By the time Alison arrived back home, the night sky had reached its darkest tones with the passing of midnight. Sirens in the distance became a steady distant cry that reminded her of the war she'd fled from no longer than an hour ago. Her hands still shook from it all. And as she sat at the side of her bed still wearing her long-coat and deep hood, tears fell from her eyes at the memory of it all.
Bodies everywhere....
Gun shots like fireworks. Popping, cutting, killing. Deafening her ears.
Roars. Scott and Stiles covered in cuts and bruises. Marco being beaten by the winged Monster only for the Blue-Eyed Beast and Erica to nearly rip it to shreds before being drowned in fire.
"Stop..... stop crying, dammit." She told herself before wiping her tears.
Sitting did nothing but let the thoughts fester. So, she got up and shrugged off her gear to comfortably pace about her room. Despite her current state, she'd done her job. And she was happy Marco chose her as a contact. She almost didn't expect him to text her after Lydia's cafeteria incident. But as soon as she got the message, she was on the move.
And she was able to do something. She was able to help Scott. But it wasn't enough. Shooting from the shadows could only do so much though.
And crying in her room did nothing. Her Aunt Kate's voice still an infective personality clinging to the back of her consciousness, questioning whether she was strong enough to handle this world..... if a few dead heartless hunters were enough to break her. It wasn't. She was strong enough. She was. Damned if she wasn't.
After a few minutes, she stashed away her gear, including her light padding, coat, bow and arrows. Her knives stayed out. She held one as she scrolled through her phone in the darkness. It calmed her to have it with her. Its weight so balanced and simple. As life had never been.
She checked her messages, sent another three messages to Scott who still hadn't responded and read over some old ones between them. It was as she was doing this that another message notification appeared at the top of her screen.
"Marco: Good shooting. But next time, shoot that fucker in the eyes."
Alison stiffened at the message, remembering how he got knocked out by the winged creature. She stuck to the shadows but tried her best to get to him in time, maybe perform medical aid or simply confirm that he was alive. The punch sent him through multiple walls...
But when she went to find him among the rubble, all she found was a torn hoodie left steaming on the floor. And then the howls came. They sounded so familiar.
She froze as her phone screen began to show he was typing. Sounds outside her door had her rushing underneath her cover. Her stationed guards coming to check once again.
She sent a final message before they made it to her door.
"Where did you go, Marco?"
Left on read.
***
"Where is Marco?" Stiles asked as he adjusted his position on the veterinarian operating table. The movement caused his stitches to pull at his skin and get a pained groan out of him.
"Stop moving." Deaton said on the other side of the room as he operated on his final patient. Derek.
"We checked where he last was.... nothing. We kept an eye out as best we could on the road. He must've run off the second he could." Derek said in-between pained growls as Deaton stitched closed the thick flesh wound in his back.
"I may not really know him.... but running doesn't sound like a thing he does." Scott said from beside Stiles.
"As a matter of fact, you know him better than any of us. You know with him being your work partner and all." Deaton said, "And I must say, you're right. Marco is far too confrontational and strong headed to run. Even if it was a ..."
"WereDragon." The three shifters said in unison.
Deaton nodded, "Right. Even if it was a.... WereDragon, that attacked you all."
"You still haven't found anything in your books....?" Scott asked.
Deaton shook his head, "I don't even know where to begin. Winged Shifters are a rarity. One's that breathe fire and have poisonous insides is unheard of."
Scott looked over at Derek at the far end of the room lined with animal x-rays and cabinets.
"I have no idea what that was. But it was strong enough to take on multiple Shifters.... and it's seemingly fully controlled by the Hunters."
Stiles got up off his metal bed, limping around the room painfully as he scratched his head, "Oh come on! Somebody has to know what this thi--"
Before he could even finish speaking, the front door burst open. Immediately the smell of old blood, fur and sand filled the room.
"No way...." Stiles muttered as Marco lumbered into the room, shirtless and covered in blood.
"It's a Canima. It's a god damned Canima." Marco said before he began digging through the cabinets uncaring of the many eyes on him.
"Stop staring." He growled while he hid his arm covered in black wrapings.
Nevermind.
"Druid, where are the staplers?"
"Marco, lower drawer-- no, to your left." Deaton replied calmly as Marco rummaged through the cabinets before pulling out a stapler.
With his massively scarred back to them, he began stapling his wounds closed. Each click resulted in an angered growl. They all stood in silence for a moment before he partially turned to aim one eye at Scott and the others.
"Why are you still here?"
"Why are you just getting here? Where did you go?" Scott asked.
"Wait-- did you just say Druid?" Stiles muttered.
"How do you know it was a Canima? That looked nothing like a Canima." Derek said from the back of the room.
"Do you have any evidence to prove your claims? Something for me to study-- a picture maybe?" Deaton's voice raised over the others, urgency lining his careful crafted patient tone.
Marco punched together another wound with the stapler before he dug into his pocket and pulled out a ripped piece of fabric. It was wet, smelled funny.
He briefly turned to hand it to Deaton before turning to hide his arm once more. "It's claws were coated in a paralytic agent, and without the wings, horns and odd coloring, it would look more familiar. I think it's evolved.... and then some. Fuck."
Deaton looked as deep in thought as ever before he left the room. A few seconds later, he returned with a book and as he flipped through the pages, his eyes moved like eight balls on a pool table. Until he stopped, assumedly on a page pertaining to Canima's.
"Did it look like this?" Deaton showed the paper to Scott, Stiles and Derek.
"They nodded faintly."
Deaton closed the book and pinched the bridge of his nose.
Scott had never seen him so close to pure agitation.
"A fully evolved Canima in Beacon Hills.... controlled by Hunters who don't care how innocent of a Shifter you are..." Deaton mumbled.
The four Shifters sat in silence. Stiles left to remember seeing Scott facing off against the Monster alone on the first Full Moon. How easily it could've killed them. Scott being served memories of Stiles nearly dead.
Deaton looked up at them. So disconnected and caught up in their own issues. Derek eager to grow his power as Alpha. Stiles simply wanting to survive. Scott wanting to save the innocents. Marco, a mystery all on his own from lands far from here. So different.
"Don't you know what this means?" He said to them.
"What?" Scott was the only one to speak as Marco continued to staple his wounds shut.
"They're declaring war. It's undoubtably clear. Kate dies at the hands of a vengeful Shifter. Kate, royalty in the Hunter world. And now, reinforcements have arrived. They aren't here to get revenge. This is an assault less derived from passion, and solely built upon the idea of complete genocide. Decimation. I wouldn't be surprised if Humans are at risk as well. They have to be with something as volatile as a Canima in their ranks."
"So what?" Scott asked.
"So, we need to respond." Deaton said. He was met by silence causing him to continue until they got the point, "You almost died tonight because of your own differences and petty infighting. You will die if you keep this up. You got lucky. Luck runs out first in a war of attrition, and that it will be if you continue as you have. They'll hunt and run you all down one by one."
Marco suddenly looked up at what Deaton was implying.
"The Hunters have come to fight-- joined by beings of similar form and goals. It's paramount that you all do the same. Or you will die."