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The Crack of Doom

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Mitchell had been hunting since a rogue omega killed his daughter ten years ago. Now he'd come to Beacon Hills since he'd heard there was shit going down there.

He gathered intel for a couple days and kept an eye on the local pack. It was a disaster from what he could tell. The Alpha didn't kill threats and even kept blue-eyed wolves in his pack.

This had to stop.


He was running. There was someone running behind him. He had a knife on him. He'd ran out of bullets a ways back.

He turned to look behind and ran straight into a tree. Immediately he tasted blood. He spat it out and started running again.

Someone whispered "Boo" straight into his ear and he stumbled falling to the ground.


It wasn't one of the blue-eyes. It wasn't even a wolf. It was the human.

Except it wasn't. There was something waving behind the kid and his eyes were completely blank, colourless.

He started crawling backwards and his leg snapped. Clean and sudden, everything under his right knee was in agony.

There was something black wrapped around it.

Then his left knee crunched and he screamed.

When he opened his eyes, the kid was crouching between his legs. He went for his knife and buried it in the kid's stomach but the kid didn't even flinch.

"Oh. So, that's how you wanna play... I can do that too."

He saw a flash of silver and then the kid's hand was buried in his abdomen.

Mitchell watched in horror as the kid pulled his hand out and licked off some of the blood.

"Hmm... I've had better."

The hand was back among his insides and the kid pulled upwards.

He could only sob in pain and misery.