<strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;">Three blocks west of Simon’s Bull</span></strong><br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;">Cape</span></strong><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;"> Merrin</span></strong><br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;">November 10, 2010</span></strong><br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;"> </span></strong><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;">Larry Cotke’s narrow neck was pinned against a damp brick wall, his face abraded by the rough surface as his cousin held him in place. The hirsute man towered over the smaller, thin man, his face contorted into an animal expression  (http://listsoplenty.com/pix/wp-content/uploads/2010/06/werewolf-man-1.jpg)not possible for a human. His right arm held the smaller man in place and with his humanoid features he announced, <strong>“Good job, Larry. I’ll give you more than usual this time. Just don’t take it all at once again.” </strong>The large creature laughed at some memory, its voice echoing up until it reached a crescendo uncomfortably close to a howl. The muscles of its arm rippled as it held Larry in place against the alley wall and with its other hand dislodged several vials from its own pockets. They contained a red liquid in them and the large creature shoved them into the loose and sagging back pocket of Larry’s scruffy jeans. The thing released Larry, who took off down the alley, deep into the night, nearly hysterical at the score he’d pulled down just out of luck from all those dumbfuck hunters running their mouths at the bar. Thanks to those idiots, he was going to be coasting along on pure high for the next <em>week</em>. He couldn’t fucking believe his luck.</span><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;"> </span><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;">The creature stuck to the shadows but eventually emerged, slightly more human in aspect, and it made several phone calls from one of the ancient and decaying telephone booths that still inexplicably cropped up on Cape Merrin streets despite the proliferation of cellular phones. Moments later it slunk back toward Simon’s Bull, the reek of fetid meat steaming off its oversized teeth as it took up a position in an alley behind the slum bar. It wasn’t much longer before a well-muscled man joined Cotke’s cousin outside the bar; he was dirty, bearded and twigs and leaves were entangled in the nest of his hair. His fingers came to sharp points that one might mistake for claws, unless one got too close, and then one would realize, they were indeed claws. The new arrival crouched down near a sewer drain and began whispering in some unintelligible language.</span><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;"> </span><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;"> </span><br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;">Simon’s Bull, interior</span></strong><br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;">November 10, 2010</span></strong><br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;"> </span></strong><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;">While the struggle between the strangely dressed young woman and the bum went on out front, a few of the people inside Simon’s Bull became aware of an odd noise. A kind of rustling coming from inside the walls of the bar, particularly near air vents.</span>