Content Warning

Greetings and Salutations.
Because my stories have bite, they can contain content that isn't suitable for work or children. Not a lot of truly graphic sex or violence, but there are some questionable or heated posts. F-bombs are not uncommon, so watch your footing.

Friday, December 3, 2010

#FridayFlash Karl the wulfen - 5

Scrawny drew a shotgun from under the counter, while Riff and Raff came scrambling forward.  Magazine and Karl locked gazes, staring each other down.

"You're one of those fucking wulfen, aren't you?"  Magazine was more intelligent, holding back.  The other three kept edging closer, exuding a desperate odor, sharp with sweat.

Karl kept Scrawny in the corner of his gaze, ready to leap out of the line of fire.  A load of silver shot was not a pleasant way to die.  "You know the fiends who attacked my clan?"

Magazine grimaced, fists clenched at his side.  His voice dropped an octave, but remained calm.  "The beast calls us fiends?  We were just defending our families."

The age old reason for war between the races; protecting one's family.  It would never fail to inspire, because it needed so little justification.  Every race needed to defend itself, overlooking the extremes taken.

Karl wasn't going to get into an argument.  He growled, changing to true wulfen form.  Scrawny fired, and Karl lunged as his body shifted.  His vision distorted, and his reactions were temporarily off, but taking his true form was easier than any other change.

Scrawny's first shot had gone way wide.  The second was much closer; the slug tore apart a display near Karl's head.  Plastic bits and puffed corn snacks pelted him, drawing his attention off Magazine.  Scrawny cracked open the gun, paling as he tried to reload the double-barrel shotgun.

Karl roared, the terrible sound filling the store.  He was lean and wiry in wolfman form, much like his human form.  Though smaller than many in his clan, he still towered over the four humans.  Razor sharp claws crooked, he lunged for Scrawny.

Riff and Raff were charging, wielding silver Bowie knives.  They swung at Karl, but the wulfen was already over the counter, claws impaling the proprietor.  Scrawny shrieked, blood sprayed, and Karl snarled.

He didn't frenzy.  Karl was fully in control of his actions.  He ripped Scrawny's collar bones out, throwing the man to the floor.  Bloodscent filled his nostrils as the shrieks rose higher.  One man down, he gave his attention to Riff and Raff.

Raff vaulted the counter, heedless of how quickly Scrawny had been decimated.  Karl grabbed the man's knife arm and gave a quick wrench, tearing muscles.  Raff howled in pain, and Karl tore his throat out.

Riff threw his knife with a grunt.  Four inches of silver embedded itself in his side.  Karl roared again, in pain and surprise, lashing out.  His long arm easily bridged the gap, batting Riff aside in a gush of blood.  Breathing heavily, Karl reached for the knife.  He was too full of adrenaline and battlelust to feel the pain yet, but he would.  Soon.

Magazine leapt onto the counter, kicking the knife, driving it deeper into wulfen flesh.  Karl howled, surprised to have a real opponent.  He rounded on the final man, and came face-to-face with a silver-plated pistol.

This man knew how to fight wulfen.