Werewolves of Manchester
"It's alll right, Guv!" Damn it, he was losing a lot of blood and he ambulance had yet arrived. The place was crawling with coppers of all sorts, Ray Carling leading the charge to kick in the head of whoever unleashed the dogs on their commander and chief. Sam stayed behind, hands pressing into the wounds on Gene Hunt's chest and upper arm,
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Gene headed outside and leaned against the wall while lit up and prepared to descend into his old habit-- course, he didn't expect the ripping pain in his gut that slowly shut up to his chest. Something was very wrong. Was it his heart? Oh holy shit, he was having a heart attack!
Sods law he tried to smoke before-fucking-hand! Oh who knew Tyler was right about fags?
It got worse, it wasn't just his heart any more, it was his shoulder... it screamed out in agony and everything got blurry when his bone started to pull inside him. Panting heavily, Gene dropped the pack of fags and staggered blindly out of the alleyway.
He didn't realise what a big mistake it was to simply glance up. And there, in the light of the blinding full moon, things definitely started to fall apart. Gene had disappeared by the time anyone realise he wasn't coming back and all that was left behind to prove he'd been there was the dropped packet of cigs.
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Sam stood outside about an hour after Gene had left them hanging frowning at the car. He didn't have the keys but he didn't have to. The cigarettes by the back door made him frown and he picked them up before following a trail of tattered clothing to the street. Gene's favourite coat laid in three uneven pieces, torn down the back and with one arm laying a few metres away.
His heart was pounding in his chest as he rushed to take the keys from inside one of the pockets. Great. Just great. Gene had been attacked.
Any number of criminals were after the Manc Lion. Maybe Roule had gotten out or sent his friends? In the Cortina, Sam called into dispatch. "DI TYler! We lost one of our prisoners--"
Fuck. Sam started up the car and took off back to the station.
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It didn't take long before he got over it, prowling through the streets and sniffing the air as he tried to track down the one thing he wanted. Company.
Wolves were never happy alone and this one was too busy looking for the only other one he could smell. Roule must of been somewhere. He howled loudly, trying to draw attention before taking off down the streets.
He would of kept going but instead? Well, he found himself distracted by the noise of the Friday night drunks stumbling from the bars. They smelled wonderful.
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Boy was he ever wrong!
Sam started blankly at the massive grey thing standin on a table and fumbled with his gun. Shit! He wasn't prepared for this. Could it be that same rabid beast that had attacked Gene a few weeks back?!
"Jesus! Everyone out!"
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Including an unfortunate girl it pounced on. It didn't even give warning, it's massive claws pressed down and pinned the poor sod and the wolf went right for the neck, trying to pull her to pieces.
The boyfriend played hero and tried to smack the monster around the back with a nearby chair but that didn't do anything but seriously piss the wolf off.
This was not good.
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At least he had the thing's attention, so there was that. He wasn't exactly sure, however, that he wanted it's attention.
Sam would describe the beast as a deformed wolf, not quite lupine because the paws were more like hands than anything. Still, it was more dog shaped than person shaped with a long snout and triangular ears. "Get off of 'er!"
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On top of the scrawny bastard, his paw pinned the smaller man down and he bore down on him, snarling and dribbling all over Sams face... such a wonderful time for all.
The beast was clearly looking for a kill and now Sam was in the same position Gene had been. It growled dangerously when Sam tried to move any part of his body but it didn't launch for the attack.
It was playing with its food, clearly.
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The sheer weight of the wolf was enough to bruise him and Sam cried out in agony as snout, teeth and all, moved closer to his neck.
And there were the tears. He really couldn't help but tear up.
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The wolf whimpered, whined and flailed around, snarling angrily at Sam. It seemed to rethink it's original plan and retreated outside.
Howling loudly amoung the screaming clubbers outside, the wolf staggered off down the road with a noticeable limp. Where, exactly, were his fellow wolves?
Hunting would be easier with back up.
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No, Sam thought bitterly. I saved you. He saved me. But you're welcome. He pulled himself to his feet and took the spent gun from the other man's hand. "Call the police!" Sam cried and rushed after the wolf, following a trail of blood.
What he was planning on doing to it, given his weaponless state, was anyone's guess. He really wished he'd gotten a radio though. This was beyond stupid and beyond dangerous.
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The faint howl was a clear indication it was still going and, eventually, it just dropped down in the bushes outside CID.
No one noticed it, it was pretty dead around CID in the wee hours but the wolf remained slumped across the road, the police station in sight It didn't know why... but it knew it was safe.
Gene was definitely still in there.
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He parked the Cortina in a proper spot and dragged himself towards the station. He wasn't sure why he looked over his shoulder. Or why that bit of blond was familiar.
"Guv!"
And he really didn't know why Gene was naked and shot in the shoulder, laying in the bushes across the street. But such was life.
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Looking up at Sam, he raised an eyebrow before raising a hand to touch his mouth. He tasted blood, a lot of it... was it his?
"-- Huh?"
Looking around, Gene raised an eyebrow before he slumped back into the bushes with little care for the fact that he was naked and muddy and just lay there. Urgh, this was the worst hang over ever.
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Sam was grateful, for once about the other man's propensity to hero worship Gene. He sat in the blond's chair, did his work, and took off to visit him in the hospital.
Once month today it was that Sam had done the same thing. Of course, by then, he had a working knowledge of what really might have been happening here.
Gene was shot exactly where the beast had been, after all.
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And some very odd images were in his head but they made no sense. He never went to a night club and-- and bit a women.
When Sam visited, Gene was hunched over the bed with his wife ranting her head off and his insane behaviour lately. Gene just looked on the verge of being sick. He should of been better... so why did he feel like his body was rejecting something.
And worst yet... the full moon cycle lasted two days this month. He wasn't safe here.
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And Sam? Sam was more determined than ever.
He moved to Gene's side and started unwrapping his shoulder, no words said. As expected, the stitches were already loosening, the skin already healing. Sam wet his lips and gazed down into pale eyes.
"I'm going to lock you in tonight, Guv."
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