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Good Samaritans

“I like a man who grins when he fights,”
-Winston Churchill

Joseph’s car lumbered through the heavy snow on the trail through the canyon. Joseph, Tristan and Israel peeled their eyes in search of any trail that may indicate Saren after they found her car at the opening of the path. The snow fall had resurged and fell in a heavy white blanket veiling any hint that they may have found.
“How long have we been at this?” Israel asked with a tinge of panic in his voice, “It feels like we’ve been at this a while,”
“Dude, calm the fuck down,” Tristan reprimanded, pointing at the clock in the car’s dashboard, “It’s been five minutes, relax,”
Israel sighed as he looked out his window again, wringing his hands in worry and wincing again as he remembered his sore joints. He pulled his lucky coin out of his coat pocket and began fidgeting with it. Joseph snatched it out of Israel’s hands and pocketed it as a way of telling him to ‘sack up’.
Joseph said nothing, possessed of rage as he was. After taking the road out of town he did not speak. He just kept his eyes looking out of his windshield for the one that lied to him and his friends.
A scream resonated out through the cold woods. The boys, having been screamed at plenty, instantly recognized it as Saren.
Joseph slammed his foot on the throttle and careened further into the woods in the general direction the scream came from, actively ignoring the fact that his friends weren’t wearing their seatbelts and honking the horn as they slammed around. The car bashed through a pair of small saplings, into a clearing populated with skinheads, corpses and an ill-treated Saren. Joseph spun out into the snow, careening through the clearing, crushing a corpse and spraying the blood across the snowy forest floor.
Joseph, Tristan and Israel all calmly opened their doors and stepped out of the car, cracking knuckles and loosening their wrists in an attempted to look more hardened and threatening than they thought they were.
“Oh great,” Irina sighed, “The bitch boys are here,”
Tristan whipped the Macedonian out of its holster and shot Irina in the sealed wound in her belly.
“I don’t remember asking for a new team name,” Tristan taunted as Irina clutched her now reopened wound.
“Fuck. You,” Irina snarled, trying to ignore the pain she was in.
Joseph set his eyes on the Alpha, mentally working out the easiest way to kill him and end this debacle. Whatever plans he had never got more than a few seconds of thought as the Alpha stepped forward and pointed at him.
“I challenge you, hunter,” The Alpha roared, “One warrior facing another in a battle to the death and let fate decide who’s will is the strongest,”
Joseph looked to his friends then gestured to Saren’s mangled form. Israel and Tristan rushed over to Saren to provide whatever medical attention they could. Joseph took a second to admire the amount of skulls the alpha was wearing on his person. Several on a neckless, one attached to each of his boots, four hanging from his belt, and Joseph wasn’t sure but he believed he saw the bulge of more in the alpha’s torn and worn leather vest.
“Are you insane?” Saren hissed “He’ll fucking murder you,”
“I think he knows that,” Joseph quipped, “But he’s willing to challenge me anyway,”
“Yes,” The Alpha snarled, barely more than a bestial growl, “Yes! Bravado, pride, and bloodlust that is what I wish to see. When you face your ancestors, you may tell them that it was Commodus that slew you and sent you to them,”
“You talk too much,” Joseph drew his sword and settled into his practiced stance, “Guys, try and…” he fumbled for the right words, “Stabilize Saren,”
“Already on it,” Tristan said as he took Saren’s pulse and ignored her glare, “I know I’m not helping, I can’t do jack shit. Look at your fucking leg, woman! There’s nothing to do,”
Commodus hefted two massive axes, dark steel and caked with gore, one in each hand. He and Joseph circled each other for a few moments before he brought both axes above his head and lunged. Joseph sidestepped the attack, narrowly missing getting his arms chopped off, and swung at Commodus’ back, opening a dark red gash.
Commodus roared and pivoted, extended his arms and swung his axes in Joseph’s general direction. Joseph rolled under the strike and stabbed at Commodus’ exposed midriff. Joseph ran him through to the ricasso of his sword and was knocked aside with a massive arm to the side of the head. Joseph hit the ground and rolled away from Commodus’ general location. When he looked up at Commodus’ his eyes widened at the site of a massive beast of a man barely hindered by the large sword protruding from his abdomen charging him.
Commodus slammed his shoulder into Joseph, sending him crashing through a sapling and face first into the reddening snow. Scrambling to get up, Joseph grabbed a piece of the sapling and drove it into Commodus’ thigh as he grabbed his sword and pulled back with all his might, freeing his sword. He immediately spun and swung it into Commodus’ right arm, embedding itself once again into the massive man and digging into the bone in his upper arm. Commodus dropped the axe that his right arm held and swung his remaining weapon, arcing the flat of the axe-head it at Joseph’s head. Joseph saw stars as the axe struck him, knocking him into the snow once again.
Commodus threw his axe away and grabbed the blade of Joseph’s sword and tore it out of his arm. He inspected the blade, examining the build and make of it.
“This is a fine blade, hunter. After your death I shall wield it to slay other worthy foes,”
Joseph grabbed Commodus’ fallen axe and twisted it so that the bladed edge pointed upwards
“Go to hell!” He shouted as he drove the axe into the much larger man’s left underarm.
Commodus reeled back, bleeding profusely from his multitude of wounds.
“You…have actually caused me pain,” Commodus smiled as she spoke, “I shall grant you…one parting gift,” his body twisted and morphed, becoming lither and lean as well as growing dark red hair. His head and face shaped to that of a beast, then to the obvious visage of a wolf. He roared as the transformation completed, he was his true self, a monster, a werewolf.
Joseph had grabbed his sword during the transformation and once again made his stance. When he swung he hit air, air that once held a colossal wolf beast. Commodus had moved behind Joseph in an instant and swung his great claw, carving open Joseph’s arm and slamming him against a tree. The sound of his ribs snapping could be heard by the stringent crowd.
Irina shouted various praises of her alpha and similar curses of his prey. She wanted to see the beast tear someone apart and add another skull to his collection. She watched with the attention of a child hopped up on ‘learning’ pills at the spectacle before her.
Joseph’s friends, between pretending to provide medical care for the immobilized Saren, were frozen in fear. Resembling the rigor mortis that they’re corpses would gain, that is if the werewolves didn’t eat them before they went cold.
Joseph coughed blood, enough to splatter the front of his coat. He sat against the tree he was thrown against. He barely could think through the sheer agony of his broken bones jabbing his internal organs but he certainly felt the claw around his throat lift him to eye level with Commodus. He smelled Commodus’ foul breath, smelling of rotten meat and blood. Commodus growled in Joseph’s face before parting his great maw and slowly working Joseph’s head into it. Seeing only one opportunity left, Joseph meekly shoved his clutched fist at the wound in Commodus’ abdomen.
Commodus immediately lurched, pausing. Joseph saw something in his foe’s eyes, like those of a beaten dog. Fear, what he saw was pure and simple fear. Commodus suddenly dove and sunk his teeth into Joseph’s non-shredded shoulder. Joseph shouted in pain as dagger long teeth ripped into him, and just as quickly as they entered they exited without any extra damage. Commodus fell backwards, falling on his back and relaxing every strained muscle as he gave his death rattle, dying in the cold snow.
Joseph fell to his hands and knees, still shouting from the bite. He had to breathe between the shouts, the blood pouring out of his mouth further hindering him. The shouts became loud pants, becoming more and more guttural each time, descending into bestial growls. He went dead silent as the blood flow from his mouth slowed to a trickle and stopped altogether. He began to stand, only slightly staggering as he righted himself and looked up at his spectators with his own blood covering his mouth and eyes shining bright yellow.
Saren’s heart sank as she saw her friend rise. Her friend was turned and she was completely powerless to do anything about it in the slightest. She knew that fresh turned werewolves were even more dangerous than a pack of inexperienced youngbloods. The chance of them going feral is at its peak post turn and neither she nor her friends were able to kill one in their condition.
Irina approached her new alpha with a smile. A dead alpha and some dead scrubs were in all a minor setback to the pack but not one that couldn’t be fixed.
“So, new bossman,” she wrapped her arm around Joseph’s bloodied but healing shoulder, “What’s the first order of business?”
Joseph wheeled around and punched her in the face, breaking her jaw and knocking her down.
“Anyone,” he growled, “Who was stupid enough to be loyal to this dead fucker,” he spat the word ‘dead’ as he kicked Commodus’ corpse “Fuck off or I’m tearing you open and leaving you to be eaten by whatever passes by,”
The surviving wolves quickly scampered away, terrified of the person that tore their pack apart.
“Joseph?” Saren said, barely above a whisper. Joseph turned his attention to his friends, who, with Saren’s exception, had a hand on their firearms, “Please. Don’t tell me you’re one of them,” her voice cracked as she spoke, she would later claim it was hoarse from yelling, but the truth was that she was moments away from breaking down and crying.
Joseph calmly walked over to his friends and picked Saren up, bridal style.
“I’m still people,” he said, in a voice that for the first time that night, sounded completely human, “You lying bitch,” Which also meant that he absolutely wasn’t going to let Saren forget this night, not that she needed help remembering.
Israel walked over to Commodus and knelt down, running his hands over the corpse’ eyes to close them,
“May you burn and your ashes fuel the growth of things of greater worth,” he grabbed at the wound Joseph attacked in his last desperate move and pulled his lucky coin out of it, he smiled at the fact that Joseph remembered he called it his ‘lucky silver’, “Rest in chaos, you psychopath,” He pulled out a flask, another thing he found in Saren’s basement, and poured the kerosene contents on the dead werewolf before striking a match, tossing it and lighting the corpse on fire, just as Saren did for the first wendigo they saw.
Saren smiled as she saw her team doing what they should do. Burning the bodies and inspecting what they could use for trophies and death proofs so that they’d get paid for clearing the pack out.
“Joseph,” she whispered again, finally realizing the immense pain she was in from her destroyed knee, “Do you think we could speed things up, my leg is really-,” Joseph just grabbed Saren’s off kilter leg and straighten it with a sickening crunch noise. Saren froze and whimpered through her clenched teeth as Joseph walked to where Tristan and Israel were crowding.
“What’d you guys find?” Joseph asked. He was met with Tristan hefting a large sawn-off double barrel shotgun with a smile on his face, “That answers my question,”
“Small question,” Tristan asked, looking for any ammo in the clutter of what was apparently a storage box, “You’re uh…kinda sounding different man. You’re not gonna turn out to be that big fucker possessing you or anything, are you?”
“I sound kind of off because I’m still regenerating from my ribs stabbing through my lungs. Which, might I add, is a very painful process,” Joseph would have smacked him if he wasn’t still holding the whimpering Saren, “You towhead jackass,”
“Yup,” Israel said, inspecting a dagger, “It is absolutely still Joseph,” when Israel pulled the dagger out of its sheath he found it shined much more than steel would, “This motherfucker had a silver dagger,” he said putting back away, “I totally call it,”
“Why,” Joseph found he had a new natural repulsion to the material, the same as an animal backing away from fire, “Why would he have that?”
“Same reason people make mustard gas,” Israel said, attaching it to his belt, “Kill shit,”
“Please,” Saren sobbed, “Can we please go home now?”
“Sure thing, you lying bitch,” Joseph grabbed one of Commodus’ axes, “Tristan, grab the other axe. Iz, you’re driving Saren’s car home with her in the back,”
“He’s not driving my fucking-,” Joseph shifted Saren in his grip, jostling her leg slightly and making her quiet, “Oh...why?” she whined.
“Fucking hell,” Tristan struggled to pick up the axe with one hand, “How did that guy swing these things? They weigh a fucking ton,”
“Wolf steroids,” Israel said, “Wolfroids,” he was clearly proud of himself for that one.
Joseph dropped Saren into Israel’s less bruised and mangled arms. He got into his car with Tristan, the axes, and the shotgun and began to drive off.
“He’s mad at me,” Saren grumbled as the car lurched away, “he’s so fucking mad at me,”
“Of course he fucking is, you lying bitch,” Israel said, never losing his smile as he trudged through the snow back to Saren’s car, “But I think the bigger thing on his mind is that fact that his last name is now even more fitting,”
“Yeah,” Saren began nodding off, realizing just how little sleep she’s gotten in the last forty-eight hours and just how much she’d done, “Yeah,” she said as she lost consciousness.
The Hunters: Good Samaritans
And here we have the werewolf arc finale! Yay! One off or two to follow then another arc.
Cry ‘Havoc’

“If you cannot bite, never show your teeth.”
                                                               -Old Nordic Saying

Saren needled another stitch into Joseph’s back where Irina had clawed him. They had retreated back to Saren’s living room to sew themselves up and lick their wounds. Joseph was wincing in pain as Saren half lectured half ranted to him and the team while stitching him up.
“What we saw was a proving,” She continued her needlework, not noticing or ignoring the obvious pain her teammate was in, “Aspirants are shoved in a room, told to kill each other, and the one winner is made into a werewolf by the supervising-,”
“Words words words!” Israel suddenly shouted “What’s our next move?”
Saren glared at him as she tied off the stitch. She’d done the same style of stitch hundreds of times.
“If you’d have let me finish I would have said that there’s a pack in the area. We need to find it and get rid of it. Lucky for us a typical pack only consists of about five or six-ish actual wolves, the rest being cronies or pets. Hopefully Andre is still offering that deal on pelt trade ins. That and the standard fee for dead wolves-” she trailed off into mutters about finances and profit.
Israel stood up and went to the kitchen, leaving Saren to ponder just how much profit she would get and how little her team would get. He wrung his hands, wincing as he remembered his recently set wrist bones.
“Dude,” Tristan walked behind him “You okay man?”
“I’m fine,” Israel sat on one of the breakfast nook chairs “No, no I’m not. Fucking shit man, why does it take until we’ve almost been killed by something for Saren to tell us feth all about it? How long until one of us gets killed by fucking Bigfoot and THEN Saren tell us how to kill it?”
“I dunno man,” Tristan leaned against the wall and rubbed one of the many bruises he’d gained, “I get what you mean, it makes me mad too. You remember that vampire I shanked? Saren never actually told us how to kill a vampire. I was just going off friggin’ Dracula and shit. If that wouldn’t have worked, we’d be thick red paste back at that farm,”
“Augh! This is bullshit,” Israel threw his head back into his hands, “You know what we should do? Go back in there and demand full access to her library or information trove or newsletter or whatever,”
“Yeah,” Tristan’s eyes lit up, “And then she’ll shoot us in the face and spare us the pain of being disemboweled by werewolves. That’s a great idea,”
“Eh, prick,” Israel slumped into his seat
“You’re right though,” Tristan opened up Saren’s fridge and grabbed a pair of sodas, “We should talk to her and get this shit done right. We should be the badass anti-heroes not the naïve protagonists,”
Israel lightly smiled as his friend gave him a soda
“Damn fething straight we should be,” he gulped his drink, “At least, *burp* at least we’re having fun,”
“Amen,” Tristan sat down on the other side of the table, “Man, how did we even get into this shit?”
“Altruism my friend,” Israel half slurred out of exhaustion “The kinda altruism that make us help a girl getting beat up by assholes. Then said girl becomes our friend and puts us in all these crazy scenarios where we could die, literally, at any time.” He chugged what remained of his drink “I am so fucking glad we met Saren,”
“Fuck does altruism mean?” Tristan asked
“It means charity you putz,” Israel retorted


“They’re talking about me,” Saren said as she taped down a bandage on Joseph’s shoulder, “I just know it,” she sighed, “I fucked up,” Joseph lightly nodded, only half paying attention, as he put his shirt back on. “Dammit. You guys almost died because I felt like acting like the big dog, kicking the door down and calling out a bunch of lunatics who were about to kill each other,” A small cardboard box that the gauze came in lightly hit the side of her head.
“The fuck is wrong with you?” Joseph said standing up “When we first met you were a fucking beast, getting into fights with skinheads, taking us into the woods to play with sharp things, and teaching us all the most effective ways to kill things with soup spoons. The fuck happened to that Saren? That Saren was cool. That Saren didn’t cry like a bitch when things get a little scraped up,”
“Hey, fuck you,” Saren got into his face, “Forgive me for giving a damn about the only living friends I have, and not wanting to have to attend their funerals!”
“Fuck me? Fuck you,” Joseph growled out, “Thank you for throwing us into the meat grinder and then feeling bad about it,”
Saren snapped her arm and punched joseph in the cheek, sending him back into his chair. Saren grabbed his jaw and made him look up at her.
“Yeah I feel bad. I feel bad because I care about all of you, you dumb fuck,” her voice lost any trace of mirth she had left for the evening, “I brought you all into this, everything that happens to you is on my head, my fault,” her grip shifted to his neck “I feel bad because I would never forgive myself if you got hurt on my watch. Do you understand?”
“Yeah,” Joseph snarled, “Yeah, I got you,”
“Splendid,” Saren’s voice became light and happy again as she let Joseph’s neck go, “Go get the bums, tell them they’re staying the night and we’re hitting the pack in the morning,”
Joseph did as he was told with a grin on his face. The Saren he liked was back and he was happy with it.


“Guys, wake up!” Tristan called out from the top of the stairs,
He and the others were sleeping in Saren’s basement on some cots she had in storage. Tristan woke up to use the bathroom and noticed that- “Saren’s gone!”
Israel and Joseph bolted up, swearing to themselves as they rushed to put their gear on.
“Fucking bullshit lying ass-,” Joseph stopped himself before he got carried away
Israel checked his phone for the time. It was only about an hour after they went to sleep.
“She waited all of one fucking hour before abandoning us,” Israel swore as he kicked his cot, he then swore as the pain of kicking a metal cot with no shoes hit him. “Fucking perfect,”
They loaded their guns, grabbed their swords and got in Joseph’s car.
“Wait a minute,” Joseph said, “Where the fuck are we going? We don’t exactly have a GPS implant in her,”
“The canyon,” Israel responded, “Werewolves prefer the wild. The woods and shit like that. It’s the closest, most defensive place that fits the criteria,” Tristan starred at his friend
“How the hell do you know that?” Israel’s response was to smile and hold up a faded leather bound book with ‘Werebeasts’ printed on the cover.
“I found it rooting around in Saren’s basement,” he said through his smile
“Right,” Joseph turned the key in the ignition, “The canyon then,”

Saren crept through the snow, sword in one hand, pistol in the other. After arriving in the canyon she immediately spotted a light trail of blood and boot prints, presumably left by Irina, and followed it. This is what she lived for, the hunt. Knowing her foe and going to meet them. She grinned to herself as she put a small handful of snow in her mouth to mask her breath, completing the ensemble of camouflage she was wearing, a white coat and snow-pants.
There were totems hung in the trees. Rotten small animals, miscellaneous bones from deer, humans or whatever the pack had eaten and kept the bones of made up the totems. They marked the territory and hunting grounds of the pack, though it was rare that such borders were respected.
Saren wrung out her sword hand, slightly nervous about her choice of weapon. Andre forged his weapons with an amount of silver smelted into the metal, not enough to instantly kill things like pure silver can, but enough to be able to do damage. But after the amount of times Irina was stabbed and did not die, Saren had her doubts on the lethality of the amount in Andre’s wares.
Saren diverged from the trail, hoping to swing around and flank her quarry. When she heard loud talking and growling she knew her instincts were right. She began crawling in the snow, staying as low as she could as she grew closer. The voices got clearer and clearer the closer she got, after some time in the snow she could hear what was being said
“-told you to not go alone,” a young male voice. Saren made a mental note of at least two wolves, Irina and the new one.
“Fuck off,” Irina herself
“Quiet, both of you,” grumbled a low and heavy voice. Saren knew from experience that this must be the alpha. No one else gives orders in the pack. “You both whine like pups fresh off the teat. Irina’s failure came from being outnumbered by a skilled hunter and some of his untrained underlings,”
Saren smiled to herself when she heard ‘skilled hunter’ but was confused by the ‘his’.
“Fucker with the claymore must have been trained by some bigshot to have his own brood,” Saren made another mental note about a fourth member as she came to a realization. They thought she was a newbie and Joseph was the veteran who taught them everything. She decided she hated these wolves more than she usually hates things.
“It wasn’t a claymore, it was a zweihander,” Irina pointed out
“Fuck is the difference?” the young one again.
“I know swords, dumbass,” Saren began to ignore the conversation as she got close enough to see them. More importantly, she saw that one was leaning against a tree with a split down the middle, giving her a clear shot at the back of his head.
“Whatever, it’s just a sword,” it was the young one, who was also the leaner. Irina made an audible sound of disgust, “But still, who walks in with a bunch of handguns and guns dudes down? What kinda Al Capone shit is that? Guy has to be half crazy to-,” Saren permanently shut him up, curtesy of her sword going through the back of his neck and out his mouth, also assuaging her doubts on the efficiency of her sword.
Saren let the body slide off her sword as she casually walked out from behind the tree. She saw all the people she heard, five werewolves in total, now four. One never said a word. They shared the aesthetic of the aspirants from before.
“Listen up skinheads!” Saren shouted, “Either line up or come at me all at once! I don’t care which,” They were silent, either in shock from their comrade getting stabbed in the back of the face or from awe in that no one would try anything as stupid as calling out a bunch of angry werewolves. “Hey!” Saren continued shouting, “Are you deaf or something?!” They still didn’t move or say a word.
Suddenly, Saren heard a low grumbling laugh, slowly getting louder. It was the alpha. Saren finally got a good look at him. He was massive with a trimmed buzz cut, standing a head taller over a man who stands a head taller than everyone, wide as a double door, and all of it scarred muscle. Saren noticed that his grey-blue eyes were almost identical to hers before shaking thoughts from her head that weren’t ‘how to most effectively kill these people,’ this was no time for pointless trivia.
“You,” he said casually walking up to Saren, “Are either stupid, brave, or both,”
“Both,” Saren responded tightening her grip on her sword, “In all likelihood,”
He smiled, if twisting the ugly patchwork of scars that formed his face counted as a smile.
“Excellent. Excellent! A proper battle, at long last!” He started laughing as he spoke, “A good fight and an even better death, for one of us at least,”
“Then let’s go!” Saren pointed her sword at him, “Stop talking so we can kill each other,”
“No,” He said, untwisting his smile, “Our audience is not large enough,” he turned his back and started walking away, “Your master and comrades should be arriving shortly. Then, we will face each other,”
“I’m the one who taught them you idiot!” Saren lunged forward and swung her sword, missing the alpha as he dodged. She kept swinging, punctuating each swing with a shout, “I. Taught. Them!”
She was enraged, not thinking, not paying attention to the other pack members, or to the fourth pack member that swung a sledgehammer at her leg, connecting with her knee-joint and bending her leg around the hammerhead. Saren screamed as she fell into the snow, the overwhelming pain in her leg made her mind go blank with shock and pain.
“Idiot!” The alpha grabbed his subordinate by the face and slammed his head into the ground. The snow around the werewolf’s head began to turn red as the alpha grabbed Saren’s sword, looking comically undersized in his hand, and ran him through. He stared down at Saren’s writhing form with a look of disappointment and frustration. “Our fight would have been glorious,” He put the tip of Saren’s sword to her neck, “I am almost sad that it will now never happen,”
Saren struggled to stay conscious through the alpha’s speech. She regretted coming out on her own, stubbornly ignoring and abandoning her friends. She grabbed the tip of her sword and began vigorously shaking it, slicing her hand and wrestling it out of the alpha’s hand. Her vision began fading as she grabbed onto the tree behind her, smearing it with blood from her carved hand, ignoring every urge to lie down and pass out. She stressed every muscle that would still move for her to prop herself up against the tree and point her sword at the werewolves.
“Which one of you wants to die next,” She groaned.
The Hunters: Cry 'Havoc'
Here we go, part 2 of the werewolf arc. One part left and then probably a one-off and then another arc. Please enjoy.

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Hello bloodbath

“‘Attack’ is the only order worth remembering.”
“Fuck! Fucking! Fuck-ity fuckhole fuckass!” Israel shouted before flopping face first onto the table
He and company were chatting about no particular subject in Saren’s breakfast nook after coming for ‘midnight breakfast’ prior to his eruption. They all stared at him like deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming semi-truck.
“Huh,” Joseph stabbed his meal with his fork, “The pancakes aren’t that bad, are they? I mean, I’m no cook but-,”
“Not what I meant!” Israel said with his face still on the table, “I am so bored of just waiting for something interesting to happen!”
He wasn’t wrong. They hadn’t had a proper hunt since the farm incident four months prior.
“You know,” Saren said, rising from her seat and rubbing her temples, “I would have loved having time off like this back when it was just me. But now I have to deal with you Neanderthals,”
“But can’t we do fucking something?” Israel moaned, finally lifting his head from the table to look at Saren, “I mean, for fucks sake, can’t we at least go to…something? Anything!?”
Saren buried her face in her hands and sighed, keeping her temper down “Look,” she hissed “If nothing happens in two days, we go on official vacation for a week, okay? Can you survive two fucking days?”
Israel perked up “Damn straight I can!” He said before bouncing up and running out the front door in belligerent excitement.
Joseph shoveled another pancake into his mouth and swallowed it without chewing “Wasn’t it supposed to snow tonight, like, a lot?” he pondered.
“Whatever, he’s made his bed. I think it’s morning now, technically” Saren sat back down and took a sip of her coffee. “How much do you guys want to bet he comes back in covered in blood?”
“Wait,” Tristan interjected, “His own blood or someone else’s?”
“Let’s make it three ways,” Joseph said “He comes back fine, I win. Covered in his own blood, Saren wins. And if it’s someone else’s blood, Tristan wins. Winner gets trophy rights to the next hunt,”
The others nodded and turned back to their food.
“Someone close the door. I’m getting glass cutters here,” Saren said, adjusting her shirt and lack of bra
Tristan stood up and walked to her door. When he started pushing it closed it burst open. Israel sauntered back in and sat back down at his seat, completely unscathed, causing Joseph to grin like the cat that ate the canary.
Saren began to say something but was cut off by Israel “Saren, you’re gonna want to get rid of those corpses I just made on your front porch,”
“What!?” She darted to the door and opened it, just as Israel said, two corpses, fresh and bleeding on her porch, “What the fucking hell, man?!” she grabbed them by the pant sleeves and dragged them inside as fast as she physically could. “Seriously?!” She slammed the door shut and looked at her team “What the fuck is wrong with you?! You just killed two random people!”
“Found these on them,” Israel calmly threw down a set of pictures of the entire team and pointed at the corpses “Check the faces, they should be familiar,” Saren knelt down and looked at both of their faces. They were skinheads, the skinheads that were beating on her when she met the others.
“What the hell?” Saren said “Were they going to start more shit or something?” she nudged one with her foot “Either way, someone get a couple trash bags. Fucking shit man, don’t just pull-”
A groan was heard from one of the bodies as it began to writhe, alive.
Joseph and Tristan quickly grabbed him and hoisted him up by his shoulders. Saren grabbed him by the chin and brought his face up to her level.
“Tell me why you’re here or we’re going to go Ramsay Snow on your ass,” Saren stated cold as she possibly could. He spat blood into her face. Saren chuckled and punched him in the stomach making him curl around her fist and spew blood onto her floor. “Yeah, I’m told that hurts,”
“Imma get the hedge sheers,” Israel said beginning to walk to Saren’s storage closet “What should we cut off first, fingers, toes or balls? Ah it’s so much fun just to prepare,” he was lying through his teeth, hoping that his assumption of the skinhead’s intelligence and cowardice was accurate.
“You are fucking freaks!” The skinhead shouted “Your days are fucking numbered!”
“Oh?” Joseph wondered aloud before twisting the skinhead’s arm around, “Why’s that?”
“Boss is gonna fuck you up,” the skinhead spat “You wrecked some of his boys. He’ll be coming for you,”
Saren grabbed him by the neck and brought him back to eye level “Unless you want to be able to join a castrati choir, I recommend telling us everything you know,”
Just then, a ringing was heard. It was the dead skinhead’s phone. Israel grabbed it from the corpse’s jacket and checked it.
“It’s a text. ‘hey fatasses, get back to the hideout before I cave your fucking skulls in. And if you shitbrains forgot, it’s the big red one in the construction site part of town, you fucking idiots, sincerely Irina,’” After Israel was finished, Tristan ran his sword through the skinhead’s back, effectively ending him for good.
“Won’t need him anymore,” he said as he cleaned his blade on the skinhead’s shirt
“’PS,” Israel started again “If you fucking pricks died with clean blades, I will violate your fucking corpses. I will do the same if you make me wait for too long,’ this girl has a vocabulary, doesn’t she?” He tossed Saren the phone.
“Well, what’s our next move?” Joseph asked, returning from the back with trashbags and a hatchet.
Saren simply grew a smile so wide that it would give the Cheshire cat a run for his money as she formulated her plan.

The team stepped out of Saren’s car and surveyed the area. Just as was said in the text, a red warehouse built and abandoned by the city government.
Saren shoved her boot against the warehouse door and flung it open from the force of her kick. She strode in flanked by Israel and Tristan, barely giving any acknowledgement to the twenty-something skinheads inhabiting the building as they walked to the center of the room.
“How’s it going shitbirds?” Saren sardonically asked “Expecting those two idiots, I take it? Well, they’re dead as fucking doornails,”
One stepped forward. A girl wearing a revealing leather vest, running her fingers through her shag of dark hair as she was wringing the other around the handle of a large kukri styled machete she had on her belt.
“Was gonna kill those fucking idiots anyway,” she spat on the ground, “You did me a favor, bitch,”
Israel chuckled, “I take it you’re Irina, the picture they had for you didn’t do you justice. I was actually looking forward to seeing a talking asshole and I am very disappointed,”
“Fuck you!” Irina shouted, “We’ve got a room full of killers! What the fuck do you have?”
They only laughed as they stepped to the side to show the door and Joseph walking in. He was wearing a button up shirt under a suit jacket and tucked into his slacks. In each hand, a pistol, small snub nose revolvers. He had an additional pair in his suit pockets, one in his breast pocket and one held in his teeth with his sword strapped across his back.
With his team stepping out of the way he had a clear view of the crowd in front of him. He levelled his pistols and let loose into them as they began to panic. They began dropping as they regained their wits and attempted to counter attack. A fat one grabbed Joseph by the wrist and was struck with Joseph’s free hand and weapon, dropping him and allowing Joseph to finish him the last bullet of his first pair. He dropped the empty pistols and grabbed the one in his mouth and the one in his breast pocket and resumed his bloody work.
Joseph shot down whatever moved in front of him and what got too close he battered down with the solid metal of the pistols before shooting them as well.
He dropped the second set of empty pistols and looked over what remained of his quarry, the girl Irina and ten other thugs surrounding her and shitting themselves. Joseph seized the last two pistols he had and fired of a pair of shots each, dropping three targets.  Joseph was grabbed by the arm and mistakenly fired a shot into the air before shoving his second pistol into his assailant’s torso and firing. He continued firing and watching his insignificant prey die with the grim satisfaction he was accustomed to.
Irina showed no sign of worry or complaint when her last companion was shot in the face by Joseph and she even began to laugh. Her roaring laughter was dreadfully devoid of all warmth, mirth and was colder than the midwinter air just outside the door of the blood drenched warehouse. Her laugh dwindled into a chilled giggle as she looked Joseph in the eyes “Do it,” she called to him “Shoot me in the fucking head,”
Joseph clenched the trigger and was met with a loud and empty click. He looked at his pistol, realizing that it was out of ammo, along with the pistol in his other hand.
“Well damn,” Joseph swore, “This is kinda anti-climactic, huh?”
“Yeah it fucking is,” Irina agreed, “Well, this was fun, hope you assholes die in a ditch,” she turned toward the backdoor of the building and began walking towards it. The concrete wall a foot away from her head exploded as a magnum bullet struck it.
“Fuck me with a frying pan!” Irina fell onto her back before quickly standing back up and looking at Joseph, who had the gremlin pointed at her with a smoking barrel. “Fuck you, you fucking cock ho-lyshit that’s a big pistol,”
Joseph fired again, twice, this time neither were warning shots. The bullets struck Irina just under her shoulder and in her abdomen and out onto the wall. Blood splattered on the floor, but she barely flinched as the hot lead shot into her. She raised her hand and drove her fingers into the wound on her shoulder and pulled out the bullet and dropped it on the floor with a toothy smile.
Her eyes flashed yellow, and her teeth distended and grew, becoming a mouth of fangs. Her hands and arms sprouted dark, thick hairs and her nails elongated into black claws.
She dashed and grabbed Joseph within a single second and tossed him across the room onto the floor and into an ever growing puddle of blood.
Tristan and Saren pulled their pieces and began peppering Irina with ineffective shots as she charged them and bludgeoned them against the walls.
Irina let out a shrill gasp as she felt a sharp pain in her side. She turned and Israel had his cutlass stuck into her side. He withdrew it and swung but Irina grabbed his wrist and his neck.
“You die first,” her grip tightened, “I always wanted to make someone spout out their last words, c’mon let’s hear them!”
“I got wood, man,” Israel squirmed in her grip and grinned at her, “Why do I have wood?”
Irina’s smile vanished and was replaced with a confused frown
“Well…,” her smile came back, “A for effort!” her grip tightened slightly before she felt another sharp pain in her back.
Joseph was up and had his sword shoved into Irina’s back.
“Yo, she-bitch,” he withdrew his sword from her and settled into a proper stance, “Let’s go,”
Irina casually tossed Israel against a wall and drew her sword. She lunged with an overhead strike and was parried away and countered with a wide sweep. She back peddled and struck low and was parried away again. Joseph swung wide, missed, spun around, and swung again, this time cutting a gash along the front of Irina’s left thigh. Irina cried out and clutched the wound before lunging at Joseph with her clawed hand only to get his sword run through her palm and out between her fingers. She reeled back in pain, dropping her blade and clutching her split hand.
“Fuck! Ahhh!”
She dropped to a knee, whimpering at her hand. Joseph saw his opportunity and raised his sword and brought it down onto the place where Irina was a second before. Joseph was dumbfounded for a moment before feeling deep shooting pains arch across his back and stumbled around to see Irina. Irina casually licked the blood off her claws before suddenly dashing and driving the same claws into Joseph’s left arm. She stood for a moment, relishing in her apparent easy victory, but then felt coldness in her abdomen, followed by a warm and wet feeling. She looked down to see Joseph’s sword, pressed just under her ribcage and the blood seeping around it.
Irina stepped back a few paces, her arms and teeth reverting to normal and fell to her knees, clutching at the sword but not touching it. Her face was a mask of fear and pain as tears ran down her face and she began whimpering. Joseph, coming to his senses through the pain and adrenalin, placed his foot on her shoulder and withdrew his blade, eliciting a loud gasp from the wounded girl.
“Please…” Irina whispered “Help me,”
Joseph staggered and steadied himself using his sword as a support. He took his time helping his companions off the floor. They stood around Irina’s bleeding form.
“It appears she wants help,” Joseph said as he lifted his sword and drove the tip deep between Irina’s ribs. Irina’s eyes widened as her mouth silently opened in mock of a scream.
“The fuck man!?” Israel and Tristan shouted in unison. Saren gingerly grabbed Joseph’s arm and lifted it which lifted the sword out of the bleeding girl.
“…fu-…” Irina gurgled out “Fuck…you…”
“That won’t work,” Saren stated while going through her pockets, “You need silver to kill a werewolf,” she sighed, “Silver that I didn’t bring,”
Israel opened his coat pocket and grabbed a coin, “I brought something,” he flipped the coin into the air with his thumb and caught it, “I always have my lucky silver,”
He knelt down and began reaching for one of Irina’s wound with the coin. Irina meekly grabbed his wrist with her good hand. Tires screeching on pavement rang from outside the warehouse. Several car doors opening and slamming shut. Shouting. Saren pulled Israel back to a stand.
“We leave, now!” She ordered while running to the door opposite the noise. She threw the door open and ran to the corner of the building, pressing herself to the wall and readying her pistol. Her comrades followed suit, sneaking and limping around the building as the shouting traveled inside. They bolted to Saren’s car, and gunned the engine, peeling out and away from the site of the slaughter. By the time the pursuers came out of the building all they could find of their quarry were tire tracks being rapidly covered by the falling snow and a message in blood on the snow.
‘Fuck you!’  -Love Voyevoda
The Hunters: Hello Bloodbath
Damn this took a while. Part 1 of the werewolf arc. Gonna be a two/three parter. Hooray!
It's been a cool minute since I was last on here...huh
  • Mood: Noble
  • Listening to: Stuff
  • Reading: Nothing
  • Watching: Nothing
  • Playing: Heavy Rain
  • Eating: Chicken
  • Drinking: Sierra Mist


Thief of Rage
Artist | Hobbyist | Varied
United States
Name's Izzy (7 other known aliases), you don't like me, you can bite me.

I like video games, anything Japanese, music, books, and tearing apart/building things

I hate hypocrites, whores, punchable people, and if i missed anything F&%K IT!

Age:18 goin' on 19 in a few months

Hobbies are but are not limited to: Shooting to thrill playing to kill, daydreaming during class (SUMMER FOR LIFE), writing my own series', watching TV, martial arts(currently street fighting), video games(since I was 2), and building just about anything i have an idea to make

I couldn't care less about what you think of me, if you don't like me you
may call 1-800-EAT-SHIT
Current Residence: F%&$ you Gumby
deviantWEAR sizing preference: If it's comfy enough, I'll wear a mini skirt... That came out wrong
Favourite genre of music: hard rock/metal
Favourite photographer: maes hughes
Favourite style of art: Explosives
Operating System: Windows 7 on a fuckball of a computer
MP3 player of choice: i like the ipod
Shell of choice: I aint no turtle foo
Skin of choice: what/whoevers skin i happen to be wearing
Favourite cartoon character: Deadpool
Personal Quote: All I want out of life is blood, guts, and chocolate cake

My Droogies:


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Tevo77777 Featured By Owner Apr 30, 2014  Student Writer
What kind of writing do you do?
Dragonlord95 Featured By Owner Apr 30, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
used to be horrid fanfics. currently action/adventure/comedy
Lobo-1 Featured By Owner May 18, 2011  Student Writer
thus you shall check this $H!T out.
It is cool.
Lobo-1 Featured By Owner Jan 6, 2011  Student Writer
Check this out!!!
MidsummerDawn Featured By Owner Dec 10, 2010  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
You have been hugged!

Spread the DA love around! (you can copy and paste this message on their userpage!)

1- You can hug the person who hugged you!
2- You -MUST- hug 6 other people, at least!
3- You should hug them in public! Paste it on their user page!
4- Random hugs are perfectly okay!
5- You should most definitely get started hugging right away!

Send This To All Your Friends, And Me If I Am 1, On Second thought, Please give one back.
If You Get 7 Back You Are Loved!

1-3 you're a bad friend
4-6 you're an ok friend
7-9 you're a good friend
10-& Up you're a great friend
Dragonlord95 Featured By Owner Dec 11, 2010  Hobbyist General Artist
then you get the hug back then I guess
Hidden by Owner
Hidden by Owner
Lobo-1 Featured By Owner Apr 14, 2010  Student Writer
sarabudbug Featured By Owner Feb 24, 2010
Dragonlord95 Featured By Owner Feb 24, 2010  Hobbyist General Artist
sarabudbug Featured By Owner Feb 25, 2010
whats up whats up whats up??????????????????????????
Dragonlord95 Featured By Owner Feb 25, 2010  Hobbyist General Artist
someting just exploded
(1 Reply)
MidsummerDawn Featured By Owner Feb 15, 2010  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Thanks for the fave!
MidsummerDawn Featured By Owner Jan 15, 2010  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Thanks for the fave!
MidsummerDawn Featured By Owner Jan 8, 2010  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Thank you for the fave! please tell me what you thought!
Dragonlord95 Featured By Owner Jan 8, 2010  Hobbyist General Artist
me likey series
MidsummerDawn Featured By Owner Jan 4, 2010  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Thank you for the faves!
I saw on your profile that you would like to bash sasuke's brains out. May i help?
I assure you that in the apprentice story we cause him a lot of trouble! He he he...
Dragonlord95 Featured By Owner Jan 4, 2010  Hobbyist General Artist
tell me when the new one comes out Kay
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