You're a wolf, boy, get out of this town.

[transformis]

He's feeling itchy.

Itchy isn't the right word for it--but he feels too uncomfortable. Physically, like there's something scratching inside of him. There is, literally, but he goes through his class without batting an eye. High School is the best days of your life, or the saying goes. Peter's never been so bored with algebra in his entire life.

The full moon is coming, and that's why. He's not just aware of it, he's insanely, hyper-tuned to the damn thing. Occasionally, he thinks he smells bacon grease from absolutely no where at all. He wonders if that's a psychological affect from slathering it on his own face many, many moons ago. It can't be actually there.

This is what occupies his thoughts, not that there are people looking at him. Whispers of the new poor kid being this or that. He ignores them, mostly because he doesn't have time to deal with idiotic 17 year olds despite being 17 himself. Old souls, his mom said. All the Rumancek boys are.

All the Rumancek boys are. Or all of them would be, had he not been the only child on his moms side. It's a big clan, for lack of a better term, and one that minds their own fucking business. He does have to meet up with Destiny's boyfriend for a quick chat about his latest scheme, most likely to talk the idiot out of it, but right now, he doesn't feel like driving. So he walks.

The Rumancek house--and it's more like a trailer in a trailer park--is quiet a ways away. Peter lights up a hand rolled cigarette, part tobacco and part wolfsbane, to try to mellow him out as he starts the long walk through farm fields and away from the quiet town they've recently moved into. The stupid smell of bacon grease is gone the moment he inhales, and he lets out a heavy, pleased sigh as he starts walking. He doesn't mind that it'll take 40 minutes to get home.

He's alone. He's alone with his true form itching to get out.

Comments

[zilchzotzip]

Zane had been watching Peter for days. The only time he didn't have eyes on him was during the school day. Often at a distance, waiting and watching. Most of his jobs had him stealing artifacts or leaving people dead in either obvious and meaningful ways or ways that they'd never be found. He was very good at his job.

Kidnapping was something else entirely. He'd done it before and knew it took a great deal of planning. But his employer was impatient. Some things never change. He wasn't sure if Osiris remembered him from their days in college, being bribed into stealing test answers. He had no doubt that the older boy had been trying to set him up for a fall, but there was nothing to be done once the papers were handed over. Zane had been so different then. Meek and mild, quiet to a fault. Always fearful of the older students. My, how things change.

He liked to tell himself that he didn't watch Peter at school to keep a low profile. A man, alone, in his late forties, prowling around high school grounds would draw suspicion. It had nothing to do with the twinge in his stomach or the lurch of his heart. Reminders of emotions he'd once had. But they didn't bother him, now. He had other things to worry about. Like why Osiris had sent him after a teenager in the middle of nowhere. This specific teenager. "He has something I need," was all Osiris offered. "Bring him back alive."

And now, he was receiving impatient texts. What's taking so long? If you've found him, why haven't you taken him? I expect you back here within 24 hours.

Demanding prick.

At least the middle of the woods meant no witnesses. He'd found no other sure place to make this happen. Peter went between home and school. At school, there were far too many witnesses. At home, there was that woman. It would be better if he could corner the boy, but he'd yet to find an option. So he stopped being careful, let his footsteps make more sound, a careless series of crunches.

"You know..." he said, slowly. "...I heard those things can kill you."

[transformis]

He had a hunch. It's not like Peter can sense this sort of shit, but he's got good intuition thanks to his mother. That, and if he's being honest with himself, it's been a while since trouble has found him.

Their whole family is just cursed, he thinks. And it always happens around here. At least he doesn't smell bacon grease anymore, just tobacco and wolfsbane and trees. It's comforting in the way that the voice behind him isn't.

"Amazing. I heard it's the same thing with people who say obvious shit," he says dryly. There's a warning tone as he walks, but other than that, he's used to it. Used to being harassed because he's always the new kid, always the fucking poor gypsy boy.

[zilchzotzip]

There was no reason to be subtle now, taking long bold strides to catch up to Peter. But even as he did, he didn't make nearly as much noise as the average person might crashing through a forest path. Years of training, leaving him quiet without conscious effort. But now it was an intentional quiet, a dangerous quiet, as opposed to the timid and terrified quiet of his youth.

He let out a soft laugh, as if he actually found Peter's harsh words funny. "There you go, ruining my punch line," he said with a sigh. "It was supposed to end with me saying something like 'but this could kill you faster.'" And there was the all too audible click of a safety being flicked off on the gun he'd pulled from the back of his jeans.

[transformis]

This isn't the first time he's had a gun pulled on him. There's a harrowing feeling in his throat as he realizes it probably won't be the last.

Probably.

This doesn't mean it's a happy situation. Even if Peter reacts a lot more calmly than a normal teenager would, even if, while he does freeze, he is aware despite the cigarette that the person with the gun is quiet. Too quiet--professional.

That means three things to Peter. Order of the Dragon, that gay doctor's experiments, or Roman.

He's banking on Roman.

"Shee-it," he says, and it's with the calm bravado of someone who has seen more than one body and been shot at more than one time. He inhales, sharply, wondering if he should have caught the bus.

"Can I at least turn around to face you?"

[zilchzotzip]

"It would be better for both of us if you didn't." Kidnapping was a messy, complicated business. With murder, he never had to worry about what the victim might recall afterwards. It was done and over, up to the scant evidence to tell the story. The victim couldn't escape, couldn't tell any details. But with kidnapping, there would always been a person to give a description and point a finger. "That's the guy who done it."

The gun pressed into Peter's back as he came close. "Just keep your eyes forward and you'll make it through this." He'd really rather not knock the kid out. It would be easier to make someone walk than to carry their dead weight, especially through a forest. But dead weight was something he was used to.

Zane reached around, as casually as if they were friends, and plucked the cigarette away from the kid. "You won't be needing this where we're going," he said as he tucked the thing between his own lips.