Cars were a forgotten concept to the Beast Pack in the last three months. But if you ever needed to blend in with society, it was better to approach a building miles from any known places in a car than on foot. And without running shoes.
So, they jammed themselves into two cars and hauled off towards the Beacon Hills Hospital. Answers awaited.
"Does this blue garbage heap go any faster, Stiles?" Victoria asked as she sat behind Scott in the passenger seat.
"Uhhh… no I haven't gotten the engine fixed. You know, busy watching out for a pack of Alphas and stuff like that." Stiles retorted as something underneath the dented hood sputtered and started smoking.
"Oh for fucks sake." Marco growled.
"Everybody relax, alright. We've got to approach this with a clear and direct mind."
"I'm clear." Marco replied.
"I'm quite direct." Victoria added.
Stiles pursed his lips as he switched lanes in the dark of night.
"Scott."
Scott turned away from his window.
"Do your inspiring alpha speech and save the day, please."
"I agreed with what you said. Plus, no matter what happens, we'll do what needs to be done."
Stiles gripped the steering wheel tighter, "what does that mean?"
Scott looked down at his left hand, remembering the feeling— the burn. It never left, just changed at times. And currently, it felt….. hotter than ever.
"I don't know but I've had a bad feeling ever since that call ended."
Finally, Stiles sped up. Derek had no problem matching his speed from behind.
***
Beacon Hills Hospital stood over them in no time. Nearby ambulances screeched as they careened down the narrow road the group just came from. The smells of blood and pain wafted from the automatic slide doors ahead of them like…. ghosts fleeing a house of horrors.
That's what hospitals were like for Marco.
Horror.
He didn't have Hospitals like the one he currently approached back home.
His pride functioned as an Anti-Poaching Unit working alongside ex-military branches from Europe. They had similar things made from meager scraps and barely functioning donations. But like all Hospitals, pain was held inside like air in a balloon. Just waiting to pop in all its bloody screaming glory.
Marco clenched his jaw and stepped through the slide doors with everyone else.
Once inside, the bustling activity slowed as the shifters presence was felt by their subconscious mind. The counter workers eyed them suspiciously before Stiles jogged over.
"Hey. We're here for Isaac?"
The counter worker typed away on her computer as the Sheriffs Deputies sized up Marco before busying themselves elsewhere.
"Are you Scott?" The lady asked.
"I am." Scott stood beside Stiles. "Scott McCall."
"Great. May I see some ID?"
Scott dug into his wallet and pulled out his ID.
"Great, top floor room three-seventeen."
They took off as people on crutches and in wheelchairs passed them on their way to the elevator.
More pain.
Marco would need a good nights run and possibly listening to Kat vent about her latest cringey American romance novel after all of this.
They filled the elevator like water in a cup. Erica took the liberty of squeezing up between Stiles and Marco.
"Nice and snug." Erica purred.
"Really? You're flirty here? Can't you feel the pain?" Stiles asked while trying his best not to look down her low cut shirt.
"Hey! If you can make jokes when you're nervous, I can be sexy." Erica retorted as the lights behind the numbers of floors they traveled progressed.
"Hm….. weirdly enough that's fair." Stiles succumbed and leaned his head against the wall to watch the ceiling. It was then that his blood went cold.
"Hm…"
Marco could smell his discomfort even in a landfill. It had a particular feel to it.
His dreads danced on his shoulders as he turned to look over to him before following his eyes up to the ceiling as well.
The hatch was missing. Not flipped open either— he knew that because he could see where the lever was ripped off completely.
"Awe damn…" Stiles muttered.
Marco grunted before casually reaching up with one arm and pulling himself up through the opened hatch.
Once on top, the sounds of the box ripping its way up the metal wires was magnified almost to a deafening degree. But even more so he could feel the space between himself and the dark metal ceiling shrink.
He worked diligently in using his Feline eyes to see what he could.
Scratches. That was it. Passive scratches his family called them. Nothing intended to damage or maim— often seen when Crocodiles enter a sprint on land. Or when Lions have played somewhere. Signs of nails on earth.
What did that mean in an elevator instead of a savanna or desert?
The answer was clear.
Marco dropped back down through the hatch to everyone looking at him as the doors of the elevator opened.
"We're taking Isaac. Be ready for a fight."
Everyone steeled themselves and exited the elevator.
The top floor of the hospital was as busy as the others. There was nothing unnatural or suspicious about it. Maybe that made it worse. It left them to question every man and woman in gown and scrubs. Nostrils flaring and taking in the sanitized hospital winds constantly. Fingers itching with the withhold of their claws. Gums hot. Eyes moving like pins in a casino slot machine.
Room three-seventeen came after what felt like years of travel down a single white walled hallway.
The whole area between room three seventeen and eighteen was swarmed by cops and nurses, waiting. Marco didn't know why until he overhead their conversation while Stiles tried to hide inside Erica's leather jacket from his father.
"Ok well when she wakes up, call me please. I need answers for that stun gun and the property damage stemming from all the way outside of the city. Looks like she drove her way here with an anvil the size of a ship anchor tied to her bike." Sherif Stilinski said to the head Nurse, Scott's mother.
Then he took off, leaving four of his stationed officers. Two for each door. He was so focused he didn't even notice Stiles with his head up the back of Erica's jacket.
"Ok now get the hell out of there weirdo!" Erica shoved him out.
"Hey guys….." Melissa said as she noticed them approach. It took her a moment to take everyone in and lose her smile, "Wow…. What a group. V-Victoria?"
"It's a long story." Scott explained.
"We need to see Isaac." Marco finished.
"Marco, correct?"
She remembered.
"Yes, ma'am." Marco nodded.
"Come on in." Mellisa opened the door and led them into Isaac's room.
The lights were low. Blinds closed. He was sweating through his blankets.
"I kept him sedated but it's not doing much— and I closed the blinds…. I don't know if the moon would make him…. You know. Go furry?" Mellisa panicked in her whispered explanation.
Then everyone turned to look at her. The inhuman reflection of light from their eyes made her gulp.
"Please never refer to it as, go furry, again Ms. McCall." Stiles commented. "Also it's not a Full Moon."
"A for effort, mom." Scott said before they all approached Isaac and the lights turned on.
Marco torn off his blanket. "He doesn't need excess sweat. His body needs the fluids it can use while also burning the others."
"What's happening?" Mellisa asked as Marco lifted his bandages to study the glowing wounds.
"Alphas hit…. Cut… bite harder in every way. As a result, damage from them takes longer to heal. Plus Isaac isn't Full Synthesized. So it'll be even harder to heal. But he's almost their. He'll survive, of course."
"You hear that, noodle-arms? You made it." Erica patted his forehead.
"I don't know if the same can be said for the girl he rode in with." Mellisa commented.
"Girl?" Victoria asked.
"The one with the stun gun. She's a Hunter— Bounty Hunter, makes more sense. Considering she's alone." Marco filled in.
Melissa nodded, "she's not lucid now but—"
"She's awake." Derek said as he waited by the door next to Victoria.
Everyone else nodded in agreement.
Scott pointed to his chest to help with his mothers confusion.
"You can hear her heartbeat….?"
Marco looked to Victoria and Derek. "Let's go speak to her."
They nodded and headed for the door.
"Get Isaac on his feet we need to get out now. Scott take your mother with you." Marco said flatly before exiting.
Upon entering the Bounty Hunters room she exploded from her bed and threw a knife at Marco. He caught it tossed the knife into the trash before she raised her hands.
"You're not them. S-sorry….. I can't take risks."
"Fair enough." Marco growled as he studied her.
She was an adult. Young. Around Derek's age. Despite her battered condition she was pretty— in a rugged way. Dark almond skin, brown hair given a smooth sheen from natural oils and life on the road. He could see her with a shotgun strapped to her back as she sped through cities on a motorcycle.
Now she was in Beacon Hills. No more motorcycle. No shotgun.
"What's your name?"
"Braeden."
Victoria nodded and reached out with an open hand, "My name is Victoria. Why don't you tell us what happened?"
Braeden swallowed— terror built itself behind her eyes like a corpse rising from the dead on rickety legs.
"They said they wanted the Wolf and the Coyote….. oh my god." Braedens hands flew to her head in a panic.
"What's the matter?" Derek asked, clearly concerned.
"We brought you straight to the—" Before she could finish her words, all the lights inside the Hospital went out in a flash.
Screams followed on que.
Marco growled and busted out of the room only for police to push him back in as they made their way down the halls speaking into their walkies.
"Braeden— what did the Alpha Pack say? What happened!" Marco snarled.
"UGHSH!" One of the cops was snatched into a room four doors down. The other opened fire. Bang bang bang. Nothing. A thickly muscled black arm shot out of the room and gripped his face, crushing it like old fruit.
"What did they say, woman I swear to the gods."
Braeden spoke, "They were asking for the Wolf and the Coyote…. And and…"
"And the Grey Lion." Marco added as the WereWolf stepped out of his room, feeding on the brain and skull fragments of the dead officer.
"No." Braeden whimpered, "They said they already had the Grey Lion."
Marco couldn't appropriately react as he was drawn out into the hallway.
What stood before him was an impressive specimen. Something like the Wolves of the North he remembered the stories about.
Seven feet tall. Heavy enough to make the floor creak with his breaths. Steam spilled from his canine snout as frothy saliva dropped off his sabered fangs and black jowls. All connected to a human head. Buzzed. Probably ex military…. And very sadistic based on the flaming red gleam emanating from his eyes.
"Hi." His voice was like hell given its own word and sound. He could smell the dead patients on his breath.
"You stink." Marco commented.
"So do you, cat boy….. oh look, you brought entrees."
Marco's ears twitched as the others spilled out of their rooms.
He wanted to reply but Braeden whispered something else.
"They said the Grey Lion was a woman…"
He froze. His lungs felt heavy— sinking down into his stomach. Sinking. Everything was sinking. The floor. His heart. His sanity.
The WereWolf down the hall laughed like a jackal— as if he could smell what Marco had realized.
"You tell me where my Mother is now and I'll rip you in half quickly."