Muffins for Werewolves
By “That Token Black Guy” and “The Short Asian Chick”
‘Twas a dark and dreary morning, tendrils of fog slowly crept over the barren wasteland, once lush vegetation now lay brown and ominous. Several corpses were cast aside in the grass, bloody remains of cows, it was evident the wolves had made a pass through the rural region. Two hunters surveyed the scene, a glint of murder in their eyes, the threat of vengeance slowly smoldering in their blood. Valen Sirilius stood at 6’3’’ a white traveling cloak flying almost heroically, if not deceptively. Dark mahogany eyes were clouded over with months of brutal training and merciless hunting. Mind sharp with new plots and plans, millions of miles of maps and directions, the funny jokes and snappy comebacks a little dusty but still ready to be whipped out. His hand clutched a large gun entirely tipped in silver, complete with black leather strap, 37 different armory settings, and custom fittings, it was a thing of masculine beauty. He wasn’t ready to fight but he was ready to win and that was all that mattered in the battle against demons.
That’s right, I said it, masculine beauty. BITE ME. --- well okay later because that’s part of the story. YOU’RE THROWING OFF MY GROOVE DAMMIT. Sry.Okay. Anyway. As I was saying:
Night Walkyr stood at an almost invisible 5’3, face entirely covered by satin ninja garb, a large samurai sword strapped firmly to her back as she peered out suspiciously. Once soft earth brown eyes now held the permanent glint of hard hazel and vast mistrust (except for her teammates!). Her frame was deceptively small and compact, what she lacked in muscle she made up for in spontaneous chaos. It was an occasionally successful technique largely dependent on luck. She crouched lower letting the scene slowly sink in, her partner waited almost impatiently (he’s black guy it’s to be expected haha j/k I love you Arabin!), the thrill of the hunt already sparking into a fire.
“Forty clicks West. Small band, probably about… eh… twelve?”
“You’re making that up aren’t you?”
“No. well okay the click part. But seriously there is about twelve give or take about six.”
“We can handle twelve, eighteen I’m not so sure.”
“pansy.”
They were a well developed team, with communication that went past the spoken word into brutal accuracy. Obviously. He lead the way, silently signaling for her to follow behind, and she did like a tiny Asian shadow. They both tried to ignore that nagging feeling that their balance was thrown off without their teammate, who was still sobbing in agony… Pansy. They needed his gutsy distractions for the clever ambushes that had served so well in the past now they were stuck with risky guerrilla warfare that almost seemed to scream death at them with every step. Or at least it seemed like it.
The clan was spread out along the tiny farm, Valen spotted the first wolf crouched over a small child her eyes wide with terror. He could see her small mouth quickly praying in Slovakian (I’m guessing), tiny hands bravely clutching a rosary as the giant monster towered over her. His long silver fur moved almost fluidly as his left arm drew back, ready to bring black dripping claws down on her tiny frame, blood stained teeth bared in anticipation.
Night glanced at her partner, waiting for his call, her fingers itching to grab the sword and slice off the brute’s head before he could even flinch his pinky at the girl. Valen flipped his gun up, casually aimed and pinned the animal with a silent arrow shot. She walked over and smiled sweetly at the trapped beast, waving two knives in front of its face tauntingly. It never saw her move, only felt the bitter sting of knives as she pinned two massive arms to the ground, whispering so softly it stopped breathing just to catch the words. “I see the big bad wolf… Now where are your friends fluffy?”
He snarled and nipped at her for the insult, Valen suppressed a laugh, it was a ridiculous time waste but when in Rome… if you get my drift. “Why don’t you find them Night Walkyr so they can rip out your pretty little throat? Or do you need Valen to do all your dirty work for you?” It was her turn to snarl back, the insult cut a little too close for comfort, and her very large Norwegian rage was much more than her very short Asian body could handle.
She whipped out the sword twirled it a couple of times neatly chopping the wolf’s cocky head from his shoulders, “ass.” Valen Sirilius raised one eyebrow decided it wasn’t a good idea to ask and crept up to the next wolf while Night Walkyr wandered off to find her next kill. He looked at his gun, trying not to swear, so many different settings it was hard which level of fun to chose. Fucking video games made it so easy. He stuck to his arrow setting and aimed, neatly pinning the wolf again and walked up, pistol in hand.
In the games… a head shot is worth more. He aimed for the wolf’s head and asked slowly, “Comrade, where is your clan leader?” Because I’ll be damned if Night Walkyr gets to kill the Clan Leader AGAIN. The wolf ripped his paw out of the pin and took a swipe at Valen, leaving five even slashes across his chest, Valen swore and pulled back on the hammer repeatedly shooting the wolf. It didn’t matter the wolf was already down and dead by the second shot, it was the principle of the matter, he ripped a perfectly good fucking shirt. Now he was really grumpy, the hotel they had been at had charged a ridiculous $110 a night and their companion Ordyr Restraint hadn’t been well enough to come battle with them. They were down one fighter and it was all due to a technicality, bad strawberries.
Honestly what kind of moron eats strawberries with “white decorations”? Valen could still picture the satisfaction he WOULD have gotten at throwing the serving platter at Ordyr’s head if Night hadn’t intervened… It was almost as if she was stuck in some impervious river that she couldn’t escape which demanded she made sure that Ordyr didn’t get hurt… too much.
He crept up to the house, the leader had to be in there, clan leaders always sought out the most comfortable place to bed and Night was still busy battling the other 9 wolves on the grounds. (Yes Arabin, you left NINE wolves for me.. kind of like in gears when you just randomly decide to die?) He walked through the archway and stopped dead, the clan leader slowly turned; his teeth were longer, claws were sharper, fur silkier, and frame larger than any clan leader he had ever encountered before. He needed help Night would have been good… but Restraint would have been ideal. Oh shit.
Night Stalker flexed four wolves in 20 minutes hadn’t been easy, her muscles were starting tense up, this was the first time she’d ever fought this many truly on her own. At least there’s only five more of these damn things. She stood up, heart racing and adrenaline pumping, blood pouring from a head wound. Head wound? She slowly felt the back of her head the cloth was soaked and she could feel the puncture wounds from a bite. “Well… That’s just… unfortunate.”
She glanced around quickly, there wasn’t anyone around that she could see thankfully, so she adjusted her mask and ignored the bite for the moment. What Valen and Ordyr don’t know… won’t kill them. A slight guilt crept up on her as she realized slowly, well okay it COULD kill them, but then again Valen had gotten bitten before and they only lost one team member then. So odds were Ordyr would die and in reality that would solve a lot of problems anyway so it wasn’t a TERRIBLE thing, just a slightly depressing one.
“Need some help?” Ordyr Restraint stood there gallantly, his ripped blue sweatshirt clinging to his frame, army pants securely fastened to his hips. His dark green eyes were bright from his recent recovery and for once in quite some time he wore the largest grin she could remember. It actually verged on somewhat of an evil grin as if something was lurking behind it that just loved to dance with untold horrors. Long silver claws protruded from his knuckles which he had personally implanted on a drunken whim and now functioned surprisingly well. They meant that all guns and swords were not impossible for him to use accurately, but with your own personal cutlery set attached to your hands, other weapons tend to be obsolete anyway.
“No, I’m fine. Thanks.” Night resisted the urge to curse things were a lot easier when he wasn’t around because her focus was actually present. With Ordyr around she battled with feelings of “oh crap”, “holy shit”, and “I wonder if…”. None of those really helped in a battle situation whether it was virtual or literal. (Like when I’m trying to play gears and he decides putting his hands on my face would help :oP)
Ordyr frowned slightly, he could have sworn she’d taken a hit to the head, then again he was pretty far away and was probably nothing. He’d finished up the rest of the pack coming up to help, a slight nagging worry taunted him, the pack was unusually small for the area and the reports the villagers had been feeding them. Something was definitely wrong.
Valen looked down at his gun, for once in his life the gun had definitely led him astray, worse actually it had jammed. The self proclaimed “Nepper Wolf” rose again, a large mocking smile pasted on oversized lips, he could hear it jeering out some new taunt that probably didn’t make any more sense than wearing the same medical sweatshirt every single day of the week. I just want to beat the crap out of that cocky little wolf... so help it God if it turns human I will. Really, just one chance that’s all I need. “I’ve had pizza from Italy, burgers from the illustrious U.S., escargot from France… and now I get to enjoy a hunter from Russia who was too impatient to bring back up.”
Valen suppressed a snarl, he HAD brought backup, but APPARENTLY his back up had died or something since it was definitely NOT backing him up. She better have died or I’m going to kill her myself. He shook the gun again helplessly, it was amazing how all 37 settings could jam… at once. Really it was. What the fuck? I mean REALLY!! “Let me guess you bought the gun with 37 settings and you didn’t look at the owner’s manual little hunter did you?”
That was the last straw, Valen stood up, chucked the gun at the wolf’s head and smiled at the satisfying THUD as the wolf took a fall towards the floor. “If you’re going to eat me, then EAT ME. But SHUT THE *UCK UP!!! For the love of GOD why the HELL are wolves so annoying?” Nepper Wolf rose slowly, a murderous look of rage shining in his eyes, he was ready to kill something now and he was going blind with the fury. Ordyr crept in behind him, quietly stepping over the faulty gun, and swung as hard as his little Taekwondo fists of fury would let him. Night watched in amusement as he tried to pull his hands free, they were firmly planted into the wolf’s back, apparently the sheers had gotten tangled in the wolf’s organs somehow.
Valen and Night grabbed a seat on a nearby table and watched him struggle, enjoying their silent revenge for his stupid consumption of bad strawberries. Granted it was childish, but oddly satisfying. He glanced down at the table there was a blood splatter right were Night was sitting, he went to wipe part of it away only to find that it was still warm. “…Night? Did you get bit at all?”
She flashed the cute innocent smile, “nope. Had a couple of close calls though.” Valen frowned, “uh huh. And I’m Picasso.” Ordyr stopped struggling for a while, “hey I really liked your painting!” Valen chugged his other sidearm at Ordyr “I was being sarcastic you moron.” “Oh. My bad.” Valen pulled off Night’s head gear and saw the wound, it was bloody it was kinda big, and it was something he really wished he had some medical gloves for because his hands were now covered in it. “How the hell are you not dead?”
“Good question. Why aren’t you dead? Oh yeah, I remember ORDYR SAVED YOUR ASS. Mr. Food Poisoning could defeat the clan leader and you couldn’t.” Ordyr pouted, “for the record he’s not dead, my claws are just stuck.” Valen jumped up “Holy shit, kill him already you moron!!” Night rolled her eyes and grabbed the sword, neatly slicing his (Nepper’s) head off, “See THIS is why you get a SWORD. SWORDS don’t malfunction when you’re fighting.” Ordyr nodded in agreement, “True but swords also don’t shoot stuff or make loud noises. So do we get to kill Night now since she got bit?”
Valen shook his head, “No we’re immune you dipshit… I just don’t get how she survived getting bit in the back of the head I mean really it doesn’t make any sense at all. You should be dead, do you know that right? This isn’t right!”
Night thought for a bit as she cleaned off her sword on Ordyr’s sweatshirt, “It’s simple, I’m too cute to die.”
(Okay I KNOW you didn’t see that coming lol.)
“Really your to cute to die huh? Then why the hell do you need our help?!”
“Well if I didn’t have you two then soon I would get scars and wouldn’t be cute anymore, which would equal me dieing.”
Ordyr yanked his talons out of the headless Neppers back, “ you know she has a point.”
“Damn she does… why the hell didn’t you tell us this before?”
She looked at the both of them and gave them his signature innocent pouty look. “Well then you would have expected me to do more.”
Valen and Ordyr looked at each other and shrugged. Ordyr cleaned of his talons that were being tarnished by the foul Nepper blood that seemed to have a rare toxicity to it that deteriated and rotted away anything that it touched. (aka AIDS) Valen picked up his gun and looked at Night “anything else you have convinietly left out”
Night glanced at Ordyr then frowned for a split second. “ Nope everythings good”
Valen looked at her the at Ordyr a grin slowly grew on his face and a mischievous twinkle started to dance across his eyes as he reassembled his god damn gun. “ Ok if you say so.”
The three companions walked out of the house and assessed the surroundings. The land was covered in blood and guts from the battle and the air held the metallic smell of blood in the air. Valen sighed and looked at his two companions “ well this is a bloody mess”
Ordyr smiled “ well of course its bloody we killed things.”
Grabbing his gun and changing it to the ever popular pie setting he turned and shot Ordyr in the face. (why a gun has a pie setting I don’t know but who the hell care there are 37 settings one can be for pie) Ordyr stared shell shocked at Valen, his green eyes watering from the whipped cream that had somehow into his eyes, “you… shot me.” Night stared at him, unable to believe that a macho hunter like Ordyr was tearing up over a PIE, her mouth fell open and one eyebrow slowly raised upwards. She reached over and wiped part of the topping off, testing it tentatively in her mouth, “huh. Banana crème, pretty good actually.” Ordyr looked at them both dumbfounded, “one of you should at least side with me! Considering Night is supposed to madly in love with me but denying it and Valen is the one that shot me!”
Night laughed evilly, “all’s fair in love and pie?” She looked at her sword then at the pie still happily decorating Ordyr’s face, a truly evil look slowly consuming her features. Ordyr took a step back hesitantly while Night took a step towards him, this continued for about five feet before Valen finally stepped in waving his very impressive gun around. (Impressive now that it actually worked.) “NO. BAD ASIAN.”
Night rolled her eyes and they headed off to the next village to search for more wolves, she preferred the intensity of battle to the agonizing process of conversation. Ordyr looked up, “so uh, girls think I’m sexy apparently… Not really sure why.” Valen looked down at the settings on his gun again wondering if there was something else that would work just as well as the pie setting for shutting him up. He searched through: grenade launcher, missile launcher, various gun calibers, pie, and holy water??
He aimed and doused Ordyr with holy water, he sputtered a bit then turned around blades ready to slice, and hopped into first position. “Make my day Valen.” Valen cocked his gun again setting it to the BB gun, smiling slowly “Want a makeover Ordyr?” Night looked back and forth between the two, trying to decide if they were serious or if she really should jump out of the way before she ended up getting shot in the crossfire.