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  "description": "Black Sunshine is my first serious project that I felt had a hope of being published. I started this huuuuge tale in my head with just an idea, and it slowly grew to be something I never thought could happen xD\n\nI also wrote Black Sunshine to vent some emotions about certain topics. You can expect this story to get violent, very quickly :D\n\nBlack Sunshine takes place in the year 2022, in the after-math of a very different sort of apocolypse. Werewolves, very powerful creatures have taken over the United States with sheer force alone. A large number of the human population is killed or eaten, and a just as large concentration has been captured and coralled like cattle, to be eaten later. Mexico and Canada have baricaded the country along their borders to prevent any werewolves from crossing over, although it's a useless gesture. As the world's economy fails and governments begin to crumble, it's not looking good for the human race.\n\nThe lucky ones that got away from the initial werewolf attack were militia out at sea, civilians that had access to boats or planes, or people that simply had the incredible skill or luck to get out of the country with their lives. These survivors have come together into two groups that live out at sea, the Eastern Fleet based in the Atlantic and the Western Fleet based in the Pacific. Together, these two fleets form the last of the free American people. And they have a plan.\n\nBlack Sunshine will follow the story of one Nolan Reynolds. Orphaned, with no credentials to his name, Nolan is about as lonely as a person can be. He doesn't remember his parent's names or faces, all he has known his entire life is the military, the steel walls of ships he's lived on, and his deep-set hatred for werewolves. Despite being approximately seventeen years old, Nolan is a soldier in the Marine Corps, holding the rank of Lance Corporal. Using his wits, his tools and his guns, Nolan drives straight through the heart of dead America, searching for supplies to help keep the fleet alive, demolishing any werewolf opposition that gets in his way, all the while searching for some remnant of who he was.\n\nHowever, this journey will take Nolan through more than just werewolf-infested territory. It will take the boy through the demons of his past to the problems of now, from something entirely not of this Earth, straight to the very content of his soul, in an odyssey to find himself.\n\n-----\n\nBlack Sunshine is possibly my most popular project, both on and off the internet and FA. I had a bit of an issue with getting people to read this on FA since I kinda just threw Ch 1 at them in its entirety (like it is here now!) and that was a bit much for them, unfortunately <:B\n\nI'll try again here, and if I don't get much respone, I'll break it up and repost it. :]\n\nHappy reading guys, I hope you enjoy <3",
  "description_bbcode_parsed": "<span style='word-wrap: break-word;'>Black Sunshine is my first serious project that I felt had a hope of being published. I started this huuuuge tale in my head with just an idea, and it slowly grew to be something I never thought could happen xD<br /><br />I also wrote Black Sunshine to vent some emotions about certain topics. You can expect this story to get violent, very quickly :D<br /><br />Black Sunshine takes place in the year 2022, in the after-math of a very different sort of apocolypse. Werewolves, very powerful creatures have taken over the United States with sheer force alone. A large number of the human population is killed or eaten, and a just as large concentration has been captured and coralled like cattle, to be eaten later. Mexico and Canada have baricaded the country along their borders to prevent any werewolves from crossing over, although it&#039;s a useless gesture. As the world&#039;s economy fails and governments begin to crumble, it&#039;s not looking good for the human race.<br /><br />The lucky ones that got away from the initial werewolf attack were militia out at sea, civilians that had access to boats or planes, or people that simply had the incredible skill or luck to get out of the country with their lives. These survivors have come together into two groups that live out at sea, the Eastern Fleet based in the Atlantic and the Western Fleet based in the Pacific. Together, these two fleets form the last of the free American people. And they have a plan.<br /><br />Black Sunshine will follow the story of one Nolan Reynolds. Orphaned, with no credentials to his name, Nolan is about as lonely as a person can be. He doesn&#039;t remember his parent&#039;s names or faces, all he has known his entire life is the military, the steel walls of ships he&#039;s lived on, and his deep-set hatred for werewolves. Despite being approximately seventeen years old, Nolan is a soldier in the Marine Corps, holding the rank of Lance Corporal. Using his wits, his tools and his guns, Nolan drives straight through the heart of dead America, searching for supplies to help keep the fleet alive, demolishing any werewolf opposition that gets in his way, all the while searching for some remnant of who he was.<br /><br />However, this journey will take Nolan through more than just werewolf-infested territory. It will take the boy through the demons of his past to the problems of now, from something entirely not of this Earth, straight to the very content of his soul, in an odyssey to find himself.<br /><br />-----<br /><br />Black Sunshine is possibly my most popular project, both on and off the internet and FA. I had a bit of an issue with getting people to read this on FA since I kinda just threw Ch 1 at them in its entirety (like it is here now!) and that was a bit much for them, unfortunately &lt;:B<br /><br />I&#039;ll try again here, and if I don&#039;t get much respone, I&#039;ll break it up and repost it. :]<br /><br />Happy reading guys, I hope you enjoy &lt;3</span>",
  "writing": "The moon hung high in her cradle of star-dotted blanket of blackness, casting her pale light on the northwestern hemisphere of planet Earth. It glided across the glistening Atlantic Ocean, settled and rolled across what was once a great and powerful nation, now nothing more than a barren, deserted wasteland of varying landscapes and smoldering desolation. While the other nations and powers of the world that be twinkled like the stars in the sky above them, there lay one spot of vast land, stretching from one ocean to the other, sitting still, dark and ominous. Smoldering, black, lifeless, and in ruin.\n\nThis was America. Once one of the great nations of the world - gone, stripped bare of her pride and glory. She used to be beautiful, really. But, someone had plans for these United States.\n\nSunday, August 31, 2008. 11:57 PM.\n\nApocalypse Day.\n\nIt all happened so fast. Creatures of ancient folk lore, swift as death fell upon the gleaming White House. They stormed through the doors with terrible strength and ferocity, attacking and murdering any living thing that moved in the iconic structure that would now be their victim’s grave. The Secret Service did not act without haste, but was alas, not swift enough. For when they charged into the oval office to guard the President, all they found was death. Seventeen people in the room – dead. There lay the leader of the nation, ripped asunder, slashed, bloodied and broken.\n\nBut the men soon found that not everyone in the room was dead. For there, in a pool of blood, stood a terrible creature. It was tall, and very broad. An unearthly low rumbling sound emanated from this figure, and it made the agents’ chest vibrate with the baritone and power of the sound. This monster, this harbinger of death, covered in pitch black fur from head to toe. Its body rippled with power, muscles bending and flexing threateningly at the men moving in on the monster. Bloodied hands with thick fingers ending in cruel, sharp claws played host to dripping blood. Its feet were also arranged in the same manner – blood soaked feet with toes and claws altogether. But those weren’t this creature’s scariest attribute. Oh no. Not even the bizarre, swaying fifth limb – a tail – could outdo the attention its head demanded. For perched on a thick neck and bristling mane stood the head of a snarling wolf. Golden yellow eyes smoldering with anger and rage, glared at the men with guns as they held their ground at the threshold of the Oval Office. Ears standing erect and at attention, poised forward, listening to the sounds of the shocked and frightened breathing of the other men. The skin on the top of its muzzle creased with its lips drawn back, showing long, red fangs, and throngs of blood pouring out from the crevices in its teeth. It growled even lower and narrowed its eyes, and, just as the Chief yelled the command to open fire, it sprung with a snarl at the men.\n\nFew would make it out alive that night.\n\nThis usurping of power didn’t take place at just the White House, oh no. Everywhere, reports of large, ferocious, animal-like creatures attacking military bases all over the contiguous states, the Pentagon, NASA and NATO members in America were hunted down and slaughtered. The Stock Exchange all around the nation was attacked. Any and every energy company that existed was wiped out. Airports, police and fire stations, hospitals and schools, no place nor no life that wasn’t fast or strong enough to escape was spared.\n\nMexico and Canada moved swiftly, deploying their respective Guards to the borders and establishing perimeters with orders to detain civilians, and fire in extreme circumstances only. Soon after the horrifying reports from the opposite sides of the assaulted nation, the standing orders were quickly bumped up to shoot to kill with extreme prejudice. The next week, the entire of the United States had grinded to a tremendous halt. A month later, the now flipped border patrol was still firing on anyone they deemed American for fear that they may be a werewolf in disguise. Two, tall, long walls were constructed, one stretching from Vancouver Island, down across the US/Canadian border, encasing Quebec, Montreal, and the Capital, ending at Fredericton. Toronto and the surrounding Great Lakes areas were swiftly evacuated and left outside the wall.\n\nThe other started in Tijuana, and in similar fashion to the Canadian Wall, the Mexican Wall hugged the border and gave some berth to the Rio Grande, towns around the wall evacuated thereafter. The Baja Peninsula was evacuated and left without a population, and a blockade set up between Mexico’s western border and Baja’s eastern border. \n\nTwo months in, the United Nations met for a briefing on the attack with the United States seat left hideously vacant. It was debated if the UN should just bomb America into glass, but it was concluded as too inhumane. It was suggested they go in for survivors, but it was countered with budget costs and casualties to NATO troops. Money was a concern since the world stock market took a hit when American trade disappeared.\n\nCountless arguments were thrown back and forth. The meeting lasted a little less than a week, and a verdict was reached: remain neutral. They would let the situation pan out for now, see how it settled, and then move in from there.\n\nThe UN has remained in this posture for the past two decades. They kept saying they’d deal with it, but honestly, the shock of it all happening: werewolves attacking and taking over a world super power like America by sheer brute force. The world powers feared it happening to them.\n\nAnd so, for twenty years, it’s been this way. The world is desperately trying to stop the world stock market from failing, everyone’s getting angry at each other, and America’s husk sits there, dark and foreboding. But, slightly known the UN, there are survivors. A few, but they’re there. All branches of the military that were out of the nation at the time quickly retreated back home to find…destruction. Desolation. Death.\n\nFrom one, lone national transmitting tower, the surviving military got the message; America was gone. You are the survivors.\n\nThen and there, the Navy loaded what survivors they could; soldiers from the Army, the Air Force and the Marines, and civilians. This was continued for a while. And then…\n\n“CODE RED! CODE RED! THIS IS THE NIRVANA, WE HAVE A WEREWOLF ABOARD!”\n\nThat was all that was heard from that soul before his throat was slashed. The surrounding ships moved in quickly, and a choice shot in the wolf-like skull ended what would be known as the Nirvana Massacre. The captain of the ship, 11 soldiers (10 men and 1 woman), including the communications officer on duty who declared the red, 7 women, and 3 children were slaughtered.\n\nAfter a funeral at sea was given, it was decided to let what few scientists there were in the surviving fleet should dissect the body of the werewolf. What they found was disappointingly normal, save for the obvious massive amounts of muscle, fur, and the equally obvious wolf skull perched on top of the neck and the tail protruding from the end of the spine.\n\nUntil the blood-work came back.\n\nIn it, they found something that could help them identify werewolves. A unique kind of blood cell. A simple blood test would be adequate to find out who was human and who was pretending. The test was administered to all personnel and civilians, and the tests yielded surprising results. Of the some 4800 crew and 200 civilians aboard each aircraft carrier – the USS Nirvana, Valhalla, and the Zion - and the 280 crew and 20 civilians aboard the 26 destroyers – a total of 22,800 souls, 989 of them were werewolves. Silent orders were swiftly carried out and the instantly condemned civilians were lined up on the flight decks. It was then found out in an almost inhumane way how to properly kill a werewolf. It was also discovered almost completely on accident that the eyes are sensitive to a certain kind of UV light. Shine this light in their eye, and a small, but very noticeable halo of light will appear on the inside of their iris. If this halo appears in the eyes of a person, then they’re a werewolf.\n\nAll the subjects were then promptly executed and shoved off deck.\n\nWith this information in mind, the top heads of the survivors started getting ideas. If werewolves had a weakness, then they could be killed. And if they could be killed, they could take their nation back. Before plans could be drafted however, a sudden radio message was received one year after the events of Apocalypse Day.\n\n“Attention all surviving United States militia. This is the USS Freedom Ship, can anyone hear me?”\n\nFreedom Ship? What was the Freedom Ship? No one knew. Timidly, one communications officer answered: “Freedom, this is the Valhalla, we read you.” The following conversation that ensued was unbelievable. Freedom Ship, according to the communicating officer, was a floating city, capable of holding up to some 30,000 passengers. After a day, it was agreed by the generals that a fighter detail should be dispatched to check out the validity of the claims of this unknown vessel.\n\nThe Zion and 6 destroyers set sail for the Freedom, and when they were within the appropriate distance, fighters Alpha, Bravo, and Charlie launched off the deck. Halfway between the Zion and the Freedom, Bravo and Charlie broke off and maintained their position, saying Godspeed to Alpha as he continued his trajectory towards the increasingly colossal object on his radar.\n\nThe minutes ticked by. The generals, crew, troops, and civilians all sat impatiently, waiting, hoping that this fantasy was real. “I see something…” Alpha said, and it rang through the halls of each and every vessel back at “home”. Everyone held their breath. “My lord, it’s massive! A-at least a mile long!...Oh my God. Oh my God! It’s real, IT’S REAL!!” Joyous cries rang from the ship, everyone hugging each other, weeping, kissing their children, dancing, singing, whooping. “I can see people waving! Wait! Wait! I’m getting a message…” Everyone fell silent. “Alpha-Zion actual, I’m receiving landing instructions, please advise.”\n\n“Alpha, deny request and send following message…” A meeting time was arranged between one of the carriers and the floating city.\n\n“Copy Zion. Message has been relayed and they have agreed to meet.”\n\n“Roger. Units Alpha, Bravo, Charlie, return to base. You did good.”\n\n“Copy. Over and out.”\n\nIt took a while, but eventually it was agreed that the Freedom would be used to hold civilians and give troops R&R. It was almost unbelievable. An entire ship, the most luxurious living conditions for the survivors…just floating in the sea.\n\nDefenseless.\n\nThe carrier group immediately moved to the Freedom’s location, and took up defensive positions around the ship, and it an alliance was quickly formed between the militant crew of the ships and the civilian-run Freedom. Together, they were the last surviving Americans. And they had to persevere.\n\nThey moved the Freedom a little closer to the eastern border of the former United States, and no less than one carrier had to defend the city. The Zion then became the ship that was in charge of infiltrating the eastern United States for survivors.\n\nFor years this went on. Rough at first, but the troops eventually adjusted to fighting werewolves. The art of search and rescue began to become perfect. Send in one scout to scope out the area where survivors are rumored to be. Pull any resources from surrounding factories and hospitals before the strike was carried out, if they were there. Estimate how many survive, and how many “fuzzies” there are, and then arrange a strike force depending on how many enemies there are, shoot them down, and then extract the survivors. Administer an “eye exam”, as it was nicknamed, eliminate any pretenders from there, then board a carrier and deposit them to the Freedom after one more eye exam. Crew and troops were given one every month, of course.\n\nEventually, it was decided to try and make contact with the west coast to see if anyone lived. A small airplane launched off the Freedom at 5 A.M. on March 17, 2019. Immediately there were problems. Apparently, since the U.S. had been toppled, Canada had claimed the air over the States, and the small aircraft that was deployed was apparently intruding on Canadian air space. If the small plane didn’t leave, they’d shoot it down.\n\nThe plane ignored them under the pilot’s own arrogance and orders from the fleet. Canada scrambled fighters. So did the carriers. It got a little ugly, and almost ended in a fire fight. There was a lot of posturing, yelling, and finally the two heads of nation’s respectful squadrons called a truce, and the small plane was allowed to drop a small radio tower somewhere in Nebraska, and it started transmitting, sending messages to the western coast. “Attention. This is the air craft carrier group Freedom, can anyone hear me?”\n\nFor days this message played. Over and over and over. 26, in fact, but nobody really counted. It was well into the afternoon when the message came.\n\n“Attention CVBG Freedom. This is the CVBG Desperado, we read you loud and clear.”\n\nSurvivors! In the West! Another miracle among a sea of sorrows. Plans were quickly arranged to have one of the Freedom’s jets to fly over and pick up survivors. The Western Front quickly picked up the East’s tactics and thus began the work of salvaging what remained of the American population, headed by the East Front and the West Front, with the Freedom acting as the headquarters and home base of all operations.\n\nThis became the new flow of life. Extract, save, shoot. Kill, eat, sleep. Breath, blink, move. That was all they could do for now. All the way up until the season change from fall into winter of 2022. Survivors were reported somewhere in the vicinity of southern Manhattan in New York City.\n\nThe Zion had docked at Long Island, near the open mouth of the Hudson River. The gigantic ship cast a long shadow over the cold and lonely houses, water splashing calmly up against the metal hull. Slowly, with a rather loud metallic hum, the hangar-level doors opened and set down on the dock. Within the dark bowels of the ship, the click and slap of a door opening and closing could be heard, followed by the sudden blast of light from two, round headlights, lighting up the opposite side of the nearby fishery’s wall. From the view of the flight deck, one could see a black car slowly pull out of the hangar before the doors closed, then see the ruby red tail lights fade off as it headed for the nearest bridge onto the mainland.\n\nHundreds of miles away, on a lonely stretch alongside the Hudson, two werewolves, one male, the other female, landed softly from their last jump onto the dirt by the side of the road, and they embraced each other, nuzzling each other softly. A TV studio stood opposite the road, dwarfing a tiny little phone booth that contained a dead body in a suit, long since picked clean of flesh by flies and maggots. The corpse’s lower jaw was gone, and there was a hole in the glass of the phone booth, with cracks spider webbing outward from the hole.\n\nThe couple got impatient and steadily frisky, bodies rocking as they slowly started tearing off their human clothes into shreds. The orange light of the dying street lamp cast their merging shadows, and they slowly went to the ground.\n\nFurther still, in the heart of the buildings of lower Manhattan, a large pit of fire could be seen. Closer in, you’d find it’s not really fire, just barrels full of fire. It was a werewolf festival. A party, in a sense. The buildings and air was heavy with the sounds and smells of booze, sex, drugs, laughing, singing…blood.\n\nDeath. \n\nHorrified human screams cut short, the land knew blood once more, and the werewolf’s bellies filled a little more. Different rooms of different buildings held different things. One room was crammed full of a mass of swarming, thrusting, rocking bodies, moaning, crying out in orgasm. Another room; full of werewolves in human clothes, the ground littered with bottles of empty Budweiser. And another – blood soaked walls, crying children, pleading mothers and furious fathers, all chained to the wall like cattle as they watched another innocent man’s throat slashed by a hungry werewolf.\n\nIn the center of all this laughing, drinking and murdering, there stood a stage made of shambles. The amps were real, but they weren’t hooked up to guitars, they were hooked up to a stereo system. One creature opened the CD tray in the back and placed a disk in the slot, then closed the tray. Outside, one brown werewolf leapt up onstage as a swarm of fur moved in on the stage, the air growing heavy with expectation. The brown werewolf threw up his hands and the mass suddenly started cheering and chanting, crowding hungrily for a song. The brown obliged, and dashed back stage, and then return, raising his arm to show a body – a child. No more than eight years old, at best, draped in nothing but tattered, ripped, and dirty clothes. Dozens of cuts and scars decorated his lean, feeble frame. His long and dirty black hair couldn’t hide the tears that silently rolled down his cheeks.\n\n“Please…” he whispered desperately to the man-thing holding his body up off the ground. “Don’t make me play again…my fingers…” The child held up his left hand. His finger tips were a sickly purple color, long gashes under his fingernails looked black and dead, deep enough to see the bone – the result of playing electric guitar countless times, night after night after night.\n\nThe beast pulled the child’s head closer to the end of his snout. “You’ll play.” He growled in a whisper, his breath sick with venomous death. “If you want to keep them.” He violently threw the bony skeleton away from him and he hit the floor. Sobbing and bruised, the black-haired boy picked himself up and swiftly grabbed the dirty and beaten V-shaped guitar, putting the strap over his head and around his shoulders. He dug a quarter out of his pocket, and put his gashed fingers to the blood-soaked and rusty strings, marching down the center column out towards the crowd. He stepped carefully, as the werewolves tended to swipe at his legs for fun. Tonight was no exception. One set of claws, despite his care, did manage to sink into his leg and he cried out in pain, but dare not stop – the song would start soon, and he had to get to the elevated platform if he wanted to avoid getting cut anymore and still play efficiently. He leapt onto the platform just in time and started strumming at just the right time as somebody pressed play, and a sinister, nasty snarl burst from the amps with each strum and note of the young boy’s guitar, his fingers bleeding anew.\n\nThe music continued, a sinister chorus of drums and guitars, booming out of the amps fed by the CD player in the back and the poorly tuned guitar in the gaunt-faced child’s hands. The whole world around the shambled stage seemed to react and groove to the music, in time with the beat.\n\nThe werewolf stepped up to the mic stand and began to sing.\n\nIt was agony playing the rusted strings. The malnourished child did his best to keep up, but the pain was so unreal, he started to fall out of time. A sharp slash to the legs latter, his tears flowed anew, but he dutifully fell back into time.\n\nBack at the failing lamppost miles away, the couple was getting into it, working each other hard and fast. Far too occupied to notice anything going on around them, the sound of a far-off V8 reached their ears, but not their minds.\n\nIt was too late to do anything. In the blink of an eye, in the fastest instant imaginable, seemingly at the brink of breaking the sound barrier, a phantom of a black car violently erupted past the couple with terrifying power and authority.\n\n So much power in fact, the broken glass left in the phone booth shattered and fell to the ground with the sheer volume of the distinctly pony-car shaped vehicle.\n\nThe male’s back snapped straight in surprise, his fur looking severely windswept, and he growled at the retreating red taillights on the horizon, then ushered a quick howl of warning to anyone who may be hearing off in the distance before returning to his previous activity.\n\nThe car roared past abandoned buildings, full of corpses, past rusting cars, all reminders of humanity’s fate, tires rolling over blood long since dried. She tore into the heart of the little town, leaving spider-web-like cracks in any glass it passed, rocking every parked car it came near. Quick as a flash, she was on the other side of the small town, and roared under a highway sign. The rusted support beams, having had to suffer nature’s wrath without the aid of man, finally gave in, snapped, and the entire pillar tilted and fell under its own weight right on top of a lonesome gas station. It collapsed on the roof of the pumps, the roof caved in and struck a gas pump, causing the ancient gas in the tank to spark and explode, igniting the entire station.\n\nThe explosion indeed rocked the car, but as soon as she came, she was gone. The black phantom moved on unaffected, rolling out of the small town and back onto the freeway. Like an unstoppable juggernaut, she barreled along with the land and the curving road, luminous headlights showing the way, clear as day. Though the road curved like a still serpent across the earth, the car refused to slow, rocketing around the bends with uncanny sure-footedness. Much further down the road, its headlights would go out, and she would blend into the darkness seamlessly.\n\nOn the outskirts of the city, a grey werewolf’s ear pricked itself at a distant howl. Danger, it said. Look for humans. The werewolf himself was an old one, a giant 9 foot tall monster, grizzly, father of many pups and one of the veterans of the Great Hunt. Perched on top of a tollbooth leading towards a bridge that stretched into the outskirts of Manhattan, he stood up and faced the southeast warily, eyes scanning the horizon for men. He saw a tremendous fireball touch the heavens, and his fur ruffled with a light breeze from the explosion. Even more warily, he waited. He soon heard something before he saw anything. The monster smirked – Clumsy humans, the lycan thought. So easy to sense…\n\nHe tensed his body, readying himself to pounce on the car that was sure to come. How foolish of man! These cars they drove were like sardine cans to him. He stood there, poised and ready for attack. The sound of the engine grew louder to him, and louder and louder still, drawing closer and faster…it was just a matter of time now, before he’d see it…\n\nThe werewolf frowned. He didn’t understand – the car seemed so loud and yet he couldn’t see it! A wall of sound suddenly blasted him and he was overwhelmed – he couldn’t pinpoint the sound of where the car was coming from. He whirled around, growling furiously, hackles on end, wild eyes snapping from this thing and that. The sound only magnified and the grey werewolf felt like his skull was going to split open. He refocused his wild gaze to the south, and within the light of the street lamp, he caught it – a car, tearing down the road at an impossible speed with its headlights off, but just barely. He blinked, and the car was gone, having blown between two toll booths and smashing through the wooden barrier like it was a toothpick.\n\nToo late, he leapt after the car, only to land on the asphalt, the ruby red taillights mocking him for his failure. Snarling, he took off running after the car, determined, no matter what, to catch that car that would so easily insult his honor.\n\nHis pace was cut short when a black silhouette slipped out of the car’s driver side window, as if someone was sitting down on the door with their legs inside the car. The shadowed driver pulled out something long and smooth, brought it close to his chest, and pointed the other end at the old grey werewolf. Without time to react, all the werewolf saw was a flash, and he was suddenly rolling along the road – the driver had shot him in the leg.\n\nIn the city, the song was nearing its end, the audience started to wind down from its adrenaline high. And then something else started to grow in the crowd – hunger. They could smell the blood seeping from the child’s fingers and leg, and they could just as easily see the blood sliding down the strings, and it made them hungry.\n\nThe car ripped through the urban streets, hungrily searching for a way towards the music. It sped up and skidded around a corner, almost clipping a rusting corpse of another car, dodging obstacles left and right, filling the streets with its music. And then, suddenly, at the height of its power, it relaxed. The revs gradually lowered in ferocity. The tires spun slower and slower. It rounded a corner, silent as the night, and there it was – the outer edge of the swarming mass of dancing werewolves, the stage in the center of attention, the small human boy playing his guitar, body wracked with painful sobs. Over the sounds of the music and their own dancing, they never heard the light squeak of the brakes as it slowed down to a crawl.\n\nThe hungry mass’s greed overtook them, and just as one werewolf was about to pull the child down from the stage by his stomach, a holy blast of blue, surreal light swept the street and blinded all those in the path of the car. The child, his eyes having long since forgotten the glory of sunlight, had to shield his eyes just like everyone else. The CD kept playing, but eventually someone shut it off, and everyone tried to look at the source of this advancing light, but could only be blinded ever more, and the outside rung of the crowd parted to get out of the light and out of the way of the moving object.\n\nOnce it had started sinking into the crowd, delving further and further, did the crowd start to comprehend what it was through their musical high – a car.\n\nShe rolled down the street slowly, leisurely, the pack of werewolves following it curiously, angrily, as if hypnotized by her almost brand new look. Her bright highs projected a crystal clear beam ahead to light her way, piercing through the darkness like a sword. Some werewolves followed behind it, some next to it, but none, within twenty yards would go near the front, as if intimidated by silver cobra badge on the left half of the steel grill, towards one of the cars piercing blue orbs. She was black, black as the night – spotting her would be hard had she not had her high beams on. She had the classic racing stripes and decals of a Shelby, except they were painted a very, very dark grey; it was almost black, even, and thus seemed to blend with the black paint from afar. The broken, flickering street lamp’s light winked off of the chrome silver badge and wide rims brilliantly, making the werewolves fidget angrily. They didn’t quite know what to make of it. Something wasn’t right about this car…rare as they were and clean as she looked, it reeked of human.\n\nShe continued rolling down the way, the sea of bristling fur parting reluctantly for this unknown interloper. It glided gracefully, gently, near-idle engine breathing passively, giving not so much as a hint towards her tremendous power. Reflections of old, hollow brick buildings, falling apart and deteriorating, ghosts of high-rises half caved in and seemed to loom darkly, graffiti and the occasional burning barrel could be seen off of the slick black paint of the rumbling pony car. But not one reflection was as great as the full, gorgeous moon, drifting slowly and lazily like the car.\n\nThe driver, his identity shielded by lightly black tinted glass and darkness all around him, would have told you it was a beautiful car from a legendary name, now lost in the careless time of werewolves. If you found the marketing sticker, it would have told you the jewel was a 2008 Shelby GT500KR, seven hundred and twenty five horsepower Super Snake Edition. Of course, the name Shelby meant nothing to werewolves; as they don’t care for automobiles, save for this occasional event that was currently taking place.\n\nThe werewolves continued following this car that dared enter their territory, but in all their hostility and prejudice for this symbol of mankind, they refused to touch it, so strong was the stench of man and woman on this car. They growled, raised their hackles, flashed their menacing fangs, everything they knew to try and intimidate the invading car and alien driver, but it still proceeded at that slow, calm pace, neither going faster nor slowing down. It just kept moving, gliding along the asphalt like a boat down a river.\n\nIt followed that one straight line down the street, creeping towards the end of the road towards a cul-de-sac. The werewolves in the cul-de-sac were at first oblivious to this intrusion of territory, having been too wrapped up in what they were doing. Excessive partying; dancing, drinking, drug abuse and full public acts of sex were the view to be captured in this human-influenced center of young werewolf culture.\n\nWhen the whistling breath of the fine-tuned engine caught their ear, they all froze, heads turned in the direction of the mysterious vehicle and the attention and mob it had garnered. It crept slowly into the cul-de-sac, hollow buildings leering at the machinery, seemingly jealous it was still used and moving, not abandoned and abused like they were.\n\nAnd then, all of a sudden, it stopped. There was a sudden intake of air on part of the werewolves that carried an element of shock about it, as if snapped out of their hypnotic state because the vehicle finally stopped moving. Everyone stood, watching the slender car, some even daring to whisper to each other about what they should do, and the answer was resounding – “I don’t know.”\n\nAs if hearing their whispers, the black car suddenly ceased to breath, and the lights went out, darkness swallowing the crowd once more, only dimly penetrated by the few barrels and fires crackling around the place.\n\nSuddenly, everything was still. Absolutely, perfectly still. Not a hair moved, not one breath of air was heard, every fiber of muscle just stopped. It was like someone hit the pause button on the world. Everyone dare not move, most ears splayed back, tails held low, every strand of fur electrified by the air of anticipation.\n\nAnd then, the door popped open. This simple act made every single werewolf that had given the attention to the vehicle to jump like a cat that had been ripped from its slumber by a huge dog. It swung open wide, the people on the left side of the car gasping and immediately a buzz went around. A tan work boot reached out of the car and set itself on the pavement, the dark blue cuff of his jean following to cover the upper half as weight was shifted onto that foot, alternatively making the car rise an inch as its only inhabitant exited the car calmly, another work boot joining the second on the ground. As the head of the driver popped up over the top of the car, the buzz intensified, becoming urgent, angry, confused, and scared all at the same time.\n\nIt was a human. He stood at least five and half feet tall, with tawny brown, straight, medium length hair sticking under the lip of his black beanie. He grasped the door, stood back, and swung it shut. Then, he stuffed his hands in his pockets, silver key dipping into his right pocket along with his fist. Bundled in a black hoodie that had the same pitch of color of his Shelby, the front unzipped to show a plain gray t-shirt, the chilly night did little to make him cold.\n\nHe exhaled through his nose, seemingly to solidify his presence among the much larger beings. He strolled forward slowly, reflecting the earlier pace of his car, towards the front, moon glinting sharply off of the seemingly new paintjob. He walked around the front quarter panel, stepping lazily, boots thumping off of the asphalt. He sat down on the lip of the hood, making the front end sink half an inch, and he crossed one ankle over the other. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath through his nose, and looked up at the sky, the brilliant white moon reflected in his piercing steel-blue-green eyes. He smiled at the planetary body, as if enjoying its presence, and seemingly absorbing its pale light. His smile stuck to his face as he looked down, his eyes, shaded by the beanie’s visor, turned a slightly gentler blue-green color and greeted a crowd of stunned, apprehensive werewolves just staring at him, dumbstruck, not knowing what to do.\n\nHe frowned, tilted his head to the side slightly, and shrugged his shoulders as he offered an impossibly innocent “What?”\n\nEvery single strand of hair on every werewolf’s back went stiff and straight. It was as if they couldn’t believe what they were seeing and hearing – a real, living human, in their territory of its own free will. Many didn’t know what to make of him; never, since the day the werewolves had retaken the Promised Land did a human so willingly step into their midst with such a relaxed air. Or so their fathers had told them. Had the current mass of furry bodies been the generation that had toppled the furless ones, he would instantly be dead the second he stepped out of his car. But, the current crowd was but a teenage to young adult age group, so, for most, this was their first time seeing a human. Some werewolves thought he was insane. Others thought he was really scrawny, with obvious thoughts of eating him on their minds. A few select younger weres even sounded curiously aroused by his presence.\n\n“Too many werewolves, not enough holes.” Was what crossed the young boy’s mind. “That or the lack of variety…” He snickered, then opened his mouth to speak again, all the talking and buzz that flooded his ears ceasing immediately, at which he looked greatly amused. Smiling, his left hand rummaging in his pocket, he spoke loudly with a low, Zen-like voice:\n\n“I didn’t come here to get eaten.” He said, throwing a devilish smile towards one particular mass of fur in front of his car. “Or…fucked, for that matter.” He threw a less charming look over at the group of female werewolves who giggled and hid their faces. “Like it’s a game…”\n\nShaking his head, he produced a pack of Winston cigarettes from his left pocket from whence he was rummaging. Removing two white cylinders, he placed one in between the lip of his beanie and his temple, and put the other’s butt in his lips. “I came here to race.”\n\nAlmost immediately, the apprehensive, unsure, and somewhat hungry air was shattered by the sound of booming, hysterical laughter all around him. Unfazed, gossip and outraged voices circling around him, the little human simply retrieved a Zippo from his jacket, flipped it open, and proceeded to light his cancer stick, head bowed calmly as the fire splashed a pulsing orange across his face, and then ceased quickly, tiny columns of smoke started drifting out of the end of his cigarette. Furry bodies started leaning on each other for support as they continued laughing, the furless being took a calm, slow drag of his stick.\n\nWhen the laughter died down, he removed the cigarette from his lips. “You guys done?” And he blew out the smoke in a perfect circle, and it drifted away lazily into the sky.\n\nThere was a general murmur of “Yes.”\n\n“Good.” The boy said with a cheerful smile. “Then point me to the starting line.”\n\nNo laughter this time. Only still air. Instead, one brown-colored werewolf stepped forward boldly and addressed the teenager. “This race is for werewolves only, human.” The other werewolves rallied behind the male, encouraging him. Growing cockier, he thrust his chest out and apparently tried to look regal. “You’re not a werewolf. Thus, you can’t run with us. You’d only lose.”\n\nAs the glow of the end of his cigarette lit up the interloper’s face, the other werewolves could clearly see a skeptically cocked eyebrow. “Oh really now?” said the human amusedly, and struck a tone that suggested sarcasm. “Well then, if I’m so obviously doomed to lose, why not let me race anyway? I mean, wont it look funny in front of aaaall your friends to see a poor, frail little human being so completely beaten by all you clearly superior werewolves?” He gestured the crowd gathered around him, another devilish smile took its place, eyes shaded from view. He marveled at how easy it was to manipulate the situation to his favor. Werewolves had the biggest egos he’d ever seen.\n\nThere was yet another buzz as a bemused word traveled the lips of the furry beings. Taking another calm drag, he listened and absorbed all the information traveling around him, and then he took to scrutinizing his cigarette as the werewolf talked to him.\n\n“You’ll be racing that car right there?”\n\n“Yep.”\n\nThe super natural narrowed his eyes. “Just you?”\n\n“Uh huh.”\n\n“And you don’t want any kind of reward after the race if you win?”\n\n“Which I wont?” the human asked sarcastically.\n\nNot picking up on it, the young werewolf relaxed and said more boldly. “Of course you won’t! No reward?”\n\nThe intruder looked inquisitive for a moment, holding his chin as he looked up and off to the moon in thought. Then, he slowly shook his head. “Nope.”\n\n“You sure?”\n\n“I’m here, aren’t I? What’re you guys, scared?”\n\nThe crowd grew silent. “Oops.” He thought smugly to himself. “Seems as if I’ve struck a nerve.”\n\nImmediately, the once cocky werewolf said to him with a serious look on his face, “We’re not scared of you.”\n\n“Oh really?” The human said again. “Huh.” He grunted, looking off into space, as if thinking about something. “If that’s true…” he said carefully, eyes returning to the brown werewolf. “Then why…do I have at least ten feet of clear space around me and my car?”\n\nAnd angry murmur ran through the crowd, and all the intruder did was take a drag from his shortening cigarette, gave a big, smug smile, and exhaled the plumes through his nostrils, because he knew it was true. And he was right. They were afraid of him. The swirling of angry chatter and words grew. It sounded like they were still uncertain if they wanted to let him race. Apparently, allowing a human to participate in “werewolf” activities was frowned upon. The human blew out another plume of smoke. “Tell ya what.” He said, capturing the attention of the werewolves once more. “If I don’t place first.” Everyone fell deathly silent instantly. Picking at his still lit cancer stick, the boy said with his head bowed, in a clear and amused voice, a big smile alight his face: “You all get to eat me.”\n\nThere was a unanimous roar of approval as the entire crowd cheered its yes, and various shouts proceeded: “I CALL HIS LEG! I WANT HIS LIVER! GIMME HIS SPINE!” The human smiled. “The way to a werewolf’s brain functions and common sense is through their stomach.”\n\n“So I can race then?” Nobody seemed to protest. Until…\n\n“HO-HO-HOLD UP JUST A DAMN SECOND!”\n\nThe single, arrogant tone of this loud, explosive voice shattered the harmony the human had brought to the little circle of werewolves. Glancing over his shoulder with an annoyed expression, the human saw a snowy white colored werewolf bounce forward and skid around the front panel of the human’s now inherently forgotten automobile. The white wolf was dressed in three quarter shorts with a black bandana dangling out of the rear pocket, and a black, extremely baggy t shirt with what looked like the Warner Brothers logo on it in silver and topped off with glitter to make it shine.\n\nIn short, to the human, this was the werewolf version of a poser.\n\n“We ain’t seriously lettin’ this little pinky roll wit us, are we?” His words cast doubt onto the suddenly light air just as much as his bad gangster accent would cast doubt on people’s perception of his intelligence. “I mean, just lookit dis hunka shit!” The white wolf gestured to the “pinky’s” car. The human of course, scoffed and shook his head, muttering “fucking idiot…”\n\nThe poser’s keen ear picked up on this and he said “Aw, s’like that, huh playa?” The white wolf dashed towards the hood, sliding his rear around the corner of his headlights and coming to rest right next to the human. Getting right in his face, his head much, much larger than the human’s, Glitter Shirt scrutinized him very, very closely. “You gon’ be a playa hatah?”\n\nNot intimidated in the least, the human remained silent for a second, staring blankly at the werewolf, and the now very short cigarette smoldering between his fingers. Then, he tilted his head curiously.\n\n“Can I call you Todd?”\n\nThis odd and random request threw off the monster in his face entirely. “Whut da fuck.”\n\nThe human smiled. “I like Todd, I’m gonna call you Todd.” And he nodded. The werewolf looked extremely confused. Smiling wider, with an evil glint in his eye, the human said in a low voice. “Todd. You know how I see you right now? No? A bitch.” The word stung the air like a slap in the face. “A wily little bitch.”\n\nSilence. Pure, still silence.\n\nUnabashed, the human went on; “And as such, I see the need to tell you that your free will has been revoked, and I now own you.”\n\nTo werewolves, this was the greatest of offenses – for a human to claim a werewolf as a pet or servant. Seemingly oblivious to the deadly line he had just crossed, the boy went on. “Todd, you see those cars over there?” He gestured with his cigarette to the line of vehicles he had observed earlier as he rolled in. These cars – average, consumer-friendly priced, every day, worn, stock cars – were the racing machines the werewolves drove. Todd didn’t move an inch. Looking back into the now furious and bristling werewolf’s eyes with a smoldering anger of his own, the bold human said, “Those are hunks of shit. I could blink at ‘em, and I’d have to say I wouldn’t be surprised if they turned into dust. Those things desperately need a car wash and tune up. Now if you’re too stupid to comprehend that fact, and that you think that those junkyards you call cars over there are gonna beat my beast right here-” He slapped the hood of his car firmly. “-then shit, I don’t want you anywhere near me, or my car.”\n\nMore silence. Replacing the Winston between his lips to take a drag, the human entered into a staring contest with the infuriated werewolf before his face, matching his glare with a leer of his own. This big furry asshole was not getting the message that he did not want this werewolf touching his car. He’d get fingerprints all over the body. The boy leaned in fearlessly, blowing smoke all over Todd’s face, and said in a low, deadly voice: “Down, Fido.”\n\nTodd lashed out, a streak of white and a huge hurry fist checked the teenager’s cheek, the cigarette was violently flung out of his mouth and several feet away from him, quickly followed by a few crimson droplets of blood. There was a loud roar of approval from the crowd around him and Todd suddenly backed away from the car, laughing and thumbing his nose at the seemingly wounded boy.\n\nThe human himself was actually just fine. It’s not the first time he’d been hit, much less by a werewolf. He sat himself back up, spat out a wad of blood, then wiped his mouth with his sleeve, and appeared unfazed, much to the astonishment of some of the weres in the crowd. He sat up straight, propped his boot up onto the chin spoiler, and shook his head, muttering, “Tsk tsk tsk…” He sighed. “Todd, Todd, Todd…not nice.” He said, stabbing a finger at the bouncing and invigorated wolf man.\n\nTodd wasn’t listening. He continued jumping around, firing up the crowd, reasserting the delusion that they were superior to the teenage human in their midst.\n\n“Tooooodd.”\n\nTodd whipped around suddenly. “Ya’ll humans are a buncha frail pussies. Ya’ll can’t hunt nuthin’. Ya’ll can’t catch nuthin’. Ya’ll gotta go to a place where the food is already caught for yo pussy asses! Ya’ll can’t live wit out ch’o TVs an shit.” He again approached the boy he’d assaulted just a few seconds ago and got right into his face. “You can’t even race your own cars.”\n\nThe teenager only stared passively into Todd’s eyes. “Ya want me to disprove it?”\n\nTodd frowned at the human’s neutral response. “Ah, I see yo game. Ya’ll tryna keep calm so yo ass don’t git clouded wit bad judgment.” Having no idea what Todd was talking about, nor caring to know, the human remained silent, and threw a tiny, longing look over at his cigarette on the ground as if it was the most troublesome thing in the world. Todd grew steadily more frustrated and proceeded around the front of the car to its right side.\n\n“Well, see you keep calm aftah dis!”\n\nHe extended a single finger, and then dug his claw into the cast iron chassis of the car’s passenger door with a small clack. Then, he dragged it along the side, up towards the front, paint and metal curling around his nail as the terrible screeching sound of nail against metal ensued, and every single werewolf clapped their hands over their ears, laughing and cheering on Todd. He ran up the side, ending with a flourish by pulling his arm out and swinging into the air, completing a long scratch on the side of the car, starting at the center of the passenger’s side door, going all the way up, over the wheel well, ending at just before the headlight.\n\nThe whole crowd was cheering on Todd, and Todd loved it. He bounced around, got into the boy’s face again, laughing at him, completely oblivious to what the human was doing. He seemed ominously passive, and his right hand slipped behind his back, inside the hoodie, reaching for something.\n\nSomebody shouted at Todd to do the same to the driver’s side, and Todd obliged, dashing over the driver’s side, and then bent over to dig his nail into the door as he did with the other side, but this time, he stopped when he heard the teenager speak.\n\n“Hey Todd. C’mere.”\n\n“Aw, looks like tha brotha’s got some words fuh ya’ll!” He swaggered up to the front, stooped over and slung an arm around the boy like he was a dear brother. “Watcha want pinky?”\n\nA deafening roar exploded forth from the human and everyone jumped and screamed. Todd was flung backward, lifted off his feet and landed on the ground, limbs sprawled messily. The thud of his body was shortly accompanied by the ping of a single copper jacket tapping against the ground. The tube bounced around a little bit, and then stood right side up on its firing cap, still smoking.\n\nShocked, the onlookers saw the bullet hole in Todd’s chest, and then looked at the boy, this simple, now threatening boy, holding an M9 handgun, pointed up to where Todd’s chest was just a seconds ago. Barrel smoking, the human lowered the end, face twisting slightly as if thinking a third time about his decision, and then silently brought the gun back up, pointed it straight up in front of his face, pursed his lips, and blew away the smoke from the barrel.\n\n“Anyone else wanna touch my fuckin’ car?”\n\nHe looked left. He looked right. All he saw were wide, fearful eyes. Terrified eyes. Werewolves a foot taller than him cowering behind each other. The once fearless and savage monsters humans feared so much for so long a time - reduced to nothing but scared puppies. Nobody dared open their mouths to even answer his question.\n\nAll because of one little gun. To the human, it was a simple tool he often used in his defense. But to the werewolves around him who had never witnessed a gun before, a small object so loud and frightening struck fear into their hearts. They had no idea how it worked, and now one of their own was dead.\n\n“Now then.” These two simple words made the mass of fur in front of him flinch. It was almost comical; supernatural monsters cowering before a human that barely came up to their shoulder, almost like a bunch of kindergarteners before a teacher who had just yelled at them. His cynical smile came back.\n\n“Does anyone else have an issue with me racing?” He waited this time. A gentle breeze swept down the street, kissing the boy’s face. No one answered. No one objected. He nodded, then stood up, and approached the nearly extinguished Winston. He hunched over to pick it up with his left hand and stood back up, then wandered casually over to Todd’s still body. He was careful to step on his groin, placing his feet on either side of Todd’s torso. Sighing through his nose, frowning and shaking his head, it was almost as if he was half-expected to say “What a shame…”\n\nPutting the bloody butt in between his lips, he reached behind him with both hands, replacing the gun into the band of his jeans, the mass of fur looking on silently. Taking one long final drag from his stub of a cigarette, he stooped over and grabbed a handful of Todd’s shirt, and pulled his lifeless body up to his face.\n\n“The name’s Nolan, by the way,” he said in a low voice. “Remember that when you wake up.”\n\nExhaling the last plume of smoke the cigarette had to offer, he then dropped the dead butt into Todd’s gaping maw and unceremoniously dropped his body onto the ground. Whispers abound yet again, the name “Nolan” being chanted over and over, Nolan turned around, taking care to step on Todd’s groin again. This time, the white-furred finger twitched. Not noticing, or simply just ignoring it, Nolan stooped over and grabbed Todd’s cuff of his jean and dragged him forward a little, dropping his leg down ominously in the path of the completely forgotten Shelby.\n\nWhat Nolan meant by his comment was exactly what he said; Todd would wake up and walk again. It would actually take approximately two to two and half hours for him to heal from the bullet wound, depending on how deep it went into his chest cavity. Nolan knew it would take a bit more than just a bullet to kill a werewolf. You had to place it right. For part of a werewolf’s physiology is their intense immune system. The second an injury is detected by the body, black blood cells, a type of blood unique only to werewolves, race to the injury immediately, devour infections, repel anything else that’s impeding the healing process and seal up the wound, good as new. They are, in effect, super white blood cells. They can even reanimate or stand in for cells that are needed and can’t be made fast enough for the body to fix, such as muscle tissue, bone calcium, and even neural fibers.\n\nThe only way to stop this process and permanently kill a werewolf is to destroy the spine joints connected to the brain in the neck, destroy the brain itself, drain the body of blood through a major blood vessel, or destroy or stop the heart long enough for it to stop producing black blood cells. Black cells, while incredibly powerful, don’t have a very long life span compared to their white blood relatives, and the heart has to continually produce more and more. Stop the heart for exactly 11.1 minutes, all the cells die, and the werewolf has no chance of coming back to life. Destroy the brain, the heart can’t run. Destroy the spine, and the brain can’t tell the heart to run. Stop the heart, and the blacks can’t defend the body from common infections, and the werewolf gets sick and dies for good.\n\nIn Todd’s case, all the body had to do was push the bullet out, and seal the wound, then get the heart back up and running, and then reanimate the brain and every other organ in the body. The heart could be back up in about a half hour if the bullet was removed for the body.\n\nBut Nolan wasn’t the charitable soul who was going to do it. In fact, he was going to make it a lot worse. Having moved Todd where he intended him to be, Nolan sauntered back to the driver’s side door, the werewolves having backed away even further when he walked towards their general direction, opened the door and sat back down into his car. The door shut, and the air slowly transformed.\n\nThe human was gone. But now he was replaced by something more menacing: the car. It was like he had become the car; all the fear was directed at his black Shelby because it was in Nolan’s hands. Like the car had swallowed Nolan and adopted his mind. It was Nolan in a different, bigger, harder body. And soon, loud would be added to the list.\n\nAfter lighting the cigarette that he left in his beanie, Nolan dug his key out of his pocket and stuck it in the ignition, and pressed the clutch and toggled the stick into neutral. Then, he turned the key.\n\nThe stuttering sound of the engine sparking drowned out any sounds, before the engine caught and turned over. The exhaust pipes spewed murderous thunder in a powerful, violent surge as the car came to life. It made the werewolf’s flinch and back away suddenly, and the group in front of the car shielded their eyes when the bright blue lights came back on, bringing back the holy piercing knife that the light was to the darkness. And then, the sky came down around them. A torrential hurricane of volume exploded from the car as it roared angrily, and then it sharply rose to the volume of a star exploding as the revs shot into the red and the chassis twisted like something horrendously monstrous was trying to tear its way out of the metal confines of the body, the wheels seemed to barely stop the whole thing from taking off into the atmosphere.\n\nEars soundly ringing, the werewolves tried to save what hearing they could by clapping their hands over their ears, their realities shattered; something this loud couldn’t possibly lose…\n\nAnd then the leash was cut. The metal body lurched forward with undeniable power; enough power to make the front end pop up a foot and the Shelby launched forward, sending most werewolves reeling back in shock, and the front end came down with a mighty slam – right on top of Todd’s legs.\n\nHis features cold and emotionless, Nolan’s face twisted into a cynical smile as the back tires rolled over Todd’s crushed shins. Not one werewolf dared get in his way now, and the menacing Shelby slipped next to the rusted and beaten wagon of one of the werewolves. It growled leanly, making the shell of the wagon vibrate visibly. The engine cut, and the lights went out. The car was off.\n\nFor a while, the super naturals stared at the car, bewildered, as if everything that had happened was a bad dream. But all they needed to do was look at Todd’s still body and it was all the pinch they’d need to reassure themselves this was reality. The air stayed unsure, apprehensive, as if the car was a powder keg with a lighter near it.\n\nThe boy on stage was stunned. The simple act of a human entering a werewolf’s territory fearlessly, much less shooting one had simply shattered the pedestal the werewolves had put themselves upon in his mind. The grace and cool Nolan had displayed was god-like in the presence of such horrific creatures. Wild thoughts started running through his mind – if one teenager could strike so much fear into werewolves who have tortured him his whole life…imagine what a whole army could do. The first fleeting hope was like a light that pierced the darkness of dreary sorrow that weighed on his heavy heart.\n\nHope.\n\nIt made him feel so light, so happy, it was wonderful! He smiled – a genuine smile. The first real smile he’d made in years.\n\nSlowly, the mood started coming down from the terror Nolan had inflicted, and was soon enough swinging back into its music groove. Eventually, someone yelled to finish the song, and a bottle struck the back of the boy’s head. Sobbing horribly, he resumed his playing. It was almost over. All he needed to do was finish the song.\n\nIn the silent pony car, Nolan sat patiently. He’d ask when the race would start later. He wasn’t worried about the race course, since it would probably be lined with werewolves and obstacles, making the public streets into a makeshift race track. Nolan knew how werewolves ran these things. And for now, he’d wait. And possibly listen to some music. He reached into the hollowed out box underneath the stereo system, and pulled out an iPod. Plugged into his stereo, Nolan flipped through his broad selection of metal and hard rock music. He eventually settled on a song, turned it up as loud as possible, and eventually started disassembling his 9mm to check and make sure it was all in working order.\n\nHe did this repeatedly. Remove the clip, check the bullets, unlock catch, remove slide, check handle, replace slide, relock catch, check slide, insert clip, load round. He’d sit there with the gun, pondering if it was oiled enough, nodded and then pulled the slide, the bullet popped out, he removed the clip and replaced the bullet. He set the sidearm down in the center console, and then started observing the crowd around him.\n\nToday was a race day for werewolves. Having been bored with their “liberated” life from humans, the new generation took up the old customs of the American teenage population; all evident in tonight’s activities. Except the eating people, of course. Nolan’s brow furrowed angrily. “Stupid fucking werewolves, He thought. They have no idea what it’s like to be human. A real human.”\n\nHe sat there for a minute, brooding in his anger and hatred for werewolves. And then his eye caught something in the side mirror, the one focused on stage. There was a child, a boy, Nolan guessed ten years old. Playing guitar for the werewolves. His brow knit differently this time, in thought.\n\n“Why’s he playing for them? Then the thought hit him. He was a slave. So there WAS a surviving population here! “I’m gonna hafta go out and check for survivors…” He sighed. So young, the boy seemed to Nolan. Too young to be in a world so horrible…”I’m going to love seeing the look on his face when he goes free.” And Nolan smirked again. He was about to reach for the door handle when two silhouettes, noticeably hourglass in shape formed in his window and a short tap tap tap came from a clawed finger raping the glass.\n\nNolan sighed irritably, turned the car on and rolled down the window. “What?” He snapped. The two werewolf girls standing outside his car jumped slightly from the volume of Nolan’s music. Then they giggled. Nolan sighed again. It was a couple of the girls from the group who liked him. “What do you want, a tampon?”\n\nThey looked confused. “What’s a tampon?”\n\n“What?” Nolan hollered over his music.\n\n“What’s a tampon?” They said a little louder.\n\n“What?” Nolan repeated. “I can’t hear you!”\n\nThe women pouted and made gestures for him to turn it down, and Nolan obliged.  “Whaddya want?”\n\n“Um…” They started giggling again. Nolan found it annoying. “Me and some other girls were going to go drink…wanna join us…?” She winked.\n\nNolan looked disgusted. “Sorry, I only breed within my own species.” He then gave them a mockingly charming smile.\n\nThe girls looked a little offended. “Why’re you so grouchy? What are you, gay?”\n\n“Naw, I just don’t wanna catch rabies.”\n\nThey looked even more offended.\n\nNolan smirked evilly. “When are we getting this race started?”\n\n“Well, you killed one of the drivers, so until we replace him, like, never.”\n\n“Well, like, I didn’t kill Todd.” Nolan said, mocking their phrasing. “He’s still alive.” The girl looked surprised. “Oh yeah.”\n\n“How-?” One of them started.\n\n“You’ll know when you figure out what a tampon is first. Baby steps, ladies.” Nolan smiled again.\n\nSeverely annoyed, the females left, one muttering “Asshole.” And the other drove her knee into the quarter panel, making a small dent. Ah, women. Nolan thought happily, rolling up the window. So Todd was one of the drivers. “I’m gonna loooove tearing him up.”\n\nSuddenly, he heard screaming. Screaming coming from a little boy. Alarmed, Nolan glanced at the side mirror to confirm, whirled around to look out the back; indeed, it was the young boy who was screaming. A werewolf had its claw in his leg and the boy was desperately trying to get away, the guitar having been dropped on the ground. The boy tried to pull away, but a werewolf had his claws deep in his leg, and the werewolf suddenly yanked him closer, nearly tearing out his calf muscle altogether and got another hand on him, and ripped him off stage – he was werewolf food.\n\nActing fast, Nolan reached behind the passenger seat, his right hand closing around something in the shape of a handle, and he pulled it out, reaching next to the iPod for a box of shotgun slugs.\n\nOutside, the boy was getting torn apart. Some of werewolf’s instinctual hunger had overcome them and the boy was the closest thing to food without having to walk over to the slaughter house. Four circled him, one had his claws in the boy’s stomach, one was working on chewing off part of his thigh, the other was trying to pull out his arm, and one was just laughing and yelling in the boy’s sobbing face.\n\n“Whatchu scared of, boy?” The were yelled into the human’s face. “Scared of my teeth? All the better to eat you with!” He cackled menacingly and raised a wickedly clawed hand to deal the deathstroke. The child’s eyes went wide – he could already see his whole life flying before his eyes as his body starting freezing with sheer terror. The hand started to come down. His body took in what he thought was going to be his last mouthful of air.\n\nNolan pulled the trigger. The hammer struck the end of the slug, and the powder ignited and the resulting and resounding roar tore the child out of his shock and the oversized bullet left the barrel of his Mossberg 590, spinning through the air towards its intended target – the werewolf’s right wrist.\n\nThe boy blinked. The violent and loud BOOM had ripped him out of his life-flash. There was a slight ringing in his hear, and far-off, he heard someone mumbling something. Horridly. Crying. The sound came into better focus. It sounded like: “My…my h…” The sound became crisper. “My hand…my hand…” Crisper still. Suddenly he realized that person that was saying “My hand” was actually yelling. “MY HAND! MY HAND!”\n\nThe saved child looked, dumbstruck, at the werewolf’s hand. Only there was no hand, not anymore. All there was a bloody stump, spasming terribly with blood spurting out of the exposed veins. The werewolf clutched the stump to his chest, shocked and crying, mouth working silently, as if trying to find words to express the pain he was feeling. He stepped off of the boy, and started stumbling around blindly. He turned and saw all the faces looking at him, just as shocked, and he turned around again, only to see a black streak and stars exploded in his vision as Nolan rammed the butt of his shotgun into the side of the werewolf’s head. The furry monster went spinning to the ground and landed face first on the ground, hard. It groaned, cried and curled into a little ball, clutching his destroyed hand.\n\nStanding over the curled body, Nolan didn’t even give the other werewolves a chance at mercy. He tugged the slide, and the red shell popped out the bottom and pinged against the asphalt. Nolan swung the end of the nickel-colored shotgun towards another werewolf as its head turned to face Nolan and the human fired, causing the back of the werewolf’s head to explode. The other two recognized the threat Nolan presented and immediately started to sprint away. But before one could so much as take off, Nolan was on him in an instant, swinging the smoking barrel towards another werewolf, tugging the pump, and pulling the trigger. The slug went through his chest cavity, lodging itself in the heart, and knocked the dead werewolf on his front to bleed his heart onto the road. The third werewolf got a jump and started running away.\n\nPump, aim, squeeze. Click.\n\nNolan snorted. Empty round. With the werewolf still running away as fast as he could, Nolan took his precious time digging in his pocket for another round and inserted it into the chamber, and cocked the pump again. The werewolf was a good fifty yards away now. He brought his weapon to aim, lining up the sights with the retreating werewolf’s back, and squeezed the trigger. Sixty yards away, a deafening bang was heard and the werewolf’s chest exploded outwards, he was lifted on his feet, and he fell to the ground on his front, dead.\n\nEyes glaring a cold, hard look, Nolan looked down, expecting the first werewolf whom he’d shot and didn’t kill. Instead, he was gone, with a line of blood leading behind Nolan’s legs. The human turned and there was the werewolf with the missing hand, trying desperately to crawl away.\n\nNolan smiled cynically. “Well, well, well…” he said. “Look at what the big bad wolf is trying to do. He’s crawling away! From me! A human!” He uttered the last word as loud as he could, and started laughing. “I thought you were supposed to be the superior species? Hm? Where’d that go? J’ou lose it with your hand there?” The werewolf sobbed some more and only tried to crawl away faster. Nolan easily strode up to the crawling body. The simpering werewolf looked behind him only to get another cheek full of shotgun butt. He cried and bled into the pavement until he felt a large hand seize his shirt on his shoulder and pull him over. An arbitrary cock of the pump, and another red shell pinged against the ground next to the werewolf. He was staring down the longest seeming shotgun in the world, directly into the face of Nolan. His angry face was horrific and hard to look at, with piercing eyes that burned into the werewolf’s very soul.\n\nStaring down the shotgun suddenly didn’t seem so bad.\n\nThere they were, the entire crowd of werewolves, at another shocking moment in life where they got a taste of Nolan’s rage. Again, it was like someone hit the pause button on the world, with the world waiting on Nolan to decide if he should kill the werewolf on the ground or not.\n\nFor a long time, it seemed like he would. His face tightened, as did his grip on the gun, and he squeezed the trigger tighter and tighter. The werewolf closed his eyes. “This is it…”\n\nNolan changed his mind. “No.” His finger left the trigger guard, and the barrel drifted to the left of the werewolf’s head. The lycan himself just broke down. The human shook his head in disgust. “You werewolves are trying so hard to try and be human.”\n\nAlthough Nolan spoke at a volume that could only be heard if a regular person was right in front of him, the entire crowd heard him loud and clear. The bleeding monster blinked up at the human, and yelped when he suddenly dropped the gun by furry being’s side, drew a combat knife out of nowhere, and seized the creature’s shirt and pulled him up to the human’s hard face with surprising strength. Nolan placed the blade in front of the werewolf’s face, laying it across the bridge of his muzzle, down to his cheek. The werewolf found himself shaking uncontrollably.\n\n“You touch this boy again, or any other woman or man for that matter, and I’ll shoot your other hand. Then we’ll see how human you can be without your hands. Understood?”\n\nThe body went limp. The werewolf had fainted.\n\nNolan seemed disappointed. He removed his blade, dropped the body and replaced his knife in its holster. The teenager picked up his Mossberg, switched it over to his left hand, and his steely eyes rested on the tear-stained face of the tortured child. Nolan stepped over the unconscious body, marched over to the small boy and extended a surprisingly friendly hand. Almost shocked, the boy took it, and Nolan pulled him up with a firm grip. “Come on.” He said. “Let’s get you patched up.”\n\nIt was no surprise Nolan had a clear view of his car; the whole werewolf population was afraid to even be in the same mile as Nolan now. The boy followed, as if extremely flattered to even have the opportunity of walking in Nolan’s shadow. Around the end of the car they went, Nolan opening up the trunk and started rummaging through some blankets, M.R.E.’s, ammo boxes, empty and half full cigarette boxes, and finally pulled out a first-aid field kit. “This isn’t going to feel pretty.” Nolan warned.\n\nThe boy frowned and watched the older human open the passenger side door. “Have a seat.” The boy obliged, letting his stick-like legs dangle off the sides. His feet didn’t even touch the ground. Nolan slipped the shotgun into the back seat, the skeleton’s hollow eyes following the sleek boomstick with awe, and Nolan kneeled in front of the child. “What’s your name, kid?” he asked kindly as he started rummaging through the white box for some disinfectant.\n\n“Nathan.”\n\n“Well Nathan, I’m Nolan. How old are you kid, ten?”\n\n“Seven.” Nolan almost dropped the disinfectant bottle.\n\n“Seven?!” he hissed. Nathan nodded. Shaking his head in disbelief, Nolan pulled out some gauze. “Take off your shirt.” The sight that covered the child’s body made Nolan’s face twist in disgust. Scars, bruises, cuts, gashes, bite marks, slashes, scabs of every vairety, size and color were painted onto the canvas that was Nathan’s body. “Oi…s’gonna take a lot more than gauze and disinfectant to have all this fixed up.”\n\nNathan frowned. “I’m gonna live, right?”\n\n“Oh yeah, a-course.” Nolan nodded, still trying to digest the grotesque sight of Nathan’s body. Then he noticed how Nathan’s ribs poked through his skin. “When was the last time you ate?”\n\n“Uh…” Nathan thought. “I can’t remember actually.”\n\nNolan’s eyebrows disappeared into his hat again. “What the fuck werewolves…oh, sorry.” Nolan apologized for swearing.\n\nNathan shrugged. “I’m used to it by now…”\n\nNolan sighed through his nose, looked at Nathan’s cuts and then back to the now meager seeming first aid kid. “Alright, here’s what I’m gonna do – I’m gonna dress up these fresh cuts ‘cause I having nothing nowhere near capable of dealing with the rest of this…do you know where your parents are? Are they still alive?” Nathan nodded. “Then I’m going to give you a message, and I want you to give it to them. Make sure every single human sees it, okay?” Nathan nodded again.\n\nWith that, Nolan began wrapping up the new cuts on Nathan’s stomach.\n\n“Are you a god?”\n\nNolan looked up, surprised. “What?” He chuckled.\n\n“Are you a god? My dad keeps saying God will come and save us.”\n\nNolan chuckled. “Well, I dunno about a god…but I did come for something else.”\n\nNathan smiled again. The werewolves around the car seemed a little creeped out at the interaction, but Nolan ignored them, knowing full well that werewolf interactions towards each other was just as strange to him. Plus he had a gun. That evened things out rather smoothly in his mind.\n\nNolan eventually finished bandaging up Nathan and they both stood up. “Wait here.” He said before wandering to the trunk again. He opened it up and started rummaging again. Nathan’s watery eyes started looking around the car, taking in every single beautiful line and detail. Nathan wondered whose hands could have crafted something this powerful. Certainly Nolan or any other human couldn’t have built this….not something this intense. It seemed preposterous. The young boy noticed some words painted above the door handle. Nathan couldn’t read very well at the time, but he would learn later on in his life the name of the car:\n\nBlack Sunshine\n\nThen, he caught the eye of a werewolf staring at him from across the hood. What happened next shocked Nathan entirely; the werewolf turned away nervously. This was the closest a werewolf had been to ever fearing Nathan.\n\nA back pack bumped against his chest. Nolan had come back. “Take it to your parents.” He said. “Remember what I told you – everyone has to see it.”\n\nNathan opened the bag curiously as the older human walked away. “What’s gonna happen?”\n\nNolan checked his step, hesitated, as if thinking a moment, and then turned around with a smile. “Rescue.” Nathan’s face lit up, and he dashed away, not one werewolf getting in his way.\n\nWarm, fuzzy feelings all around, Nolan drifted back around his car, and was about to open the door when someone got in his way. Nolan looked up. What he saw was the goofiest looking werewolf he’d ever seen. Albeit very large in musculature and height, his pupils that didn’t match quite right. His grey and white pelt was matted. One ear and seemingly part of his head was missing. Someone must have shot him in the head and he survived somehow, but had lost an ear and suffered some brain damage in the process. A small line of drool hung from his humming maw, but he was massive. Muscles like rock and biceps bigger than Nolan’s neck. Still, unintimidated human looked him up and down skeptically, sizing him up. “Who’re you supposed to be? Goofy?”\n\nThere was a light hum coming from the werewolf’s maw, but no discernable words did. Some more drool followed. Nolan rolled his eyes. “Get away from my car.”\n\nThe mountain didn’t move. Nolan’s brow knit angrily. “Get away,” he said more firmly. “from my car.” A louder humming sound came from the werewolf and he started swaying, staring stupidly into the teenage boy’s eyes. Just as Nolan was about to reach for his gun, one of the girl werewolves that tried to seduce him earlier dashed in and quickly took the larger werewolf’s hand and started pulling him away like he was a child. “Keep him away from my car.” Nolan growled.\n\nNolan watched the female lead the male towards a rather dirty-looking Dodge Ram. And then the werewolf opened the door and got in it. “He’s racing too?” Nolan shook his head at the thought. “Lord help me, there is no competition tonight.” Then Nolan blinked and looked at the horizon. In the farthest reaches of the land, dawn’s fingertips were beginning to touch and warm the sky. The human smiled. “Might be sunrise when I finish here…”\n\nThe brown werewolf suddenly appeared, head down as he tried to discreetly enter the beat up and hallow station wagon. Nolan smiled wider. “No competition.” With the station wagon and pick-up truck hiding the fourth car from view, Nolan wandered around the two cars and he stopped walking, face frozen in surprise. “No way.”\n\nIt was a Corvette Z06. Astonished, Nolan wandered around the car. It was as beat up as the wagon and as dirty as the pick-up, but she was, by a long shot, the most competitive car the werewolves had in their possession. This changed things. “It changes things a lot.” Nolan smiled devilishly. Assuming that Todd was the one racing this car, and given that he could handle it, there might be a challenge in the race after all.\n\nThe human shuffled back to his car, ushering a quick “Get!” to some adolescent werewolves who were sniffing his car, and they scampered fearfully. He sat back in his car, closing himself off from the world, then began writing some notes down on a pad he kept handy.\n\nOutside, a groaning sound came from Todd’s corpse, and immediately everyone looked over the white werewolf’s dead body. But there was one thing – it was moving. Todd was alive! The groaning was shortly replaced with a yelp, a louder yelp, some choking, cursing, and then the rising of loud, furious cries; “MY LEGS! MY FUCKING LEGS!”\n\nNolan smiled. Wakey wakey, big bad wolf.\n\nA few more hours passed, and through his side-view mirror, Nolan saw Todd limping towards his car with the help of a few werewolves. He looked extremely begrudged, and glared angrily at Nolan’s car. Nolan only replied by starting his engine with a smile, and finished jotting down an attack route for the rescue operation that would take place after the race.\n\nThen Nolan paused. It never occurred to him what might happen when he won the race. Then he shrugged. The werewolves were intimidated enough to know not to attack him, and they pretty much knew he was going to win anyway. They’ll most likely just let him go.\n\nThe crowd started gathering around the cars, some spirited werewolves trying to rile the crowd up, and it worked a little. Everyone started clapping, cheering, bouncing, and whooping. The other cars started up, the wagon with a particularly nasty wheeze. The Corvette growled throatily, hungrily. Nolan’s Shelby remained idle.\n\nThe crowd reached its full capacity – everyone was there to see this race happen. Werewolves lined the street leading into the dark and foreboding city.\n\nWith a degree of trepidation, a shapely werewolf girl wandered in front of the starting line, hesitantly raising a green banner tied to a black pipe – the starting flag. The Shelby finally responded loudly, brakes clenched tightly at the front rotors, and the rears tires struck the ground like thunder as they began to spin rapidly, the engine’s revs building in bursts of power, smoke being expelled from the rubber in thick plumes. The sound was deafening to the werewolves, but they were starting to understand that Nolan was not the exactly the epitome of silence.\n\nWith the sound becoming unbearable, only the Corvette audible amidst all the Shelby’s fury, the flag dropped, and the black muscle car’s end sank with the weight of the car being shifted so suddenly. It slipped forward at first, the piss yellow Corvette matching, rear tires having been replaced with walls of smoke, and then it shot forward, leaving everyone and everything behind in a cloud of smoke.\n\nThe Corvette took off after the Shelby; the Ram appeared out of the cloud of smoke, going a lot slower than either the Corvette or the Shelby, and the wagon’s motor kicked with a violent BANG and stalled.\n\nThe race had started.\n\nEvery creature watched the black car fly down the street at a colossal speed and slide around the corner – a trick no werewolf had ever seen - with the same titanic force.\n\n“STOP THAT CAR!”\n\nHeads turned in the direction of the voice – an older, grey werewolf landed in the middle of the crowd, out of breath, throwing werewolves out of his way before seeing that the car had disappeared. “DAMN that human!” He bristled furiously, all of the younger werewolves backing away nervously. He looked wildly around him, accusingly. “Why didn’t you kill him?!” He hissed furiously.\n\nNo one answered. Outraged, he slashed a brick wall with his claws with a snarl, leaving long gouges in the clay bricks. “You!” He said, stabbing a finger at a specific group of werewolves. “Take me to the closest point where we can intercept them. This human dare trespass on my territory, he will die for it!”\n\nHe started half-marching, half-limping toward the horizon, head bowed and full of menacing plans.\n\nOver seven hundred and twenty five horses singing in his ear, anywhere from a thousand to ten thousand throwing him down the street and around the corners, Firestones hanging on and crying for dear life. The decays of mankind flying all around him at a hundred and twenty miles an hour, only fueling his inner rage that burned with his rapid heartbeats. Nolan was excited, but his face showed nothing but unyielding focus. And yet, the collection and self-control he possessed defied the simple brutality with which the Shelby moved. The wheels flying across the tarmac like a dancer’s elegant shoes across the ballroom floor, scaring the road with black smears at the first corner it took, engine raging like a thousand suns.\n\nThis was what Nolan loved to do. And he did it well.\n\nCompared to Todd’s rather conservative performance – the Corvette was fast, but Todd had no idea how to utilize it properly. Any human driver with half of Nolan’s experience as a wheelman could have easily put up a decent race, but Todd had no such experience. He smashed into everything immobile, grazing parked cars, smashing through mailboxes and parking meters, clipping light posts – Todd was the worst driver Nolan had ever seen. Broken legs or not.\n\nQuickly pushing the other two cars out of his mind, Nolan focused only on the yellow Corvette behind him and quickly fixed his focus on putting as much distance as humanly possible between him and Todd.\n\nHe switched his feet from the gas to the clutch with swift grace, shifting from third down to second, and depressed the clutch, snapping the wheel to the left to make the car pitch left, stomped the gas and threw the wheel all the way to the right again. The car’s tires snapped back to the right and held the car in a drift, maintaining its momentum through a turn and finishing nicely straightening out and continuing thundering down the road full of dead street lamps, furry bodies, derelict cars and decrepit buildings.\n\nTodd’s broken legs hindered his ability to operate the pedals gravely. Cursing and swearing, his disfigured legs cracked painfully every time he applied pressure to a pedal, thus making him less willing to go hard on the gas like he normally did. Thing was, the same applied to his braking. He thundered down the road towards the corner with his kin lined about the streets. Gritting his teeth, he applied the brake as hard as he dared, but he still held back. A little too much, it seemed, as the car understeered immensely and couldn’t make the turn. Werewolves jumped frantically out of the way while the nose of the Corvette plowed straight into a parked car. Growling and swearing some more, Todd backed out with his foot thrust gingerly against the clutch and he backed up, only to have Goofy tear around the corner and ram the Corvette’s rear panel. The muscle car was forced in the opposite direction.\n\nSwearing even more, Todd shifted back into first and brought the car about. This race was not going to end well.\n\n“Gone already.” Nolan thought. Black Sunshine started to behave with the same ferocity it exhibited when charging down the New York waterside. Explosive, intense, final. She hurtled down the straight, skidding around a corner, following the line of werewolves along the street, knowing full well that if they tried to mislead him, consequences would be had. The track itself was clearly outlined because werewolves had pushed some cars out of the way and placed a few here and there in the way to add difficulty to the race. Though having never raced the course himself, Nolan found no difficulty in interpreting and calculating his route as the roads came.\n\nOne such instance was a rather nasty left-hand, right-angle turn made by various arrangements of apartments and duplexes presented itself to the skillful wheelman. Without skipping a beat, Nolan cut the wheel a half turn to the left, and the Shelby pitched to the left again, allowing her to go completely sideways before cutting the wheel all the way back to the right and slamming the clutch, footbrake and tearing the handbrake. The six piston calipers seized the rotors and the tires stopped instantly, the Firestones screaming in pain as the entire car slid into perfect symmetry with the next segments of road, and came to a brief halt. Nolan shifted down to first in a heartbeat and glanced by his left – Todd’s Corvette was barreling towards Nolan’s Shelby, and the white werewolf had every intention of tee-boning Black Sunshine.\n\nNolan calmly smiled, flashed the peace sign and was off the clutch as fast as he was on the gas. The Super Snake took off with little wheel spin just as the Corvette entered the turn. Too fast it seemed. Todd got on the brakes too late, and too hard. The brakes locked up and the end swung out to the left instead of the right like the Shelby, Todd’s leg broke and his car crashed driver-sideways into the slew of apartments. Any werekin had cleared the streets long before Nolan had arrived at the turn. Goofy’s Ram rolled around the corner, and the ill-stricken station wagon sputtered after him soon after.\n\nTodd swore some more.\n\nNolan himself was having a blast.\n\nThe old werewolf, henceforth referred to as Daddy, dashed out of the alley with a small pack following him and into the adjacent parking lot. He searched around wildly. “WHERE ARE THEY?!” He roared.\n\n“They’re not here yet, but they will be.” One lycan said. “I can hear them now.”\n\nDaddy’s intense expression shifted into one of delight as his lips curled into a toothy grin. “Then we shall set a trap for him.” He looked around. They had ended up near a small factory, it’s smoke stack still standing. Not far from that, in a parking lot down the street, was an old and rusted eighteen wheeler with it’s fuel tanker trailer still hitched up.\n\nDaddy glanced from the trailer to the smoke stack and back again, a simple plan forming in his head. He smiled wickedly. “We’re going to set a trap for him!” Daddy announced. He wandered over to the truck, managing to slip his immense bulk in between the cab and the trailer. He bent at the knees, his leg having completely healed from Nolan’s earlier shotgun wound, and placed his hands under the trailer. Then, he tried to stand, and began to lift.\n\nNolan was starting to get bored with his competitors, and even allowed the beat up station wagon and hazardous RAM to come within forty or so feet from his tail. He glided around another corner with ease, and came down a long straight with a sharp right turn almost a thousand feet down the way.\n\nIt was practically a drag strip.\n\nNolan’s grip on the wheel and his shifter tightened, and his teeth grit in excitement as he prepared to unleash everything Black Sunshine had onto this lonely stretch of New York road. That’s when Nolan’s keen eyes caught something just before the turn. A gang of werewolves had gathered into a bulk of bodies, massing around what looked like a fuel tanker’s load. Nolan didn’t like it.\n\nAt the fuel tanker itself, Daddy had succeeded in tearing the hitch column from the back end of the cab by sheer brute strength alone. The lycans Daddy brought with him got behind the entire thing or went to help the old grizzly werewolf carry the load down the road towards the factory’s smoke stack.\n\nGetting past them could be potentially tricky, if they intended to drop the tanker on top of Nolan, but Nolan surmised that they had a slightly more elaborate plan. It seemed he was right, because as soon as Nolan got a certain distance, a majority of the pack got under the tank’s tires and lifted the great mass over their head.\n\nAn impressive feat, no doubt, but one Nolan was used to seeing in werewolves. It was a widely known fact that it only took four healthy adult lycans to lift a full size car. And while Nolan’s Shelby was a slightly heavier sports/muscle car and the majority of the population at the party was teenage, they all still posed a very powerful threat.\n\nNolan was extremely suspicious of the werewolves tinkering with the tanker, but he did have a race to finish, and a dominating lead to maintain. He was being pulled between slowing down and increasing his chances of being able to react to whatever the lycans had planned, or speed up and hoping to get by faster than they could spring their trap.\n\nOne one-thousand.\n\nNolan came as close as Daddy wanted him. “NOW!” Every werewolf on the hitch side heaved powerfully, thrusting their bodies upward and throwing the end of the large mossy cylinder up. The werewolves at the other end with the tires all bent their knees in response to this, bearing the brunt of the weight of the fuel and the trailer itself, coiling their entire bodies like a spring.\n\nTwo one-thousand.\n\nNolan saw this, and the smoke stack belonging to the nearby factory and it suddenly dawned on him what the werewolves were trying to do. A split decision later and he practically stood on the gas pedal, only letting up occasionally for the rapid climb in gears, assisted by Nolan’s barbaric hollering of “GO! GO YOU FUCKING CUNTBAG! FASTER!” \n\nWere Nolan in his right mind, he would never dream of calling his beauty any sort of degrading name (such was the respect for this car), but, despite his foul names, Black Sunshine thundered down the road with colossal authority, willingly following Nolan’s urges for more speed. It seemed she wanted to survive this turn just as much as he did.\n\nThe werewolves, like a spring, then recoiled as the entire tanker pivot over them, hurling the explosive object into the air.\n\nThree one-thousand.\n\nGoofy and the brown werewolf also noticed this, and despite inferior performance levels, punched the gas pedal in a similar fashion to Nolan. The three cars thundered down the road, Sunshine, the RAM and the wagon all lined up get on the chopping block.\n\nThe tanker smashed into the base of the factory’s stack and exploded immediately, obliterating the factory, and knocking the stack loose, causing it to start falling.\n\nFour one-thousand.\n\nNolan only had one thought as he kicked the tail out to the left and began to power-slide.\n\nI’m gonna die…\n\nHe looked up and saw the colossal column falling, casting a shadow that stretched the very definition of perception. Nolan floored the gas, and just barely cleared the rounded edge of the column as it fell…right on top of Goofy’s RAM. It was crushed out of existence in an instant with a Earth-shattering BOOM coming down on everyone’s ears. It dwarfed Nolan’s savage and victorious roar, the kind of cry you hear when one suddenly gets a feeling of tremendous relief. Like one just cheated death by a second.\n\nReinvigorated, adrenaline flowing in his veins more than blood, Nolan powered Black Sunshine down the road towards the highway, feeling like he was floating on air with the ultimate smug arrogance – for him, victory was assured.\n\nDaddy wasn’t happy. He slammed his great fists repeatedly into the bonnet of the tanker’s cab, greater still when the beaten wagon crashed into the fallen stack due to brake failure. Ignoring the heat of the fire on his back, he slammed the cab again and again and again in rage, so hard that the front axle snapped.\n\n“TAKE US BACK!! We’re going to try this…one more time.”\n\nNo one said a word. They were too afraid to find out what would happen if they failed again.\n\nThe sun was just about up. But it was being covered up by grey storm clouds, threatening the nature-beaten city with rain and a filtered, grey sunlight. It would rain soon.\n\nNoting this, Nolan made it a point to wrap this race up quickly, as rain reduced his visibility, and visibility is key when dealing with all manner of werewolves. He swiftly rounded another street, and the sound of a Todd’s V8 reached his ear. A brief glance into Nolan’s mirrors told him Todd had slipped around a corner behind Nolan, joining the Shelby on the thin, cramped street.\n\nNolan resolved that Todd must have found a way around the smoke stack, and had caught up as a result. “A shortcut, huh?” Nolan spoke to the Corvette in his mirror. “Smarter than I thought, Todd.”\n\nNolan promptly threw the car into fifth and flew up the on ramp to the highway that would lead the race back to the start line, and thus the finish line. Both muscle cars started charging hard down the road, it was all down to power now. While the Super Snake was designed with tremendous amounts of power, the Corvette was just a little bit quicker getting up to top speed. They crept past one twenty. Given enough time, Nolan would be able to pull away, but in the current torque range he was in, the Corvette had a slight advantage, and Todd was using it.\n\nHe rammed an otherwise perfectly clean Super Snake, defacing the rear bumper and crushing one of the rear taillights. Nolan felt the rock in the car, and immediately got pissed off. “Now now, that just won’t do…” Todd rammed him again. It seemed he’d regained some of his courage since coming back to life.\n\n“That won’t do-OI!- at all!” Another smashed tail light. “Alright, fine. Let’s see how much of getting shot you remember!” Before Todd had a chance to hit him again, Nolan wrenched the handbrake and tossed the wheel to the left. At a hundred and fifty miles an hour, the entire car pulled a complete one eighty, bearing its arbitrary headlights down on the Corvette. Nolan threw the car into reverse, and kept her in that position – going a hundred and fifty miles in reverse, on one of Manhattans few standing highways, facing the Corvette.\n\nTodd instantly froze with fear, his once cocky attitude leaving him again for a second time. The Shelby bearing down on him was like staring into the eyes of the beast known as oblivion, and Nolan was holding the leash. Then Todd actually noticed Nolan himself. He was holding a gun! Panic gripped the white werewolf, and he was about to stomp the brakes to avoid getting shot when he realized it was really just Nolan’s hand. He wasn’t holding a gun; he was giving him the finger.\n\nAt that point, it dawned on Todd. He could never beat Nolan. He never will beat Nolan. His spirit crushed, Todd backed off. In recognition of Todd’s submission, Nolan floored the gas, turned his wheel back to the right, shifting back to fifth mid-turn, and floored the gas again, snapping the wheel back to the right to drift perfectly into a crumbling off-ramp leading back to the heart of the city, leaving Todd to straggle down the off ramp.\n\nThundering down the spiral bend, leaving cloud after cloud of smoke behind him, Black Sunshine was once again in its berserk power rush, tearing down out of the off ramp like it was a start gate. She roared furiously down the road, dodging wrecked cars like they were nothing, and thundered around the last turn with exponential authority. Nolan wanted everyone to know who was going to dominate this race right now. He threw the car into sixth and stood on the gas pedal again, tearing down the straight – he could see the finish line!\n\nFaster and faster, and just like that, he tore across the finish line, slamming on the all the brakes, and careened sideways into the flimsy make-shift stage, causing it to collapse down onto the car in a pile of refuse.\n\nThis dramatic entrance was, at best, unexpected by the werewolves, but regardless, they got into a form just as Daddy had instructed. They sealed off all other entrances out of the ring except one – the one Nolan disrupted the party from earlier. Along that street were a thick line of hungry werewolves, invigorated by an older werewolf’s presence and his rallying speech he gave before Nolan arrived at the finish line. Said older werewolf was standing at the end of the road, the line of werewolves funneling the car’s only path toward the grey werewolf. He was calm, cocky. It was fixed in his mind that Nolan was going to die before the sun would shine on his body.\n\nThe old werewolf pondered how he would kill Nolan. Crush his throat? Not dramatic enough. Rip him half? Too dramatic. Slit his throat? Too slow. Stomp on his head! Too quick. Rip his heart out and show it to him? Daddy licked his chops sadistically at the thought. A fitting end, since the human had displayed such a courageous heart killing their kin so fearlessly.\n\nBack at the decimated stage, Black Sunshine burst out of the pile, so scratched, it would have made any car owner scream. Noticing the line of werewolves around him, Nolan stomped the gas and made the car doughnut around, looking for a way out. She came to stop facing the road outline by the werewolves, coming to rest pointing straight at Daddy down the road.\n\nNolan looked left, and then right, like he did after he shot Todd all those hours ago. Except this time, these werewolves weren’t looking at him with fear. No, this time, they were looking at him like he and his car was a can of sliced lamb on wheels. And they were the wolves. They weren’t scared of him anymore. The air had changed entirely – it was now hot, heavy with anticipation and dripping with an evil hunger.\n\n“Guess it was something I did.” Nolan smirked to himself. Nolan pressed the brake and the gas. The nearly-balding rear tires started spinning against the ground again, preparing to charge out of this increasingly hostile situation. Through the filtered golden sunlight being cast down on the grey streets, the boy spotted Daddy down his only way out. Nolan’s brow furrowed under his hat, and, using his hand that was on the steering wheel, pointed off to the side in a gesture that expressed “Um…out of my way?”\n\nDaddy shook his head, smiling like a giddy school boy who was about to get a cookie for breakfast. Nolan shook his head as well, angrily, in another gesture that expressed “You don’t get to say no.”\n\nWith that established, Nolan lifted off the brake, the car launched, and the mob of werewolves collapsed into a massive hunting pack onto the car. The Super Snake easily pulled away from the chaos, proving herself far swifter in a straight line then the werewolves ever could be.\n\nNolan went from pushing hard on the gas to ruthlessly crushing it into the floor, and his car welcomed the punishment, throwing out enough torque to make the nose rise. Nolan only had eyes for Daddy, in a kind of staring contest mixed with a far more lethal version of chicken. Faster and faster she went, building on ever increasing levels of velocity, seven hundred and twenty five angry American horses roaring at everyone who dare oppose her and her driver.\n\nDespite this intense display of mechanical engineering, Daddy seemed calm. He had it all planned out in his head. Everyone would jump on the car, weighing it down and making it slow. Daddy would then jump on the hood, and pull Nolan out of the car like he would his heart.\n\nDaddy indulged Nolan in his staring contest. For a while and a few hundred miles an hour, he was smug. But as Nolan drew rapidly closer, Daddy noticed that despite being tremendously outnumbered, Nolan kept leering at Daddy with the most intense of hatred-filled eyes. Piercing, grey eyes that told Daddy “You’re going to die.” And this unnerved Daddy. Sure, he could easily pull Nolan apart, but he was going very, very fast…right for him. What’s worse, no one was following the plan. Despite the moral boost Daddy provided to the teenage werewolves, they were all still reluctant to just jump onto Nolan’s car like Daddy had instructed. In the back of their minds, they still feared the gun. This unnerved Daddy even more. Dammit, why won’t anyone follow the plan?!\n\nIn one final and almighty burst of power, Black Sunshine left the crowd of werewolves chasing her boot behind and powered down the now tightening funnel of fur, straight on towards Daddy. Closer and closer, faster and faster. Nolan had every intention of running Daddy’s grey ass over. Seemingly at the point of no return, Daddy finally lost his nerve and jumped. It was almost too late – he could feel the cool metal of the car’s roof on the pads of his feet.\n\nNolan whooped as he shifted down into fourth to take the turn and powered around the corner, an entire legion of hungry, furry lycans trailing behind him. Nolan had a plan. The Zion was no doubt aware that he was gone by now, and had probably found out his location from the GPS Nolan installed in the car himself. Nolan picked up his CB radio.\n\n“Mother Goose, Mother Goose, this is the Big Bad Wolf, come in. Over.”\n\nStatic. Nolan tried again.\n\n“Black Sunshine-Zion actual, please come in. Over.”\n\n“Black Sunshine, this is Zion. Uncle says you’re in big trouble. Over.”\n\nNolan smirked. “Roger that, Control. I’m about fifteen or sixteen klicks due north by north east of your current docking position, I’ve got fuzzies on my boot and I’m comin’ in hot. Recommend you set DEFCON 1 throughout the ship. Over.”\n\n“Acknowledged, Sunshine. Setting DEFCON 1. Correction - we’ve moved further north up the river, about three klicks the southern tip of Manhattan. Advise you head for the Brooklyn Bridge. Over.”\n\n“Copy, haulin’ ass. Big Bad Wolf out.”\n\n“Waitaminute, Black Sunshine. Do you require air support?”\n\nNolan bit his lip in thought. His thoughts were interrupted by a loud THUNK from a werewolf landing on his hood. “Standby, Control.” Nolan immediately pulled out his sidearm from a holster he kept on the right of his seat, next to the cup holder, switched it to his left and stuck it out the window, quickly shooting said werewolf in the knee. He immediately collapsed, screaming in pain and bleeding all over the bonnet before Nolan tapped the brakes to round a corner, and the werewolf slid off, just rolling out the way before the muscle car could run him over. “Sorry about that Control. Negative on the air support. Unless they got a camera, because getting home is gonna be a fuckin’ show! Over.” He coughed.\n\nHe heard laughing coming from the other end. “Copy Sunshine. Door’s open, bed’s made, bring it home. Control out.”\n\nNolan put the CB back onto the cradle. So Zion was closer then he thought. Perfect. That would make his trip a lot easier. All he had to do now was find a route to the Brooklyn Bridge. Nolan watched the street signs, looking for a particular street. Outside, werewolves mobbed through the allies and streets, and a few more ambitious werewolves jumped acrobatically from rooftop to rooftop, leaping over allies before Black Sunshine zipped past them, followed by the mob of werewolves.\n\nSomewhere in that crowd stood a few faces Nolan knew – Daddy, the brown werewolf. Todd, maybe. It didn’t matter. He was going to make it home, no one creature or thing was going to stop him.\n\nCase in point. One of the runners on the rooftops foolishly leapt down into an alley and ran out in front of Nolan’s car. It seemed he thought he could simply ram his body into the car and it would stop. Nolan proved him otherwise. Not letting up on the gas or changing the direction of the car, Nolan remained true to his course, and the werewolf bowed his frame. Closing the distance between them in a heartbeat, the werewolf suddenly charged forward. He bounced off the front grill, shattering and extinguishing a headlight and onto the ground, and Nolan promptly ran him over. The tires soon after started trailing blood, leaving a streak of crimson behind him as Nolan swiftly rounded a corner. One more corner would put him heading south on Broadway.\n\nDespite the Shelby’s custom racing suspension, the car still had to slow down to take the turn. Three other werewolves decided to take advantage of this opportunity to jump on his car from the roof. One landed on his hood, one on the roof, and the other didn’t manage to stick the landing on the car’s rather small rear end, and fell off, taking the spoiler with him. Immediately alert to the new threats, Nolan couldn’t react because, again, he had to slow down to take the last turn onto the street Nolan was looking for - Broadway. Two more lycans from the street jumped onto his car. Grimacing, Nolan hit the brakes with more force than was normally required for the car, but four bodies did make the car heavier. Unfortunately, Nolan was going too fast, he hit the brakes too hard, too late, and he lost control. Panicking slightly, Nolan forced the car to careen sideways into the turn, over the curb and straight into the side of a brick wall. The window shattered, and the side mirror was flattened, and all of the werewolves were thrown off from the force of the slam.\n\nNolan was slightly dazed, but before could get back on the gas, he felt the car’s weight shift and the entire left side of the car tilted up. He heard “Help me lift this!” and soon after those words were uttered, the other side raised as well. The werewolves were living up to their strength, as the four teenage supernaturals raised, bodies trembling with effort, the entire car clean off the ground and above their chests. But then Nolan heard “No, don’t put your hand on the tire- DON’T PUT YOUR HAND ON THE TIRE!!”\n\nNolan slammed the gas pedal, the Super Snake twisted slightly. Barely audible over the massive engine came a sound something like a really loud snap, followed more loudly by pained screaming, the back left corner of the car came back to the ground. The now even more bloodied tire touched the ground and the car suddenly launched forward, the sound of one more body landing under his car reached Nolan’s ear as the other werewolves were forced to let go of Black Sunshine, leaving the one foolish enough to stand in front of his car to be crushed.\n\nNolan only smiled and promptly took off, just as the mass of werewolves followed him around the corner. Immediately, body after body started landing on his car, snarling and growling and roaring. Nolan did his best to shoot off as many as he could, but for every one werewolf he shot, seemingly two more jumped on. Nolan floored the pedal to the ground, and Black Sunshine started charging down Broadway, reaching a hundred miles an hour and climbing. Nolan had to dodge swiping hands that shattered their way through his window, and he pumped round after round all throughout his car, only shooting through the windshield sparingly – he did NOT want it to shatter. It would make it too easy for the werewolves to get in. He shot this way and that way and this way again and that way again, behind him, until the inevitable happened – the clip ran out. With a swarm of werewolves on his car, the weight eventually became too much for even Black Sunshine’s monstrously powerful engine to handle, and the speedometer stopped climbing at a hundred and fifty and started to decline slowly.\n\nTrying to keep his cool, Nolan wracked his brain for ideas. He couldn’t reload quickly, his speed was going down, and if this kept up, the whole werewolf pack would catch him and tear him apart. What he needed to do was recover his speed, and throw the lycans off at the same time.\n\nDawn came to the side of the mountain, and Nolan’s eyes flickered to a battle switch and the small button next to it, each spelling a portion of the word “Goodbye” – this was his ignition for the nitrous oxide system.\n\nNolan smiled evilly. “Alright guys!” He hollered over his engine. “You wanna go for a ride?”\n\nA few tipsy werewolves shouted “YEAH!”\n\n“Alright…” Nolan breathed. He flipped the “Good” cover, and flipped the switch, and punched the now light “Bye” button. The nitrous tanks under the passenger seat dumped their fluid into the electronic fuel injection system, and it tossed it into the cylinders. The immediate effect was that the car suddenly lurched forward with a tremendous heave, throwing more than a few werewolves off the car. There was so much power behind the sudden boost that the front end raised off the ground a little bit. And when it came back down, the remaining force propelled the car down Broadway, bringing it back up to a hundred fifty and climbing even more rapidly than it did under its own power.\n\nThe snarling werewolves scattered about his battered and scratched car suddenly found themselves clinging quite literally for their lives, sinking their claws into the chassis. “YA HAVIN’ FUN SO FAR?” Nolan bellowed cynically. “I CALL THIS RIDE ‘GET OFF MY FUCKING CAR!!’” Approaching a hundred and eighty miles an hour, without taping the brakes, Nolan jerked the wheel to the right. The car wobbled to the right. Nolan jerked the wheel to the left, she skittered to the left, then Nolan spun the wheel back to the right, and the car’s end swung out a bit, the tires losing their grip on the road. The added weight of the werewolves added to this building momentum, and Nolan went left and right with increasing aggressiveness. The lycans on his chassis could do nothing but hold on and let their bodies be tossed around and banged into each other as the car rocked from left to right. The more aggressive Nolan became with the wheel, the more the car’s end started swaying out of control, until, eventually, the momentum forced the car’s end out to the right all the way past the ninety degree mark, Nolan cut the wheel all the way to the left and floored the gas, throwing the car into a completely ballistic spin-out.\n\nWhat excess werewolves that didn’t have a good grip were tossed bodily from the car and mercilessly flung into lampposts, walls, windows, cars, down alleyways, the lucky ones being thrown out of the car’s path and into the street.\n\nRound and round she spun, like a dementedly fast carousel, Nolan relying on his safety harness to keep him in his seat as he held onto the steering wheel as well as using all his might to keep it pressed into that all-the-way-to-the-left position. He pumped the gas periodically, ignoring the desperate sensation in his stomach that told him his last night’s dinner was looking to evict itself. With all the werewolves clear of his windshield, and the car coming around to its correct direction, Nolan lifted off the gas, threw the wheel back to the right as far as it would go, and floored the abused pedal once again.\n\nThe result occurred when the car’s pitch reached a near-perfect sideways ninety degree angle – it was drifting almost completely sideways down the street. While most of the supernatural monsters had been thrown from his car, about five had managed to stick to Black Sunshine’s chassis. One of them was the brown werewolf that had driven the now totaled station wagon.\n\n“He’s about to lose it!” Nolan heard him holler victoriously over the painful sound of screaming tires. “Get on his right side and pull, we’re going to tip his car!” Too busy trying to regain control, all Nolan could do was smile grimly, thinking to himself “I want to see them try…”\n\nObediently, the four werewolves, one of them a girl, all leapt and crawled over to Nolan’s passenger side, and the brown werewolf swung from the front end into Nolan’s door, placing his head right in the window. “Ready to die, human?” He grinned evilly.\n\n“You first.” Nolan quipped and his gun appeared, leveling with the brown’s chest, hammer cocked. The brown breathed in sharply, his eyes widening in shock.\n\nClick. Nolan still hadn’t reloaded. “Gotcha.” He smirked.\n\nThe werewolf wasn’t laughing. “Pull!” He shouted through the window to the werewolves on the other side of the car, and they did. The effect was slow to act, but Nolan did feel the weight of the car shift towards the passenger side. If he didn’t get the car straight again, it would flip, and the possibility of him escaping alive would look grim. In light of this, Nolan reached for a clip of ammo that had found its way out of the gaping glove box and onto the passenger’s seat.\n\nAir support started looking like a very good idea.\n\nRegardless, Nolan actually let off the gas while he reloaded his gun in the hopes that the decreased power to the wheels would give the tires more leeway for grip. “Control! Control!” He cried desperately in his mind. The car started tipping. “CONTROL! CONTROL!!” The car’s pitch moved back into the correct position, and suddenly the tires seized the road at the exact same moment that Nolan punched the gas and at the same moment the car’s weight finally went up. The result of all this force was that, in a mighty burst of power, the car finally corrected itself, but the weight of the werewolves on the Shelby’s right side also caused the car to tip onto its right side wheels. Nolan’s weight as well as the weight of the brown lycan acted as a miraculously perfect counter weight.\n\nNever in his life did Nolan dream he would drive down Broadway like the Dukes of Hazard with werewolves clinging to his car, but either way, Nolan was still in danger. The one girl werewolf giggled in a slightly tipsy manner, crooning “Whoooo!” like she was at an amusement park ride.\n\nA flash of movement latter, followed by a loud BANG and a bullet ripped into her shoulder, promptly causing her to fall off the car and roll onto the road. She’d definitely live, given that Nolan was more merciful towards female werewolves, also given werewolves durability, but it was not likely she was going to forget a fall like that.\n\n“NEXT SHOT KILLS!” Nolan roared, steely-green eyes flash warningly at the fuzzies on his bonnet. They didn’t even wait, opting for the harsh rolling ground over a bullet, and they all let go, rolling onto the road to avoid breaking as many bones as possible.\n\nNaturally, with the weight of the werewolves gone, Black Sunshine’s left side finally started tipping back. Shock gripped the brown werewolf, bewildered that his kin had left him to die so. He looked at Nolan with that incredulous face while the car came back down. Nolan only smiled, and waved at him like he was saying goodbye to a cheerful neighbor.\n\nThe tires slammed onto the ground, the skirt sparking off ground a bit, and the brown was thrown to the ground, where he bounced with the car, and the rear tire landed on his head.\n\n“Juicy.” Nolan offered to himself, looking a little disgusted. It didn’t matter. He could see the toll booths down the road that would lead him towards the Brooklyn Bridge. During the Great Hunt, or the purge of Americans, werewolves often took to destroying or defacing monuments, especially in the New York City and the District of Columbia areas. One such example was the Brooklyn Bridge. As a test of their strength, male werewolves would pull apart the cables that kept the bridge suspended for fun, determined to tear down a great construction of mankind, as a symbol to prove them mightier than man’s monuments. The floor was gone from the bridge, and the stubbed ends of the bridge jutted out over the river a bit, still hanging on.\n\nNolan assumed Zion was going to dock near the bridge and open the hangar bay doors, and hold off any werewolves that came near until they could get Nolan safely aboard. Indeed, glancing between the buildings, the teenager caught fleeting images of the immense carrier. Now all Nolan needed to do was actually get down to the ship-\n\nHis thoughts were interrupted by a loud BANG above him – the sound of an immense weight landing on his roof; a weight so immense that it shattered the windshield.\n\n“Aw great, now w- SHIT!” Nolan swore loudly as a grey-furred hand as big as his head thrust its way down through the roof, grabbing for his head. Nolan ducked away, and shot up through the roof, hoping to hit Daddy who was on his roof, promptly flooring the gas again, and the car started creeping up towards a hundred and seventy miles an hour.\n\nDaddy tried again a few times to grab Nolan by punching holes in his roof, but he always missed and always got shot at. Eventually, Nolan sat upright in his seat, and Daddy tried one last time, checking his cheek and leaving a small scratch, but nothing more serious. Nolan, on a whim, actually bit Daddy’s hand as hard as he could. There was annoyed yelling from up top, and the hand withdrew. Nolan hollered up through his fist- and bullet-hole-riddled roof: “THERE! I HOPE YOU TURN INTO A HUMAN!” And he laughed his crazy laugh.\n\nA hundred eighty miles an hour.\n\nBlack Sunshine rounded her last turn, facing the final stretch of the Brooklyn Bridge with the tollbooths blocked off by a small blockade of cars, easily breakable if you were going fast enough. It occurred to Nolan that it was going to be hard for the security teams to shoot Daddy off his roof without hitting Nolan himself, so Nolan did what he did best – and improvised.\n\nHe reached for the CB. “Zion control, this is Black Sunshine. I’m afraid I’m gonna hafta make this short – I’m a quarter klick off the Bridge. Advise you clear the flight deck, and have a security team, a medical team and a wrecker on stanby. Nolan out.”\n\nA crackle came back, followed by “Say again, Nolan? Clear the flight deck?”\n\n“10-4 Control, clear the flight deck. I’m comin’ in for a crash landing.” Nolan announced cynically. He put the CB back, not waiting for a reply, and heard the crackle of the metal in the roof above – Daddy was moving, and Nolan saw in a flash Daddy reaching for the door, scrunching up the metal because his grip was so powerful, and deftly ripped the door from his hinges. “HEY!” he roared, more to get his attention than express his outrage from further defacing his car. Daddy stuck his head, upside down into the car and snarled and growled at the human driver. “I’d get in if I were you.”\n\nDaddy noticed the blockade of cars and just barely managed to fit in the car before Nolan plowed through the feeble road block at a hundred and ninety miles an hour. After the slight bump, Nolan turned his crazed expression towards the grey werewolf in his car. “Comfy?” the driver asked politely.\n\nDaddy immediately tried to lash out at Nolan, but there was one problem – he was stuck. In his haste to get into the car, he didn’t leave himself a way out. He was effectively trapped, and Daddy started panicking.\n\n“Have you made your peace with God?” Daddy turned his fearful expression towards the driver. His expression was now calm, smiling, confident. “’Cause last I heard…” Nolan shifted into sixth, and hit the nitrous one last time. “HE DON’T TAKE FUZZIES!!” He laughed manically as he was forced back into his seat, the car reached an almighty two hundred miles an hour, and the car thundered towards the end of the Brooklyn Bridge with colossal velocity. Just before reaching the end, Nolan twisted the wheel sharply to the left, the desired effect being that with the car moving at such a high speed that it turned too quickly, and the car rolled off the bridge and sailed through the air, landing on the waiting flight deck of the U.S.S. Zion. She slammed into the deck, crushing the whole right side, bounced into the air, slammed again, rolling through the air past the air-traffic control tower just as the General walked out, and the right side tires caught the deck, slowing the car down, and coming to a halt with the driver’s side still in the air. This side of the car came back down with one, final crash.\n\nThe clouds still covered the sun, making it very dark, almost like the night, and the light drizzle that was developing finally grew into a steady and powerful downpour. Soldiers dashed about the deck, taking up defensive positions and stances around the broken silhouette of Black Sunshine. Orders were tossed around, someone shouting to get a spotlight on the car to assess the carnage Nolan had just wreaked.\n\nIn the cold, pouring rain, more soldiers moved about, a medical team waited a distance away, stretcher and a body bag at the ready. Those who formed a circle around the car tensed suddenly as a shadow of a body, tall and broad rose from atop the heap of car. It swayed a little, but kept its footing steady, allowing the rain to bring back his senses for him. Groaning could be heard.\n\nSomeone shouted more insistently to get that fucking spotlight working, and then it came one with a magnificent blast of light.\n\nThere amidst all the soldiers, the wreckage, and the thunder and rain stood a defiant and victorious Nolan. Scratched, cut, bruised, and bleeding out of a small cut on his cheek, but otherwise seemed okay. He looked around at his cheering countrymen, celebrating his safe return him. His gaze cast downwards and transformed into a look colder than the rain. His eyes landed on Daddy. His upper body was sticking out the back window, his back was broken, but he was still alive. Crying, sobbing, he attempted to pick himself up with his arms, lifting his head up. His eyes met Nolan’s gun barrel pointing straight between his eyes.\n\nThe two arbitrary shots echoed around the deck, joining with the victorious cries of the Americans. Nolan then brought his head back up, observing his countrymen like they were all his family. His brothers and sisters.\n\nIn response to their cheers, he raised his gun hand and fired two shots – BANG BANG – into the air. This was the universal signal which simply meant one thing: I’m human.\n\nAs procedure dictated, Nolan had to be put under arrest and tested for black blood cells since he came in rather unceremoniously. To that effect, Nolan ejected the clip from his gun and tossed the weapon lightly at the feet of the security team for one of them to pick up, before being instructed to come down from the Shelby’s broken form and put his hands on his head. He did so, and as he was frisked, a tall and thin man approached them, wearing green fatigues and a simple green sleeveless shirt.\n\nHe was old, but still had that look in his eye that belonged to energetic men in their twenties. His grim face contrasted sharply against this look, as if it were carved from a very taught and scarred bark. Dog tags bounced off his chest as his boots squished against the rain and the tarmac of the deck. His hair was a wispy white, with the entire top of his head was bald, leaving the tufts of white to stick out in an odd fashion. This man waited patiently as the soldiers finished their search of Nolan, relieving him of his knife and any extra ammunition he had on him.\n\nAs soon as Nolan was allowed to move again, he clicked his boots together, and his hand came up to touch the bill of his cap in a crisp, sharp salute.\n\n“General Uncle Sam,” the boy said, addressing the white-haired man by his beloved nickname. “Lance Corporal Nolan, reporting for duty, sir!”\n\nUncle Sam smiled warmly, and returned the salute. “At ease, marine.” Nolan relaxed, and followed the General as he turned towards the flight tower. “You’ve got a lot of explaining to do, soldier.”\n\nNolan smiled mischievously. “Sir, yessir.”\n\n“What do want done with your vehicle?”\n\nNolan glanced meagerly at his car, and waved off the seemingly and utterly totaled Shelby as if it were the smallest chore in the world. “Meh, I’ll fix it later. Sir.” He hastily added.\n\nThey marched to the flight tower, and went inside the ship. It was great, feeling home inside the cold, steel walls, marching down the hallways. It was almost like a parade, soldiers and civilians alike cheering him as he passed. Nolan only walked slowly, smiling as the rain fell from his sodden frame. Nolan was finally at home.\n\n",
  "writing_bbcode_parsed": "<span style='word-wrap: break-word;'>The moon hung high in her cradle of star-dotted blanket of blackness, casting her pale light on the northwestern hemisphere of planet Earth. It glided across the glistening Atlantic Ocean, settled and rolled across what was once a great and powerful nation, now nothing more than a barren, deserted wasteland of varying landscapes and smoldering desolation. While the other nations and powers of the world that be twinkled like the stars in the sky above them, there lay one spot of vast land, stretching from one ocean to the other, sitting still, dark and ominous. Smoldering, black, lifeless, and in ruin.<br /><br />This was America. Once one of the great nations of the world - gone, stripped bare of her pride and glory. She used to be beautiful, really. But, someone had plans for these United States.<br /><br />Sunday, August 31, 2008. 11:57 PM.<br /><br />Apocalypse Day.<br /><br />It all happened so fast. Creatures of ancient folk lore, swift as death fell upon the gleaming White House. They stormed through the doors with terrible strength and ferocity, attacking and murdering any living thing that moved in the iconic structure that would now be their victim&rsquo;s grave. The Secret Service did not act without haste, but was alas, not swift enough. For when they charged into the oval office to guard the President, all they found was death. Seventeen people in the room &ndash; dead. There lay the leader of the nation, ripped asunder, slashed, bloodied and broken.<br /><br />But the men soon found that not everyone in the room was dead. For there, in a pool of blood, stood a terrible creature. It was tall, and very broad. An unearthly low rumbling sound emanated from this figure, and it made the agents&rsquo; chest vibrate with the baritone and power of the sound. This monster, this harbinger of death, covered in pitch black fur from head to toe. Its body rippled with power, muscles bending and flexing threateningly at the men moving in on the monster. Bloodied hands with thick fingers ending in cruel, sharp claws played host to dripping blood. Its feet were also arranged in the same manner &ndash; blood soaked feet with toes and claws altogether. But those weren&rsquo;t this creature&rsquo;s scariest attribute. Oh no. Not even the bizarre, swaying fifth limb &ndash; a tail &ndash; could outdo the attention its head demanded. For perched on a thick neck and bristling mane stood the head of a snarling wolf. Golden yellow eyes smoldering with anger and rage, glared at the men with guns as they held their ground at the threshold of the Oval Office. Ears standing erect and at attention, poised forward, listening to the sounds of the shocked and frightened breathing of the other men. The skin on the top of its muzzle creased with its lips drawn back, showing long, red fangs, and throngs of blood pouring out from the crevices in its teeth. It growled even lower and narrowed its eyes, and, just as the Chief yelled the command to open fire, it sprung with a snarl at the men.<br /><br />Few would make it out alive that night.<br /><br />This usurping of power didn&rsquo;t take place at just the White House, oh no. Everywhere, reports of large, ferocious, animal-like creatures attacking military bases all over the contiguous states, the Pentagon, NASA and NATO members in America were hunted down and slaughtered. The Stock Exchange all around the nation was attacked. Any and every energy company that existed was wiped out. Airports, police and fire stations, hospitals and schools, no place nor no life that wasn&rsquo;t fast or strong enough to escape was spared.<br /><br />Mexico and Canada moved swiftly, deploying their respective Guards to the borders and establishing perimeters with orders to detain civilians, and fire in extreme circumstances only. Soon after the horrifying reports from the opposite sides of the assaulted nation, the standing orders were quickly bumped up to shoot to kill with extreme prejudice. The next week, the entire of the United States had grinded to a tremendous halt. A month later, the now flipped border patrol was still firing on anyone they deemed American for fear that they may be a werewolf in disguise. Two, tall, long walls were constructed, one stretching from Vancouver Island, down across the US/Canadian border, encasing Quebec, Montreal, and the Capital, ending at Fredericton. Toronto and the surrounding Great Lakes areas were swiftly evacuated and left outside the wall.<br /><br />The other started in Tijuana, and in similar fashion to the Canadian Wall, the Mexican Wall hugged the border and gave some berth to the Rio Grande, towns around the wall evacuated thereafter. The Baja Peninsula was evacuated and left without a population, and a blockade set up between Mexico&rsquo;s western border and Baja&rsquo;s eastern border. <br /><br />Two months in, the United Nations met for a briefing on the attack with the United States seat left hideously vacant. It was debated if the UN should just bomb America into glass, but it was concluded as too inhumane. It was suggested they go in for survivors, but it was countered with budget costs and casualties to NATO troops. Money was a concern since the world stock market took a hit when American trade disappeared.<br /><br />Countless arguments were thrown back and forth. The meeting lasted a little less than a week, and a verdict was reached: remain neutral. They would let the situation pan out for now, see how it settled, and then move in from there.<br /><br />The UN has remained in this posture for the past two decades. They kept saying they&rsquo;d deal with it, but honestly, the shock of it all happening: werewolves attacking and taking over a world super power like America by sheer brute force. The world powers feared it happening to them.<br /><br />And so, for twenty years, it&rsquo;s been this way. The world is desperately trying to stop the world stock market from failing, everyone&rsquo;s getting angry at each other, and America&rsquo;s husk sits there, dark and foreboding. But, slightly known the UN, there are survivors. A few, but they&rsquo;re there. All branches of the military that were out of the nation at the time quickly retreated back home to find&hellip;destruction. Desolation. Death.<br /><br />From one, lone national transmitting tower, the surviving military got the message; America was gone. You are the survivors.<br /><br />Then and there, the Navy loaded what survivors they could; soldiers from the Army, the Air Force and the Marines, and civilians. This was continued for a while. And then&hellip;<br /><br />&ldquo;CODE RED! CODE RED! THIS IS THE NIRVANA, WE HAVE A WEREWOLF ABOARD!&rdquo;<br /><br />That was all that was heard from that soul before his throat was slashed. The surrounding ships moved in quickly, and a choice shot in the wolf-like skull ended what would be known as the Nirvana Massacre. The captain of the ship, 11 soldiers (10 men and 1 woman), including the communications officer on duty who declared the red, 7 women, and 3 children were slaughtered.<br /><br />After a funeral at sea was given, it was decided to let what few scientists there were in the surviving fleet should dissect the body of the werewolf. What they found was disappointingly normal, save for the obvious massive amounts of muscle, fur, and the equally obvious wolf skull perched on top of the neck and the tail protruding from the end of the spine.<br /><br />Until the blood-work came back.<br /><br />In it, they found something that could help them identify werewolves. A unique kind of blood cell. A simple blood test would be adequate to find out who was human and who was pretending. The test was administered to all personnel and civilians, and the tests yielded surprising results. Of the some 4800 crew and 200 civilians aboard each aircraft carrier &ndash; the USS Nirvana, Valhalla, and the Zion - and the 280 crew and 20 civilians aboard the 26 destroyers &ndash; a total of 22,800 souls, 989 of them were werewolves. Silent orders were swiftly carried out and the instantly condemned civilians were lined up on the flight decks. It was then found out in an almost inhumane way how to properly kill a werewolf. It was also discovered almost completely on accident that the eyes are sensitive to a certain kind of UV light. Shine this light in their eye, and a small, but very noticeable halo of light will appear on the inside of their iris. If this halo appears in the eyes of a person, then they&rsquo;re a werewolf.<br /><br />All the subjects were then promptly executed and shoved off deck.<br /><br />With this information in mind, the top heads of the survivors started getting ideas. If werewolves had a weakness, then they could be killed. And if they could be killed, they could take their nation back. Before plans could be drafted however, a sudden radio message was received one year after the events of Apocalypse Day.<br /><br />&ldquo;Attention all surviving United States militia. This is the USS Freedom Ship, can anyone hear me?&rdquo;<br /><br />Freedom Ship? What was the Freedom Ship? No one knew. Timidly, one communications officer answered: &ldquo;Freedom, this is the Valhalla, we read you.&rdquo; The following conversation that ensued was unbelievable. Freedom Ship, according to the communicating officer, was a floating city, capable of holding up to some 30,000 passengers. After a day, it was agreed by the generals that a fighter detail should be dispatched to check out the validity of the claims of this unknown vessel.<br /><br />The Zion and 6 destroyers set sail for the Freedom, and when they were within the appropriate distance, fighters Alpha, Bravo, and Charlie launched off the deck. Halfway between the Zion and the Freedom, Bravo and Charlie broke off and maintained their position, saying Godspeed to Alpha as he continued his trajectory towards the increasingly colossal object on his radar.<br /><br />The minutes ticked by. The generals, crew, troops, and civilians all sat impatiently, waiting, hoping that this fantasy was real. &ldquo;I see something&hellip;&rdquo; Alpha said, and it rang through the halls of each and every vessel back at &ldquo;home&rdquo;. Everyone held their breath. &ldquo;My lord, it&rsquo;s massive! A-at least a mile long!...Oh my God. Oh my God! It&rsquo;s real, IT&rsquo;S REAL!!&rdquo; Joyous cries rang from the ship, everyone hugging each other, weeping, kissing their children, dancing, singing, whooping. &ldquo;I can see people waving! Wait! Wait! I&rsquo;m getting a message&hellip;&rdquo; Everyone fell silent. &ldquo;Alpha-Zion actual, I&rsquo;m receiving landing instructions, please advise.&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;Alpha, deny request and send following message&hellip;&rdquo; A meeting time was arranged between one of the carriers and the floating city.<br /><br />&ldquo;Copy Zion. Message has been relayed and they have agreed to meet.&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;Roger. Units Alpha, Bravo, Charlie, return to base. You did good.&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;Copy. Over and out.&rdquo;<br /><br />It took a while, but eventually it was agreed that the Freedom would be used to hold civilians and give troops R&amp;R. It was almost unbelievable. An entire ship, the most luxurious living conditions for the survivors&hellip;just floating in the sea.<br /><br />Defenseless.<br /><br />The carrier group immediately moved to the Freedom&rsquo;s location, and took up defensive positions around the ship, and it an alliance was quickly formed between the militant crew of the ships and the civilian-run Freedom. Together, they were the last surviving Americans. And they had to persevere.<br /><br />They moved the Freedom a little closer to the eastern border of the former United States, and no less than one carrier had to defend the city. The Zion then became the ship that was in charge of infiltrating the eastern United States for survivors.<br /><br />For years this went on. Rough at first, but the troops eventually adjusted to fighting werewolves. The art of search and rescue began to become perfect. Send in one scout to scope out the area where survivors are rumored to be. Pull any resources from surrounding factories and hospitals before the strike was carried out, if they were there. Estimate how many survive, and how many &ldquo;fuzzies&rdquo; there are, and then arrange a strike force depending on how many enemies there are, shoot them down, and then extract the survivors. Administer an &ldquo;eye exam&rdquo;, as it was nicknamed, eliminate any pretenders from there, then board a carrier and deposit them to the Freedom after one more eye exam. Crew and troops were given one every month, of course.<br /><br />Eventually, it was decided to try and make contact with the west coast to see if anyone lived. A small airplane launched off the Freedom at 5 A.M. on March 17, 2019. Immediately there were problems. Apparently, since the U.S. had been toppled, Canada had claimed the air over the States, and the small aircraft that was deployed was apparently intruding on Canadian air space. If the small plane didn&rsquo;t leave, they&rsquo;d shoot it down.<br /><br />The plane ignored them under the pilot&rsquo;s own arrogance and orders from the fleet. Canada scrambled fighters. So did the carriers. It got a little ugly, and almost ended in a fire fight. There was a lot of posturing, yelling, and finally the two heads of nation&rsquo;s respectful squadrons called a truce, and the small plane was allowed to drop a small radio tower somewhere in Nebraska, and it started transmitting, sending messages to the western coast. &ldquo;Attention. This is the air craft carrier group Freedom, can anyone hear me?&rdquo;<br /><br />For days this message played. Over and over and over. 26, in fact, but nobody really counted. It was well into the afternoon when the message came.<br /><br />&ldquo;Attention CVBG Freedom. This is the CVBG Desperado, we read you loud and clear.&rdquo;<br /><br />Survivors! In the West! Another miracle among a sea of sorrows. Plans were quickly arranged to have one of the Freedom&rsquo;s jets to fly over and pick up survivors. The Western Front quickly picked up the East&rsquo;s tactics and thus began the work of salvaging what remained of the American population, headed by the East Front and the West Front, with the Freedom acting as the headquarters and home base of all operations.<br /><br />This became the new flow of life. Extract, save, shoot. Kill, eat, sleep. Breath, blink, move. That was all they could do for now. All the way up until the season change from fall into winter of 2022. Survivors were reported somewhere in the vicinity of southern Manhattan in New York City.<br /><br />The Zion had docked at Long Island, near the open mouth of the Hudson River. The gigantic ship cast a long shadow over the cold and lonely houses, water splashing calmly up against the metal hull. Slowly, with a rather loud metallic hum, the hangar-level doors opened and set down on the dock. Within the dark bowels of the ship, the click and slap of a door opening and closing could be heard, followed by the sudden blast of light from two, round headlights, lighting up the opposite side of the nearby fishery&rsquo;s wall. From the view of the flight deck, one could see a black car slowly pull out of the hangar before the doors closed, then see the ruby red tail lights fade off as it headed for the nearest bridge onto the mainland.<br /><br />Hundreds of miles away, on a lonely stretch alongside the Hudson, two werewolves, one male, the other female, landed softly from their last jump onto the dirt by the side of the road, and they embraced each other, nuzzling each other softly. A TV studio stood opposite the road, dwarfing a tiny little phone booth that contained a dead body in a suit, long since picked clean of flesh by flies and maggots. The corpse&rsquo;s lower jaw was gone, and there was a hole in the glass of the phone booth, with cracks spider webbing outward from the hole.<br /><br />The couple got impatient and steadily frisky, bodies rocking as they slowly started tearing off their human clothes into shreds. The orange light of the dying street lamp cast their merging shadows, and they slowly went to the ground.<br /><br />Further still, in the heart of the buildings of lower Manhattan, a large pit of fire could be seen. Closer in, you&rsquo;d find it&rsquo;s not really fire, just barrels full of fire. It was a werewolf festival. A party, in a sense. The buildings and air was heavy with the sounds and smells of booze, sex, drugs, laughing, singing&hellip;blood.<br /><br />Death. <br /><br />Horrified human screams cut short, the land knew blood once more, and the werewolf&rsquo;s bellies filled a little more. Different rooms of different buildings held different things. One room was crammed full of a mass of swarming, thrusting, rocking bodies, moaning, crying out in orgasm. Another room; full of werewolves in human clothes, the ground littered with bottles of empty Budweiser. And another &ndash; blood soaked walls, crying children, pleading mothers and furious fathers, all chained to the wall like cattle as they watched another innocent man&rsquo;s throat slashed by a hungry werewolf.<br /><br />In the center of all this laughing, drinking and murdering, there stood a stage made of shambles. The amps were real, but they weren&rsquo;t hooked up to guitars, they were hooked up to a stereo system. One creature opened the CD tray in the back and placed a disk in the slot, then closed the tray. Outside, one brown werewolf leapt up onstage as a swarm of fur moved in on the stage, the air growing heavy with expectation. The brown werewolf threw up his hands and the mass suddenly started cheering and chanting, crowding hungrily for a song. The brown obliged, and dashed back stage, and then return, raising his arm to show a body &ndash; a child. No more than eight years old, at best, draped in nothing but tattered, ripped, and dirty clothes. Dozens of cuts and scars decorated his lean, feeble frame. His long and dirty black hair couldn&rsquo;t hide the tears that silently rolled down his cheeks.<br /><br />&ldquo;Please&hellip;&rdquo; he whispered desperately to the man-thing holding his body up off the ground. &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t make me play again&hellip;my fingers&hellip;&rdquo; The child held up his left hand. His finger tips were a sickly purple color, long gashes under his fingernails looked black and dead, deep enough to see the bone &ndash; the result of playing electric guitar countless times, night after night after night.<br /><br />The beast pulled the child&rsquo;s head closer to the end of his snout. &ldquo;You&rsquo;ll play.&rdquo; He growled in a whisper, his breath sick with venomous death. &ldquo;If you want to keep them.&rdquo; He violently threw the bony skeleton away from him and he hit the floor. Sobbing and bruised, the black-haired boy picked himself up and swiftly grabbed the dirty and beaten V-shaped guitar, putting the strap over his head and around his shoulders. He dug a quarter out of his pocket, and put his gashed fingers to the blood-soaked and rusty strings, marching down the center column out towards the crowd. He stepped carefully, as the werewolves tended to swipe at his legs for fun. Tonight was no exception. One set of claws, despite his care, did manage to sink into his leg and he cried out in pain, but dare not stop &ndash; the song would start soon, and he had to get to the elevated platform if he wanted to avoid getting cut anymore and still play efficiently. He leapt onto the platform just in time and started strumming at just the right time as somebody pressed play, and a sinister, nasty snarl burst from the amps with each strum and note of the young boy&rsquo;s guitar, his fingers bleeding anew.<br /><br />The music continued, a sinister chorus of drums and guitars, booming out of the amps fed by the CD player in the back and the poorly tuned guitar in the gaunt-faced child&rsquo;s hands. The whole world around the shambled stage seemed to react and groove to the music, in time with the beat.<br /><br />The werewolf stepped up to the mic stand and began to sing.<br /><br />It was agony playing the rusted strings. The malnourished child did his best to keep up, but the pain was so unreal, he started to fall out of time. A sharp slash to the legs latter, his tears flowed anew, but he dutifully fell back into time.<br /><br />Back at the failing lamppost miles away, the couple was getting into it, working each other hard and fast. Far too occupied to notice anything going on around them, the sound of a far-off V8 reached their ears, but not their minds.<br /><br />It was too late to do anything. In the blink of an eye, in the fastest instant imaginable, seemingly at the brink of breaking the sound barrier, a phantom of a black car violently erupted past the couple with terrifying power and authority.<br /><br />&nbsp;So much power in fact, the broken glass left in the phone booth shattered and fell to the ground with the sheer volume of the distinctly pony-car shaped vehicle.<br /><br />The male&rsquo;s back snapped straight in surprise, his fur looking severely windswept, and he growled at the retreating red taillights on the horizon, then ushered a quick howl of warning to anyone who may be hearing off in the distance before returning to his previous activity.<br /><br />The car roared past abandoned buildings, full of corpses, past rusting cars, all reminders of humanity&rsquo;s fate, tires rolling over blood long since dried. She tore into the heart of the little town, leaving spider-web-like cracks in any glass it passed, rocking every parked car it came near. Quick as a flash, she was on the other side of the small town, and roared under a highway sign. The rusted support beams, having had to suffer nature&rsquo;s wrath without the aid of man, finally gave in, snapped, and the entire pillar tilted and fell under its own weight right on top of a lonesome gas station. It collapsed on the roof of the pumps, the roof caved in and struck a gas pump, causing the ancient gas in the tank to spark and explode, igniting the entire station.<br /><br />The explosion indeed rocked the car, but as soon as she came, she was gone. The black phantom moved on unaffected, rolling out of the small town and back onto the freeway. Like an unstoppable juggernaut, she barreled along with the land and the curving road, luminous headlights showing the way, clear as day. Though the road curved like a still serpent across the earth, the car refused to slow, rocketing around the bends with uncanny sure-footedness. Much further down the road, its headlights would go out, and she would blend into the darkness seamlessly.<br /><br />On the outskirts of the city, a grey werewolf&rsquo;s ear pricked itself at a distant howl. Danger, it said. Look for humans. The werewolf himself was an old one, a giant 9 foot tall monster, grizzly, father of many pups and one of the veterans of the Great Hunt. Perched on top of a tollbooth leading towards a bridge that stretched into the outskirts of Manhattan, he stood up and faced the southeast warily, eyes scanning the horizon for men. He saw a tremendous fireball touch the heavens, and his fur ruffled with a light breeze from the explosion. Even more warily, he waited. He soon heard something before he saw anything. The monster smirked &ndash; Clumsy humans, the lycan thought. So easy to sense&hellip;<br /><br />He tensed his body, readying himself to pounce on the car that was sure to come. How foolish of man! These cars they drove were like sardine cans to him. He stood there, poised and ready for attack. The sound of the engine grew louder to him, and louder and louder still, drawing closer and faster&hellip;it was just a matter of time now, before he&rsquo;d see it&hellip;<br /><br />The werewolf frowned. He didn&rsquo;t understand &ndash; the car seemed so loud and yet he couldn&rsquo;t see it! A wall of sound suddenly blasted him and he was overwhelmed &ndash; he couldn&rsquo;t pinpoint the sound of where the car was coming from. He whirled around, growling furiously, hackles on end, wild eyes snapping from this thing and that. The sound only magnified and the grey werewolf felt like his skull was going to split open. He refocused his wild gaze to the south, and within the light of the street lamp, he caught it &ndash; a car, tearing down the road at an impossible speed with its headlights off, but just barely. He blinked, and the car was gone, having blown between two toll booths and smashing through the wooden barrier like it was a toothpick.<br /><br />Too late, he leapt after the car, only to land on the asphalt, the ruby red taillights mocking him for his failure. Snarling, he took off running after the car, determined, no matter what, to catch that car that would so easily insult his honor.<br /><br />His pace was cut short when a black silhouette slipped out of the car&rsquo;s driver side window, as if someone was sitting down on the door with their legs inside the car. The shadowed driver pulled out something long and smooth, brought it close to his chest, and pointed the other end at the old grey werewolf. Without time to react, all the werewolf saw was a flash, and he was suddenly rolling along the road &ndash; the driver had shot him in the leg.<br /><br />In the city, the song was nearing its end, the audience started to wind down from its adrenaline high. And then something else started to grow in the crowd &ndash; hunger. They could smell the blood seeping from the child&rsquo;s fingers and leg, and they could just as easily see the blood sliding down the strings, and it made them hungry.<br /><br />The car ripped through the urban streets, hungrily searching for a way towards the music. It sped up and skidded around a corner, almost clipping a rusting corpse of another car, dodging obstacles left and right, filling the streets with its music. And then, suddenly, at the height of its power, it relaxed. The revs gradually lowered in ferocity. The tires spun slower and slower. It rounded a corner, silent as the night, and there it was &ndash; the outer edge of the swarming mass of dancing werewolves, the stage in the center of attention, the small human boy playing his guitar, body wracked with painful sobs. Over the sounds of the music and their own dancing, they never heard the light squeak of the brakes as it slowed down to a crawl.<br /><br />The hungry mass&rsquo;s greed overtook them, and just as one werewolf was about to pull the child down from the stage by his stomach, a holy blast of blue, surreal light swept the street and blinded all those in the path of the car. The child, his eyes having long since forgotten the glory of sunlight, had to shield his eyes just like everyone else. The CD kept playing, but eventually someone shut it off, and everyone tried to look at the source of this advancing light, but could only be blinded ever more, and the outside rung of the crowd parted to get out of the light and out of the way of the moving object.<br /><br />Once it had started sinking into the crowd, delving further and further, did the crowd start to comprehend what it was through their musical high &ndash; a car.<br /><br />She rolled down the street slowly, leisurely, the pack of werewolves following it curiously, angrily, as if hypnotized by her almost brand new look. Her bright highs projected a crystal clear beam ahead to light her way, piercing through the darkness like a sword. Some werewolves followed behind it, some next to it, but none, within twenty yards would go near the front, as if intimidated by silver cobra badge on the left half of the steel grill, towards one of the cars piercing blue orbs. She was black, black as the night &ndash; spotting her would be hard had she not had her high beams on. She had the classic racing stripes and decals of a Shelby, except they were painted a very, very dark grey; it was almost black, even, and thus seemed to blend with the black paint from afar. The broken, flickering street lamp&rsquo;s light winked off of the chrome silver badge and wide rims brilliantly, making the werewolves fidget angrily. They didn&rsquo;t quite know what to make of it. Something wasn&rsquo;t right about this car&hellip;rare as they were and clean as she looked, it reeked of human.<br /><br />She continued rolling down the way, the sea of bristling fur parting reluctantly for this unknown interloper. It glided gracefully, gently, near-idle engine breathing passively, giving not so much as a hint towards her tremendous power. Reflections of old, hollow brick buildings, falling apart and deteriorating, ghosts of high-rises half caved in and seemed to loom darkly, graffiti and the occasional burning barrel could be seen off of the slick black paint of the rumbling pony car. But not one reflection was as great as the full, gorgeous moon, drifting slowly and lazily like the car.<br /><br />The driver, his identity shielded by lightly black tinted glass and darkness all around him, would have told you it was a beautiful car from a legendary name, now lost in the careless time of werewolves. If you found the marketing sticker, it would have told you the jewel was a 2008 Shelby GT500KR, seven hundred and twenty five horsepower Super Snake Edition. Of course, the name Shelby meant nothing to werewolves; as they don&rsquo;t care for automobiles, save for this occasional event that was currently taking place.<br /><br />The werewolves continued following this car that dared enter their territory, but in all their hostility and prejudice for this symbol of mankind, they refused to touch it, so strong was the stench of man and woman on this car. They growled, raised their hackles, flashed their menacing fangs, everything they knew to try and intimidate the invading car and alien driver, but it still proceeded at that slow, calm pace, neither going faster nor slowing down. It just kept moving, gliding along the asphalt like a boat down a river.<br /><br />It followed that one straight line down the street, creeping towards the end of the road towards a cul-de-sac. The werewolves in the cul-de-sac were at first oblivious to this intrusion of territory, having been too wrapped up in what they were doing. Excessive partying; dancing, drinking, drug abuse and full public acts of sex were the view to be captured in this human-influenced center of young werewolf culture.<br /><br />When the whistling breath of the fine-tuned engine caught their ear, they all froze, heads turned in the direction of the mysterious vehicle and the attention and mob it had garnered. It crept slowly into the cul-de-sac, hollow buildings leering at the machinery, seemingly jealous it was still used and moving, not abandoned and abused like they were.<br /><br />And then, all of a sudden, it stopped. There was a sudden intake of air on part of the werewolves that carried an element of shock about it, as if snapped out of their hypnotic state because the vehicle finally stopped moving. Everyone stood, watching the slender car, some even daring to whisper to each other about what they should do, and the answer was resounding &ndash; &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know.&rdquo;<br /><br />As if hearing their whispers, the black car suddenly ceased to breath, and the lights went out, darkness swallowing the crowd once more, only dimly penetrated by the few barrels and fires crackling around the place.<br /><br />Suddenly, everything was still. Absolutely, perfectly still. Not a hair moved, not one breath of air was heard, every fiber of muscle just stopped. It was like someone hit the pause button on the world. Everyone dare not move, most ears splayed back, tails held low, every strand of fur electrified by the air of anticipation.<br /><br />And then, the door popped open. This simple act made every single werewolf that had given the attention to the vehicle to jump like a cat that had been ripped from its slumber by a huge dog. It swung open wide, the people on the left side of the car gasping and immediately a buzz went around. A tan work boot reached out of the car and set itself on the pavement, the dark blue cuff of his jean following to cover the upper half as weight was shifted onto that foot, alternatively making the car rise an inch as its only inhabitant exited the car calmly, another work boot joining the second on the ground. As the head of the driver popped up over the top of the car, the buzz intensified, becoming urgent, angry, confused, and scared all at the same time.<br /><br />It was a human. He stood at least five and half feet tall, with tawny brown, straight, medium length hair sticking under the lip of his black beanie. He grasped the door, stood back, and swung it shut. Then, he stuffed his hands in his pockets, silver key dipping into his right pocket along with his fist. Bundled in a black hoodie that had the same pitch of color of his Shelby, the front unzipped to show a plain gray t-shirt, the chilly night did little to make him cold.<br /><br />He exhaled through his nose, seemingly to solidify his presence among the much larger beings. He strolled forward slowly, reflecting the earlier pace of his car, towards the front, moon glinting sharply off of the seemingly new paintjob. He walked around the front quarter panel, stepping lazily, boots thumping off of the asphalt. He sat down on the lip of the hood, making the front end sink half an inch, and he crossed one ankle over the other. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath through his nose, and looked up at the sky, the brilliant white moon reflected in his piercing steel-blue-green eyes. He smiled at the planetary body, as if enjoying its presence, and seemingly absorbing its pale light. His smile stuck to his face as he looked down, his eyes, shaded by the beanie&rsquo;s visor, turned a slightly gentler blue-green color and greeted a crowd of stunned, apprehensive werewolves just staring at him, dumbstruck, not knowing what to do.<br /><br />He frowned, tilted his head to the side slightly, and shrugged his shoulders as he offered an impossibly innocent &ldquo;What?&rdquo;<br /><br />Every single strand of hair on every werewolf&rsquo;s back went stiff and straight. It was as if they couldn&rsquo;t believe what they were seeing and hearing &ndash; a real, living human, in their territory of its own free will. Many didn&rsquo;t know what to make of him; never, since the day the werewolves had retaken the Promised Land did a human so willingly step into their midst with such a relaxed air. Or so their fathers had told them. Had the current mass of furry bodies been the generation that had toppled the furless ones, he would instantly be dead the second he stepped out of his car. But, the current crowd was but a teenage to young adult age group, so, for most, this was their first time seeing a human. Some werewolves thought he was insane. Others thought he was really scrawny, with obvious thoughts of eating him on their minds. A few select younger weres even sounded curiously aroused by his presence.<br /><br />&ldquo;Too many werewolves, not enough holes.&rdquo; Was what crossed the young boy&rsquo;s mind. &ldquo;That or the lack of variety&hellip;&rdquo; He snickered, then opened his mouth to speak again, all the talking and buzz that flooded his ears ceasing immediately, at which he looked greatly amused. Smiling, his left hand rummaging in his pocket, he spoke loudly with a low, Zen-like voice:<br /><br />&ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t come here to get eaten.&rdquo; He said, throwing a devilish smile towards one particular mass of fur in front of his car. &ldquo;Or&hellip;fucked, for that matter.&rdquo; He threw a less charming look over at the group of female werewolves who giggled and hid their faces. &ldquo;Like it&rsquo;s a game&hellip;&rdquo;<br /><br />Shaking his head, he produced a pack of Winston cigarettes from his left pocket from whence he was rummaging. Removing two white cylinders, he placed one in between the lip of his beanie and his temple, and put the other&rsquo;s butt in his lips. &ldquo;I came here to race.&rdquo;<br /><br />Almost immediately, the apprehensive, unsure, and somewhat hungry air was shattered by the sound of booming, hysterical laughter all around him. Unfazed, gossip and outraged voices circling around him, the little human simply retrieved a Zippo from his jacket, flipped it open, and proceeded to light his cancer stick, head bowed calmly as the fire splashed a pulsing orange across his face, and then ceased quickly, tiny columns of smoke started drifting out of the end of his cigarette. Furry bodies started leaning on each other for support as they continued laughing, the furless being took a calm, slow drag of his stick.<br /><br />When the laughter died down, he removed the cigarette from his lips. &ldquo;You guys done?&rdquo; And he blew out the smoke in a perfect circle, and it drifted away lazily into the sky.<br /><br />There was a general murmur of &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;Good.&rdquo; The boy said with a cheerful smile. &ldquo;Then point me to the starting line.&rdquo;<br /><br />No laughter this time. Only still air. Instead, one brown-colored werewolf stepped forward boldly and addressed the teenager. &ldquo;This race is for werewolves only, human.&rdquo; The other werewolves rallied behind the male, encouraging him. Growing cockier, he thrust his chest out and apparently tried to look regal. &ldquo;You&rsquo;re not a werewolf. Thus, you can&rsquo;t run with us. You&rsquo;d only lose.&rdquo;<br /><br />As the glow of the end of his cigarette lit up the interloper&rsquo;s face, the other werewolves could clearly see a skeptically cocked eyebrow. &ldquo;Oh really now?&rdquo; said the human amusedly, and struck a tone that suggested sarcasm. &ldquo;Well then, if I&rsquo;m so obviously doomed to lose, why not let me race anyway? I mean, wont it look funny in front of aaaall your friends to see a poor, frail little human being so completely beaten by all you clearly superior werewolves?&rdquo; He gestured the crowd gathered around him, another devilish smile took its place, eyes shaded from view. He marveled at how easy it was to manipulate the situation to his favor. Werewolves had the biggest egos he&rsquo;d ever seen.<br /><br />There was yet another buzz as a bemused word traveled the lips of the furry beings. Taking another calm drag, he listened and absorbed all the information traveling around him, and then he took to scrutinizing his cigarette as the werewolf talked to him.<br /><br />&ldquo;You&rsquo;ll be racing that car right there?&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;Yep.&rdquo;<br /><br />The super natural narrowed his eyes. &ldquo;Just you?&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;Uh huh.&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;And you don&rsquo;t want any kind of reward after the race if you win?&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;Which I wont?&rdquo; the human asked sarcastically.<br /><br />Not picking up on it, the young werewolf relaxed and said more boldly. &ldquo;Of course you won&rsquo;t! No reward?&rdquo;<br /><br />The intruder looked inquisitive for a moment, holding his chin as he looked up and off to the moon in thought. Then, he slowly shook his head. &ldquo;Nope.&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;You sure?&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;I&rsquo;m here, aren&rsquo;t I? What&rsquo;re you guys, scared?&rdquo;<br /><br />The crowd grew silent. &ldquo;Oops.&rdquo; He thought smugly to himself. &ldquo;Seems as if I&rsquo;ve struck a nerve.&rdquo;<br /><br />Immediately, the once cocky werewolf said to him with a serious look on his face, &ldquo;We&rsquo;re not scared of you.&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;Oh really?&rdquo; The human said again. &ldquo;Huh.&rdquo; He grunted, looking off into space, as if thinking about something. &ldquo;If that&rsquo;s true&hellip;&rdquo; he said carefully, eyes returning to the brown werewolf. &ldquo;Then why&hellip;do I have at least ten feet of clear space around me and my car?&rdquo;<br /><br />And angry murmur ran through the crowd, and all the intruder did was take a drag from his shortening cigarette, gave a big, smug smile, and exhaled the plumes through his nostrils, because he knew it was true. And he was right. They were afraid of him. The swirling of angry chatter and words grew. It sounded like they were still uncertain if they wanted to let him race. Apparently, allowing a human to participate in &ldquo;werewolf&rdquo; activities was frowned upon. The human blew out another plume of smoke. &ldquo;Tell ya what.&rdquo; He said, capturing the attention of the werewolves once more. &ldquo;If I don&rsquo;t place first.&rdquo; Everyone fell deathly silent instantly. Picking at his still lit cancer stick, the boy said with his head bowed, in a clear and amused voice, a big smile alight his face: &ldquo;You all get to eat me.&rdquo;<br /><br />There was a unanimous roar of approval as the entire crowd cheered its yes, and various shouts proceeded: &ldquo;I CALL HIS LEG! I WANT HIS LIVER! GIMME HIS SPINE!&rdquo; The human smiled. &ldquo;The way to a werewolf&rsquo;s brain functions and common sense is through their stomach.&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;So I can race then?&rdquo; Nobody seemed to protest. Until&hellip;<br /><br />&ldquo;HO-HO-HOLD UP JUST A DAMN SECOND!&rdquo;<br /><br />The single, arrogant tone of this loud, explosive voice shattered the harmony the human had brought to the little circle of werewolves. Glancing over his shoulder with an annoyed expression, the human saw a snowy white colored werewolf bounce forward and skid around the front panel of the human&rsquo;s now inherently forgotten automobile. The white wolf was dressed in three quarter shorts with a black bandana dangling out of the rear pocket, and a black, extremely baggy t shirt with what looked like the Warner Brothers logo on it in silver and topped off with glitter to make it shine.<br /><br />In short, to the human, this was the werewolf version of a poser.<br /><br />&ldquo;We ain&rsquo;t seriously lettin&rsquo; this little pinky roll wit us, are we?&rdquo; His words cast doubt onto the suddenly light air just as much as his bad gangster accent would cast doubt on people&rsquo;s perception of his intelligence. &ldquo;I mean, just lookit dis hunka shit!&rdquo; The white wolf gestured to the &ldquo;pinky&rsquo;s&rdquo; car. The human of course, scoffed and shook his head, muttering &ldquo;fucking idiot&hellip;&rdquo;<br /><br />The poser&rsquo;s keen ear picked up on this and he said &ldquo;Aw, s&rsquo;like that, huh playa?&rdquo; The white wolf dashed towards the hood, sliding his rear around the corner of his headlights and coming to rest right next to the human. Getting right in his face, his head much, much larger than the human&rsquo;s, Glitter Shirt scrutinized him very, very closely. &ldquo;You gon&rsquo; be a playa hatah?&rdquo;<br /><br />Not intimidated in the least, the human remained silent for a second, staring blankly at the werewolf, and the now very short cigarette smoldering between his fingers. Then, he tilted his head curiously.<br /><br />&ldquo;Can I call you Todd?&rdquo;<br /><br />This odd and random request threw off the monster in his face entirely. &ldquo;Whut da fuck.&rdquo;<br /><br />The human smiled. &ldquo;I like Todd, I&rsquo;m gonna call you Todd.&rdquo; And he nodded. The werewolf looked extremely confused. Smiling wider, with an evil glint in his eye, the human said in a low voice. &ldquo;Todd. You know how I see you right now? No? A bitch.&rdquo; The word stung the air like a slap in the face. &ldquo;A wily little bitch.&rdquo;<br /><br />Silence. Pure, still silence.<br /><br />Unabashed, the human went on; &ldquo;And as such, I see the need to tell you that your free will has been revoked, and I now own you.&rdquo;<br /><br />To werewolves, this was the greatest of offenses &ndash; for a human to claim a werewolf as a pet or servant. Seemingly oblivious to the deadly line he had just crossed, the boy went on. &ldquo;Todd, you see those cars over there?&rdquo; He gestured with his cigarette to the line of vehicles he had observed earlier as he rolled in. These cars &ndash; average, consumer-friendly priced, every day, worn, stock cars &ndash; were the racing machines the werewolves drove. Todd didn&rsquo;t move an inch. Looking back into the now furious and bristling werewolf&rsquo;s eyes with a smoldering anger of his own, the bold human said, &ldquo;Those are hunks of shit. I could blink at &lsquo;em, and I&rsquo;d have to say I wouldn&rsquo;t be surprised if they turned into dust. Those things desperately need a car wash and tune up. Now if you&rsquo;re too stupid to comprehend that fact, and that you think that those junkyards you call cars over there are gonna beat my beast right here-&rdquo; He slapped the hood of his car firmly. &ldquo;-then shit, I don&rsquo;t want you anywhere near me, or my car.&rdquo;<br /><br />More silence. Replacing the Winston between his lips to take a drag, the human entered into a staring contest with the infuriated werewolf before his face, matching his glare with a leer of his own. This big furry asshole was not getting the message that he did not want this werewolf touching his car. He&rsquo;d get fingerprints all over the body. The boy leaned in fearlessly, blowing smoke all over Todd&rsquo;s face, and said in a low, deadly voice: &ldquo;Down, Fido.&rdquo;<br /><br />Todd lashed out, a streak of white and a huge hurry fist checked the teenager&rsquo;s cheek, the cigarette was violently flung out of his mouth and several feet away from him, quickly followed by a few crimson droplets of blood. There was a loud roar of approval from the crowd around him and Todd suddenly backed away from the car, laughing and thumbing his nose at the seemingly wounded boy.<br /><br />The human himself was actually just fine. It&rsquo;s not the first time he&rsquo;d been hit, much less by a werewolf. He sat himself back up, spat out a wad of blood, then wiped his mouth with his sleeve, and appeared unfazed, much to the astonishment of some of the weres in the crowd. He sat up straight, propped his boot up onto the chin spoiler, and shook his head, muttering, &ldquo;Tsk tsk tsk&hellip;&rdquo; He sighed. &ldquo;Todd, Todd, Todd&hellip;not nice.&rdquo; He said, stabbing a finger at the bouncing and invigorated wolf man.<br /><br />Todd wasn&rsquo;t listening. He continued jumping around, firing up the crowd, reasserting the delusion that they were superior to the teenage human in their midst.<br /><br />&ldquo;Tooooodd.&rdquo;<br /><br />Todd whipped around suddenly. &ldquo;Ya&rsquo;ll humans are a buncha frail pussies. Ya&rsquo;ll can&rsquo;t hunt nuthin&rsquo;. Ya&rsquo;ll can&rsquo;t catch nuthin&rsquo;. Ya&rsquo;ll gotta go to a place where the food is already caught for yo pussy asses! Ya&rsquo;ll can&rsquo;t live wit out ch&rsquo;o TVs an shit.&rdquo; He again approached the boy he&rsquo;d assaulted just a few seconds ago and got right into his face. &ldquo;You can&rsquo;t even race your own cars.&rdquo;<br /><br />The teenager only stared passively into Todd&rsquo;s eyes. &ldquo;Ya want me to disprove it?&rdquo;<br /><br />Todd frowned at the human&rsquo;s neutral response. &ldquo;Ah, I see yo game. Ya&rsquo;ll tryna keep calm so yo ass don&rsquo;t git clouded wit bad judgment.&rdquo; Having no idea what Todd was talking about, nor caring to know, the human remained silent, and threw a tiny, longing look over at his cigarette on the ground as if it was the most troublesome thing in the world. Todd grew steadily more frustrated and proceeded around the front of the car to its right side.<br /><br />&ldquo;Well, see you keep calm aftah dis!&rdquo;<br /><br />He extended a single finger, and then dug his claw into the cast iron chassis of the car&rsquo;s passenger door with a small clack. Then, he dragged it along the side, up towards the front, paint and metal curling around his nail as the terrible screeching sound of nail against metal ensued, and every single werewolf clapped their hands over their ears, laughing and cheering on Todd. He ran up the side, ending with a flourish by pulling his arm out and swinging into the air, completing a long scratch on the side of the car, starting at the center of the passenger&rsquo;s side door, going all the way up, over the wheel well, ending at just before the headlight.<br /><br />The whole crowd was cheering on Todd, and Todd loved it. He bounced around, got into the boy&rsquo;s face again, laughing at him, completely oblivious to what the human was doing. He seemed ominously passive, and his right hand slipped behind his back, inside the hoodie, reaching for something.<br /><br />Somebody shouted at Todd to do the same to the driver&rsquo;s side, and Todd obliged, dashing over the driver&rsquo;s side, and then bent over to dig his nail into the door as he did with the other side, but this time, he stopped when he heard the teenager speak.<br /><br />&ldquo;Hey Todd. C&rsquo;mere.&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;Aw, looks like tha brotha&rsquo;s got some words fuh ya&rsquo;ll!&rdquo; He swaggered up to the front, stooped over and slung an arm around the boy like he was a dear brother. &ldquo;Watcha want pinky?&rdquo;<br /><br />A deafening roar exploded forth from the human and everyone jumped and screamed. Todd was flung backward, lifted off his feet and landed on the ground, limbs sprawled messily. The thud of his body was shortly accompanied by the ping of a single copper jacket tapping against the ground. The tube bounced around a little bit, and then stood right side up on its firing cap, still smoking.<br /><br />Shocked, the onlookers saw the bullet hole in Todd&rsquo;s chest, and then looked at the boy, this simple, now threatening boy, holding an M9 handgun, pointed up to where Todd&rsquo;s chest was just a seconds ago. Barrel smoking, the human lowered the end, face twisting slightly as if thinking a third time about his decision, and then silently brought the gun back up, pointed it straight up in front of his face, pursed his lips, and blew away the smoke from the barrel.<br /><br />&ldquo;Anyone else wanna touch my fuckin&rsquo; car?&rdquo;<br /><br />He looked left. He looked right. All he saw were wide, fearful eyes. Terrified eyes. Werewolves a foot taller than him cowering behind each other. The once fearless and savage monsters humans feared so much for so long a time - reduced to nothing but scared puppies. Nobody dared open their mouths to even answer his question.<br /><br />All because of one little gun. To the human, it was a simple tool he often used in his defense. But to the werewolves around him who had never witnessed a gun before, a small object so loud and frightening struck fear into their hearts. They had no idea how it worked, and now one of their own was dead.<br /><br />&ldquo;Now then.&rdquo; These two simple words made the mass of fur in front of him flinch. It was almost comical; supernatural monsters cowering before a human that barely came up to their shoulder, almost like a bunch of kindergarteners before a teacher who had just yelled at them. His cynical smile came back.<br /><br />&ldquo;Does anyone else have an issue with me racing?&rdquo; He waited this time. A gentle breeze swept down the street, kissing the boy&rsquo;s face. No one answered. No one objected. He nodded, then stood up, and approached the nearly extinguished Winston. He hunched over to pick it up with his left hand and stood back up, then wandered casually over to Todd&rsquo;s still body. He was careful to step on his groin, placing his feet on either side of Todd&rsquo;s torso. Sighing through his nose, frowning and shaking his head, it was almost as if he was half-expected to say &ldquo;What a shame&hellip;&rdquo;<br /><br />Putting the bloody butt in between his lips, he reached behind him with both hands, replacing the gun into the band of his jeans, the mass of fur looking on silently. Taking one long final drag from his stub of a cigarette, he stooped over and grabbed a handful of Todd&rsquo;s shirt, and pulled his lifeless body up to his face.<br /><br />&ldquo;The name&rsquo;s Nolan, by the way,&rdquo; he said in a low voice. &ldquo;Remember that when you wake up.&rdquo;<br /><br />Exhaling the last plume of smoke the cigarette had to offer, he then dropped the dead butt into Todd&rsquo;s gaping maw and unceremoniously dropped his body onto the ground. Whispers abound yet again, the name &ldquo;Nolan&rdquo; being chanted over and over, Nolan turned around, taking care to step on Todd&rsquo;s groin again. This time, the white-furred finger twitched. Not noticing, or simply just ignoring it, Nolan stooped over and grabbed Todd&rsquo;s cuff of his jean and dragged him forward a little, dropping his leg down ominously in the path of the completely forgotten Shelby.<br /><br />What Nolan meant by his comment was exactly what he said; Todd would wake up and walk again. It would actually take approximately two to two and half hours for him to heal from the bullet wound, depending on how deep it went into his chest cavity. Nolan knew it would take a bit more than just a bullet to kill a werewolf. You had to place it right. For part of a werewolf&rsquo;s physiology is their intense immune system. The second an injury is detected by the body, black blood cells, a type of blood unique only to werewolves, race to the injury immediately, devour infections, repel anything else that&rsquo;s impeding the healing process and seal up the wound, good as new. They are, in effect, super white blood cells. They can even reanimate or stand in for cells that are needed and can&rsquo;t be made fast enough for the body to fix, such as muscle tissue, bone calcium, and even neural fibers.<br /><br />The only way to stop this process and permanently kill a werewolf is to destroy the spine joints connected to the brain in the neck, destroy the brain itself, drain the body of blood through a major blood vessel, or destroy or stop the heart long enough for it to stop producing black blood cells. Black cells, while incredibly powerful, don&rsquo;t have a very long life span compared to their white blood relatives, and the heart has to continually produce more and more. Stop the heart for exactly 11.1 minutes, all the cells die, and the werewolf has no chance of coming back to life. Destroy the brain, the heart can&rsquo;t run. Destroy the spine, and the brain can&rsquo;t tell the heart to run. Stop the heart, and the blacks can&rsquo;t defend the body from common infections, and the werewolf gets sick and dies for good.<br /><br />In Todd&rsquo;s case, all the body had to do was push the bullet out, and seal the wound, then get the heart back up and running, and then reanimate the brain and every other organ in the body. The heart could be back up in about a half hour if the bullet was removed for the body.<br /><br />But Nolan wasn&rsquo;t the charitable soul who was going to do it. In fact, he was going to make it a lot worse. Having moved Todd where he intended him to be, Nolan sauntered back to the driver&rsquo;s side door, the werewolves having backed away even further when he walked towards their general direction, opened the door and sat back down into his car. The door shut, and the air slowly transformed.<br /><br />The human was gone. But now he was replaced by something more menacing: the car. It was like he had become the car; all the fear was directed at his black Shelby because it was in Nolan&rsquo;s hands. Like the car had swallowed Nolan and adopted his mind. It was Nolan in a different, bigger, harder body. And soon, loud would be added to the list.<br /><br />After lighting the cigarette that he left in his beanie, Nolan dug his key out of his pocket and stuck it in the ignition, and pressed the clutch and toggled the stick into neutral. Then, he turned the key.<br /><br />The stuttering sound of the engine sparking drowned out any sounds, before the engine caught and turned over. The exhaust pipes spewed murderous thunder in a powerful, violent surge as the car came to life. It made the werewolf&rsquo;s flinch and back away suddenly, and the group in front of the car shielded their eyes when the bright blue lights came back on, bringing back the holy piercing knife that the light was to the darkness. And then, the sky came down around them. A torrential hurricane of volume exploded from the car as it roared angrily, and then it sharply rose to the volume of a star exploding as the revs shot into the red and the chassis twisted like something horrendously monstrous was trying to tear its way out of the metal confines of the body, the wheels seemed to barely stop the whole thing from taking off into the atmosphere.<br /><br />Ears soundly ringing, the werewolves tried to save what hearing they could by clapping their hands over their ears, their realities shattered; something this loud couldn&rsquo;t possibly lose&hellip;<br /><br />And then the leash was cut. The metal body lurched forward with undeniable power; enough power to make the front end pop up a foot and the Shelby launched forward, sending most werewolves reeling back in shock, and the front end came down with a mighty slam &ndash; right on top of Todd&rsquo;s legs.<br /><br />His features cold and emotionless, Nolan&rsquo;s face twisted into a cynical smile as the back tires rolled over Todd&rsquo;s crushed shins. Not one werewolf dared get in his way now, and the menacing Shelby slipped next to the rusted and beaten wagon of one of the werewolves. It growled leanly, making the shell of the wagon vibrate visibly. The engine cut, and the lights went out. The car was off.<br /><br />For a while, the super naturals stared at the car, bewildered, as if everything that had happened was a bad dream. But all they needed to do was look at Todd&rsquo;s still body and it was all the pinch they&rsquo;d need to reassure themselves this was reality. The air stayed unsure, apprehensive, as if the car was a powder keg with a lighter near it.<br /><br />The boy on stage was stunned. The simple act of a human entering a werewolf&rsquo;s territory fearlessly, much less shooting one had simply shattered the pedestal the werewolves had put themselves upon in his mind. The grace and cool Nolan had displayed was god-like in the presence of such horrific creatures. Wild thoughts started running through his mind &ndash; if one teenager could strike so much fear into werewolves who have tortured him his whole life&hellip;imagine what a whole army could do. The first fleeting hope was like a light that pierced the darkness of dreary sorrow that weighed on his heavy heart.<br /><br />Hope.<br /><br />It made him feel so light, so happy, it was wonderful! He smiled &ndash; a genuine smile. The first real smile he&rsquo;d made in years.<br /><br />Slowly, the mood started coming down from the terror Nolan had inflicted, and was soon enough swinging back into its music groove. Eventually, someone yelled to finish the song, and a bottle struck the back of the boy&rsquo;s head. Sobbing horribly, he resumed his playing. It was almost over. All he needed to do was finish the song.<br /><br />In the silent pony car, Nolan sat patiently. He&rsquo;d ask when the race would start later. He wasn&rsquo;t worried about the race course, since it would probably be lined with werewolves and obstacles, making the public streets into a makeshift race track. Nolan knew how werewolves ran these things. And for now, he&rsquo;d wait. And possibly listen to some music. He reached into the hollowed out box underneath the stereo system, and pulled out an iPod. Plugged into his stereo, Nolan flipped through his broad selection of metal and hard rock music. He eventually settled on a song, turned it up as loud as possible, and eventually started disassembling his 9mm to check and make sure it was all in working order.<br /><br />He did this repeatedly. Remove the clip, check the bullets, unlock catch, remove slide, check handle, replace slide, relock catch, check slide, insert clip, load round. He&rsquo;d sit there with the gun, pondering if it was oiled enough, nodded and then pulled the slide, the bullet popped out, he removed the clip and replaced the bullet. He set the sidearm down in the center console, and then started observing the crowd around him.<br /><br />Today was a race day for werewolves. Having been bored with their &ldquo;liberated&rdquo; life from humans, the new generation took up the old customs of the American teenage population; all evident in tonight&rsquo;s activities. Except the eating people, of course. Nolan&rsquo;s brow furrowed angrily. &ldquo;Stupid fucking werewolves, He thought. They have no idea what it&rsquo;s like to be human. A real human.&rdquo;<br /><br />He sat there for a minute, brooding in his anger and hatred for werewolves. And then his eye caught something in the side mirror, the one focused on stage. There was a child, a boy, Nolan guessed ten years old. Playing guitar for the werewolves. His brow knit differently this time, in thought.<br /><br />&ldquo;Why&rsquo;s he playing for them? Then the thought hit him. He was a slave. So there WAS a surviving population here! &ldquo;I&rsquo;m gonna hafta go out and check for survivors&hellip;&rdquo; He sighed. So young, the boy seemed to Nolan. Too young to be in a world so horrible&hellip;&rdquo;I&rsquo;m going to love seeing the look on his face when he goes free.&rdquo; And Nolan smirked again. He was about to reach for the door handle when two silhouettes, noticeably hourglass in shape formed in his window and a short tap tap tap came from a clawed finger raping the glass.<br /><br />Nolan sighed irritably, turned the car on and rolled down the window. &ldquo;What?&rdquo; He snapped. The two werewolf girls standing outside his car jumped slightly from the volume of Nolan&rsquo;s music. Then they giggled. Nolan sighed again. It was a couple of the girls from the group who liked him. &ldquo;What do you want, a tampon?&rdquo;<br /><br />They looked confused. &ldquo;What&rsquo;s a tampon?&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;What?&rdquo; Nolan hollered over his music.<br /><br />&ldquo;What&rsquo;s a tampon?&rdquo; They said a little louder.<br /><br />&ldquo;What?&rdquo; Nolan repeated. &ldquo;I can&rsquo;t hear you!&rdquo;<br /><br />The women pouted and made gestures for him to turn it down, and Nolan obliged.&nbsp;&nbsp;&ldquo;Whaddya want?&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;Um&hellip;&rdquo; They started giggling again. Nolan found it annoying. &ldquo;Me and some other girls were going to go drink&hellip;wanna join us&hellip;?&rdquo; She winked.<br /><br />Nolan looked disgusted. &ldquo;Sorry, I only breed within my own species.&rdquo; He then gave them a mockingly charming smile.<br /><br />The girls looked a little offended. &ldquo;Why&rsquo;re you so grouchy? What are you, gay?&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;Naw, I just don&rsquo;t wanna catch rabies.&rdquo;<br /><br />They looked even more offended.<br /><br />Nolan smirked evilly. &ldquo;When are we getting this race started?&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;Well, you killed one of the drivers, so until we replace him, like, never.&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;Well, like, I didn&rsquo;t kill Todd.&rdquo; Nolan said, mocking their phrasing. &ldquo;He&rsquo;s still alive.&rdquo; The girl looked surprised. &ldquo;Oh yeah.&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;How-?&rdquo; One of them started.<br /><br />&ldquo;You&rsquo;ll know when you figure out what a tampon is first. Baby steps, ladies.&rdquo; Nolan smiled again.<br /><br />Severely annoyed, the females left, one muttering &ldquo;Asshole.&rdquo; And the other drove her knee into the quarter panel, making a small dent. Ah, women. Nolan thought happily, rolling up the window. So Todd was one of the drivers. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m gonna loooove tearing him up.&rdquo;<br /><br />Suddenly, he heard screaming. Screaming coming from a little boy. Alarmed, Nolan glanced at the side mirror to confirm, whirled around to look out the back; indeed, it was the young boy who was screaming. A werewolf had its claw in his leg and the boy was desperately trying to get away, the guitar having been dropped on the ground. The boy tried to pull away, but a werewolf had his claws deep in his leg, and the werewolf suddenly yanked him closer, nearly tearing out his calf muscle altogether and got another hand on him, and ripped him off stage &ndash; he was werewolf food.<br /><br />Acting fast, Nolan reached behind the passenger seat, his right hand closing around something in the shape of a handle, and he pulled it out, reaching next to the iPod for a box of shotgun slugs.<br /><br />Outside, the boy was getting torn apart. Some of werewolf&rsquo;s instinctual hunger had overcome them and the boy was the closest thing to food without having to walk over to the slaughter house. Four circled him, one had his claws in the boy&rsquo;s stomach, one was working on chewing off part of his thigh, the other was trying to pull out his arm, and one was just laughing and yelling in the boy&rsquo;s sobbing face.<br /><br />&ldquo;Whatchu scared of, boy?&rdquo; The were yelled into the human&rsquo;s face. &ldquo;Scared of my teeth? All the better to eat you with!&rdquo; He cackled menacingly and raised a wickedly clawed hand to deal the deathstroke. The child&rsquo;s eyes went wide &ndash; he could already see his whole life flying before his eyes as his body starting freezing with sheer terror. The hand started to come down. His body took in what he thought was going to be his last mouthful of air.<br /><br />Nolan pulled the trigger. The hammer struck the end of the slug, and the powder ignited and the resulting and resounding roar tore the child out of his shock and the oversized bullet left the barrel of his Mossberg 590, spinning through the air towards its intended target &ndash; the werewolf&rsquo;s right wrist.<br /><br />The boy blinked. The violent and loud BOOM had ripped him out of his life-flash. There was a slight ringing in his hear, and far-off, he heard someone mumbling something. Horridly. Crying. The sound came into better focus. It sounded like: &ldquo;My&hellip;my h&hellip;&rdquo; The sound became crisper. &ldquo;My hand&hellip;my hand&hellip;&rdquo; Crisper still. Suddenly he realized that person that was saying &ldquo;My hand&rdquo; was actually yelling. &ldquo;MY HAND! MY HAND!&rdquo;<br /><br />The saved child looked, dumbstruck, at the werewolf&rsquo;s hand. Only there was no hand, not anymore. All there was a bloody stump, spasming terribly with blood spurting out of the exposed veins. The werewolf clutched the stump to his chest, shocked and crying, mouth working silently, as if trying to find words to express the pain he was feeling. He stepped off of the boy, and started stumbling around blindly. He turned and saw all the faces looking at him, just as shocked, and he turned around again, only to see a black streak and stars exploded in his vision as Nolan rammed the butt of his shotgun into the side of the werewolf&rsquo;s head. The furry monster went spinning to the ground and landed face first on the ground, hard. It groaned, cried and curled into a little ball, clutching his destroyed hand.<br /><br />Standing over the curled body, Nolan didn&rsquo;t even give the other werewolves a chance at mercy. He tugged the slide, and the red shell popped out the bottom and pinged against the asphalt. Nolan swung the end of the nickel-colored shotgun towards another werewolf as its head turned to face Nolan and the human fired, causing the back of the werewolf&rsquo;s head to explode. The other two recognized the threat Nolan presented and immediately started to sprint away. But before one could so much as take off, Nolan was on him in an instant, swinging the smoking barrel towards another werewolf, tugging the pump, and pulling the trigger. The slug went through his chest cavity, lodging itself in the heart, and knocked the dead werewolf on his front to bleed his heart onto the road. The third werewolf got a jump and started running away.<br /><br />Pump, aim, squeeze. Click.<br /><br />Nolan snorted. Empty round. With the werewolf still running away as fast as he could, Nolan took his precious time digging in his pocket for another round and inserted it into the chamber, and cocked the pump again. The werewolf was a good fifty yards away now. He brought his weapon to aim, lining up the sights with the retreating werewolf&rsquo;s back, and squeezed the trigger. Sixty yards away, a deafening bang was heard and the werewolf&rsquo;s chest exploded outwards, he was lifted on his feet, and he fell to the ground on his front, dead.<br /><br />Eyes glaring a cold, hard look, Nolan looked down, expecting the first werewolf whom he&rsquo;d shot and didn&rsquo;t kill. Instead, he was gone, with a line of blood leading behind Nolan&rsquo;s legs. The human turned and there was the werewolf with the missing hand, trying desperately to crawl away.<br /><br />Nolan smiled cynically. &ldquo;Well, well, well&hellip;&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Look at what the big bad wolf is trying to do. He&rsquo;s crawling away! From me! A human!&rdquo; He uttered the last word as loud as he could, and started laughing. &ldquo;I thought you were supposed to be the superior species? Hm? Where&rsquo;d that go? J&rsquo;ou lose it with your hand there?&rdquo; The werewolf sobbed some more and only tried to crawl away faster. Nolan easily strode up to the crawling body. The simpering werewolf looked behind him only to get another cheek full of shotgun butt. He cried and bled into the pavement until he felt a large hand seize his shirt on his shoulder and pull him over. An arbitrary cock of the pump, and another red shell pinged against the ground next to the werewolf. He was staring down the longest seeming shotgun in the world, directly into the face of Nolan. His angry face was horrific and hard to look at, with piercing eyes that burned into the werewolf&rsquo;s very soul.<br /><br />Staring down the shotgun suddenly didn&rsquo;t seem so bad.<br /><br />There they were, the entire crowd of werewolves, at another shocking moment in life where they got a taste of Nolan&rsquo;s rage. Again, it was like someone hit the pause button on the world, with the world waiting on Nolan to decide if he should kill the werewolf on the ground or not.<br /><br />For a long time, it seemed like he would. His face tightened, as did his grip on the gun, and he squeezed the trigger tighter and tighter. The werewolf closed his eyes. &ldquo;This is it&hellip;&rdquo;<br /><br />Nolan changed his mind. &ldquo;No.&rdquo; His finger left the trigger guard, and the barrel drifted to the left of the werewolf&rsquo;s head. The lycan himself just broke down. The human shook his head in disgust. &ldquo;You werewolves are trying so hard to try and be human.&rdquo;<br /><br />Although Nolan spoke at a volume that could only be heard if a regular person was right in front of him, the entire crowd heard him loud and clear. The bleeding monster blinked up at the human, and yelped when he suddenly dropped the gun by furry being&rsquo;s side, drew a combat knife out of nowhere, and seized the creature&rsquo;s shirt and pulled him up to the human&rsquo;s hard face with surprising strength. Nolan placed the blade in front of the werewolf&rsquo;s face, laying it across the bridge of his muzzle, down to his cheek. The werewolf found himself shaking uncontrollably.<br /><br />&ldquo;You touch this boy again, or any other woman or man for that matter, and I&rsquo;ll shoot your other hand. Then we&rsquo;ll see how human you can be without your hands. Understood?&rdquo;<br /><br />The body went limp. The werewolf had fainted.<br /><br />Nolan seemed disappointed. He removed his blade, dropped the body and replaced his knife in its holster. The teenager picked up his Mossberg, switched it over to his left hand, and his steely eyes rested on the tear-stained face of the tortured child. Nolan stepped over the unconscious body, marched over to the small boy and extended a surprisingly friendly hand. Almost shocked, the boy took it, and Nolan pulled him up with a firm grip. &ldquo;Come on.&rdquo; He said. &ldquo;Let&rsquo;s get you patched up.&rdquo;<br /><br />It was no surprise Nolan had a clear view of his car; the whole werewolf population was afraid to even be in the same mile as Nolan now. The boy followed, as if extremely flattered to even have the opportunity of walking in Nolan&rsquo;s shadow. Around the end of the car they went, Nolan opening up the trunk and started rummaging through some blankets, M.R.E.&rsquo;s, ammo boxes, empty and half full cigarette boxes, and finally pulled out a first-aid field kit. &ldquo;This isn&rsquo;t going to feel pretty.&rdquo; Nolan warned.<br /><br />The boy frowned and watched the older human open the passenger side door. &ldquo;Have a seat.&rdquo; The boy obliged, letting his stick-like legs dangle off the sides. His feet didn&rsquo;t even touch the ground. Nolan slipped the shotgun into the back seat, the skeleton&rsquo;s hollow eyes following the sleek boomstick with awe, and Nolan kneeled in front of the child. &ldquo;What&rsquo;s your name, kid?&rdquo; he asked kindly as he started rummaging through the white box for some disinfectant.<br /><br />&ldquo;Nathan.&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;Well Nathan, I&rsquo;m Nolan. How old are you kid, ten?&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;Seven.&rdquo; Nolan almost dropped the disinfectant bottle.<br /><br />&ldquo;Seven?!&rdquo; he hissed. Nathan nodded. Shaking his head in disbelief, Nolan pulled out some gauze. &ldquo;Take off your shirt.&rdquo; The sight that covered the child&rsquo;s body made Nolan&rsquo;s face twist in disgust. Scars, bruises, cuts, gashes, bite marks, slashes, scabs of every vairety, size and color were painted onto the canvas that was Nathan&rsquo;s body. &ldquo;Oi&hellip;s&rsquo;gonna take a lot more than gauze and disinfectant to have all this fixed up.&rdquo;<br /><br />Nathan frowned. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m gonna live, right?&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;Oh yeah, a-course.&rdquo; Nolan nodded, still trying to digest the grotesque sight of Nathan&rsquo;s body. Then he noticed how Nathan&rsquo;s ribs poked through his skin. &ldquo;When was the last time you ate?&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;Uh&hellip;&rdquo; Nathan thought. &ldquo;I can&rsquo;t remember actually.&rdquo;<br /><br />Nolan&rsquo;s eyebrows disappeared into his hat again. &ldquo;What the fuck werewolves&hellip;oh, sorry.&rdquo; Nolan apologized for swearing.<br /><br />Nathan shrugged. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m used to it by now&hellip;&rdquo;<br /><br />Nolan sighed through his nose, looked at Nathan&rsquo;s cuts and then back to the now meager seeming first aid kid. &ldquo;Alright, here&rsquo;s what I&rsquo;m gonna do &ndash; I&rsquo;m gonna dress up these fresh cuts &lsquo;cause I having nothing nowhere near capable of dealing with the rest of this&hellip;do you know where your parents are? Are they still alive?&rdquo; Nathan nodded. &ldquo;Then I&rsquo;m going to give you a message, and I want you to give it to them. Make sure every single human sees it, okay?&rdquo; Nathan nodded again.<br /><br />With that, Nolan began wrapping up the new cuts on Nathan&rsquo;s stomach.<br /><br />&ldquo;Are you a god?&rdquo;<br /><br />Nolan looked up, surprised. &ldquo;What?&rdquo; He chuckled.<br /><br />&ldquo;Are you a god? My dad keeps saying God will come and save us.&rdquo;<br /><br />Nolan chuckled. &ldquo;Well, I dunno about a god&hellip;but I did come for something else.&rdquo;<br /><br />Nathan smiled again. The werewolves around the car seemed a little creeped out at the interaction, but Nolan ignored them, knowing full well that werewolf interactions towards each other was just as strange to him. Plus he had a gun. That evened things out rather smoothly in his mind.<br /><br />Nolan eventually finished bandaging up Nathan and they both stood up. &ldquo;Wait here.&rdquo; He said before wandering to the trunk again. He opened it up and started rummaging again. Nathan&rsquo;s watery eyes started looking around the car, taking in every single beautiful line and detail. Nathan wondered whose hands could have crafted something this powerful. Certainly Nolan or any other human couldn&rsquo;t have built this&hellip;.not something this intense. It seemed preposterous. The young boy noticed some words painted above the door handle. Nathan couldn&rsquo;t read very well at the time, but he would learn later on in his life the name of the car:<br /><br />Black Sunshine<br /><br />Then, he caught the eye of a werewolf staring at him from across the hood. What happened next shocked Nathan entirely; the werewolf turned away nervously. This was the closest a werewolf had been to ever fearing Nathan.<br /><br />A back pack bumped against his chest. Nolan had come back. &ldquo;Take it to your parents.&rdquo; He said. &ldquo;Remember what I told you &ndash; everyone has to see it.&rdquo;<br /><br />Nathan opened the bag curiously as the older human walked away. &ldquo;What&rsquo;s gonna happen?&rdquo;<br /><br />Nolan checked his step, hesitated, as if thinking a moment, and then turned around with a smile. &ldquo;Rescue.&rdquo; Nathan&rsquo;s face lit up, and he dashed away, not one werewolf getting in his way.<br /><br />Warm, fuzzy feelings all around, Nolan drifted back around his car, and was about to open the door when someone got in his way. Nolan looked up. What he saw was the goofiest looking werewolf he&rsquo;d ever seen. Albeit very large in musculature and height, his pupils that didn&rsquo;t match quite right. His grey and white pelt was matted. One ear and seemingly part of his head was missing. Someone must have shot him in the head and he survived somehow, but had lost an ear and suffered some brain damage in the process. A small line of drool hung from his humming maw, but he was massive. Muscles like rock and biceps bigger than Nolan&rsquo;s neck. Still, unintimidated human looked him up and down skeptically, sizing him up. &ldquo;Who&rsquo;re you supposed to be? Goofy?&rdquo;<br /><br />There was a light hum coming from the werewolf&rsquo;s maw, but no discernable words did. Some more drool followed. Nolan rolled his eyes. &ldquo;Get away from my car.&rdquo;<br /><br />The mountain didn&rsquo;t move. Nolan&rsquo;s brow knit angrily. &ldquo;Get away,&rdquo; he said more firmly. &ldquo;from my car.&rdquo; A louder humming sound came from the werewolf and he started swaying, staring stupidly into the teenage boy&rsquo;s eyes. Just as Nolan was about to reach for his gun, one of the girl werewolves that tried to seduce him earlier dashed in and quickly took the larger werewolf&rsquo;s hand and started pulling him away like he was a child. &ldquo;Keep him away from my car.&rdquo; Nolan growled.<br /><br />Nolan watched the female lead the male towards a rather dirty-looking Dodge Ram. And then the werewolf opened the door and got in it. &ldquo;He&rsquo;s racing too?&rdquo; Nolan shook his head at the thought. &ldquo;Lord help me, there is no competition tonight.&rdquo; Then Nolan blinked and looked at the horizon. In the farthest reaches of the land, dawn&rsquo;s fingertips were beginning to touch and warm the sky. The human smiled. &ldquo;Might be sunrise when I finish here&hellip;&rdquo;<br /><br />The brown werewolf suddenly appeared, head down as he tried to discreetly enter the beat up and hallow station wagon. Nolan smiled wider. &ldquo;No competition.&rdquo; With the station wagon and pick-up truck hiding the fourth car from view, Nolan wandered around the two cars and he stopped walking, face frozen in surprise. &ldquo;No way.&rdquo;<br /><br />It was a Corvette Z06. Astonished, Nolan wandered around the car. It was as beat up as the wagon and as dirty as the pick-up, but she was, by a long shot, the most competitive car the werewolves had in their possession. This changed things. &ldquo;It changes things a lot.&rdquo; Nolan smiled devilishly. Assuming that Todd was the one racing this car, and given that he could handle it, there might be a challenge in the race after all.<br /><br />The human shuffled back to his car, ushering a quick &ldquo;Get!&rdquo; to some adolescent werewolves who were sniffing his car, and they scampered fearfully. He sat back in his car, closing himself off from the world, then began writing some notes down on a pad he kept handy.<br /><br />Outside, a groaning sound came from Todd&rsquo;s corpse, and immediately everyone looked over the white werewolf&rsquo;s dead body. But there was one thing &ndash; it was moving. Todd was alive! The groaning was shortly replaced with a yelp, a louder yelp, some choking, cursing, and then the rising of loud, furious cries; &ldquo;MY LEGS! MY FUCKING LEGS!&rdquo;<br /><br />Nolan smiled. Wakey wakey, big bad wolf.<br /><br />A few more hours passed, and through his side-view mirror, Nolan saw Todd limping towards his car with the help of a few werewolves. He looked extremely begrudged, and glared angrily at Nolan&rsquo;s car. Nolan only replied by starting his engine with a smile, and finished jotting down an attack route for the rescue operation that would take place after the race.<br /><br />Then Nolan paused. It never occurred to him what might happen when he won the race. Then he shrugged. The werewolves were intimidated enough to know not to attack him, and they pretty much knew he was going to win anyway. They&rsquo;ll most likely just let him go.<br /><br />The crowd started gathering around the cars, some spirited werewolves trying to rile the crowd up, and it worked a little. Everyone started clapping, cheering, bouncing, and whooping. The other cars started up, the wagon with a particularly nasty wheeze. The Corvette growled throatily, hungrily. Nolan&rsquo;s Shelby remained idle.<br /><br />The crowd reached its full capacity &ndash; everyone was there to see this race happen. Werewolves lined the street leading into the dark and foreboding city.<br /><br />With a degree of trepidation, a shapely werewolf girl wandered in front of the starting line, hesitantly raising a green banner tied to a black pipe &ndash; the starting flag. The Shelby finally responded loudly, brakes clenched tightly at the front rotors, and the rears tires struck the ground like thunder as they began to spin rapidly, the engine&rsquo;s revs building in bursts of power, smoke being expelled from the rubber in thick plumes. The sound was deafening to the werewolves, but they were starting to understand that Nolan was not the exactly the epitome of silence.<br /><br />With the sound becoming unbearable, only the Corvette audible amidst all the Shelby&rsquo;s fury, the flag dropped, and the black muscle car&rsquo;s end sank with the weight of the car being shifted so suddenly. It slipped forward at first, the piss yellow Corvette matching, rear tires having been replaced with walls of smoke, and then it shot forward, leaving everyone and everything behind in a cloud of smoke.<br /><br />The Corvette took off after the Shelby; the Ram appeared out of the cloud of smoke, going a lot slower than either the Corvette or the Shelby, and the wagon&rsquo;s motor kicked with a violent BANG and stalled.<br /><br />The race had started.<br /><br />Every creature watched the black car fly down the street at a colossal speed and slide around the corner &ndash; a trick no werewolf had ever seen - with the same titanic force.<br /><br />&ldquo;STOP THAT CAR!&rdquo;<br /><br />Heads turned in the direction of the voice &ndash; an older, grey werewolf landed in the middle of the crowd, out of breath, throwing werewolves out of his way before seeing that the car had disappeared. &ldquo;DAMN that human!&rdquo; He bristled furiously, all of the younger werewolves backing away nervously. He looked wildly around him, accusingly. &ldquo;Why didn&rsquo;t you kill him?!&rdquo; He hissed furiously.<br /><br />No one answered. Outraged, he slashed a brick wall with his claws with a snarl, leaving long gouges in the clay bricks. &ldquo;You!&rdquo; He said, stabbing a finger at a specific group of werewolves. &ldquo;Take me to the closest point where we can intercept them. This human dare trespass on my territory, he will die for it!&rdquo;<br /><br />He started half-marching, half-limping toward the horizon, head bowed and full of menacing plans.<br /><br />Over seven hundred and twenty five horses singing in his ear, anywhere from a thousand to ten thousand throwing him down the street and around the corners, Firestones hanging on and crying for dear life. The decays of mankind flying all around him at a hundred and twenty miles an hour, only fueling his inner rage that burned with his rapid heartbeats. Nolan was excited, but his face showed nothing but unyielding focus. And yet, the collection and self-control he possessed defied the simple brutality with which the Shelby moved. The wheels flying across the tarmac like a dancer&rsquo;s elegant shoes across the ballroom floor, scaring the road with black smears at the first corner it took, engine raging like a thousand suns.<br /><br />This was what Nolan loved to do. And he did it well.<br /><br />Compared to Todd&rsquo;s rather conservative performance &ndash; the Corvette was fast, but Todd had no idea how to utilize it properly. Any human driver with half of Nolan&rsquo;s experience as a wheelman could have easily put up a decent race, but Todd had no such experience. He smashed into everything immobile, grazing parked cars, smashing through mailboxes and parking meters, clipping light posts &ndash; Todd was the worst driver Nolan had ever seen. Broken legs or not.<br /><br />Quickly pushing the other two cars out of his mind, Nolan focused only on the yellow Corvette behind him and quickly fixed his focus on putting as much distance as humanly possible between him and Todd.<br /><br />He switched his feet from the gas to the clutch with swift grace, shifting from third down to second, and depressed the clutch, snapping the wheel to the left to make the car pitch left, stomped the gas and threw the wheel all the way to the right again. The car&rsquo;s tires snapped back to the right and held the car in a drift, maintaining its momentum through a turn and finishing nicely straightening out and continuing thundering down the road full of dead street lamps, furry bodies, derelict cars and decrepit buildings.<br /><br />Todd&rsquo;s broken legs hindered his ability to operate the pedals gravely. Cursing and swearing, his disfigured legs cracked painfully every time he applied pressure to a pedal, thus making him less willing to go hard on the gas like he normally did. Thing was, the same applied to his braking. He thundered down the road towards the corner with his kin lined about the streets. Gritting his teeth, he applied the brake as hard as he dared, but he still held back. A little too much, it seemed, as the car understeered immensely and couldn&rsquo;t make the turn. Werewolves jumped frantically out of the way while the nose of the Corvette plowed straight into a parked car. Growling and swearing some more, Todd backed out with his foot thrust gingerly against the clutch and he backed up, only to have Goofy tear around the corner and ram the Corvette&rsquo;s rear panel. The muscle car was forced in the opposite direction.<br /><br />Swearing even more, Todd shifted back into first and brought the car about. This race was not going to end well.<br /><br />&ldquo;Gone already.&rdquo; Nolan thought. Black Sunshine started to behave with the same ferocity it exhibited when charging down the New York waterside. Explosive, intense, final. She hurtled down the straight, skidding around a corner, following the line of werewolves along the street, knowing full well that if they tried to mislead him, consequences would be had. The track itself was clearly outlined because werewolves had pushed some cars out of the way and placed a few here and there in the way to add difficulty to the race. Though having never raced the course himself, Nolan found no difficulty in interpreting and calculating his route as the roads came.<br /><br />One such instance was a rather nasty left-hand, right-angle turn made by various arrangements of apartments and duplexes presented itself to the skillful wheelman. Without skipping a beat, Nolan cut the wheel a half turn to the left, and the Shelby pitched to the left again, allowing her to go completely sideways before cutting the wheel all the way back to the right and slamming the clutch, footbrake and tearing the handbrake. The six piston calipers seized the rotors and the tires stopped instantly, the Firestones screaming in pain as the entire car slid into perfect symmetry with the next segments of road, and came to a brief halt. Nolan shifted down to first in a heartbeat and glanced by his left &ndash; Todd&rsquo;s Corvette was barreling towards Nolan&rsquo;s Shelby, and the white werewolf had every intention of tee-boning Black Sunshine.<br /><br />Nolan calmly smiled, flashed the peace sign and was off the clutch as fast as he was on the gas. The Super Snake took off with little wheel spin just as the Corvette entered the turn. Too fast it seemed. Todd got on the brakes too late, and too hard. The brakes locked up and the end swung out to the left instead of the right like the Shelby, Todd&rsquo;s leg broke and his car crashed driver-sideways into the slew of apartments. Any werekin had cleared the streets long before Nolan had arrived at the turn. Goofy&rsquo;s Ram rolled around the corner, and the ill-stricken station wagon sputtered after him soon after.<br /><br />Todd swore some more.<br /><br />Nolan himself was having a blast.<br /><br />The old werewolf, henceforth referred to as Daddy, dashed out of the alley with a small pack following him and into the adjacent parking lot. He searched around wildly. &ldquo;WHERE ARE THEY?!&rdquo; He roared.<br /><br />&ldquo;They&rsquo;re not here yet, but they will be.&rdquo; One lycan said. &ldquo;I can hear them now.&rdquo;<br /><br />Daddy&rsquo;s intense expression shifted into one of delight as his lips curled into a toothy grin. &ldquo;Then we shall set a trap for him.&rdquo; He looked around. They had ended up near a small factory, it&rsquo;s smoke stack still standing. Not far from that, in a parking lot down the street, was an old and rusted eighteen wheeler with it&rsquo;s fuel tanker trailer still hitched up.<br /><br />Daddy glanced from the trailer to the smoke stack and back again, a simple plan forming in his head. He smiled wickedly. &ldquo;We&rsquo;re going to set a trap for him!&rdquo; Daddy announced. He wandered over to the truck, managing to slip his immense bulk in between the cab and the trailer. He bent at the knees, his leg having completely healed from Nolan&rsquo;s earlier shotgun wound, and placed his hands under the trailer. Then, he tried to stand, and began to lift.<br /><br />Nolan was starting to get bored with his competitors, and even allowed the beat up station wagon and hazardous RAM to come within forty or so feet from his tail. He glided around another corner with ease, and came down a long straight with a sharp right turn almost a thousand feet down the way.<br /><br />It was practically a drag strip.<br /><br />Nolan&rsquo;s grip on the wheel and his shifter tightened, and his teeth grit in excitement as he prepared to unleash everything Black Sunshine had onto this lonely stretch of New York road. That&rsquo;s when Nolan&rsquo;s keen eyes caught something just before the turn. A gang of werewolves had gathered into a bulk of bodies, massing around what looked like a fuel tanker&rsquo;s load. Nolan didn&rsquo;t like it.<br /><br />At the fuel tanker itself, Daddy had succeeded in tearing the hitch column from the back end of the cab by sheer brute strength alone. The lycans Daddy brought with him got behind the entire thing or went to help the old grizzly werewolf carry the load down the road towards the factory&rsquo;s smoke stack.<br /><br />Getting past them could be potentially tricky, if they intended to drop the tanker on top of Nolan, but Nolan surmised that they had a slightly more elaborate plan. It seemed he was right, because as soon as Nolan got a certain distance, a majority of the pack got under the tank&rsquo;s tires and lifted the great mass over their head.<br /><br />An impressive feat, no doubt, but one Nolan was used to seeing in werewolves. It was a widely known fact that it only took four healthy adult lycans to lift a full size car. And while Nolan&rsquo;s Shelby was a slightly heavier sports/muscle car and the majority of the population at the party was teenage, they all still posed a very powerful threat.<br /><br />Nolan was extremely suspicious of the werewolves tinkering with the tanker, but he did have a race to finish, and a dominating lead to maintain. He was being pulled between slowing down and increasing his chances of being able to react to whatever the lycans had planned, or speed up and hoping to get by faster than they could spring their trap.<br /><br />One one-thousand.<br /><br />Nolan came as close as Daddy wanted him. &ldquo;NOW!&rdquo; Every werewolf on the hitch side heaved powerfully, thrusting their bodies upward and throwing the end of the large mossy cylinder up. The werewolves at the other end with the tires all bent their knees in response to this, bearing the brunt of the weight of the fuel and the trailer itself, coiling their entire bodies like a spring.<br /><br />Two one-thousand.<br /><br />Nolan saw this, and the smoke stack belonging to the nearby factory and it suddenly dawned on him what the werewolves were trying to do. A split decision later and he practically stood on the gas pedal, only letting up occasionally for the rapid climb in gears, assisted by Nolan&rsquo;s barbaric hollering of &ldquo;GO! GO YOU FUCKING CUNTBAG! FASTER!&rdquo; <br /><br />Were Nolan in his right mind, he would never dream of calling his beauty any sort of degrading name (such was the respect for this car), but, despite his foul names, Black Sunshine thundered down the road with colossal authority, willingly following Nolan&rsquo;s urges for more speed. It seemed she wanted to survive this turn just as much as he did.<br /><br />The werewolves, like a spring, then recoiled as the entire tanker pivot over them, hurling the explosive object into the air.<br /><br />Three one-thousand.<br /><br />Goofy and the brown werewolf also noticed this, and despite inferior performance levels, punched the gas pedal in a similar fashion to Nolan. The three cars thundered down the road, Sunshine, the RAM and the wagon all lined up get on the chopping block.<br /><br />The tanker smashed into the base of the factory&rsquo;s stack and exploded immediately, obliterating the factory, and knocking the stack loose, causing it to start falling.<br /><br />Four one-thousand.<br /><br />Nolan only had one thought as he kicked the tail out to the left and began to power-slide.<br /><br />I&rsquo;m gonna die&hellip;<br /><br />He looked up and saw the colossal column falling, casting a shadow that stretched the very definition of perception. Nolan floored the gas, and just barely cleared the rounded edge of the column as it fell&hellip;right on top of Goofy&rsquo;s RAM. It was crushed out of existence in an instant with a Earth-shattering BOOM coming down on everyone&rsquo;s ears. It dwarfed Nolan&rsquo;s savage and victorious roar, the kind of cry you hear when one suddenly gets a feeling of tremendous relief. Like one just cheated death by a second.<br /><br />Reinvigorated, adrenaline flowing in his veins more than blood, Nolan powered Black Sunshine down the road towards the highway, feeling like he was floating on air with the ultimate smug arrogance &ndash; for him, victory was assured.<br /><br />Daddy wasn&rsquo;t happy. He slammed his great fists repeatedly into the bonnet of the tanker&rsquo;s cab, greater still when the beaten wagon crashed into the fallen stack due to brake failure. Ignoring the heat of the fire on his back, he slammed the cab again and again and again in rage, so hard that the front axle snapped.<br /><br />&ldquo;TAKE US BACK!! We&rsquo;re going to try this&hellip;one more time.&rdquo;<br /><br />No one said a word. They were too afraid to find out what would happen if they failed again.<br /><br />The sun was just about up. But it was being covered up by grey storm clouds, threatening the nature-beaten city with rain and a filtered, grey sunlight. It would rain soon.<br /><br />Noting this, Nolan made it a point to wrap this race up quickly, as rain reduced his visibility, and visibility is key when dealing with all manner of werewolves. He swiftly rounded another street, and the sound of a Todd&rsquo;s V8 reached his ear. A brief glance into Nolan&rsquo;s mirrors told him Todd had slipped around a corner behind Nolan, joining the Shelby on the thin, cramped street.<br /><br />Nolan resolved that Todd must have found a way around the smoke stack, and had caught up as a result. &ldquo;A shortcut, huh?&rdquo; Nolan spoke to the Corvette in his mirror. &ldquo;Smarter than I thought, Todd.&rdquo;<br /><br />Nolan promptly threw the car into fifth and flew up the on ramp to the highway that would lead the race back to the start line, and thus the finish line. Both muscle cars started charging hard down the road, it was all down to power now. While the Super Snake was designed with tremendous amounts of power, the Corvette was just a little bit quicker getting up to top speed. They crept past one twenty. Given enough time, Nolan would be able to pull away, but in the current torque range he was in, the Corvette had a slight advantage, and Todd was using it.<br /><br />He rammed an otherwise perfectly clean Super Snake, defacing the rear bumper and crushing one of the rear taillights. Nolan felt the rock in the car, and immediately got pissed off. &ldquo;Now now, that just won&rsquo;t do&hellip;&rdquo; Todd rammed him again. It seemed he&rsquo;d regained some of his courage since coming back to life.<br /><br />&ldquo;That won&rsquo;t do-OI!- at all!&rdquo; Another smashed tail light. &ldquo;Alright, fine. Let&rsquo;s see how much of getting shot you remember!&rdquo; Before Todd had a chance to hit him again, Nolan wrenched the handbrake and tossed the wheel to the left. At a hundred and fifty miles an hour, the entire car pulled a complete one eighty, bearing its arbitrary headlights down on the Corvette. Nolan threw the car into reverse, and kept her in that position &ndash; going a hundred and fifty miles in reverse, on one of Manhattans few standing highways, facing the Corvette.<br /><br />Todd instantly froze with fear, his once cocky attitude leaving him again for a second time. The Shelby bearing down on him was like staring into the eyes of the beast known as oblivion, and Nolan was holding the leash. Then Todd actually noticed Nolan himself. He was holding a gun! Panic gripped the white werewolf, and he was about to stomp the brakes to avoid getting shot when he realized it was really just Nolan&rsquo;s hand. He wasn&rsquo;t holding a gun; he was giving him the finger.<br /><br />At that point, it dawned on Todd. He could never beat Nolan. He never will beat Nolan. His spirit crushed, Todd backed off. In recognition of Todd&rsquo;s submission, Nolan floored the gas, turned his wheel back to the right, shifting back to fifth mid-turn, and floored the gas again, snapping the wheel back to the right to drift perfectly into a crumbling off-ramp leading back to the heart of the city, leaving Todd to straggle down the off ramp.<br /><br />Thundering down the spiral bend, leaving cloud after cloud of smoke behind him, Black Sunshine was once again in its berserk power rush, tearing down out of the off ramp like it was a start gate. She roared furiously down the road, dodging wrecked cars like they were nothing, and thundered around the last turn with exponential authority. Nolan wanted everyone to know who was going to dominate this race right now. He threw the car into sixth and stood on the gas pedal again, tearing down the straight &ndash; he could see the finish line!<br /><br />Faster and faster, and just like that, he tore across the finish line, slamming on the all the brakes, and careened sideways into the flimsy make-shift stage, causing it to collapse down onto the car in a pile of refuse.<br /><br />This dramatic entrance was, at best, unexpected by the werewolves, but regardless, they got into a form just as Daddy had instructed. They sealed off all other entrances out of the ring except one &ndash; the one Nolan disrupted the party from earlier. Along that street were a thick line of hungry werewolves, invigorated by an older werewolf&rsquo;s presence and his rallying speech he gave before Nolan arrived at the finish line. Said older werewolf was standing at the end of the road, the line of werewolves funneling the car&rsquo;s only path toward the grey werewolf. He was calm, cocky. It was fixed in his mind that Nolan was going to die before the sun would shine on his body.<br /><br />The old werewolf pondered how he would kill Nolan. Crush his throat? Not dramatic enough. Rip him half? Too dramatic. Slit his throat? Too slow. Stomp on his head! Too quick. Rip his heart out and show it to him? Daddy licked his chops sadistically at the thought. A fitting end, since the human had displayed such a courageous heart killing their kin so fearlessly.<br /><br />Back at the decimated stage, Black Sunshine burst out of the pile, so scratched, it would have made any car owner scream. Noticing the line of werewolves around him, Nolan stomped the gas and made the car doughnut around, looking for a way out. She came to stop facing the road outline by the werewolves, coming to rest pointing straight at Daddy down the road.<br /><br />Nolan looked left, and then right, like he did after he shot Todd all those hours ago. Except this time, these werewolves weren&rsquo;t looking at him with fear. No, this time, they were looking at him like he and his car was a can of sliced lamb on wheels. And they were the wolves. They weren&rsquo;t scared of him anymore. The air had changed entirely &ndash; it was now hot, heavy with anticipation and dripping with an evil hunger.<br /><br />&ldquo;Guess it was something I did.&rdquo; Nolan smirked to himself. Nolan pressed the brake and the gas. The nearly-balding rear tires started spinning against the ground again, preparing to charge out of this increasingly hostile situation. Through the filtered golden sunlight being cast down on the grey streets, the boy spotted Daddy down his only way out. Nolan&rsquo;s brow furrowed under his hat, and, using his hand that was on the steering wheel, pointed off to the side in a gesture that expressed &ldquo;Um&hellip;out of my way?&rdquo;<br /><br />Daddy shook his head, smiling like a giddy school boy who was about to get a cookie for breakfast. Nolan shook his head as well, angrily, in another gesture that expressed &ldquo;You don&rsquo;t get to say no.&rdquo;<br /><br />With that established, Nolan lifted off the brake, the car launched, and the mob of werewolves collapsed into a massive hunting pack onto the car. The Super Snake easily pulled away from the chaos, proving herself far swifter in a straight line then the werewolves ever could be.<br /><br />Nolan went from pushing hard on the gas to ruthlessly crushing it into the floor, and his car welcomed the punishment, throwing out enough torque to make the nose rise. Nolan only had eyes for Daddy, in a kind of staring contest mixed with a far more lethal version of chicken. Faster and faster she went, building on ever increasing levels of velocity, seven hundred and twenty five angry American horses roaring at everyone who dare oppose her and her driver.<br /><br />Despite this intense display of mechanical engineering, Daddy seemed calm. He had it all planned out in his head. Everyone would jump on the car, weighing it down and making it slow. Daddy would then jump on the hood, and pull Nolan out of the car like he would his heart.<br /><br />Daddy indulged Nolan in his staring contest. For a while and a few hundred miles an hour, he was smug. But as Nolan drew rapidly closer, Daddy noticed that despite being tremendously outnumbered, Nolan kept leering at Daddy with the most intense of hatred-filled eyes. Piercing, grey eyes that told Daddy &ldquo;You&rsquo;re going to die.&rdquo; And this unnerved Daddy. Sure, he could easily pull Nolan apart, but he was going very, very fast&hellip;right for him. What&rsquo;s worse, no one was following the plan. Despite the moral boost Daddy provided to the teenage werewolves, they were all still reluctant to just jump onto Nolan&rsquo;s car like Daddy had instructed. In the back of their minds, they still feared the gun. This unnerved Daddy even more. Dammit, why won&rsquo;t anyone follow the plan?!<br /><br />In one final and almighty burst of power, Black Sunshine left the crowd of werewolves chasing her boot behind and powered down the now tightening funnel of fur, straight on towards Daddy. Closer and closer, faster and faster. Nolan had every intention of running Daddy&rsquo;s grey ass over. Seemingly at the point of no return, Daddy finally lost his nerve and jumped. It was almost too late &ndash; he could feel the cool metal of the car&rsquo;s roof on the pads of his feet.<br /><br />Nolan whooped as he shifted down into fourth to take the turn and powered around the corner, an entire legion of hungry, furry lycans trailing behind him. Nolan had a plan. The Zion was no doubt aware that he was gone by now, and had probably found out his location from the GPS Nolan installed in the car himself. Nolan picked up his CB radio.<br /><br />&ldquo;Mother Goose, Mother Goose, this is the Big Bad Wolf, come in. Over.&rdquo;<br /><br />Static. Nolan tried again.<br /><br />&ldquo;Black Sunshine-Zion actual, please come in. Over.&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;Black Sunshine, this is Zion. Uncle says you&rsquo;re in big trouble. Over.&rdquo;<br /><br />Nolan smirked. &ldquo;Roger that, Control. I&rsquo;m about fifteen or sixteen klicks due north by north east of your current docking position, I&rsquo;ve got fuzzies on my boot and I&rsquo;m comin&rsquo; in hot. Recommend you set DEFCON 1 throughout the ship. Over.&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;Acknowledged, Sunshine. Setting DEFCON 1. Correction - we&rsquo;ve moved further north up the river, about three klicks the southern tip of Manhattan. Advise you head for the Brooklyn Bridge. Over.&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;Copy, haulin&rsquo; ass. Big Bad Wolf out.&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;Waitaminute, Black Sunshine. Do you require air support?&rdquo;<br /><br />Nolan bit his lip in thought. His thoughts were interrupted by a loud THUNK from a werewolf landing on his hood. &ldquo;Standby, Control.&rdquo; Nolan immediately pulled out his sidearm from a holster he kept on the right of his seat, next to the cup holder, switched it to his left and stuck it out the window, quickly shooting said werewolf in the knee. He immediately collapsed, screaming in pain and bleeding all over the bonnet before Nolan tapped the brakes to round a corner, and the werewolf slid off, just rolling out the way before the muscle car could run him over. &ldquo;Sorry about that Control. Negative on the air support. Unless they got a camera, because getting home is gonna be a fuckin&rsquo; show! Over.&rdquo; He coughed.<br /><br />He heard laughing coming from the other end. &ldquo;Copy Sunshine. Door&rsquo;s open, bed&rsquo;s made, bring it home. Control out.&rdquo;<br /><br />Nolan put the CB back onto the cradle. So Zion was closer then he thought. Perfect. That would make his trip a lot easier. All he had to do now was find a route to the Brooklyn Bridge. Nolan watched the street signs, looking for a particular street. Outside, werewolves mobbed through the allies and streets, and a few more ambitious werewolves jumped acrobatically from rooftop to rooftop, leaping over allies before Black Sunshine zipped past them, followed by the mob of werewolves.<br /><br />Somewhere in that crowd stood a few faces Nolan knew &ndash; Daddy, the brown werewolf. Todd, maybe. It didn&rsquo;t matter. He was going to make it home, no one creature or thing was going to stop him.<br /><br />Case in point. One of the runners on the rooftops foolishly leapt down into an alley and ran out in front of Nolan&rsquo;s car. It seemed he thought he could simply ram his body into the car and it would stop. Nolan proved him otherwise. Not letting up on the gas or changing the direction of the car, Nolan remained true to his course, and the werewolf bowed his frame. Closing the distance between them in a heartbeat, the werewolf suddenly charged forward. He bounced off the front grill, shattering and extinguishing a headlight and onto the ground, and Nolan promptly ran him over. The tires soon after started trailing blood, leaving a streak of crimson behind him as Nolan swiftly rounded a corner. One more corner would put him heading south on Broadway.<br /><br />Despite the Shelby&rsquo;s custom racing suspension, the car still had to slow down to take the turn. Three other werewolves decided to take advantage of this opportunity to jump on his car from the roof. One landed on his hood, one on the roof, and the other didn&rsquo;t manage to stick the landing on the car&rsquo;s rather small rear end, and fell off, taking the spoiler with him. Immediately alert to the new threats, Nolan couldn&rsquo;t react because, again, he had to slow down to take the last turn onto the street Nolan was looking for - Broadway. Two more lycans from the street jumped onto his car. Grimacing, Nolan hit the brakes with more force than was normally required for the car, but four bodies did make the car heavier. Unfortunately, Nolan was going too fast, he hit the brakes too hard, too late, and he lost control. Panicking slightly, Nolan forced the car to careen sideways into the turn, over the curb and straight into the side of a brick wall. The window shattered, and the side mirror was flattened, and all of the werewolves were thrown off from the force of the slam.<br /><br />Nolan was slightly dazed, but before could get back on the gas, he felt the car&rsquo;s weight shift and the entire left side of the car tilted up. He heard &ldquo;Help me lift this!&rdquo; and soon after those words were uttered, the other side raised as well. The werewolves were living up to their strength, as the four teenage supernaturals raised, bodies trembling with effort, the entire car clean off the ground and above their chests. But then Nolan heard &ldquo;No, don&rsquo;t put your hand on the tire- DON&rsquo;T PUT YOUR HAND ON THE TIRE!!&rdquo;<br /><br />Nolan slammed the gas pedal, the Super Snake twisted slightly. Barely audible over the massive engine came a sound something like a really loud snap, followed more loudly by pained screaming, the back left corner of the car came back to the ground. The now even more bloodied tire touched the ground and the car suddenly launched forward, the sound of one more body landing under his car reached Nolan&rsquo;s ear as the other werewolves were forced to let go of Black Sunshine, leaving the one foolish enough to stand in front of his car to be crushed.<br /><br />Nolan only smiled and promptly took off, just as the mass of werewolves followed him around the corner. Immediately, body after body started landing on his car, snarling and growling and roaring. Nolan did his best to shoot off as many as he could, but for every one werewolf he shot, seemingly two more jumped on. Nolan floored the pedal to the ground, and Black Sunshine started charging down Broadway, reaching a hundred miles an hour and climbing. Nolan had to dodge swiping hands that shattered their way through his window, and he pumped round after round all throughout his car, only shooting through the windshield sparingly &ndash; he did NOT want it to shatter. It would make it too easy for the werewolves to get in. He shot this way and that way and this way again and that way again, behind him, until the inevitable happened &ndash; the clip ran out. With a swarm of werewolves on his car, the weight eventually became too much for even Black Sunshine&rsquo;s monstrously powerful engine to handle, and the speedometer stopped climbing at a hundred and fifty and started to decline slowly.<br /><br />Trying to keep his cool, Nolan wracked his brain for ideas. He couldn&rsquo;t reload quickly, his speed was going down, and if this kept up, the whole werewolf pack would catch him and tear him apart. What he needed to do was recover his speed, and throw the lycans off at the same time.<br /><br />Dawn came to the side of the mountain, and Nolan&rsquo;s eyes flickered to a battle switch and the small button next to it, each spelling a portion of the word &ldquo;Goodbye&rdquo; &ndash; this was his ignition for the nitrous oxide system.<br /><br />Nolan smiled evilly. &ldquo;Alright guys!&rdquo; He hollered over his engine. &ldquo;You wanna go for a ride?&rdquo;<br /><br />A few tipsy werewolves shouted &ldquo;YEAH!&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;Alright&hellip;&rdquo; Nolan breathed. He flipped the &ldquo;Good&rdquo; cover, and flipped the switch, and punched the now light &ldquo;Bye&rdquo; button. The nitrous tanks under the passenger seat dumped their fluid into the electronic fuel injection system, and it tossed it into the cylinders. The immediate effect was that the car suddenly lurched forward with a tremendous heave, throwing more than a few werewolves off the car. There was so much power behind the sudden boost that the front end raised off the ground a little bit. And when it came back down, the remaining force propelled the car down Broadway, bringing it back up to a hundred fifty and climbing even more rapidly than it did under its own power.<br /><br />The snarling werewolves scattered about his battered and scratched car suddenly found themselves clinging quite literally for their lives, sinking their claws into the chassis. &ldquo;YA HAVIN&rsquo; FUN SO FAR?&rdquo; Nolan bellowed cynically. &ldquo;I CALL THIS RIDE &lsquo;GET OFF MY FUCKING CAR!!&rsquo;&rdquo; Approaching a hundred and eighty miles an hour, without taping the brakes, Nolan jerked the wheel to the right. The car wobbled to the right. Nolan jerked the wheel to the left, she skittered to the left, then Nolan spun the wheel back to the right, and the car&rsquo;s end swung out a bit, the tires losing their grip on the road. The added weight of the werewolves added to this building momentum, and Nolan went left and right with increasing aggressiveness. The lycans on his chassis could do nothing but hold on and let their bodies be tossed around and banged into each other as the car rocked from left to right. The more aggressive Nolan became with the wheel, the more the car&rsquo;s end started swaying out of control, until, eventually, the momentum forced the car&rsquo;s end out to the right all the way past the ninety degree mark, Nolan cut the wheel all the way to the left and floored the gas, throwing the car into a completely ballistic spin-out.<br /><br />What excess werewolves that didn&rsquo;t have a good grip were tossed bodily from the car and mercilessly flung into lampposts, walls, windows, cars, down alleyways, the lucky ones being thrown out of the car&rsquo;s path and into the street.<br /><br />Round and round she spun, like a dementedly fast carousel, Nolan relying on his safety harness to keep him in his seat as he held onto the steering wheel as well as using all his might to keep it pressed into that all-the-way-to-the-left position. He pumped the gas periodically, ignoring the desperate sensation in his stomach that told him his last night&rsquo;s dinner was looking to evict itself. With all the werewolves clear of his windshield, and the car coming around to its correct direction, Nolan lifted off the gas, threw the wheel back to the right as far as it would go, and floored the abused pedal once again.<br /><br />The result occurred when the car&rsquo;s pitch reached a near-perfect sideways ninety degree angle &ndash; it was drifting almost completely sideways down the street. While most of the supernatural monsters had been thrown from his car, about five had managed to stick to Black Sunshine&rsquo;s chassis. One of them was the brown werewolf that had driven the now totaled station wagon.<br /><br />&ldquo;He&rsquo;s about to lose it!&rdquo; Nolan heard him holler victoriously over the painful sound of screaming tires. &ldquo;Get on his right side and pull, we&rsquo;re going to tip his car!&rdquo; Too busy trying to regain control, all Nolan could do was smile grimly, thinking to himself &ldquo;I want to see them try&hellip;&rdquo;<br /><br />Obediently, the four werewolves, one of them a girl, all leapt and crawled over to Nolan&rsquo;s passenger side, and the brown werewolf swung from the front end into Nolan&rsquo;s door, placing his head right in the window. &ldquo;Ready to die, human?&rdquo; He grinned evilly.<br /><br />&ldquo;You first.&rdquo; Nolan quipped and his gun appeared, leveling with the brown&rsquo;s chest, hammer cocked. The brown breathed in sharply, his eyes widening in shock.<br /><br />Click. Nolan still hadn&rsquo;t reloaded. &ldquo;Gotcha.&rdquo; He smirked.<br /><br />The werewolf wasn&rsquo;t laughing. &ldquo;Pull!&rdquo; He shouted through the window to the werewolves on the other side of the car, and they did. The effect was slow to act, but Nolan did feel the weight of the car shift towards the passenger side. If he didn&rsquo;t get the car straight again, it would flip, and the possibility of him escaping alive would look grim. In light of this, Nolan reached for a clip of ammo that had found its way out of the gaping glove box and onto the passenger&rsquo;s seat.<br /><br />Air support started looking like a very good idea.<br /><br />Regardless, Nolan actually let off the gas while he reloaded his gun in the hopes that the decreased power to the wheels would give the tires more leeway for grip. &ldquo;Control! Control!&rdquo; He cried desperately in his mind. The car started tipping. &ldquo;CONTROL! CONTROL!!&rdquo; The car&rsquo;s pitch moved back into the correct position, and suddenly the tires seized the road at the exact same moment that Nolan punched the gas and at the same moment the car&rsquo;s weight finally went up. The result of all this force was that, in a mighty burst of power, the car finally corrected itself, but the weight of the werewolves on the Shelby&rsquo;s right side also caused the car to tip onto its right side wheels. Nolan&rsquo;s weight as well as the weight of the brown lycan acted as a miraculously perfect counter weight.<br /><br />Never in his life did Nolan dream he would drive down Broadway like the Dukes of Hazard with werewolves clinging to his car, but either way, Nolan was still in danger. The one girl werewolf giggled in a slightly tipsy manner, crooning &ldquo;Whoooo!&rdquo; like she was at an amusement park ride.<br /><br />A flash of movement latter, followed by a loud BANG and a bullet ripped into her shoulder, promptly causing her to fall off the car and roll onto the road. She&rsquo;d definitely live, given that Nolan was more merciful towards female werewolves, also given werewolves durability, but it was not likely she was going to forget a fall like that.<br /><br />&ldquo;NEXT SHOT KILLS!&rdquo; Nolan roared, steely-green eyes flash warningly at the fuzzies on his bonnet. They didn&rsquo;t even wait, opting for the harsh rolling ground over a bullet, and they all let go, rolling onto the road to avoid breaking as many bones as possible.<br /><br />Naturally, with the weight of the werewolves gone, Black Sunshine&rsquo;s left side finally started tipping back. Shock gripped the brown werewolf, bewildered that his kin had left him to die so. He looked at Nolan with that incredulous face while the car came back down. Nolan only smiled, and waved at him like he was saying goodbye to a cheerful neighbor.<br /><br />The tires slammed onto the ground, the skirt sparking off ground a bit, and the brown was thrown to the ground, where he bounced with the car, and the rear tire landed on his head.<br /><br />&ldquo;Juicy.&rdquo; Nolan offered to himself, looking a little disgusted. It didn&rsquo;t matter. He could see the toll booths down the road that would lead him towards the Brooklyn Bridge. During the Great Hunt, or the purge of Americans, werewolves often took to destroying or defacing monuments, especially in the New York City and the District of Columbia areas. One such example was the Brooklyn Bridge. As a test of their strength, male werewolves would pull apart the cables that kept the bridge suspended for fun, determined to tear down a great construction of mankind, as a symbol to prove them mightier than man&rsquo;s monuments. The floor was gone from the bridge, and the stubbed ends of the bridge jutted out over the river a bit, still hanging on.<br /><br />Nolan assumed Zion was going to dock near the bridge and open the hangar bay doors, and hold off any werewolves that came near until they could get Nolan safely aboard. Indeed, glancing between the buildings, the teenager caught fleeting images of the immense carrier. Now all Nolan needed to do was actually get down to the ship-<br /><br />His thoughts were interrupted by a loud BANG above him &ndash; the sound of an immense weight landing on his roof; a weight so immense that it shattered the windshield.<br /><br />&ldquo;Aw great, now w- SHIT!&rdquo; Nolan swore loudly as a grey-furred hand as big as his head thrust its way down through the roof, grabbing for his head. Nolan ducked away, and shot up through the roof, hoping to hit Daddy who was on his roof, promptly flooring the gas again, and the car started creeping up towards a hundred and seventy miles an hour.<br /><br />Daddy tried again a few times to grab Nolan by punching holes in his roof, but he always missed and always got shot at. Eventually, Nolan sat upright in his seat, and Daddy tried one last time, checking his cheek and leaving a small scratch, but nothing more serious. Nolan, on a whim, actually bit Daddy&rsquo;s hand as hard as he could. There was annoyed yelling from up top, and the hand withdrew. Nolan hollered up through his fist- and bullet-hole-riddled roof: &ldquo;THERE! I HOPE YOU TURN INTO A HUMAN!&rdquo; And he laughed his crazy laugh.<br /><br />A hundred eighty miles an hour.<br /><br />Black Sunshine rounded her last turn, facing the final stretch of the Brooklyn Bridge with the tollbooths blocked off by a small blockade of cars, easily breakable if you were going fast enough. It occurred to Nolan that it was going to be hard for the security teams to shoot Daddy off his roof without hitting Nolan himself, so Nolan did what he did best &ndash; and improvised.<br /><br />He reached for the CB. &ldquo;Zion control, this is Black Sunshine. I&rsquo;m afraid I&rsquo;m gonna hafta make this short &ndash; I&rsquo;m a quarter klick off the Bridge. Advise you clear the flight deck, and have a security team, a medical team and a wrecker on stanby. Nolan out.&rdquo;<br /><br />A crackle came back, followed by &ldquo;Say again, Nolan? Clear the flight deck?&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;10-4 Control, clear the flight deck. I&rsquo;m comin&rsquo; in for a crash landing.&rdquo; Nolan announced cynically. He put the CB back, not waiting for a reply, and heard the crackle of the metal in the roof above &ndash; Daddy was moving, and Nolan saw in a flash Daddy reaching for the door, scrunching up the metal because his grip was so powerful, and deftly ripped the door from his hinges. &ldquo;HEY!&rdquo; he roared, more to get his attention than express his outrage from further defacing his car. Daddy stuck his head, upside down into the car and snarled and growled at the human driver. &ldquo;I&rsquo;d get in if I were you.&rdquo;<br /><br />Daddy noticed the blockade of cars and just barely managed to fit in the car before Nolan plowed through the feeble road block at a hundred and ninety miles an hour. After the slight bump, Nolan turned his crazed expression towards the grey werewolf in his car. &ldquo;Comfy?&rdquo; the driver asked politely.<br /><br />Daddy immediately tried to lash out at Nolan, but there was one problem &ndash; he was stuck. In his haste to get into the car, he didn&rsquo;t leave himself a way out. He was effectively trapped, and Daddy started panicking.<br /><br />&ldquo;Have you made your peace with God?&rdquo; Daddy turned his fearful expression towards the driver. His expression was now calm, smiling, confident. &ldquo;&rsquo;Cause last I heard&hellip;&rdquo; Nolan shifted into sixth, and hit the nitrous one last time. &ldquo;HE DON&rsquo;T TAKE FUZZIES!!&rdquo; He laughed manically as he was forced back into his seat, the car reached an almighty two hundred miles an hour, and the car thundered towards the end of the Brooklyn Bridge with colossal velocity. Just before reaching the end, Nolan twisted the wheel sharply to the left, the desired effect being that with the car moving at such a high speed that it turned too quickly, and the car rolled off the bridge and sailed through the air, landing on the waiting flight deck of the U.S.S. Zion. She slammed into the deck, crushing the whole right side, bounced into the air, slammed again, rolling through the air past the air-traffic control tower just as the General walked out, and the right side tires caught the deck, slowing the car down, and coming to a halt with the driver&rsquo;s side still in the air. This side of the car came back down with one, final crash.<br /><br />The clouds still covered the sun, making it very dark, almost like the night, and the light drizzle that was developing finally grew into a steady and powerful downpour. Soldiers dashed about the deck, taking up defensive positions and stances around the broken silhouette of Black Sunshine. Orders were tossed around, someone shouting to get a spotlight on the car to assess the carnage Nolan had just wreaked.<br /><br />In the cold, pouring rain, more soldiers moved about, a medical team waited a distance away, stretcher and a body bag at the ready. Those who formed a circle around the car tensed suddenly as a shadow of a body, tall and broad rose from atop the heap of car. It swayed a little, but kept its footing steady, allowing the rain to bring back his senses for him. Groaning could be heard.<br /><br />Someone shouted more insistently to get that fucking spotlight working, and then it came one with a magnificent blast of light.<br /><br />There amidst all the soldiers, the wreckage, and the thunder and rain stood a defiant and victorious Nolan. Scratched, cut, bruised, and bleeding out of a small cut on his cheek, but otherwise seemed okay. He looked around at his cheering countrymen, celebrating his safe return him. His gaze cast downwards and transformed into a look colder than the rain. His eyes landed on Daddy. His upper body was sticking out the back window, his back was broken, but he was still alive. Crying, sobbing, he attempted to pick himself up with his arms, lifting his head up. His eyes met Nolan&rsquo;s gun barrel pointing straight between his eyes.<br /><br />The two arbitrary shots echoed around the deck, joining with the victorious cries of the Americans. Nolan then brought his head back up, observing his countrymen like they were all his family. His brothers and sisters.<br /><br />In response to their cheers, he raised his gun hand and fired two shots &ndash; BANG BANG &ndash; into the air. This was the universal signal which simply meant one thing: I&rsquo;m human.<br /><br />As procedure dictated, Nolan had to be put under arrest and tested for black blood cells since he came in rather unceremoniously. To that effect, Nolan ejected the clip from his gun and tossed the weapon lightly at the feet of the security team for one of them to pick up, before being instructed to come down from the Shelby&rsquo;s broken form and put his hands on his head. He did so, and as he was frisked, a tall and thin man approached them, wearing green fatigues and a simple green sleeveless shirt.<br /><br />He was old, but still had that look in his eye that belonged to energetic men in their twenties. His grim face contrasted sharply against this look, as if it were carved from a very taught and scarred bark. Dog tags bounced off his chest as his boots squished against the rain and the tarmac of the deck. His hair was a wispy white, with the entire top of his head was bald, leaving the tufts of white to stick out in an odd fashion. This man waited patiently as the soldiers finished their search of Nolan, relieving him of his knife and any extra ammunition he had on him.<br /><br />As soon as Nolan was allowed to move again, he clicked his boots together, and his hand came up to touch the bill of his cap in a crisp, sharp salute.<br /><br />&ldquo;General Uncle Sam,&rdquo; the boy said, addressing the white-haired man by his beloved nickname. &ldquo;Lance Corporal Nolan, reporting for duty, sir!&rdquo;<br /><br />Uncle Sam smiled warmly, and returned the salute. &ldquo;At ease, marine.&rdquo; Nolan relaxed, and followed the General as he turned towards the flight tower. &ldquo;You&rsquo;ve got a lot of explaining to do, soldier.&rdquo;<br /><br />Nolan smiled mischievously. &ldquo;Sir, yessir.&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;What do want done with your vehicle?&rdquo;<br /><br />Nolan glanced meagerly at his car, and waved off the seemingly and utterly totaled Shelby as if it were the smallest chore in the world. &ldquo;Meh, I&rsquo;ll fix it later. Sir.&rdquo; He hastily added.<br /><br />They marched to the flight tower, and went inside the ship. It was great, feeling home inside the cold, steel walls, marching down the hallways. It was almost like a parade, soldiers and civilians alike cheering him as he passed. Nolan only walked slowly, smiling as the rain fell from his sodden frame. Nolan was finally at home.<br /><br /></span>",
  "pools_count": 1,
  "title": "Black Sunshine Chapter 1",
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  "pagecount": "1",
  "rating_id": "2",
  "rating_name": "Adult",
  "ratings": [
    {
      "content_tag_id": "3",
      "name": "Violence",
      "description": "Mild violence",
      "rating_id": "1"
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    {
      "content_tag_id": "4",
      "name": "Sexual Themes",
      "description": "Erotic imagery, sexual activity or arousal",
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    {
      "content_tag_id": "5",
      "name": "Strong Violence",
      "description": "Strong violence, blood, serious injury or death",
      "rating_id": "2"
    }
  ],
  "submission_type_id": "12",
  "type_name": "Writing - Document",
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  "views": "108"
}