Post by Switch on Aug 29, 2010 20:51:54 GMT -6
Blood.
Filling his nostrils, the aroma of it drove him mad with need. The scent teased him, thrilled him with the prospect of a kill.
She was close, he could tell that much. His heart began to race. He began to salivate at the thought of the meal to come.
She was close.
He would find her. He would kill her. He would feed.
Switch raced through the streets, the scent on the wind beckoning him, crying out to him, leading him onward.
He lived for the joy of the hunt. He savored it. The terror in his victim's eyes when they first saw him. The chase, always too brief, as they tried to flee. The sound of their screams as he tore into their flesh. He loved every moment of it.
She was close.
The Werewolf's sense of smell was incredibly powerful. He could pick up the smell of a meal from miles away. It didn't matter if they were bleeding or not. As long as their heart was beating, he could find them.
Once he had their scent, a kill was all but assured. It told him everything that he needed to know. Where they were, what they were, man or woman, old or young, sick or healthy. The scent told him everything.
She was...here.
Switch skidded to a stop. He found himself standing before the ruins of a massive cathedral. The once proud stone walls were fractured and broken, looking as if a strong breeze might bring them down.
The stained glass windows, once bearing images of magnificent beauty, were shattered. Only a few small fragments of the colored glass still remained.
The roof of the cathedral was completely gone. It was likely torn off either by the initial explosions that triggered the great war, or by some subsequent devastation.
Switch noticed none of it.
Nothing mattered to him except the smell of blood, which was now so strong that it drove him into a frenzy.
He tore up the cathedral steps and ripped through its outer doors. The tall oak doors that had stood for centuries splintered like matchsticks. The crash of the doors tearing apart would alert whomever was inside, but Switch didn't care. Whoever she was, she would never be able to fight him. With the strength of a legion of men, Switch would be able to tear her in half in an instant. She'd have no chance. Her death would be quick...if he allowed it to be so.
Once the dust and debris settled, he spotted her. Sitting in one of the front pews. Her eyes went wide. She tried to stand to her feet.
The whole world seemed to stop. Seconds passed like hours. This was it. These next few moments would be her last. Switch's muscles tensed as he prepared to lunge for her. Almost to her feet now, she would not even have the chance to run.
He leapt for her.
Pain
It tore through his body like a bolt of lightning. Missing his target, Switch slammed into a support pillar. Marble and wolf both crashed to the floor.
Switch howled in agony. Every bone shattered. Every muscle tore itself to pieces. Every organ burst.
Each time he thought the pain could not hurt him anymore, it ruthlessly intensified.
He couldn't see. He couldn't hear. He couldn't move. He was dying.
His limbs writhed and twisted as the transformation began. Slowly, the bulging muscles, the coarse fur, the huge fangs, all of it began to disappear.
The transformation quickly altered every part of his body until the raging, menacing wolf was changed into a mere human being.
He didn't know how long it lasted, but slowly the pain began to ease. The first sound he became aware of was his own screams echoing off of the stone walls. As the pain finally left him, his body began to shake. Through watery vision he could see the first rays of sunlight pouring through one of the cathedral's high windows.
Every time the curse lifted, Switch was amazed not to find himself covered in his own blood. The pain was unlike anything he'd ever imagined possible. His body felt as though it were being turned inside out, inch by inch.
Now, in his fully human state, his mind began to return to him. He could never remember what he did in his primal form. In the past, when he'd tried to force himself to remember, he would only see brief, terrifying glimpses of the animal within. He'd long since given up.
Part of him was thankful. The mangled bodies he would often wake up around were testament enough to the sins he committed.
Switch groaned as he tried to sit up. A boot slammed into his chest and forced him right back down. Before he could even blink he found himself staring down the barrel of a revolver into a pair of fierce bluish green eyes.
The woman who held the gun on him glared down at him with an unrestrained fury. Helpless, he waited for the end.
Switch had always feared the day when the gods would exact their revenge for the lives he'd taken. It looked like that day had finally arrived.
Filling his nostrils, the aroma of it drove him mad with need. The scent teased him, thrilled him with the prospect of a kill.
She was close, he could tell that much. His heart began to race. He began to salivate at the thought of the meal to come.
She was close.
He would find her. He would kill her. He would feed.
Switch raced through the streets, the scent on the wind beckoning him, crying out to him, leading him onward.
He lived for the joy of the hunt. He savored it. The terror in his victim's eyes when they first saw him. The chase, always too brief, as they tried to flee. The sound of their screams as he tore into their flesh. He loved every moment of it.
She was close.
The Werewolf's sense of smell was incredibly powerful. He could pick up the smell of a meal from miles away. It didn't matter if they were bleeding or not. As long as their heart was beating, he could find them.
Once he had their scent, a kill was all but assured. It told him everything that he needed to know. Where they were, what they were, man or woman, old or young, sick or healthy. The scent told him everything.
She was...here.
Switch skidded to a stop. He found himself standing before the ruins of a massive cathedral. The once proud stone walls were fractured and broken, looking as if a strong breeze might bring them down.
The stained glass windows, once bearing images of magnificent beauty, were shattered. Only a few small fragments of the colored glass still remained.
The roof of the cathedral was completely gone. It was likely torn off either by the initial explosions that triggered the great war, or by some subsequent devastation.
Switch noticed none of it.
Nothing mattered to him except the smell of blood, which was now so strong that it drove him into a frenzy.
He tore up the cathedral steps and ripped through its outer doors. The tall oak doors that had stood for centuries splintered like matchsticks. The crash of the doors tearing apart would alert whomever was inside, but Switch didn't care. Whoever she was, she would never be able to fight him. With the strength of a legion of men, Switch would be able to tear her in half in an instant. She'd have no chance. Her death would be quick...if he allowed it to be so.
Once the dust and debris settled, he spotted her. Sitting in one of the front pews. Her eyes went wide. She tried to stand to her feet.
The whole world seemed to stop. Seconds passed like hours. This was it. These next few moments would be her last. Switch's muscles tensed as he prepared to lunge for her. Almost to her feet now, she would not even have the chance to run.
He leapt for her.
Pain
It tore through his body like a bolt of lightning. Missing his target, Switch slammed into a support pillar. Marble and wolf both crashed to the floor.
Switch howled in agony. Every bone shattered. Every muscle tore itself to pieces. Every organ burst.
Each time he thought the pain could not hurt him anymore, it ruthlessly intensified.
He couldn't see. He couldn't hear. He couldn't move. He was dying.
His limbs writhed and twisted as the transformation began. Slowly, the bulging muscles, the coarse fur, the huge fangs, all of it began to disappear.
The transformation quickly altered every part of his body until the raging, menacing wolf was changed into a mere human being.
He didn't know how long it lasted, but slowly the pain began to ease. The first sound he became aware of was his own screams echoing off of the stone walls. As the pain finally left him, his body began to shake. Through watery vision he could see the first rays of sunlight pouring through one of the cathedral's high windows.
Every time the curse lifted, Switch was amazed not to find himself covered in his own blood. The pain was unlike anything he'd ever imagined possible. His body felt as though it were being turned inside out, inch by inch.
Now, in his fully human state, his mind began to return to him. He could never remember what he did in his primal form. In the past, when he'd tried to force himself to remember, he would only see brief, terrifying glimpses of the animal within. He'd long since given up.
Part of him was thankful. The mangled bodies he would often wake up around were testament enough to the sins he committed.
Switch groaned as he tried to sit up. A boot slammed into his chest and forced him right back down. Before he could even blink he found himself staring down the barrel of a revolver into a pair of fierce bluish green eyes.
The woman who held the gun on him glared down at him with an unrestrained fury. Helpless, he waited for the end.
Switch had always feared the day when the gods would exact their revenge for the lives he'd taken. It looked like that day had finally arrived.
