Black Aura Awakening

"Yesterday," a voice from a speaker tells, "the streets were filled and minted with joy. But today, well today's different. The streets have grown scanty, for what once intrigued them as mere myth, lacking the ability to touch them, has unveiled itself in their reality, now with the full capacity to grip them where it please. Who invented the term werewolf? What led to its novelty?

Are our minds extremely creative as they say? Or are we being deceived? For the mind, in its own right, feeds on what's real to fabricate fiction. If so, then what is fiction, and what is nonfiction? Is it a term designed to make us imagine our world as a much safer space? Why else do our parents tell us to stay away from forests and bushes? Nonetheless, it all doesn't matter now, werewolves are real.

So when next you go to the market, take heed, stay on guard, for the man standing next to you, trying to act as nice as possible, might be a werewolf. Forbid your arms on this day for they will do you no good, employ only your legs, for that, that only might save you some time before you doom connects." Fredrick turns off the speaker.

"They know about us," He tells a gathering of werewolves angrily, everything about his aura supporting the notion that they should fight.

Besides him is Megan and Elsa standing in front of two whole pack of werewolves, as they focus on Herod who stands on a stage.

"For a man who caused the escape of the one man who knew our secrets, you seem a bit bold," Megan mocks Fredrick.

"If there's anyone we should blame it's the Chief's daughter, she had a chance to finish him and she didn't," Fredrick defends himself.

Herod's body quickly reacts mainly to change the topic, "Who made the podcast?"

"Charon," Fredrick calls out his beta.

Charon, a gentleman in his 20s, struggles out the crowd of werewolves. "Chief, it was created by a private detective. I believe he goes by the name Kareem."

"Charon, you lead the warriors in your pack, I want him and the podcast exterminated immediately," Herod commands.

"Chief, with all due respect we ain't going anywhere without our alpha," Charon denies the request.

"It's okay Charon, you lead the warriors. I have some equally important matters to handle," Fredrick pats Charon's shoulder holding a bad smile up.

"Then we've set our priorities, now go and restore back our secrecy. Make them believe we're mythical creatures once more," Herod turns towards the crowd. "We're safe for now brethren, but we must stay up with a watchful eye. A war comes either way, we can only but delay it."

Herod gestures a man standing aside the crowd, Kevan. The man nods his head and walks away.

...Police Station

Jake sits by a desk opposite the chief's chair no doubt waiting for him. He's back in his overated fashion outfits and looks more healthy now. He sits in a calm state.

In a minute Chief Gilbert enters the room as soon as Jake sights him he stands up in salute. "Chief, I'm sorry for reporting late."

"Jake, I heard you were sick," The chief takes off his coat and hangs it to the wall.

"Sir it wasn't a mere illness, Jackson's more powerful than we give him credit for. They have a drug that can null all our powers," Jake reports.

"You were drugged Jake. For someone who's never taken hard drugs before it might seem unusual," chief Gilbert shifts his chair out and takes a seat.

"Sir," Jake breathes heavily. "He's working with Werew's..."

"A squadron of Sainties are on their way to decimate the cartel as we speak," Gilbert interrupts. "And as for the creatures, their hideout is not yet known. At the mean time," The commander hands Jake a paper, "I reckon you take The Hardcore Program. We'd need a pair of well trained hands to handle what's coming. You may dismiss."

Jake stands up and walks towards the door.

"Jake," the chief calls out. "They killed a blacky...It's been years since a blacky died on duty." He takes a brief pause staring at Jake like he was his own son. "Don't play around."

"I understand chief," Jake affirms.

"Dismiss."

He goes out the door and walks through the building heading to the exit. The room is full of analysts and hackers all on their computers like a normal police station would look like.

On the other hand are the cops, some of them chilling, others working on their desk and most of them discussing.

He waves at a few of them then exits the station walking across the road in hasty steps. A certain symbol can be observed around the buildings and every other structure in the city, a triangle in a circle. The symbol is almost at every conner, on many skyscrapers and on the large tv screens. It's the Voodoo symbol of fire.

Jake continues his journey towards a garage underground a skyscraper. He passes by two homeless people reading newspapers and ventures deeper, or should I say two spies hiding behind newspapers.

The spies take the newspapers off their faces revealing Frederick and a another werewolf, Watson.

"That's him," Fredrick briefs Watson.

"I feel like tearing him out right away," Watson grides his fangs.

"Don't do anything reckless," Fredrick warns. "We'd have a lot of time to shew him up."

Jake walks pass a suited man leaving the garage on foot and meets a dim and quiet scene. Being scared is of no use, this garage is mostly almost empty of people though filled with cars, and one general knowledge is that it's always dim.

Jake walks through the passages each car creates making his way to his Jeep. Some metres behind him are Fredrick ad his man Watson, following him closely and stealthily. The garage is quiet, the moon god has answered their prayers. They hide behind cars sneaking up to him, gradually.

Still now Jake hasn't noticed that he was being followed and as usual his mind has communed with the idea of relaxation. He doesn't expect an attack in the city, at least not this big of an attack, it's way too uncommon for him.

He opens the driver's door of his Jeep and shuts it behind him as he gets in. Fredrick puts his hand on Watson's chest, gesturing him to stop. Then he quickly slides up to Jake's Jeep, in the same motion he grabs the door's handle and pulls it slightly.

Before he could open it wildly a vehicle drives into the garage. He sneaks back into hiding. This wasn't just any vehicle, it was a van full of Saint Soldiers. They steer the SUV to the role where the other police vehicles are packed.

Jake stares at his suddenly automated door for a while but then the negative aura a van full of saint soldiers emit distracts his attention. He waves them and drives away.

...Brown's House

Brown sits on a car outside the forcefield that engulfs their house, throwing his legs back and forth the car in boredom. After a small minute he sights a car climbing up the hills coming towards him. He just stares at it with no shift of emotions or shredded concerns.

As it comes closer, Brown recognizes it and squints his eyes in disbelieve. It speeds up to him dodging some small stones and halts by him. Jake opens the door and comes out of the car in slow motion, hoping to give off an impressive look.

"Jake." Brown calls out to him, dully. "You're back already. You didn't even give me time to miss you properly."

"You ruined it," Jake shuts his door and jumps on his car with his butt. Yeah, he's sitting on it.

"Ruined what?" Brown is confused. "Oh that pose. I'd like to see you get a girlfriend with it."

"You're back with that girlfriend talk again? Anyways...I meant someone...on the mission." Jake's transfixed at empty air.

Brown watches him for a while wearing a surprised face. "Tell me about it."

"First of all, I met a dude who was three feets tall," Jake changes the mood into a more energetic rather than emotional one.

"Three feets tall?" Brown expresses surprise. "That's three feets short. You don't say tall. Why're you telling me about him though?"

Jake balances himself on the car, "Cause he died shortly."

"Oh," Brown laughs hard. "Died shortly uh."

Jake Chuckles. "I met a girl though. She was so beautiful," Jake's mood builds into seriousness. "Probably the most beautiful girl I've ever seen."

"Dude you sure you've seen Anna? Imma let you had that one though. For now." He gets back to a relaxed state, "Continue."

"She was so unimaginable, like an angel," the wind dances before Jake's eyes as the last of the words leaves his mouth. He can see Elsa walking towards him in majestic fashion. She swings her hair to one side, with some lovely pixies flying around it.

Then she offers him a hand. He reaches out to take it but his hand grabs nothing, just hanging there in mid-air.

Even Brown jumps down from his in bewilderment and approaches Jake slowly like he's attempting to catch a thief from behind. He gets close to him and sits on the ground to watch him closely. His eyes widened out, stretching to all lengths.

Jake knocks back to a conscious state with confusion vividly shown on his face. He sights Brown's wildly open eyes and also caught attention of his stretched out hand. In pretense he begins to feel the air with his stretched out arm like that's what he intended on doing all this time. "The oxygen, it's so exquisite."

"No dude, no!" Brown staggers to stand up from the field still in total shock. "What were you doing?" He speaks in a soft obviously exhausted pin voice.

"I-Umm," Jake mutters for words but then he figures something out. "What I always do at this time of the day. I feel the oxygen I breathe." He tells trying to sound as much wise as possible.

"It's 4pm. We always hang out at 4pm and dude!!!" Brown exclaims. "You never do that."

Jake is out of words and decides to shut up. Brown joins him on his Jeep, both of them equally surprised and silent as well.

After the passage of a couple seconds Brown breaks the silence. "What's her name?"

"Elsa," Jake answers in the same manner Brown asked the question, dully.

"Wow," Brown exclaims still in a dull state. "So your in love now huh?" He takes a brief pause. "I'm happy for you."

"I'll probably never see her again," Jake laments.

"Why's that?"

"She's a..." Jake pauses briefly to consider whether or not to tell him. "She's a werewolf."

"Oh my god. You're in love with a werewolf?" Brown's energy is suddenly pumped up, he jumps off the car. "We gotta find her."

"What?" Jake asks in perplexity. A normal person would forbid him sharply.

"Every generation has their society rules. In this case, first it was no white and black marriage. Now it's bout to be werewolves. We're gonna make you different..."

"You and your science of new things. Look, it's not bout all that?" Jake interrupts.

Meanwhile Fredrick and Watson hide behind a hill in front of them.

"They're talking about Elsa." Fredrick whispers to Watson.

"How can you tell?"

"I've seen the way she looks at this human. I swear to kill him myself," Fredrick utters in rage.

On the other hand, Brown closes up to Jake who sits on the Jeep. "Then what? What's it about? Werewolves don't have vaginas?" He widens his eyes at him. "Tell me."

"I'm a soldier," Jake jumps down from his Jeep. "It says duty first remember? And right now duty says killing werewolves," Jake explains.

"Fuck duty," Brown cusses. "Anyone can be wrong. Why does it always have to be a war? We haven't even had a conversation with any of them. And at first sight, we just decide they're enemies."

"So what're you saying? The werewolves are just gonna be nice to us?" Jake questions Brown still sitting on his car.

"All I'm saying is..."

From nowhere a giant wolf dives for Jake, the sight of him interrupts Brown's speech.

"Watson, not yet" Fredrick's voice echoes.

Brown's guard dives for the wolf in mid-air, cutting his head off with his dark flames molded into katanas. Jake throws off his snapback cap in near regret. He didn't see it coming. What would have happened if the guard wasn't there?

Brown's guard stands beside him as still as stone. No smiles, white eyes.

"Goddammit, I almost died," Brown feels his body with his hands. "Thank you," He appreciates his bodyguard who stands as still as ice.

Now Jake is alert, he goes round and checks all around the hill. There's no one else. He walks back to Brown still expressing regret for his mistake in his heart.

"I gotta go back to base. I think peace won't do us any good here, Brown," Jake counters the lectures.

In the same instance, his phone rings. "Chief," Jake answers the phone.

On the other end is Gilbert. "Return to base soldier, it's raining werewolves. Our armies who were sent to decimate the cartel have been slaughtered. The federal government is gathering soldiers," The chief informs Jake. "We're on the edge of war."