Werewolf: The Forsaken - Blank It

That bizarre statement set Mark’s head
spinning, but it didn’t paralyze him. He turned
around and took off in the opposite direction.
At about the same time, he heard something
between a curse and a growl, followed by the
sound of metal twisting and crashing. Then
two sets of footsteps were pounding up the
stairs, joined by one more when they reached
the top. Pelting down the street, Mark cut left
into the first alley he could find, his mind buzzing
with primeval terror. Part of him almost
gave up when he saw that the end of the alley
was fenced off, but that part of him wasn’t in
control. Hardly thinking, he scrambled up onto
a nearby dumpster, flung himself up to the top
of the fence and hauled himself over. He tore
his pants and landed heavily, wrenching his
knee and winding up flat on his back. Crawling
to his feet seemed to take an eternity, but the
people chasing had only made it to the mouth
of the alley behind him.
“Get back here before you seriously piss me
off!” the big guy shouted.
Mark elected not to comply and instead
took another left, back toward the parking
deck where his car was waiting. He tried to
ignore the sounds of pursuit, but that became
especially difficult when the pounding footsteps
paused for a long moment, followed by
three loud, meaty thumps before the running
sounds renewed. His pursuers were closing
on him now, on this side of the fence, though
they’d touched neither the dumpster nor the
fence to get there. What was worse, the quality
of the footsteps was changing as they drew
closer. They fell lighter and made a clicking,
scraping noise. And they got a whole lot faster.
Mark whined low in the back of his throat
and tried to speed up, but it was already too
late. Something low and black darted into his
peripheral vision from his left and nipped at his
thigh, making him flinch and stagger. Something
else — something sleeker and auburn-colored
like the girl’s hair on the subway — came
up on his right and tore off his shoe. That
knocked him to his knees, and a heavy impact
across his back drove him down onto his stomach
before whatever had hit him launched off in
another direction. He lay dazed until a hard kick
planted in his ribs, flinging him off the ground
into some trashcans by the wall.
He crashed to the ground and saw the Hispanic
guy glowering down at him, only the guy
didn’t look right somehow. He seemed larger
than Mark had first thought, and his face was
more bestial and angular than it had looked in
fluorescent light. He now had thick sideburns,
his jaw bulged with long teeth, and his eyes
reflected a faint yellow in the low light. He
came toward Mark with a snarl on his face, and
a sleek auburn-colored wolf fell in beside him,
showing its fangs and lifting its tail aggressively.
Mark’s ribs, knee and bandaged hand
burned and his heart was hammering, but he
wasn’t afraid anymore. In fact, a diminishing
part of him marveled to realize, he was getting
Angry.
His teeth were grinding, and he was clenching
his hands so tight he was starting to cut
his palms. The sound of drums pounded
inside his skull, and a haze of red
closed in all around him from the limits
of his vision.
How dare they do this to him?
He didn’t even know them.
“Damn you, boy,” the big man growled as
he drew something long and metallic from beneath
his coat. “We just wanted to talk. Now
maybe we’ll teach you a lesson about…”
Mark’s body burned, like he’d just had
a steel-wool bath. Thunder roared in his
ears, the sound of his heart trying to explode.
The moonlight through the murky
clouds overhead burned his eyes. In
the back of his mouth he could taste
an electric
rAge
that felt older than mankind. It wasn’t just
anger, it was
mORE puRE And mORE pOwerFul.