only problem was the dozens of Hunters inside and outside of the rink trying to kill them.
"There just isn't enough of us." Derek restated with a sigh.
Following his words, a bone-chilling roar shook the plastic windows surrounding the rink. It's sound was both leonine and howlish like that of a wolf.
The shots stopped for a moment.
"The hell was that?" One of the Hunters said.
"Not a WereWolf." Another replied as he reloaded his weapon briskly.
"Maybe it's a L--"
Before the Hunter could finish his words, something slammed into the transparent barriers surrounding the rink.
The sound was so close to Scott he flinched, looking up from where he sat just in time to see a dead Hunter sliding down the plastic surface. His blood leaving a trail of red as he disappeared.
The shifting of fabric and metals told Scott the Hunters had their weapons raised once more. They couldn't take much more gunfire.
"Come on.... where are yo--"
Another body, thrown into the barrier with a loud bang. Now on the opposite side of the rink.
Something was in the shadows. And it was fast.
"Form up!" One of the Hunters yelled.
Following his words, another body hit. Then another..... and another. The chaos continued until Scott wondered if any more Hunters could be dead. And what killed them?
"Show yourself, you filthy mutt!!" One of the Hunters yelled.
Another leonine roar shook the ground, followed by a blur moving in the shadows and busting through the plastic barriers next to Scott.
The three WereWolves dropped to the iced floors as the transparent shards flew at them and shattered further upon hitting the floor.
It was like an explosion. Scott's ears even rung faintly as he looked up just in time to see the creature land.
On.... shoeless feet. Not even human feet. Instead they were something between monster and man with raised heels, padded soles and hooked claws. Even so, it wore pants that were ripped and torn along with a black hoodie that looked ready to rip as it stretched over it's massive back.
Scott almost didn't notice who it was until Stiles spoke.
"Marco!"
The monster turned to look at them while he held up two Hunter corpses like shields to absorb the gunfire coming his way.
He spoke in a voice, deep and brutish but understandable.
"Get that human out of here and stay out of my way. The Warlocks are mine!"