I Saw a Werewolf Drinking a Pina Colada at Trader Vic's [Narrative]
Characters: Agent J
Time: Sunday afternoon
Location: Navy Pier
Content: Guess who's dumb enough to mess with the wolf belts. That's right.
Format: Prose
Warnings: Swearing, panic, and unintended lycanthropy
J knew he shouldn't have been wandering out alone. He'd seen the little glowing lights with Starr, and he knew things weren't normal or even really safe around here. His diminished Music sense certainly didn't help to make him any less nervous. If anything less than friendly showed up, he wouldn't have much, if any, warning.
Still, he needed to get out of the hotel. He'd been to Chicago on missions before, but obviously never like this, and he figured it would help to know the layout of the city - the bits of it that weren't blocked off by walls of fog, that is - in case something ever happened. Or when something happened, if he wanted to think like that.
He didn't. Not particularly.
So he walked, keeping his wits about him and an ear out for trouble and eventually finding himself near the pier. He stood quietly, listening to the diminished music and watching the unmoving Ferris Wheel. He could do eerie - aliens and zombies with peanut allergies hadn't fazed him a bit. Empty cities were a bit different.
He turned to leave and nearly tripped over something at his feet. Somewhat grateful nobody had been around to witness his rather undignified stumble, he looked down to see what looked like a fur belt. Huh. That was a funny thing to be leave lying around in the middle of the street. He bent down to pick it up and toss it out of the way so nobody else would faceplant on the asphalt-
And stopped.
He straightened up slowly, holding the belt. Something was off. He couldn't put his finger on it - there was just something about this belt...
He looked at for a few long seconds. A fur belt really was a strange thing to leave lying around. Maybe he should take it with him, see if anyone was missing it. Yeah.
He didn't really know what prompted him to fasten the belt around his waist. All he knew was that it knocked him to his knees in a flash of searing pain.
The pain cleared. He took a deep breath. Then another. And one more, breathing deep through his nose as images and color and pictures flooded his senses. He knew when people had been here, could tell them apart, where they had been going and how many there had been and a thousand other tiny facts, all with a single breath. It was like having his Music sense restored, only different somehow. He had to tell Spin and Starr.
He went to push himself to his feet and stumbled again, landing chin first on the street. Huffing in frustration, he pushed himself up and tried it again, only to get the same result. Pushing himself up once more, he shook his head roughly and looked down-
Only to see paws in front of him.
He stumbled again, this time backwards in surprise because how had he not noticed a dog showing up-
And the paws stumbled with him.
He stopped, not liking the strange conclusion he was coming to. Tentatively, he raised one hand.
One of those paws lifted off the ground.
Slowly, he moved his hand and placed it on top of his other hand.
The paw moved with his thoughts, landing squarely on the other paw. And he felt it.
They were his paws.
He took off in a panicked run, looking for a mirror, a puddle, anything with a reflective surface, his four-legged gait moving faster and smoother and freer than he had ever run before no no NO this was WRONG he was human he was human he was HUMAN
He'd passed the low front windows of a shop before realizing what they were. Skidding to an abrupt stop, he turned and slowly made his way back, vaguely aware of a quiet whimpering that all too well reflected his fear of what he would see. Pausing at the corner of the window, he screwed up his courage, closed his eyes, took a few steps - twice too many, but he had twice too many feet- paws- feet - and opened his eyes, looking at the window.
The reflection of a shaggy golden wolf stared back at him.
The whimpering became a strangled, frightened yelp as J- the wolf- J did his best to jump out of his skin. His fur. It wasn't his oh God what had happened-
It was the belt, he realized in a moment of clarity so stunning it nearly knocked him flat once again. It had to be. Nothing else had changed.
He scrabbled for it in another fresh surge of panic, turning in a few ineffectual circles before finally getting a forepaw- a hand- augh- to where it would be on his waist, his mind screaming that he was human he was human he was HUMAN until the flash of pain knocked him on his side.
He lay there for a few seconds, panting in shock before lifting a hand to push his messy hair out of his face - and it was his hand and his hair, not paws or fur or anything else he shouldn't have had. After that shock wore off, he pushed himself to his knees - for real this time - and paused for a few seconds in a futile attempt to get his limbs to stop shaking. It wasn't working, and it was all because of-
He fumbled for the buckle on the belt, that damned belt, undoing it as fast as he could with trembling fingers and hurling it away from him with a wordless cry. No more. None of that. Never again.
Several very long minutes passed before he managed to pull himself back together. Finally, he managed to push himself to his feet - two feet this time, the right way to do this - and pulled his hair back, out of his face and back in order like it should be. He couldn't restyle the pompadour in the middle of the street, so for now the ponytail would have to do. He turned to walk away and paused.
The urge to get the hell away from here clashed with his responsible side. Damn it all, he couldn't leave the belt. What if someone else found it and went through the same thing he had?
Angry at his decision - the only one he knew he could live with - he threw open the door of the shop and went inside, coming back out half a minute later with one of those generic Thank You For Shopping plastic bags in hand. Shoving his hand in the bag, he gingerly picked up the belt and turned the bag inside out around it, tying the handles shut. That accomplished - at least he hadn't had to touch it again - he took off at high speed for the hotel. Maybe someone there would know what this was - Mr. McCoy, or that Harry guy, or anyone else who said they knew anything about the weird stuff that was going on. All he knew was, he wasn't hanging on to this belt any longer than he had to.
Time: Sunday afternoon
Location: Navy Pier
Content: Guess who's dumb enough to mess with the wolf belts. That's right.
Format: Prose
Warnings: Swearing, panic, and unintended lycanthropy
J knew he shouldn't have been wandering out alone. He'd seen the little glowing lights with Starr, and he knew things weren't normal or even really safe around here. His diminished Music sense certainly didn't help to make him any less nervous. If anything less than friendly showed up, he wouldn't have much, if any, warning.
Still, he needed to get out of the hotel. He'd been to Chicago on missions before, but obviously never like this, and he figured it would help to know the layout of the city - the bits of it that weren't blocked off by walls of fog, that is - in case something ever happened. Or when something happened, if he wanted to think like that.
He didn't. Not particularly.
So he walked, keeping his wits about him and an ear out for trouble and eventually finding himself near the pier. He stood quietly, listening to the diminished music and watching the unmoving Ferris Wheel. He could do eerie - aliens and zombies with peanut allergies hadn't fazed him a bit. Empty cities were a bit different.
He turned to leave and nearly tripped over something at his feet. Somewhat grateful nobody had been around to witness his rather undignified stumble, he looked down to see what looked like a fur belt. Huh. That was a funny thing to be leave lying around in the middle of the street. He bent down to pick it up and toss it out of the way so nobody else would faceplant on the asphalt-
And stopped.
He straightened up slowly, holding the belt. Something was off. He couldn't put his finger on it - there was just something about this belt...
He looked at for a few long seconds. A fur belt really was a strange thing to leave lying around. Maybe he should take it with him, see if anyone was missing it. Yeah.
He didn't really know what prompted him to fasten the belt around his waist. All he knew was that it knocked him to his knees in a flash of searing pain.
The pain cleared. He took a deep breath. Then another. And one more, breathing deep through his nose as images and color and pictures flooded his senses. He knew when people had been here, could tell them apart, where they had been going and how many there had been and a thousand other tiny facts, all with a single breath. It was like having his Music sense restored, only different somehow. He had to tell Spin and Starr.
He went to push himself to his feet and stumbled again, landing chin first on the street. Huffing in frustration, he pushed himself up and tried it again, only to get the same result. Pushing himself up once more, he shook his head roughly and looked down-
Only to see paws in front of him.
He stumbled again, this time backwards in surprise because how had he not noticed a dog showing up-
And the paws stumbled with him.
He stopped, not liking the strange conclusion he was coming to. Tentatively, he raised one hand.
One of those paws lifted off the ground.
Slowly, he moved his hand and placed it on top of his other hand.
The paw moved with his thoughts, landing squarely on the other paw. And he felt it.
They were his paws.
He took off in a panicked run, looking for a mirror, a puddle, anything with a reflective surface, his four-legged gait moving faster and smoother and freer than he had ever run before no no NO this was WRONG he was human he was human he was HUMAN
He'd passed the low front windows of a shop before realizing what they were. Skidding to an abrupt stop, he turned and slowly made his way back, vaguely aware of a quiet whimpering that all too well reflected his fear of what he would see. Pausing at the corner of the window, he screwed up his courage, closed his eyes, took a few steps - twice too many, but he had twice too many feet- paws- feet - and opened his eyes, looking at the window.
The reflection of a shaggy golden wolf stared back at him.
The whimpering became a strangled, frightened yelp as J- the wolf- J did his best to jump out of his skin. His fur. It wasn't his oh God what had happened-
It was the belt, he realized in a moment of clarity so stunning it nearly knocked him flat once again. It had to be. Nothing else had changed.
He scrabbled for it in another fresh surge of panic, turning in a few ineffectual circles before finally getting a forepaw- a hand- augh- to where it would be on his waist, his mind screaming that he was human he was human he was HUMAN until the flash of pain knocked him on his side.
He lay there for a few seconds, panting in shock before lifting a hand to push his messy hair out of his face - and it was his hand and his hair, not paws or fur or anything else he shouldn't have had. After that shock wore off, he pushed himself to his knees - for real this time - and paused for a few seconds in a futile attempt to get his limbs to stop shaking. It wasn't working, and it was all because of-
He fumbled for the buckle on the belt, that damned belt, undoing it as fast as he could with trembling fingers and hurling it away from him with a wordless cry. No more. None of that. Never again.
Several very long minutes passed before he managed to pull himself back together. Finally, he managed to push himself to his feet - two feet this time, the right way to do this - and pulled his hair back, out of his face and back in order like it should be. He couldn't restyle the pompadour in the middle of the street, so for now the ponytail would have to do. He turned to walk away and paused.
The urge to get the hell away from here clashed with his responsible side. Damn it all, he couldn't leave the belt. What if someone else found it and went through the same thing he had?
Angry at his decision - the only one he knew he could live with - he threw open the door of the shop and went inside, coming back out half a minute later with one of those generic Thank You For Shopping plastic bags in hand. Shoving his hand in the bag, he gingerly picked up the belt and turned the bag inside out around it, tying the handles shut. That accomplished - at least he hadn't had to touch it again - he took off at high speed for the hotel. Maybe someone there would know what this was - Mr. McCoy, or that Harry guy, or anyone else who said they knew anything about the weird stuff that was going on. All he knew was, he wasn't hanging on to this belt any longer than he had to.