The following contains adult language and violence and a big werewolf monster named Overkill.
It’s always best to put your lot in with the winning team. In Jack’s case, the winning team was the vampires and werewolves. So he had devised a plan, a perfect plan. First, find a girl that nobody would notice was missing.
Jack looked down at the bar at the mousy young lady at the end. She was so plain he had watched her come and go from the bar on several occasions and nobody had ever noticed her. She even had to wave down the bar tender to get his attention. She was a little too tall, a little too big, never wore any makeup and her hair was definitely the same color she had been born with.
Now he needed to get her to the vampires. That was the second part of his plan. Bring a nice girl to the vampires to eat and they would make the deal to turn him into a werewolf. Then he would be on the winning team and not get eaten.
Nodding to the bar tender, a big man with a bigger gut that went by the name of Clemens, he waved him over.
Clemens stopped in front of Jack, “You’re creeping out the normals again Jack.”
“Oh ha-ha,” Jack groaned. “Hey get me glass of chardonnay, I wanna give it to that girl at the end of the bar.”
Clemens stared into the little man’s eyes, “I see you drop a rufie in there and I’ll drop you right here on the floor.”
Jack’s heart sputtered and seized. How did Clemens know?
“Don’t worry,” Jack laughed uncomfortably, “She’s not pretty enough to rufie.”
Clemens stared at him intently, venomously for a moment before turning his back and grabbing a bottle of rot-gut label chardonnay. Jack took a moment to glance down the bar at the young woman, just to make sure nobody was moving in on his target.
The biggest son-of-a-bitch he’d ever seen was talking to her! The guy had to have been a professional fighter or something. The man was a head taller than six-foot-six and tipped the scales at over three-hundred pounds. Long black hair, leather and scars finished the horrifying profile of the man.
But then the man stepped out of the way and the woman looked down the bar at Jack. She smiled … and waved! Bingo!
Clemens sat the dirty glass on the bar as the giant turned and looked at Jack. He had yellow eyes! For the love of everything unholy, that guy had yellow eyes!
Jack felt a chill run up his spine, a chill worse than any vampire could conjure. It was worse than if someone had danced on his grave. The giant man with the scarred face had burned death into his soul.
Then the man left.
And that was just the reason Jack had to become a werewolf! Making sure Clemens was turned away, he dropped some powdered flunitrazepam into the glass and scampered to the end of the bar. Time for some mojo.
“Hey, I noticed you sitting here alone and thought …” Jack started to say but the girl giggled.
“How could you miss my friend?” she laughed in a raspy, smoker’s voice.
“Well … I … uh,” Jack stammered. His mojo failed miserably … as usual. Well, drugs were always an acceptable backup.
“Is that for me?” she asked, pointing at the glass.
Who was the victim here? Jack stared blankely at the glass in his hand. For her? Oh! The drink!
“Yeah,” Jack responded dumbly, holding the drink out for her.
Like a seasoned alcoholic, the girl swigged the wine down in three gulps and sat the glass gently on the counter, “Thanks,” she offered, wiping her mouth on her sleeve.
There was an awkward pause for a few moments. Stupid, say something … anything!
“I”m Jack,” he managed to mumble.
“Hi Jack,” she smiled and then waved her hand in front of her face, “My friends call me Mole. Whew, that was strong,” she giggled.
Jack watched her left eye blink and then the right one. Mole smacked her lips and yawned.
“Mole?” Jack found his voice somewhere between dumbfounded and stupid, “that’s an odd nickname.”
Moles eyes were growing narrow, “Not really,” she smiled.
“Oh really?” Jack’s confidence was returning. The rufilin was kicking in.
“Yeah,” she slurred, “See … I’ve got this little mole …” she giggled and covered her mouth in a mock “oopsie”.
“Are you okay?” Jack asked knowing she would be in much worse shape soon enough.
“I think you’re a …” she stammered, “I’m … you’re drunk!” she laughed.
Now Jack needed to use line fifteen before Clemens noticed, “Do you need a ride home?”
“Yoooooo …” Mole giggled again, “wanna ride me home?” she laughed and made a buzzing sound through her lips. “That wine was really … sure, gimme the keys.”
“Oh no you don’t,” Jack laughed. This was always the fun part, when they got stupid. “I’m taking you home to sleep it off.”
Helping her up, Jack started guiding the intoxicated woman out the door while she continued talking, “Sleep to home you off,” she slurred and giggled.
In only a few moments, she was mumbling next to him in his car as he drove to the McMason tower. The vampires would love her. She had plenty of blood for them.
Stopping outside, the doorhop opened the door for Mole who fell out, stopping inches from the ground as her seatbelt caught her. Jack ran around and grabbed her, huffing to unbelt her.
“Poor thing,” he grunted, “Drank … too much.”
“I’ll call up sir,” the doorhop said, completely unamused. “Can you make it up with her?”
“He’ll fine … help to … me,” Mole snickered while petting the doorhop’s hat, “You hat … fuzzy.”
Jack chuckled and nodded, “Yeah, I’ve got her.”
Reaching the top floor with his intoxicated offering, Jack dragged her to the polished oak doors that were guarded by two large men, “Hey, the doorhop …”
Jack wasn’t sure why, but he noticed the elevator was called back down. Someone else was coming up.
“Go in,” the man on the left said opening the door.
Jack dragged his nearly unconscious offering through the doorway and saw a huge apartment, complete with leather furniture and an indoor swimming pool. There was gold on the lamps and the leather-bound books were stacked for decoration, not for reading. Jack was impressed, the vampires had some swank lairs.
But his impression of the apartment was cut short. Mole stood up and grabbed Jack by the wrist. With a snap, she twisted him arm around and dropped him to the floor.
“What the hell ..?” Jack started to say, but Mole sniffed the air like a dog and cut him off.
“That shit you gave me can’t even affect me dipshit,” she barked, stomping down on his shoulder shattering the joint, “Now scream for me lover.”
Even as he screamed, she twisted, grinding the broken bones together. As he yelled, a hooded woman walked into the room. Pale and drawn, she had long white hair that hung in clumps and her nails were broken.
“What the hell ..?” she wheezed.
“Good,” Mole said, letting go of Jack’s arm, “Stick around baby, you picked the wrong team.”
The doors exploded behind them and Jack looked up as a massive wolf-like beast stomped into the room. Probably twice the size of the biggest werewolf he’d ever seen, the monster was broad and powerful. It’s head was oversized and the muscles in its jaws were overdeveloped. Blood dripped from its two inch fangs, gleaming on the black fur. Its face was riddled with scars and its yellow eyes flashed with fury.
But the moon wasn’t full. How could it have changed? Only the special werewolves could change … it had an opposable thumb on both of its front paws too!
Roaring at the vampire, it bounded over Jack and hit the vampire in the chest. Tearing and rending, it scattered blood and fleshed onto the walls and ceiling. Grabbing the vampire’s head in its jaws, it flexed its powerful maw. The shrieking vampire’s skull cracked under the pressure with a sickening crunch and the beast wrenched, tearing the head off the neck.
Jack looked up as another woman entered from the hallway. At close to six and a half feet tall and probably two-hundred-fifty pounds, the woman was huge. Her hair hung in clumps around her shoulders and was matted with blood. Her face bore the scars of numerous wounds and her jaw was bent to the side, the result of it having been broken and not set correctly.
Jack could hear low-pitched howls echoing through the city and he turned to look out the windows. Fires were erupting all over the city and sirens were sounding.
Feeling something on his neck, Jack rolled over to see blood dripping from the fangs of the beast onto his face. Mole knelt next to him and petted the monster on the head.
“Personally I would like to eat you,” she said. “But Lord Overkill here says you humans are contaminated … the source of the infections. He says I talk too much too.”
Standing up, she started undressing, “Your city will burn, your people will die, but you won’t be around to see any of it.”
Jack closed his eyes as the beast’s maw closed over his head.