“What?” Foxx snapped.
“You couldn’t have gotten a normal looking gun?”
He smirked and glanced down at his shiny pink and purple Desert Eagle pistol, his second still in its holster on his chest. He’d gotten the same guns that Harlow kept in his chest holsters, but they definitely wouldn’t be getting them mixed up. “The color is perfectly normal. What do you mean?”
“You—”
“Someone’s coming,” Foxx interrupted.
Harlow tensed. Seconds later, from the direction of the cabin, a fully transformed wolf burst from the dense tree line in front of them. While some shifters had a total of three forms—human, animal, and a mix of the two—werewolves only had two. Their human one, and the horrifying bipedal mix—half man, half beast. Very like the depictions in the human horror movies.
This werewolf was covered in black fur, and stood over eight-feet-tall. Which was rather short for their kind. Clawed feet, clawed hands, the creature had an elongated snout like a wolf, with very, very sharp teeth. Its teeth were why Foxx didn’t give Harlow time to react, he just aimed and fired. Skin, blood, and brain matter splattered on them as the creature’s skull exploded. The body landed with a loud thump. He frowned on noticing that the werewolf’s now empty glowing yellow eyes looked oddly bloodshot, the pupils blown wide. The eyes looked even more out of sorts after the body transformed back into human form. Something most shifters did after death.
“You know…it’s kind of not as fun with a gun. Seems less personal,” Foxx mused as he stared at the growing puddle of blood seeping out around the body, shattering the pure whiteness of the snow. “Did that guy seem a bit slow to you?”
Perhaps…high wasn’t so far off? The bloodshot eyes weren’t exactly normal, but could be explained by drugs.
“How am I supposed to know? You shot him before he got to really do anything.” Harlow snickered as he wiped at a fleck of blood on his cheek, smearing it instead of cleaning it off. “I’m curious what he thought the moment he saw you dressed as you are… Bet he didn’t think he’d be taken out by a tiny man dressed in a bear onesie. Probably thought he’d stumbled upon a toddler.”
“I AM NOT A TODDLER!”
“I mean, you are pretty short, and you are dressed like one.”
“I’m going to stab you,” Foxx hissed.
“My advice to you, brat. Don’t threaten, just do,” Harlow said as he patted Foxx on the head, before resting his hand there.
He gripped the man’s hand, and with a smile said, “Oh, it’s not a threat. It’s a promise!” Foxx tossed the human’s hand off and stormed forward. “Come on! Let’s get this over and done with. I want sleep!”
He walked a bit with Harlow following behind him, before he decidedfuck-it, and sprinted ahead. Foxx heard the human call out for him, but he didn’t care. There were six wolves ahead… Six? And with the one back there… That was two more than five.
Okay then, apparently intel missed a few wolves. It wasn’t like they hadn’t been wrong before! As long as they had all killed someone, what did he care? They all could become kindling.
On top of the six heartbeats, which were all elevated, telling him they were all at least shifters, there was this odd slamming noise. Like someone was hitting against a barrier again and again.
Foxx broke through the woods, the larger sized cabin coming into sight. It was wooden and probably two floors, generic looking, but not bad. Definitely better than the shit houses that the dredge of his people like to stay in, he supposed. Foxx couldn’t decide what was worse… Being thought of as the species with a fetish for old, creaky, mildewed, and mold-filled houses, or being thought of as the murderous hillbillies hiding in the woods.
Gross snow crunched under his boots as he stomped up the steps, onto the deck, and to the door. He slammed his palm into it. The wood frame splintered as the lock broke and the door went flying open, banging into the wall. Foxx took three steps in and just stared. There were two much larger wolves inside, one black and the other brown.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he huffed, eyeing the two fully transformed werewolves, rolling around on the ground like cats with catnip. “You wankers are all high off your tits.”
He hissed when they didn’t react to his words. The thumping noise was louder now, obviously coming from somewhere inside the house. Just their luck that the werewolves they were sent after were high on wolfsbane.
Unlike what the legends and other myths said, wolfsbane did not actually hurt werewolves. He was sure the werewolves in the past had found it quite hilarious when amateur hunters tried to attack them with it. Considering it was the equivalent of giving them a many hours long strength boost, mixed with the effects of weed and acid. Though, for Foxx, it meant the wolves were probably stronger than him at the moment—because why the bloody hell not? It was just physical strength, right? No big deal.
“Come on, boys. I do not have all day. Someone has to die first. And I’m too tired to care if you put up a fight or not.” He aimed his gun between them. “I’m going to count down from ten and then I’m going to start shooting.”
Foxx went to count when one rolled over and stared at him, pupils blown to all hell, eyes bloodshot. “Bear. Teddy bear…” the large black werewolf said in a growly, slightly inhuman voice. “Giant teddy bear.”
He blinked, arm falling. “Why…why did they have to be high?”
Foxx glanced back at the sound of movement on the deck outside. Harlow had arrived.
“A bit quiet for you, ain’t it?” The man mused as he walked in.
“They’re fucking high!”
“MY TEDDY BEAR! GET YOUR OWN!!” the large black werewolf suddenly roared.
