You know better than to go out at night on most days.
But despite a lifetime of warnings, you couldn’t help but have a few moments where you just ignore them. Or forget. Or feel a little too brave- a little too invincible. And how could you blame yourself? You’re still young. You’re still naive enough when you try to acknowledge it. Who cares that you’ve been going to the bars long enough that nearly every bartender on this side of the river knows you by your face? Those same bartenders are twice your age and they go out at night. They make it back alive over and over and over again. So long as they don’t have any outstanding debts or look at someone the wrong way, of course.
But you keep your nose clean. You keep your head down. You don’t have any reason to worry about disappearing late into the night. You don’t have any reason to worry about things that go bump in the night. You don’t have any reason to worry about things that bite at night either. You’re a Zaunite- born and raised. You know how to handle yourself. You know how to handle business. So why…?
Why can’t you move…?
Every part of you that is still desperate to fight is screaming at you right now. Every part of you is still afraid more than anything of pain and dying and the thing in front of you is fighting desperately to get you to move an inch- a muscle- anything. But your body feels heavy. And your mind is still in a daze. All you remember is that you were running. All you remember is that you were running so very fast.
In fact, the memory is vaguely starting to come back to you. It’s hard to recall perfectly- you must have hit your head when you fell not too long ago. You must have hit your head when were tackled. But before that, you remember that you were running between dark, damp alleyways- trying to make it back to the main road. Back where there were people. Back where that thing couldn’t get to you. Not without others around to stop it.
But that didn’t come so easily to you. Because all you could focus on was making sure that your steps were quicker and faster than the sprint of that monster behind you. Your feet ached and ached with each step. Your legs burned every time you moved them. There was a dull throb in your shoulder from the sheer number of times you accidentally threw yourself into a brick wall trying to make a quick turn even quicker. And you can’t count just how many times you’ve almost tripped and slipped over uneven streets and sidewalks that were slick and wet with a concerning mix of booze, blood, and hopefully water.
But you still tried to run. You still tried to outrun the very thing that was chasing you. You still tried to make the heavy footsteps and deep, growling sound coming from behind you disappear with just your sheer speed and wit alone. You still shouted for help and tried to throw obstacles in its way. You tried ducking down both roads that you knew and roads that you had no idea existed. You tried to backtrack. You tried to go where you thought there might be people who could help you. You tried to go where you knew there would at least be people- kind-hearted or not.
But sometime later, you found yourself on the cold, hard, uneven floor. Sometime later, you found yourself dazed and confused and in pain all over. Sometime later, you found yourself staring down the muzzle of the beast you’ve heard be called Warwick.
Any hope or bravery you once had was ripped from you in a cold, dead instant the second you were met with the massive teeth of what you could only assume to be the real, live wolf monster that haunts the streets of Zaun. When you first caught sight of the thing, all you could tell was that it was a large, dark mass of fur and glowing green chemicals. As it chased you, you caught sight of metal glints here and there. Were they armor? Were they chains? You don’t know. You may never know.
But now as you lay here- whimpering pitifully with tears slowly leaking from your eyes, you realize that you’re not too surprised that you couldn’t escape. You’re not too surprised that this is what it has come to. Because the stories you’ve heard from others were brutal. A monster that stalks the back street and will tear the limbs off of anything it comes across. Most people have been lucky so far- Warwick had a funny habit of running into a few of the nastiest drug runners and kingpins you know. But that didn’t mean that there wasn’t the occasional, seemingly innocent enough civilian found in a pool of blood with a bite taken out of their jugular. A fate that you can only imagine is about to fall upon you in just a moment.
So the only thing that fills your aching mind in that moment is fear. Fear as it growls lowly in front of you, its large paws stamping at the ground as it lurks closer. Fear as it bares its fangs at you, showcasing the very wide mouth that you will can and will snap you up in just a second. Fear as it crawls over you- toying with you like you were never a person but just their latest hunt. Fear as the only thing you start to see is dark fur and the eyes of animals filled to the brim with bloodlust. Fear as it leans in closer and closer and closer and closer to your neck and-
Licks you.
It licks you.
The realization hits you slowly. In fact, by the time your mind has stopped spinning, you found that the thing crowding above you has already licked at your neck once more. The sensation was slimy and wet and overwhelming as its long, long tongue made a show of trailing upwards around your collarbone and It did so at an agonizingly slow pace- only further contributing to the feeling of being toyed with. Like it’s trying to rile you up. Like it’s trying to taste your sweat. Like it’s trying to see if you were worth the hunt. And if you’re worth hunting again.
But either way, you can’t move. You can’t move. You just can’t. You still can’t find a chance to escape. Because its large, large claws are keeping you pinned to the ground. Because it's heavy, heavy body is keeping you from being able to push it away. Because its wet, wet nose against your skin is keeping you awake and alive yet chock-full of fear.
Because where there’s a nose, there’s a mouth. And where’s there a mouth, there’s teeth. Teeth that you’ve stared down once before. Teeth that are currently starting to nibble at your skin. Teeth that you know are capable of doing more than just a little playbiting. Teeth that you know belong to something that isn’t just some dog but a monster fully capable of horrible, horrible things.
But that’s what you get. That’s what you get for going out at night. That’s what you get for taking that wrong turn and walking into its territory. That’s what you get for not being fast enough. That’s what you get for not being strong enough. That’s what you get for being brave. That’s what you get or being stupid. That’s what you get for being naive. That’s what you get for going out at night. A beast. A monster. A murderer. A hunter. A wolf. And you have no one to blame but yourself.
And the sharp pair of teeth near seconds away from sinking themselves into your mouth.
I honestly expected a much different season 2; but since we got a multiverse, why not have a fun one.
The idea of Warwick being a Zaun superweapon with a soft spot for these two is endlessly amusing to me. When introducing him to people, the two would need to remind him that a proffered hand is to shake, not to bite off. Or at least Vi would, Jinx could go either way, depending on the mood.
