Twin Moon - Chapter 211 - Such a Waste
Whiskey.
Being in my wolf form was one of the absolute worst things for me. To say I hate it would be a serious understatement. It makes me feel wild and untamed, like the feral beasts that I hunt. But when I haven’t got access to a car, helicopter or motorbike, it is the next best way to travel across country. I will stop at the next town I come across and steal a car. I was fast in this form, even with my bag and the map case in my mouth. The midnight black fur was thick and long. My wolf may be smaller than the natural born beasts, but I was undoubtably stronger, and faster. My lifelong training and the moulding me into the perfect killing machine, plus with the addition of my power, it meant I was impossible to beat. No matter how big the beast that I faced was.
I slowly made my way East through Russia. Checking the areas marked on the map for packs. I found and decimated two more. Both were small and irrelevant, and neither housed anything of value to me. It felt like a bit of a waste to take them out. I took care of them quickly, but my time could have been better spent elsewhere. I was feeling anxious to hurry up and move on. Something was pulling me to move more quickly, to move towards Alaska. Once I was off this godforsaken continent, everything will be less stressful. I fucking hate this damned country. The things I endured as a child, all for the sake of making me what I am today, the memories of those lessons always hit me harder here. This is after all, my birthplace. Mother Russia, my creator. I bet the fuckers never thought things would end up the way they have. They always thought that they were superior to me. Well, I showed them, didn’t I.
**Two and a half years ago.**
My body was healing at an exponential rate. With all the times I have been forced to change form over the past year or so, it has made both the time it takes to shift, and the time it takes to heal, almost instantaneous. Most of them were afraid of me now. I could smell it all over them. They are weak and pitiful things. Every now and then one of them would grow a little extra courage, and try and intimidate, scare or even beat me. They usually end up dead. Just like John did when he eventually came back to my room again. Killing him was the closest I have ever gotten to feeling true happiness. Looking over his bloodied and mangled body, after I beat him senseless and sucked the air from his lungs, it was a dream come true.
But this monstrous cunt has never shown any fear of me. He has lost any and all toleration of me, and my outbursts of anger. The deep wrinkles around his eyes are now a permanent fixture. As is the scowl on his face. He still wears the same stupid clothes. That fucking vest. I want so bad to rip apart that dumb fucking vest. He has had enough of me, and I have sure as shit had enough of him. Every fucking day, since I killed Spencer, this cunt has been here. Pushing me, testing me, training me. He has been in charge of it all. And I want nothing more than to wring his neck.
“Opyat' taki!” (Again) he yelled. A growl bubbled in the pit of my stomach and made its way up to vibrate in my chest. Control Whiskey, keep control, I told myself over and over again. My body was shaking with anger. I could have blamed it on the cold, but I have long since gotten accustomed to being frozen. I swallowed down the ball of fury for the umpteenth time and snapped my head to the side. The fire flew over my body like a tidal wave, and a second later I was standing on four paws. Pasha stood leaning his back against the wall, with his arms crossed over his chest, glaring at me. He didn’t even flinch when I changed. My senses were always better in tune when in this form. I could smell his hatred and disgust, I could basically taste it on the tip of my tongue. It only fuelled my own hatred towards him.
“I nazad” (And back) he snapped without moving a muscle. I bared my teeth at him and growled. The sound reverberated around the room, bouncing off the concrete walls. Again, he didn’t flinch. It only infuriated me further that I could not scare him like I could all the others. I huffed and rolled my head back. My body shifted back, and I stood up on my human legs. I prefer it much more this way. Fangs are good, but blades and thumbs are better. I stood before him, completely naked from head to toe. My every mark, my every scar, the remanence of not just his teachings, but every man that had come before him, all laid bare for him to gaze upon. And he did. But he wasn’t just looking at the scars he has left on my body. No. He was looking at what was under them. He was looking at me.
I sniffed the cool air and his subtle scent of desire crept into my nose. My lips curled back and my teeth sharpened and extended into fangs. This disgusting old cunt had the nerve to desire me. The teenager he has been torturing for over a year now. I wanted to puke. I wanted to scream. Most of all I wanted to rip his wrinkly old dick off. I felt the path of his heated gaze burn down my body and back up again. Pasha clicked his tongue and stepped forward, pushing himself off the wall. He shifted his hands into the pockets of his pants and began to slowly walk in a circle around where I stood. For what felt like an hour, I felt him roll his eyes over every inch of my naked flesh. He stood close to my back, so close I could feel the warmth of his body. His finger slid up my arm, over my shoulder and to my neck. He wrapped his hand around my throat and stepped in closer. His body was now pressed up against mine. A growl vibrated through my chest and forced its way through my clenched teeth.
“Takaya trata” (Such a waste) he sneered into my ear.
“You are a beast. Skrytyy (Hidden). Under this vkusnyye (tasty) body”. His mouth connected with the soft flesh of my neck, his slimy tongue tasting my skin. Any control I had left was gone in that moment. All I could see was black, and all I wanted was blood. In less than a second, I snapped my arm back and wrapped it around his neck. With a firm tug, I pulled him over my shoulder and sent him flying across the floor in front of me. He slid along the ground and stopped once his body hit the far wall with a hard thud. He grunted but wasn’t hurt. He quickly jumped to his feet, but I was faster. I launched myself through the air, landing on him with my legs around his midriff and my hands at his neck. He tumbled backwards until his back hit the wall. I lifted my arm and struck it down across his face. My long and sharply extended claws slashed through the feeble skin of his cheek and nose. The flesh burst open like spring flowers, blooming like bloody petals. It was glorious. Pasha screamed and tried to push me off, but I was stronger. I lifted my other arm and struck it down with the same amount of gusto. He was able to block my strike and instead my claws ripped through his forearm. He threw me away from him and grabbed his arm to his chest. I landed on my feet and whipped around ready to attack once more. I crouched down and scraped my nails over the frosty concrete floor. My growl filled the room as I eyed down my prey. He was now sitting on the floor, slouched against the wall. Blood poured from the open wounds on his face and seeped through his fingers on his arm. The sight filled me with a joy I had never felt before. Seeing my torturer hurt and in pain, it brought me the kind of happiness that the child I used to be could only dream of. I decided in that moment, I will never let go of this sensation. If I have to kill each and every one of them to prolong this feeling, then I will do it without hesitation.
Just as I was about to charge, I was struck from the side and sent flying across the room. I was so caught up in the sight of Pasha, I forgot about my surroundings. Four more guards piled in and stood in front of Pasha, blocking him from me. As I stood on the other side of the room, looking over their scared and angry faces, I smiled at them. The idea of now ripping apart all of them, it made me excited. One of the guards lifted his gun and aimed it at me. As it fired, I weaved to the side, dodging the track of the bullet. He fired again, and again I dodged. Bullets now rained down on me, and I dodged them all. Just like they trained me to do. As I jumped and spun and twirled out of the way, I got closer and closer to where they stood. The anger on their faces was quickly morphing into terror, as the realisation came to them. They trained me for this, but they never expected me to use it against them. I got to the first guard and sliced his throat with my claws before he could even grasp how close I was to him. I jumped through the air, landing on the shoulders of another. I snapped his neck and let the body fall. I jumped over to the next one before the last guy's body hit the ground. I ducked behind him and dug my claws into his sides, burying my fingers deep into his flesh. I turned him around, just in time for his body to take the shower of bullets from the last guard. I held him in place like a shield as he shook and jolted with each hit. I carried his limp body forward, towards the last guard. As the gun clicked, signalling he was out of ammo, I dropped the body. He was fumbling with his gun, trying to push the new cartridge into place. The scent of his fear, mixed with the blood and gunpowder, it was the most delicious thing I had ever smelled. I laughed out loud as he dropped the cartridge. He then threw the gun to the side and raised his arms in surrender.
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