Friday March 11th, Beacon Hills Highschool.
There was two. As if one evolved Kanima monstrosity powered by ancient Warlock Runes wasn't enough. Another was active in Beacon Hills. Probably running alongside Marco in the shadows on his quest for revenge.
His sisters often told him he was too singleminded. They said it made him a good hunter, but after hearing word of the second Kanima, he was immediately aware of such an attributes weakness. He'd been blindsided by the chaos the town of Beacon Hills attracted.
Even the wilds of Africa were more tame under his families watch. The Grey Lions held a menacing paw over it all. Here, there was nothing. Not yet. But it was coming. Marco just needed to get them stronger. And get everything else out of the way.
Like the second Kanima. Stiles said he went by Jackson. Marco had been near the student athlete a few times. Arrogant, smelled of Lydia. Short. But he also smelled of blood— dirtied and infected. Not too strong, an undertone merely accompanying his presence.
Marco could've punched himself. If he would've known earlier he could've twisted his head off and simplified things then. Maybe it was good he hadn't since certain developments were only recently learned.
Like the camera he looked up at from his seat in the Library. They were everywhere. Watching him and the other Shifters like hawks. Gerard Argent manned them. Like a giant fly, it's many lenses taking note of the things crowding its world.
Only Gerard was no fly.
And Marco wasn't crowding his world. He was destroying it.
Part of that meant removing the Kanima. Removing Jackson.
He watched him in the Library with his Lacrosse buddies. They were doing homework….. more like having someone do it for them. Jackson did his alone though while he clutched a box of tissues like it was life or death. He was paranoid, but immersed in his work.
Marco was too. He scrolled through his computer screen, reading over recent assaults and Murders in Beacon Hills. Previously he chalked it all up to the Warlocks trying to paint the Beast as a senseless killer. Maybe it was. But now he wasn't so sure. Some of them had to be Jackson.
The one report he read into the most extensively happened only a day ago. Scratch that, twelve hours prior. At a commonly known gay nightclub, a number of people were attacked. Blood tests showed a potent amount of paralytic agents in their bloodstream alongside copious amounts of alcohol and other damaging substances.
"Americans…" Marco commented.
He continued reading, finding one of the named victims in a forum discussing the topic. Danny. People said he was Jackson's friend, his best friend as a matter of fact.
But for the Kanima, friendship meant nothing. Kanima's were weapons before they were shifters. At least that's how they started. In the same way WereWolves, Onurians, Naguals, and all other Shifters needed packs, Kanima's needed a master. And their masters will was law.
Oddly enough, the law must've been broken this time around. None of the momentarily paralyzed victims died. At least not immediately. There was one woman that died though. Kara Simmons. Amongst all the men paralyzed, Kara was the only one killed.
Jackson coughed loudly and pulled Marco from his readings.
He wouldn't get much more information as it was. But he did have a new mystery to unfold. Kara Simmons. Why her? Finding out why it killed her and where she fit in a pattern would lead him to the Kanima's handler.
But right now, he needed the Kanima. Gone.
He sent the computer files to his phone and got up from his seat at the back of the Library. The moment he was up and moving, eyes followed him like starved hounds.
He checked the clock in the Library as it hung over the dozens of tables ahead. One-forty. School would be out soon. Scott was talking to Gerard aboht how worried he felt for Allison. Appeal to the Argents strong family connection, get his crusty old eyes off the cameras.
Marco didn't have a lot of time. Good thing he didn't need it.
He took off his leather jacket, allowing his muscled frame to expand in his blue t-shirt. He pulled the band out of his hair and let his dreads fall around his shoulders. Intimidation was a game of appearances.
The Lacrosse students were watching him a dozen steps before he made it to them.
He loomed over them in the silence, staring before finally settling his eyes on Jackson.
His skin was unblemished. Hair perfectly combed and gelled. Knuckles never felt the impact of combat. It was hard to believe one of the deadliest kinds of shifter slithered beneath it all. Then he looked up at him. If only for a moment. He saw the cold blooded interior.
"Somebody broke into your car, Jackson."
His arrogant face scrunched up into confusion, "Wh- How would you know you've been here as long as I have."
"I just saw it happen in an online forum for Beacon Hills Highschool. It could still be happening actually."
Lying on the spot wasn't Marco's strong suit. Luckily Scott told him how much Jackson loved his car.
The student was on his feet in a flash, "You better not be lying to me!" He aimed his finger in Marco's direction as if it were a Warlocks pure silver blade.
He was on the move soon after.
Marco stalked in the distance. Making sure only to follow after Jackson passed through one camera zone so it wasn't so easily ascertained that he was following. If Gerard was still watching that is.
Marco could only hope Scott was doing his job as he silently pushed through the doors out of Beacon Hills high-school.
He could hear Jackson yelling curses as he jogged over to his car in a rage. The Porsche was perfectly fine. Just as he left it in the morning. Glistening and standing out from the other dusty old cars driven by teenagers. Only now Stiles sat on the hood, pretending it was a mistake as Jackson approached.
"Hey— Jackson, looking good and healthy! Doing anything different with your skin? New diet maybe???? Dj's aren't really my style but I won't judge hehe…" Stiles rambled nervously. Despite his changes he was still slightly scared of the cliched American bully. Maybe even more so now that he knew what Jackson was.
"The hell are you saying?! You know what, that doesn't matter. I'm going to kick my foot so far up your ass you're gonna cough up shoe laces!" Jackson snarled and swung at Stiles.
Stiles with all his immense speed leapt backward, landing back on the hood of Jackson's car in an agile crouch. His eyes glowed faintly with the rise of his adrenaline.
But he wasn't looking at Jackson as he huffed in a rage in front of his car. Stiles was looking at who stood behind him.
"Please don't make me play decoy anymore."
Jackson didn't even get a chance to consider what happened as a massive weighted object smashed into the back of his head and sent him to the ground in an unconscious heap.
"God damn!" Stiles cringed in response while grabbing his face, "I see why you didn't want Scott to be decoy."
"Pacifists irritate me." Marco said as he picked up his guitar case and slung it back over his shoulder.
Stiles questioned the weight of the case and what kind of guitar could actually be in there if any as he watched Marco pick up Jackson.
"Windows?" Marco questioned.
Stiles turned to view the windows of Beacon Hills that peaked into a few of the students classes.
All blinds pulled. Isaac did his job. As a delinquent it wasn't entirely unlike him to pull off some mid level bafoonery. Even if it was oddly specific. It was just another day.
"Let's get to the truck and wait for Scott and Isaac. We meet up with Derek at the Warehouse." Marco explained.
And then they were off with one of two Kanima captured. The thought of it just made Marco even hungrier for the real threat.