REV. LAURA VAIL FREGIN
The guns are raised, the cold metal barrels aimed at the terrified worshippers. Cries of fear rise, faces turned away, tears streaming down cheeks. I remain defiant, my faith unshaken even as death stares them down.
JOHN BROWN
As soon as we're out of the building, with smiles still lingering, I catch the sound of squawks and gunfire. My heart races. Those sounds are unmistakable. Thirty men, armed and dangerous, have stormed a church nearby, terrorizing the congregation and demanding they deny their faith.
Kevin's hand lands on my shoulder. "Hey. What's going on?" He notices the shift in my demeanor, concern clouding his features. "Everything okay?"
"Not even close," I reply, urgency sharpening my voice. "There are terrorists in a church nearby. They're threatening to kill everyone inside unless they deny their God. I've got to go. Now."
Kevin's eyes widen in shock. "Oh God... What do you need me to do?"
"I need you to cover for me. If anyone asks, you didn't see me, got it?"
Kevin nods, resolute. "Got it. Be careful."
"Thanks. Good luck."
I take off at 1600 mph, arriving at a hidden spot near the church within seconds. From my vantage point, I can see all thirty terrorists stationed outside, guns trained on the building's exits. I waste no time. Kicking off my shoes and stashing them safely, I shift into my green near-human form, my brow ridged, fangs extending, eyes blazing red. I can feel the surge of power in my claws as I prepare to strike.
I move quickly, silently, using the chaos of their gunfire to my advantage. I slash through tires, rip off car doors, and mangle engines with my teeth. The terrorists are clueless, their eyes darting around in confusion.
"What the hell was that?!" one of them shouts, fear creeping into his voice.
"Damn thing's too fast!" another one yells, his panic clear.
Seizing the moment, I lift a car and hurl it at them with all my strength. The explosion is deafening, and six of them are taken out in an instant, their bodies crumpling in a twisted heap. Six down. Twenty-four to go.
The survivors regroup, spraying bullets wildly in every direction. They're terrified, but they manage to reload. Four of them are quick, but not quick enough. I dash forward, my claws ready, and slam the first one with a powerful kick that sends him flying. The second one doesn't even have time to scream before I twist his neck with a sharp snap. The third man barely registers what's happening before my claws rip through his throat, his blood spraying out in an arc. The fourth terrorist, desperate, throws a knife at me, but I catch it mid-air and toss it aside. I grab his leg and drag him at lightning speed, his face shredding against the ground. Then, I fling him into a vehicle, the impact snapping his spine. Four more down. Twenty left. I reveal myself fully, striding toward the next target with a menacing grin. He shoots at me, his hands trembling, but the bullets do nothing. My wounds heal instantly, and his terror is palpable. I rip the gun from his grip, and when he pulls out a knife, I dodge his wild swings and knock the blade away. Grabbing him by the shoulders, I tear open his stomach with my claws, his intestines spilling out as he falls to his knees. I don't stop there—I twist his head around and rip off his face. One more down. Nineteen to go.
The remaining terrorists are a mix of terror and rage. They sweat through their clothes, their confidence shattered. Some drop their weapons, surrendering to the inevitable. But five of them, driven by sheer stubbornness, reload and continue firing. Their shots are frantic, their aim wild. But they're fighting a losing battle, and they know it.
REV. LAURA VAIL FREGIN
Fourteen terrorists rush the altar, yelling in Arabic, their leader's eyes fixed on me with a menacing glare. "Who have you summoned to kill us? Who? Answer me!"
I stand firm, meeting his gaze. "Brethren, I have no one to call but my Lord Jesus Christ. We've called His name in faith, and He is answering."
The leader sneers. "You think your God can save you? Your God died long ago. No one's coming to save you."
"You're wrong," I reply, my voice steady. "For it is written, 'I am He that liveth, and was dead; and behold, I am alive forevermore...'"
"Shut up!" he barks, raising his gun threateningly.
But I don't flinch. "No, I won't. My God will never abandon me. 'He that dwelleth in the secret place of the most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty...' Jesus is standing at the door of your heart. Open it, and let Him in today—"
"I said shut up!" He slams the gun next to my head, his anger boiling over. "You can preach that nonsense to the weaklings."
"Please, don't kill her. Take me instead," Reverend Richard pleads, stepping forward.
I shake my head. "Fear not, Richard. 'Blessed are you when they revile and persecute you...'"
Before I can finish, the sound of gunfire erupts. Glass shatters, and the bodies of two terrorists crash through the windows. The congregation gasps, the fear palpable, but then a low, guttural roar reverberates through the air. It's not the sound of any ordinary creature. The few terrorists who try to flee beg for their lives, but whatever's out there shows no mercy. One by one, they're taken down.
The remaining terrorists inside, shaken and terrified, aim their weapons at the church entrance, bracing for whatever's coming. But instead of a beast, a young boy steps inside, barefoot, his clothes riddled with bullet holes, though there isn't a scratch on him. Blood stains his hands and lips, and the sight leaves us all bewildered.
The leader bursts into laughter, the others joining in. "Is this your savior? Your God?" he mocks, gesturing at the boy.
The boy remains unfazed. "No. I'm just a friendly neighborhood guy, here to rescue His people."
"His people?" The leader chuckles. "So, your God sent you? Turned you into His errand boy?"
The boy tilts his head slightly. "Yeah... something like that. But I'm not here for chit-chat. I'm here to tell you to let them go. Free these people, and you'll be safe."
The leader smirks. "You think you're Moses? Telling Pharaoh to let his people go? Listen carefully—I am Kareem, not Pharaoh. And you'd better leave now."
"What if I don't?"
"Then I'll order my men to finish you."
The boy's lips curl into a knowing smile. "You heard the screams, the gunshots, the... carnage outside. Your men tried to kill me. They failed. You really think these ones will do any better?"
Kareem's expression hardens. He barks orders in Arabic, and his men open fire. Bullets tear through the air, slamming into the boy's chest and stomach. The congregation shrieks, some dropping to their knees, but I remain still, clinging to my faith.
As the gunfire dies down, the boy lies motionless on the floor, his body limp. The leader holds up his hand, signaling his men to stop and wait, watching for any sign of life. The tension is thick, suffocating. Then, suddenly, the boy's eyes snap open, glowing a fierce red. His skin turns green, healing rapidly as he rises, his clothes ripping apart as he grows in size. His face elongates into a snout, his ears sharpen, and his teeth become razor-sharp fangs. His roar shakes the very walls of the church.
"Who are you?" I whisper, awe-struck.
"I am Lycon Wolf," he growls in a deep, rumbling voice.
"Shoot him! Shoot him now!" one of the terrorists yells, and they unleash another barrage of bullets. But this time, the bullets bounce off him, his body impervious to their attack.
"Fear not, my people," I call out, my voice carrying over the chaos. "The terrorists are wasting their time. My God has made this creature indestructible."
The congregation murmurs in disbelief, struggling to comprehend what they're seeing.
"What the hell is that thing?" one of the terrorists shouts, panic setting in.
Another terrorist pulls the pin on a stun grenade and hurls it at Lycon Wolf. He catches it, waiting as it explodes in his hand. The smoke clears, revealing him still standing, unharmed. They fire tear gas next, but he snatches it with his fangs, bursting it open before the gas can spread.
The terrorists freeze, realizing they're out of options. Lycon Wolf leaps at them, dragging two into the gas, their screams cut short as he tears them apart. He then grabs two more, tossing them into the air before slamming them into the walls with bone-crushing force. Fifteen down.
Lycon Wolf moves with terrifying speed, slashing through five more terrorists, then grabbing their weapons and using them against their owners. Ten left. He dispatches six more in seconds, tearing through their ranks with brutal efficiency.
With only four remaining, he lunges, sinking his fangs into their necks, ripping out their throats. The last one crumples to the floor, his head crushed beneath Lycon's clawed foot.
Lycon Wolf lets out a victorious roar, shaking the very foundation of the church. I look around at my congregation, their faces now filled with a mix of relief and awe. "Fear not," I repeat, my voice firm. "The terrorists have failed. My God has prevailed."
Kareem, the leader, steps forward, a strange smile on his lips. "Is that it? Is that all you've got?" he asks, his tone mocking.
Lycon Wolf doesn't hesitate, delivering a powerful kick that sends Kareem crashing into the wall. But to our shock, Kareem stands up, unharmed, his eyes glowing a sinister yellow.
"Jesus Christ... there are two of them," I murmur, disbelief flooding my senses.
Kareem shakes his head, chuckling darkly. "No, you're mistaken. There's only one werewolf here. Me? I am the Demon Coyote." With that, he transforms, his skin turning black and white as he grows larger, his body morphing into a fearsome coyote-like creature.
"Come on, boy," Demon Coyote taunts, his voice a low growl. "Let's finish this."
The two beasts charge at each other, the ground trembling beneath their weight. Lycon Wolf raises his claw to strike, but Demon Coyote counters, ramming his shoulder into Lycon's torso and sending him flying through the church doors. The battle spills outside, the night filled with the sounds of their clash as they tear into each other with ferocious strength.
To be continued...