The full moon glowed upon the town of Watford, the clouds above parting, as Alexandra sauntered around the neighborhood. Her head lowered, fog shadowing her mind as she fingered within her bag. But when she felt her name-tag from her former workplace, she let out a bitter sigh.

“Fired for not fitting in,” Alexandra said to herself.

Her sneakers squeaked against the pavement, her gray sweatpants tied around her waist, and her leggings wide. Her brown hair shimmered silver in the moonlight, with the lamp-post showing its actual color when she walked under its cold white light. A wave of anger throbbed in the back of her head, and she stopped, but she shook her head, breathing in and out to remain calm.

“No,” Alexandra said while adjusting her white shirt, several times too large for her. “Anger never solves anything.”

She turned to the moon glowing above, its perfect orb reflecting against her orange eyes. Her anger amplified, and she pulled out her name-tag, clenching her teeth before she halted. She shut her eyes tight, her hand shaking before an itch came to her fingertips. A laugh came from behind, yet when she twisted around, nothing but shadows lay behind.

I’m free.

Gray fur sprouted at the back of her hands, growing longer and thicker by the second, and her eyes flashed yellow. Her fingernails, once short, grew long as they thickened, with one scratching against the name-tag. Thick pads swelled on her palms, turning black, as her white teeth grew long, their points shiny in the moonlight.

Her hair extended long and unkempt, the brown turning silver, and her ears moved up her head, stretching longer and pointier. Soon, they lay above her head, triangular and covered in fur, her nose furrowed as it turned black as a raven’s feather. Her nose stretched with her mouth, turning triangular as gray and white fur covered her face, her muzzle boxy. Meanwhile, she let out a guttural growl, her tongue hanging out as she clenched the name-tag, crushing it into plastic shards.

Alexandra’s sneakers strained against her feet, the front ripping apart from her growing yellow claws. They stretched longer, tearing her shoes in half, and she stood on the front of her feet in a digitigrade stance. Soon, a tail grew from behind, covered in gray fur and stretching longer, reaching her ankles, and she stamped on the ground.

Not enough.

Alexandra narrowed her eyes, growling as thick fur poked out from around her neck, and she stretched taller. Her muscles became denser by the second, opening her mouth wide with bones popping. Her calves and thighs strained her sweatpants, swelling in size,and her bicep fought her shoulder for space. Her chest broadened as she enlarged in height, her loose shirt becoming tight and then too small for her until it ripped apart. She took another step, with her sweat-pants tearing apart, and, despite not putting much force, the sidewalk shattered.

She pushed against the lamp-post with only her hand-paw, and it bent from the sudden force. Gray and white fur covered her entire body, her muscles quaking with every motion. Alexandra stretched toward the moon glistening above, snarling for a few seconds until she howled, echoing throughout Watford, and pure anger overwhelmed her.

The transformed werewolf, Alexandra, sprinted forward, concrete shards flying off from behind. All around, house lights turned on, and she leapt into the air, a cracked circle forming beneath. She went fifty feet above before landing with a massive crash, asphalt shattering beneath her. Vehicles drove by, one heading toward her, but she leaped again, the car screeching to a halt a second later.

She fell once more, landing on top of a parked van, with it crumbling as though it was aluminum. Motor oil and gas leaked out, the horn shrieking, and she stepped off, the parking space quavering with every step. Ahead was a store, Jung’s General Store, and her muzzle furrowed. A red gleam came to her eyes, and she exposed her teeth, growling low.

Then, with a mighty sprint, Alexandra hurtled forward, smashing through the glass doors. Glass shards landed against her fur and pressed against her feet-paws before crushing into dust, and an alarm rang out. Guards and a few employees working within the closed store came, only to pause at the looming Alexandra. One of the guards pulled out a taser gun and fired, but the darts bounced away, her hide too thick as they sparked on the ground.

She roared, and they ran away, everyone screaming. But Alexandra instead charged at the registers, shredding them with what money remained flying out, with some torn or bent. The floor cracked as she reached for the ATM, ripping it out of the wall before throwing it toward the customer service desk and smashing through it with money flying everywhere. She then charged through several aisles, with perfumes and makeup shattering or flung all around, and the sprinkler system turned on.

A high screeching alarm came, the guards and employees opening and running out through an emergency exit, and she shoved down one aisle. Soon, the aisles fell like dominos, the products falling against the floor or crushed into scraps. Alexandra twisted at the clothing section and, with a huff, charged over, her claws ripping through and water spraying. Soon, she leaned up and howled, the store shaking and the glass cracking.

Within Sauer’s Tavern, Daren Crevan sat near the back, glancing away while rubbing his bandaged left arm. Plenty of folks within chatted with each other, two even singing while drunk, and he shook his head. He grunted, wiggling his toes within his white sneakers before tugging against his blue aloha shirt.

He reached for his smartphone, putting it on the table before waking it up and unlocking it. It displayed several browser tabs, which he clicked and read through. With each new news article and piece of history he read, his shoulders drooped. He then sighed, setting his elbows on the table before rubbing his brows.

“Zelda vetted this universe, alright,” Daren said to himself. “No history of magic, no steampunk, no deities dominating the lands, no monsters ravaging cities, nothing,” He glanced at the smartphone once more. “And it’s much like the world I came from, outside any alien life or multiverse space-time rifts. Just a dull world after a couple days of research,” He reached over and rubbed his left forearm. “Though perhaps I shouldn’t be surprised.”

A server came up a minute later, setting before him grilled steak and steaming rice, with Diet Pepsi set next to his cup of water. Daren grabbed the knife and, with some effort due to its dull blade, sliced up the steak and bit one piece. He nodded, shaking salt and pepper on it along with the rice before chewing the rest, juicy meat filling up his mouth. He then scooped up the rice, eating through it, before picking up his Diet Pepsi cup. He shook his head, setting it down before picking up the water and sipping it instead.

“Aww, now look at here,” a voice came from the side, and Daren grunted. Two men in brown and black striped suits strode over where he sat, their brown shoes polished to a blinding shine. The shorter one with a thin mustache adjusted his fedora hat, with some of his balding head exposed, before tugging Daren’s blue aloha shirt with white florals, chuckling. “What we have here is a loner.”

“Make your point and get out,” Daren said, his voice having a low growl.

“Aww, is someone in a bad mood?” The short one snickered before pulling out his cigar and sitting across from Daren. “Perhaps you need to ‘lighten’ up.”

“Bad joke, Dirk,” the tall one said, his long black hair tied in a ponytail, with a stubbing beard on his chin. “Still, I doubt you’ll mind having company.”

Daren grunted, clenching his water cup. “You do know this place forbid—”

“Look here,” the tall one said as he reached for his cigar, lighting it up with an arrogant smirk. “Rules don’t apply to us. Watch,” He twisted to the rest of the tavern and shouted, “My buddy and I are going to have a smoke!”

No other person reacted, and Daren shook his head before drinking more water.

“You see?” Dirk snickered, tipping his hat back. “No one gives a damn about Ford and me, thanks to the big boss who rules this place.”

“Shut it,” Ford said, smacking Dirk’s shoulder. “I’ll drag you to the car where more of our buddies are at. Still,” He smirked at Daren, “If you work with the right people, you can do anything.”

“Uh-huh,” Daren said, and he glared when Ford sucked on his cigar and blew a stream of smoke in his face. “I’ll be blunt. I’m not in the mood for games,” Ford and Dirk snickered, with Dirk dumping some ashes into Daren’s Diet Pepsi. “So, get out.”

Ford shook his head before turning to an incoming server. “Hey there, cutie pie.” The server sighed, pressing against her pen tight. “I’m glad that you remember me. Now then, get us two of the most expensive steaks. It’s on our new friend over here.” He pointed at Daren, who reached into his jeans pocket, the golden A on his belt gleaming. “Also, get us a couple beer bottles. Good ones instead of the crap you gave us last week.”

“Aww, upset about that?” Dirk said, with Daren setting down his water cup as the server walked out, writing down onto her pad. “Too bad. Someone got to pay for it, and it won’t be us.”

“I’m always happy to help or pay off someone else’s debts,” Daren said, pulling his sheathed tanto knife out from his pocket and setting it on his lap. “But —”

“Ah-ah. No ‘buts’ around us,” Dirk said, grinning with his yellow teeth before he sucked on his cigar. “You will pay for our meal. After all, food isn’t cheap or free.”

“Nor is beer. And speaking of beer,” Ford smirked as the server came, carrying a couple of beer bottles. He yanked them out from the server’s plate before smacking her butt, who flinched as Dirk popped open both bottles. The two then tapped them together before having a sip. “Now this stuff is better, cutie pie.”

“Yeah!” Dirk snickered before dumping some of the ashes onto Daren’s water cup. “Aww, upset? Consider it a donation.”

With a quick pull, Daren drew his knife, curved it with the steel shining cold, and swung it at the beer bottles. It sliced through the bottoms as though they were paper, the contents pouring out onto the two as the server stepped back. He swung again, with the cigars flying off near the two’s fingers, leaving only studs before sheathing it. Dirk and Ford stood up, bewildered, as they pushed back against the table.

“The hell?!” Ford yelled; the rest of the tavern turned silent, and all eyes were on that table. “What just happened?! Did you see anything?!”

“It was so fast!” Dirk said, growling as he opened his coat, a small revolver sitting within. “But I know who—”

“Stuff it.” Ford grabbed Dirk’s arm. “Not yet.”

Dirk blinked until he noticed every eyewitness within the tavern, and his face flushed.

“Yeah. You’re right.” But Ford pointed a finger at Daren, who furrowed his eyebrows at him. “We’ll get you back on this. Mark my words.”

“Yeah!” Dirk readjusted his hat before the two stormed out from the booth, with them stomping away and their clothes drenched in alcohol. As Dirk and Ford left, the bell rang above the front door, and chatter returned within the tavern. Daren pocketed the knife before getting up, helping the server clean up the mess. But when he glanced at her, she held a nervous smile that didn’t quite reach the eyes. Soon, with the plate, drinks, and soaked napkins on the serving plate, he grasped into his aloha shirt and pulled out his wallet.

“Sorry for this,” Daren said, nodding. “Check, please?”

“You realize that you’ll be spending for their meals and drinks, regardless if they have it or not?” The server blushed, rubbing her curly raven hair.

“I don’t mind at all,” Daren answered. “I would’ve done so willingly if they were nicer.”

The server gave a nervous chuckle before picking up the serving plate and stepping away, her heels clicking against the ground. Daren shrugged, leaning back against the booth while tapping against the table. A minute passed when the server returned, handing over a check-book with the receipt estimate of over a hundred dollars. But, without flinching, he slipped the debit card into it, wrote down the price, and signed it, even adding a fifty-dollar tip before returning it.

As the server went away again with raised eyebrows, Daren glanced out the window, with the lamp-post glowing near a brown car where two men walked over. But the full moon, which shone brightly in the sky, grabbed his attention. He felt at peace with the moon, which made him smile a bit while he reached out and rubbed his left forearm.

A loud howl came, and he flinched, his left forearm shaking as though a sword had stabbed through it. He grunted, lowering his head while he breathed in and out, his heart beating fast. Soon, the pain ebbed away, and he lifted his head with one of his sea blue eyes closed. Footsteps came from behind, a man in a professional suit walking behind the server from before.

“Is this the guy?” He asked the server, and when she nodded, he strode to Daren. “I’m the owner of this tavern.”

“Call me Daren,” Daren said as the server followed, who returned the debit card. “Is it about the mess? I’m sorry.”

“That’s not what I’m concerned about, sir,” the owner replied as Daren placed the debit card into his wallet, pocketing it. “You’re in a dangerous position.”

“Sounds like a Thursday to me.” Daren shrugged, pocketing his smartphone before pushing up against the table. But the owner pressed against his shoulder, and he sat down again. “What is this ‘dangerous position’ you’re worried about?”

“Those two guys antagonizing you worked for the infamous mobster, Reiner Graham.”

Daren tilted his head. “Who?”

The owner shook his head in disbelief, his mustache swaying along. “Reiner Graham is the ruler of this region underground, along with a few other states. His word is the law here, especially since he has a home within the forest, though few outside his ‘employees’ know where, and word travels quickly to him. Anyone who dares resist him or his cronies disappear.”

“Ah.” Daren shrugged with indifference. “I plan on disappearing anyways—” another howl came, closer now, and he paused while hiding his discomfort. “—sorry. But yes, I plan on disappearing soon, and I like to see them track me down.”

“You’re insane.” The owner rubbed his face. “Or stupid. Likely both. Graham takes everything personally. He’ll take it personally, even a lightning strike against his most incompetent enforcer. I have seen plenty of good people disappear, and the few who reappeared were never the same again, having panic attacks, seizures, numbness in parts of their bodies, and more. He’ll hunt you down—”

The front door crashed open, and a man in a guard’s uniform stepped in. Everyone turned to this newcomer, with sweat all over his attire and face. He stumbled forward, his face red, and a couple of workers held him by the shoulders. The owner rushed into the back, returning with a water bottle and helping the newcomer drink.

“Chris?” The owner asked, and the newcomer nodded, panting and with part of his uniform white with salt. “You’re supposed to be working the overnight shift at the store. What happened?”

“J-Jung’s G-General Store,” Chris answered, taking a deep breath between words. “A-a monster is a-attacking it.”

Much of the tavern burst into laughter, with the owner pinching his nose while Daren leaned forward, curious.

“Another bear attack? Get animal control—”

“NO!” Chris pushed forward, but the two servers held him back. “It-it shrugged off my taser gun! It’s big, much bigger than a bear! It’s destroying the store as we speak!”

The owner sighed. “Bears can get huge. Look—”

“It’s not a bear! It’s a monster!” Chris became frantic, his eyes pushing out from the sockets, but the owner gestured the servers to the back. “It’s like a huge wolf creature! A werewolf!” The laughter became a massive roar as the servers dragged him to the back. “It came and started to smash everything up! I barely got away! Get any guns and kill it!” He twisted back, the servers pushing him onward. “Let go!”

Everyone kept laughing at him, though Daren instead gazed at his left forearm, feeling a Sting coming from it. Soon, Chris got dragged into the back, and several customers made mocking howls and bear roars. But Daren became thoughtful, tapping against his bandaged left arm, though he soon noticed the owner marching back to him.

“So sorry for the interruption,” The owner said before he gave a heavy sigh. “Chris has an overactive imagination, especially whenever a starving bear strides by. He is terrified of them.”

“I bet,” Daren said, rubbing his earlobe. “So, done explaining to me about this gangster?”

“If that’s your attitude, yes,” The owner said as Daren got up and shook hands. “You seem to be stupidly stubborn, despite how your life is forfeit. Know that you will answer about what happened here when they get you.”

Daren’s expression became dark as he walked away. “And know this: if they do get me, they will regret it.”

Daren reached for the door, pushing it open and letting the night’s cool breeze engulf him, various lamp-posts shining nearby. He reached into his pocket for his smartphone and, after pulling it out and opening the map app, searched for Jung’s General Store, one popping up nearby. He glanced in the direction where it was, but when his left arm tightened in pain, he turned in the opposite direction. He felt some guilt, with clouds fogging his head, and still, he walked away.

But when he pocketed the smartphone, a hand grabbed his collar and yanked him into the alleyway, and he grunted in surprise.He found himself within a circle of four men in brown and black striped suits, with Dirk and Ford among them. Daren glared at them, who laughed back even as metal jingled in the air.

“Aww. You thought that we had enough after that little trick?” Dirk said, having a smug grin.

“You embarrassed us, idiot,” Ford said, his gray eyes shining cold. “And you will pay, for the big boss’s sake!”

Daren closed his eyes, deep in thought, as two men behind him held chains and a steel baseball bat, respectively. Ford reached into his suit and pulled out a handle, an arrogant grin on his face. He pressed a button on it, and a knife popped out, its edge shining warm. Daren steadied his breathing, with the chains-holding one waving it to his side while chortling.

Within, Daren imagined how his opponents would play out their attacks: the chain-wielding one swung it around Daren’s left arm, wrapping it up tight. Next, the bat-wielding one charged, swinging his bat against Daren’s head while Ford lifted his knife over his head and swung it down against his neck. Finally, Dirk pulled out his revolver and aimed it at his head.

Daren opened his eyes, breathing steadily, and flexed his fingers.

The chain-wielding one charged, flailing the thick chains toward Daren’s left arm, but he twisted around, catching the chains easily. Half a second later, the bat-wielding one swung it toward him, but Daren yanked on the chain, letting the man on the other side take the impact against his head. He screamed, with blood gushing out before collapsing.

Ford charged, flipping the knife before lifting it over his head, and bolting toward Daren. Daren caught his wrist and, using the momentum, flipped him over, crashing him against the one holding the bat. The two groaned, with Ford on top as Dirk shook his head, with Daren kneeling down. He reached into his coat and pulled out his revolver, pointing it at his head, its muzzle pressing against his dirty blond hair.

Daren grabbed the muzzle and Dirk’s wrist in two quick motions before yanking it away. He pointed it back at Dirk, who blinked while raising his arms, the breeze knocking off his hat. But Daren instead popped open the revolver and, after emptying the chambers, pulled the barrel out before handing the gun back. Dirk stood there, stupefied, and Daren flashed a cheeky grin before running off, stomping onto Ford’s leg just above his knee.

“AAHAHA!” Ford screamed, twisting over and rubbing his leg. “You asshole! We’ll get you for this!”

But Daren ignored him, instead dashing around the corner before he paused, the direction to Jung’s General Store ahead. He felt divided, his left forearm ebbing in pain while feeling the drive to head over to the store and figure out this creature. The guilty sense grew in his head, with him gritting his teeth before sprinting again, heading to the store.

When Daren reached the store, no window remained unbroken, shards littering all over the sidewalk. Multiple dollar bills fluttered in the air, some sliced in half, and many steel coins bent. Crunching sounds came from within, and Daren crouched low and reached to his hip.

At first, an M1911 materialized out from his belt along with its holster, but when he felt the thudding sounds, he replaced it with a G19 pistol. He pulled it out and turned the safety off before pressing his back against the wall, with smashed windows on both sides. He leaned to the side before pausing, his left forearm erratic and with a sharp pain coming from it.

From the corner of his eye, he spotted aisles toppled over, items smashed or spilled underneath and around them. The thudding came closer, a massive, hulking creature in gray fur approaching. The pain increased, and Daren leaned back, sliding down on the wall. A second later, an aisle smashed over a couple of feet where his head was, with a soda can rolling near him.

A large foot-paw stepped around, crushing the can like a water balloon. The pain kept increasing along with his heartbeat, but Daren breathed in and out. This creature breathed down his neck, steamy breath crawling down his back. Then, with closed eyes, he twisted around and pointed his pistol at the creature’s chest, who returned with a growl-like chuckle. This werewolf, towering over him, rubbed its claw against the muzzle, scratching it before he fired.

The werewolf grunted, the bullet lodged against the chest before it flexed. The shell popped out and the wound healed in half a second. It then grabbed Daren by the aloha shirt, lifting him to its head level. Again, Daren grunted, wiggling his legs as he kept pointing the gun at it.

The werewolf twitched its ears before dropping Daren, who landed with a thud. He opened his eyes, baffled, but the werewolf took a few steps away before jumping, fusing with the darkness above. His left forearm still screamed in pain, though it became less so as the seconds ticked down, and he turned to the sky.

At that point, sirens came, and flashing red and blue lights appeared around the corner. Daren thought for a split second before sprinting into the store, holstering his G19 and it disappearing into his belt. He reached into his aloha shirt pocket, pulling out his TF Scriúire, a rod with a light on the end. The TF Scriúire has been a handy tool for Daren for a long time. Created thanks to a hybrid of Athrú’s science and magic, it can do many things. Among them being the ability to transform, or alter, a state of a person or object. For example, unlocking a door.

Or editing a video.

He rushed into the security room, its door ripped open and smashed into bits several yards away, and he sat on a chair with several monitors in front of him. Daren pointed his TF Scriúire against the computer, the light glowing green as it buzzed, and all seven monitors flickered, each displaying a werewolf. But the werewolf altered within the footage, morphing into a bear with its mouth foaming. With sweat forming on his brow, he breathed in and out until every single werewolf footage was changed into a bear, and he pocketed his tool.

Footsteps came from the side, and Daren got up, reaching into his jeans pocket and pulling out a gear necklace. He placed it around his neck, the perception filter set to five before he crept to the corner, two men in animal patrol uniforms stepping in a half second later. One got to the computer as another glanced around, his eyes unfocused every time he turned to Daren.

“I-I thought I saw someone got in,” that man said, rubbing his eyes. “Where is he?”

“Must be your imagination,” the second guy said, replaying the footage. “And yup. There was another bear attack. Looks rabid, so let’s set up an alert. OK?”

“Sure,” the first man said, shaking his head as Daren walked past, having a sly grin.

“That asshole humiliated us! Not one, but twice!” Dirk said, shaking his head.

He sat at the back, with the man, Kyle, to his right having a white towel wrapped around his head, still unconscious. The left one, Lothar, rubbed his side while groaning, and Dirk smacked it, causing him to yelp again. Ford stared ahead, tapping against the car wheel before reaching into the glove compartment and pulling out a burner phone.

“Aww? Going to call for assistance?” Dirk asked in a mocking tone. “We should be hunting him down ‘cause if the big boss finds out about this, he’ll have us taken care of by Dr.Richter. I bet he’ll even write a special chap-”

“Shut up, idiot,” Ford said, pressing the phone’s button. “But yes, I am getting help. The best one, in fact.”

“You-you don’t mean him, do you?” Dirk asked, leaning back as Ford nodded.

“We can still handle it without bringing Kurt involved! Because he will, for sure, let the big boss know about our failure!”

“I know, but I also know his weakness,” Ford said, pressing the phone against his ear as it rang. “He likes a challenge. And he’s close to the big boss enough to be able to grant some leniency. For now.” The other side clicked, and he reached for his cigar. “Hello, Kurt.”

“What is it this time?” Kurt said on the other side, his voice gruff. “Unless you four bumbling idiots got your ass kicked, I’m not interested. You have screwed up too many times, and Reiner is losing patience with you.”

“Funny that you mentioned that,” Ford said, sucking on his cigar. “Cause that’s what happened, and I’m sure you’ll find this asshole interesting.”

Kurt kept silent for a few seconds, before saying just one word. “Explain.”