Three Piece Suits and Plaid Button-Ups...Chapter 13
“We’re F.B.I., show yourself!” Neal shouted. Stiles gave him a critical look of disbelief but Neal shot back a look that clearly said, Go along with it.
The noise died down to a strange rumbling sound. It sounded like a guttural growl - something Stiles was all too familiar with. His every instinct screamed at him to retreat, get outside, find higher ground, to just get the fuck back outside where the sun was still shining.
But for better or for worse, Stiles was also too brave for his own good. He didn’t hesitate before walking carefully into the dark abyss of the basement. The teen slowly swiveled his flashlight hoping to get a glimpse of whatever animal was stuck down there.
The growling stopped. Stiles looked back at Neal as if to say, Well what do you think? Neal shrugged but still held his flashlight firmly and warily. Stiles picked up a piece of debris and threw it in the direction he figured the sound came from. They both heard the sound of a small impact but nothing else.
With a heavy sigh, Stiles turned around with his flashlight aimed towards a promising stack of official-looking papers. “Back to cracking the books then. Dilapidated as they may be down here.”
Neal chuckled. “You sound disappointed. Tell you what, if I ever see a raccoon digging through my trash cans, you’ll be the first one I call to protect me from the beast.”
Stiles laughed lightly and flicked his flashlight towards Neal’s face. His laugh died immediately and he could feel his skin grow ice cold.
There was a disheveled man standing behind Neal. His eyes were glazed over as if he were blind. But even stranger, he was bleeding from his mouth. Stiles aimed the flashlight straight into the man’s eyes. The man let out a shrill shriek at this which caused both Neal and Stiles to stumble away from him blindly, hands trying to cover their ears.
When Stiles opened his eyes and pointed his flashlight again at the man, he saw huge fangs practically bursting out of the man’s mouth. Those are definitely not werewolf fangs, we are in so much shit now.
“Neal we gotta run!” The creature was blocking their way in, but there seemed to be plenty of room and hiding spaces in the basement. Maybe we can give it the run-around… Stiles grabbed at Neal’s hands and they both ran deeper into the makeshift maze of cabinets, office junk, and garbage.
When he felt like there was some distance between them and the creature, Stiles brought Neal to crouch behind a giant mahogany desk that was scratched all over beyond repair. “Stiles, what was that thing!” Neal whispered too loudly, so Stiles covered his mouth with an admonishing look. He gestured to Neal that they had to listen for the creature’s noises.
Evasion was their only weapon; Neal never carried a gun, and Stiles only had his biting sarcasm at best. Something told him sarcasm would not save him from a rabid crazy homeless man. Who looked like he was on bath salts. God, if I get through this, the first thing I’m doing is researching how to best weaponize sarcasm. Maybe inflict mental anguish on the guy?
Both of them were staying quiet and trying to slow their breathing down to a molasses-like pace. But Stiles’ heartbeat felt like it was going to pound straight out of his chest. Like the first Alien movie, only with less phallic imagery.
The sound of slow, uneven footsteps shook Stiles out of his mental meandering. They both held their breath in absolute fear. God, Stiles could hear his heartbeat beating in his own freaking ears. No wonder Derek was so moody all the time, it was not a fun sound.
Even with the both of them imitating graveyard statues, the creature still growled loudly in an almost curious way and started shambling hurriedly towards their hiding place. Stiles knew it was the time to act. He glanced around furiously for any sort of weapon or shield. His hands felt the mahogany drawer handles and automatically gripped them. He prayed that they were removable and yes! There was a kind and loving God. Not kind and loving enough to even prevent this from ever happening but kind enough to prolong the torture with shabby weapons of self-defense. Thanks, God. Really. It’s like your own freaking Hunger Games up there, isn’t it?
Satisfied with the heavy weight of the drawer, Stiles listened for the perfect time to strike the man creature. Just when it was about to rush right behind them, Stiles leapt from his crouching position and swung the drawer as hard as he could, pretending that he was in an actual lacrosse game, and the man creature was the goalpost only yards away.
It worked. Like oh my GAWD, it worked? Stiles shared the creature’s stunned disbelief for a second before switching back to reality and grabbing the first pointy object he could find. He screamed while charging at the man full-speed and jabbed the pointy end right into his chest.
A pencil. A freaking pencil, like God couldn’t give me a metal pen? The man creature stood there as if terrified. Realizing that it was still alive, its fangs came out again and the creature rushed as if to bite Stiles.
Acting on pure instinct, Stiles rose his good leg as high as he could and kicked the pencil as hard as he could, all the way to where the heart should be. The creature crumpled immediately and started convulsing in a terrifying way. The shrieks and howls that came out of its mouth were definitely inhuman of the shit-your-pants variety.
Stiles, and Neal now coming out of his hiding spot, could only stare in shock as the creature fell to the ground in agony, its flesh still convulsing, as if undergoing some rapid structural change. Stiles realized what might happen and yanked Neal back towards their hiding space.
“What, I thought you killed it!” Neal yelled in confusion.
“I did, just hold on!” Stiles waited for the sound again. There was a truly disgusting sound of squelching flesh being ripped apart. When the bodily noises simmered down to a rain-like pitter-patter, Stiles peeked over the desk to assess the damage.
Well, if it was a man, it’s not any more. The creature looked like it basically exploded like a really gross version of a kid’s exploding volcano. With blood spatter effects. A whole lot of them. When a few blood drops landed on Stiles’ cheek, he immediately recoiled, freaking out about blood-borne pathogens. Both he and Neal moved away with the silent agreement to get the hell out of Dodge.
Stiles placed a grateful hand on the mahogany desk, thanking it for its protection and really heavy drawers. Just when he was about to move away, a glint caught his eye. There was a metal nameplate attached to the front of the desk, as if nailed down. He backed away to read it correctly.
“Neal, look at this.” The older man returned to Stiles’ side and his jaw dropped slightly. This was the desk of Ulyres Tuccor.
The noise died down to a strange rumbling sound. It sounded like a guttural growl - something Stiles was all too familiar with. His every instinct screamed at him to retreat, get outside, find higher ground, to just get the fuck back outside where the sun was still shining.
But for better or for worse, Stiles was also too brave for his own good. He didn’t hesitate before walking carefully into the dark abyss of the basement. The teen slowly swiveled his flashlight hoping to get a glimpse of whatever animal was stuck down there.
The growling stopped. Stiles looked back at Neal as if to say, Well what do you think? Neal shrugged but still held his flashlight firmly and warily. Stiles picked up a piece of debris and threw it in the direction he figured the sound came from. They both heard the sound of a small impact but nothing else.
With a heavy sigh, Stiles turned around with his flashlight aimed towards a promising stack of official-looking papers. “Back to cracking the books then. Dilapidated as they may be down here.”
Neal chuckled. “You sound disappointed. Tell you what, if I ever see a raccoon digging through my trash cans, you’ll be the first one I call to protect me from the beast.”
Stiles laughed lightly and flicked his flashlight towards Neal’s face. His laugh died immediately and he could feel his skin grow ice cold.
There was a disheveled man standing behind Neal. His eyes were glazed over as if he were blind. But even stranger, he was bleeding from his mouth. Stiles aimed the flashlight straight into the man’s eyes. The man let out a shrill shriek at this which caused both Neal and Stiles to stumble away from him blindly, hands trying to cover their ears.
When Stiles opened his eyes and pointed his flashlight again at the man, he saw huge fangs practically bursting out of the man’s mouth. Those are definitely not werewolf fangs, we are in so much shit now.
“Neal we gotta run!” The creature was blocking their way in, but there seemed to be plenty of room and hiding spaces in the basement. Maybe we can give it the run-around… Stiles grabbed at Neal’s hands and they both ran deeper into the makeshift maze of cabinets, office junk, and garbage.
When he felt like there was some distance between them and the creature, Stiles brought Neal to crouch behind a giant mahogany desk that was scratched all over beyond repair. “Stiles, what was that thing!” Neal whispered too loudly, so Stiles covered his mouth with an admonishing look. He gestured to Neal that they had to listen for the creature’s noises.
Evasion was their only weapon; Neal never carried a gun, and Stiles only had his biting sarcasm at best. Something told him sarcasm would not save him from a rabid crazy homeless man. Who looked like he was on bath salts. God, if I get through this, the first thing I’m doing is researching how to best weaponize sarcasm. Maybe inflict mental anguish on the guy?
Both of them were staying quiet and trying to slow their breathing down to a molasses-like pace. But Stiles’ heartbeat felt like it was going to pound straight out of his chest. Like the first Alien movie, only with less phallic imagery.
The sound of slow, uneven footsteps shook Stiles out of his mental meandering. They both held their breath in absolute fear. God, Stiles could hear his heartbeat beating in his own freaking ears. No wonder Derek was so moody all the time, it was not a fun sound.
Even with the both of them imitating graveyard statues, the creature still growled loudly in an almost curious way and started shambling hurriedly towards their hiding place. Stiles knew it was the time to act. He glanced around furiously for any sort of weapon or shield. His hands felt the mahogany drawer handles and automatically gripped them. He prayed that they were removable and yes! There was a kind and loving God. Not kind and loving enough to even prevent this from ever happening but kind enough to prolong the torture with shabby weapons of self-defense. Thanks, God. Really. It’s like your own freaking Hunger Games up there, isn’t it?
Satisfied with the heavy weight of the drawer, Stiles listened for the perfect time to strike the man creature. Just when it was about to rush right behind them, Stiles leapt from his crouching position and swung the drawer as hard as he could, pretending that he was in an actual lacrosse game, and the man creature was the goalpost only yards away.
It worked. Like oh my GAWD, it worked? Stiles shared the creature’s stunned disbelief for a second before switching back to reality and grabbing the first pointy object he could find. He screamed while charging at the man full-speed and jabbed the pointy end right into his chest.
A pencil. A freaking pencil, like God couldn’t give me a metal pen? The man creature stood there as if terrified. Realizing that it was still alive, its fangs came out again and the creature rushed as if to bite Stiles.
Acting on pure instinct, Stiles rose his good leg as high as he could and kicked the pencil as hard as he could, all the way to where the heart should be. The creature crumpled immediately and started convulsing in a terrifying way. The shrieks and howls that came out of its mouth were definitely inhuman of the shit-your-pants variety.
Stiles, and Neal now coming out of his hiding spot, could only stare in shock as the creature fell to the ground in agony, its flesh still convulsing, as if undergoing some rapid structural change. Stiles realized what might happen and yanked Neal back towards their hiding space.
“What, I thought you killed it!” Neal yelled in confusion.
“I did, just hold on!” Stiles waited for the sound again. There was a truly disgusting sound of squelching flesh being ripped apart. When the bodily noises simmered down to a rain-like pitter-patter, Stiles peeked over the desk to assess the damage.
Well, if it was a man, it’s not any more. The creature looked like it basically exploded like a really gross version of a kid’s exploding volcano. With blood spatter effects. A whole lot of them. When a few blood drops landed on Stiles’ cheek, he immediately recoiled, freaking out about blood-borne pathogens. Both he and Neal moved away with the silent agreement to get the hell out of Dodge.
Stiles placed a grateful hand on the mahogany desk, thanking it for its protection and really heavy drawers. Just when he was about to move away, a glint caught his eye. There was a metal nameplate attached to the front of the desk, as if nailed down. He backed away to read it correctly.
“Neal, look at this.” The older man returned to Stiles’ side and his jaw dropped slightly. This was the desk of Ulyres Tuccor.