A Werewolf Blog in Brooklyn

One in a hundred | May 16, 2010

I might have lost the element of surprise, but I got the first hit in.

The bitch was too busy grinning at me as I stepped up to her, opening her mouth, about to ask what the problem was when I threw a left hook into the side of her face. Making her stumble off balance into those around her. But after that first hit, the lycan didn’t care for small talk either. Even though those around us complained and started swearing at her for her awkard landing.

Ha!

My fist was thumping with what I supposed was pain, but who could tell, I wasn’t really focussed on it or the skin across my left and middle knuckle which had split open and appeared to be bleeding. Tough stuff, this lycan.

The lycan growled at me, her mouth snarling back, showing me her very human teeth. Didn’t matter, her intent was clear as was mine.

This is the thing with lycans, they seem to embrace fighting, even more than werewolves do. They love to fight anyone, anything, but of course, especially, a werewolf. Pitty she couldn’t remember me really, I thought as she lunged towards me. That would make the fighting so much sweeter, for the both of us.

I swiveled out of her reach.

Still, I was prepared to just pummel her senseless till I was exhausted enough for my memory to be sedate. Given how strong my memory of that summer was, I knew I’d be working her lycan body like a punch bag, for hours. Which made me smile as I blocked a punch and proceeded to give her a stinging upper cut with my right.

But all that did was really piss her off. Make her really, mad.

And she grinned, her very human teeth, suddenly shape shifting to wolf fangs. My eyes widened at the sight. Some woman around us, starting screaming and screaming and wouldn’t stop. Her shrill voice felt like it was going to make my ears bleed.

Those fangs were freakishly big and sharp.

Merde.

I was barely aware of the rest of my surroundings and the people that were around us.
But the lycan was.

Here was something I clearly didn’t remember or recognize at the time, about the hunter before me now. She was, is, an Alpha Lycan.

Merde.

Alpha lycans are similar, but not exactly like, Alpha werewolves. They are made, rather than born, through a werewolf bite. And for something like one in a hundred of those people who are turned into lycans, you get an Alpha. That is to say, there body inherits better abilities, than the average lycan. They usually only pick up one or two tricks. I’d be guessing, but in the case of this lycan bitch, I’d say fast shape shifting would be one of her bonuses.

She only took her eyes off me to turn and run. Fleeing through the crowd of onlookers around us, pushing them aside like they held no resistance to her get away.

Running was a good idea.
For her.

After all, I’d rather finish this out of prying eyes, and before the police sirens caught up to us.

Still, I bolted after her, through the bedazzled onlookers who jumped aside, making way for me to get through their human road block.

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