Nightwatch: Book One, A Werewolf in New York. Chapter One

[Idesin]

This here is a story of mine set in a world i've been working on for some time. It's also the reward for Demona winning the mod/admin's contest.
http://www.furrytofurry.com/furry/member.php?u=53056
http://www.furrytofurry.com/furry/showthread.php?p=2239425#post2239425
Anyways, more to come when I get more free time. I owe editing thansk to Demona/Baddemona and cloudtail, who will also be appearing at one point
http://www.furrytofurry.com/furry/showthread.php?p=2239425#post2239425

As will certain other F2F users and other furs I know *smiles*

also avilable at FA http://www.furaffinity.net/view/1751427/

[Idesin]

There was nothing particularly interesting about the morning of July 24th that should have made it stand out to Patrick any more than any of his other birthdays had. No nightmares the night before with a nightmarish figure telling him of his fate, no wakening to an earth shattering lighting storm to warn him of the impending forces of nature, no premonitions in his cereal, esecialy because it wasn‘t the kind with letters in it.. Nothing at all to disrupt his mind on the day he was going to New York City to celebrate his eighteenth birthday in New York City.
“See You latter Mom!”
“Wait a second, haven’t you forgotten something?” his mother asked, in that tone of hers that said that she knew something he didn’t. She came up from the basement office where she had been working on some of the work she had taken home. She had always been a free spirit, but of late she had been getting a touch more conservative. She wore what Patrick liked to call her ‘mom’ pants - jeans that went up to halfway between her waist and her breast, making her legs look almost twice as long. Coming over to the back door that led out to the garage, she leaned against a doorpost, crossing her arms over each other, her top pulling at itself a bit. “Well?”
“Umm … I have my wallet … watch … phone … map … water bottle … I don’t know what else there is.”
“How about kissing your mother goodbye silly?” She smiled at him, her cheeks showing off her Irish freckles, her brunet hair hanging in front of her face.
“OH!” Dropping his backpack by the door Pat ran over and kissed her on the chin. “Sorry!” He said, dashing back towards the door. “Now I really do have to go, I’ll be late picking the others up!”
“It’s all right sweetie. Just don’t forget that present. Don’t open it up until your on the train back, got it? And don‘t forget, we’re going to Wood‘s tomorrow with the family, so don‘t get home too late.”
Patrick nodded at her, and was out the door in a flash. Sliding into the drivers seat of the Piece o’ crap car his mother had bought for him to use till he got to college, he stared it up and backed out of the driveway, heading for his friends houses to pick them up so they could all get on the express to Grand Central together. He felt his backpack. His mothers present was in there, didn’t feel too big. But she always gave something meaningful, and original. He was just glad she was letting him spend his whole birthday away from the family, it made him glad that he had earned her trust so well over the years.

It was going to be a great day. First, they would grab a ‘real’ breakfast from the McD’s in time square to much on while they stood in line for TKTS, and then they would go to one, two, maybe even three museums! They really had their eye set on the MoMa. A Broadway play to top off the night, with the cherry of taking a quick detour though central park before heading back on the train, all in the company of his two best friends. First on his way was Max. Maxwell was the clown of the group, literally. His father had been a professional stage clown before he settled down, and had taught a lot of what he knew to his eldest son. Sure, sometimes he was a pain in the neck, but Patrick had loved him like a brother since they had met in second grade. Pulling up to his ranch house he didn’t have to wait too long. A cowboy hat held up by spiky, star blond hair walked out, propelled by what looked like the offspring of a spider and a two-by-four. But he was surprisingly strong for his size. A student of the Ag program at their high school, he had seen him carry up to two fifty pound bags of feed in each arm on more than one occasion. Not to mention he was batty as Patrick was. Climbing into the passenger seat, he threw his pack in the back.
“Hi-ho Silver, Awaaaaay!” Chuckling to himself, Patrick put the car back in gear, and they want back down the driveway.
Their next stop was Lisa‘s. She was usually the most levelheaded of the three of them, but they were working on that. Patrick had taken it upon himself to show her how to have fun. She was a foster child. Her father … well, her father was one of the few people in the world that Patrick actively hated. He hd been abusive to her. Not in that way … at least as not as far as Lisa let them know. What they did know however was that he had hurt her, hurt her bad. At one point he had dipped her arms into boiling oil. Her arms and hands were now perpetually cold, almost death-like. You could never sneak up on her either. Living with a father who might come into your room at any time to beat you half to death for no reason, day or night, had given her almost a supernatural ability to know when people were approaching her.. She was strong as well, a fact that Patrick was reminded of as he pulled up to the house. They caught a view of her up in her room, her long, black hair flying out behind her as she delivered a series of kicks and punches to her training dummy. Let it not be said that she had taken being a victim. If they weren’t such good friends, he would be scared by her sometimes. He was absolutely sure that if her father ever tried to track her down, it would not end good for him, if he was even able to survive it. But she flashed a rare smile at them as she spied them out the window. He chucked. She reminded him of Spock sometimes, supremely logical. She was two years younger than them, but had graduated as well. Soon she had thrown her backpack into the back of the car, and slid in next to it.
“Hey, thanks for taking me along”
“You kidding?” Patrick said with a laugh. “We’re bringing you along for protection. Anybody tries to mug us, there going to end up on the ground thanks to you.” He and Max laughed, she just stared with stony silence. They were trying, but it’s hard to give somebody a carefree attitude after something like that happened. Just the mere fact that she was going with them though spoke volumes about how far she had come. He smiled at them. He wasn’t used to having such good friends. If it hadn’t been for the fact that he had sensed they were outsiders, like himself, then he probably wouldn’t have known that feeling. That wasn’t to say he had no friends. He was ‘friends’ with almost everybody in school, but it didn’t extend far beyond the ability to strike a conversation with them or sit with them at lunch. Coming to a red light, he looked in the rear view mirror, smiling at them.

“My Friends, I give you … Grand Central Station!” he exclaimed, flinging his arm into the air to gesture at the large, start studded ceiling of the terminal. It had been an uneventful ride up. They had gotten into an interesting discussion about where they were going for college. They weren’t going that far from each other, but they knew that this marked a turning point in their friendships. But with the internet and vacations, they figured they didn‘t have that much to worry about. They had given him his presents on the train. Max had given him a collection of his new favorite graphic novel, Fable. Lisa had given him a gift certificate to the place where she did her sword training. She knew that he had been looking at those nice shiny pointed swords for sometime. They really were good friends. Now it was his time to show off. Neither of them had been to NYC before, Though he was no expert, he had been there several times, and knew his way around. He smiled, seeing their stunned faces at seeing . “Told you it was cool.” He smiled, his two friends looking stunned at the real size of all of it as they came up the stairs.. Max’s mouth was actually hanging open.
“Boy-howdy, it really is big, yessire!” he said in a thick Texan drawl
“Max, stop that, or somebody might think you’re really from the south.” Lisa said, her skirt ruffling around her stockings as she came up the stairs. Punching him softly in the shoulder, she looked around. “Wow … a lot cleaner than I would have though.”
“Tip top govner, where to next?” Max said, shifting into another one of the many accents on his repertoire. He was endlessly entertaining that way. You could get him to have almost any accent from almost any English speaking era. He couldn’t count the number of times he had received prank phone calls from him, but he kept falling for them.
“Well, first we go outside. Hopefully it’s not too hot out.” Patrick told his friends. “Come on, as long as were back by one in the morning, we can still catch the express back.” Grabbing a time table flyer from the central help desk, they headed out to fifth avenue, heading up towards the center of the world, time square. Still, there was no foreshadowing of what was to come.

[Idesin]

The day went by in a pleasurable blur. They didn’t realize how long it would take in the museums, but they enjoyed them as much as they could. The Museum of natural history was less exciting than he remember it, but it was fun none the less. The museum itself was almost a museum of the science of the late 18th, early 19th century. The dinosaur bones and the exhibits on native peoples were interesting, as well as the ’halls of Africa’ and ’halls of Asia’ and all that. It was interesting seeing all the stuffed animals that had been there for longer than any of the visitors. Max took the Camera from him and snapped off shops of each and every exhibit, trying to get it to look like they had actually been out and seen all those animals. Patrick didn’t mind too much, but if XXX hadn’t started physically pulling him down though the exhibits they probably wouldn’t have made it out of there before the museum closed. He was a bit disappointed to find the rose center, the astronomy part of the museum, was far less maintained now than it was when he first visited it several years ago. But that was to be expected. Exposed digital plates that you were supposed to stand on don’t age as well as preserved specimens behind glass in a climate controlled environment.
After leaving, they start4ed back down, heading for MoMa. Unfortunately, it appeared that this particular museum was closed on Tuesdays. Something that small couldn’t get them down however. Shrugging it off, they began looking for someplace to grab a bite to eat. Grabbing some Gyro’s from a street corner vender they sat down on some stone benches outside a large office building. People watching, they could see a whole cross section of the world pass them by. Punks, emos, suits, obvious tourist, hipsters, hipster suits, even somebody they were convinced was in the mob. Throwing out their mayonnaise covered tinfoil, they decided to head over to St. Patrick’s cathedral, on the insistence of Max, and the quite agreement of Lisa for Patrick’s birthday. Though he was agnostic, he did enjoy the church as a piece of art, and of culture, and for history. Walking though the aisles, they quietly and reverently observed the cathedral. Patrick was pretty sure that Lisa had threatened Max with bodily harm should he act like his normal self. Interestingly, they found a section of the church that was donated by somebody who shared his last name. However, there had to have been plenty of Glackens back then.
However, it was their next stop that really was the highlight of the day for them. It was a shop that his uncle had discovered when he had lived in the city for a summer. It was called “Forbidden Planet”, and it was geek heaven as far as Patrick was concerned. It housed all sorts of comic books, collections of comic books, collectibles, replicas, packets of trading cards, boxes of trading cards, T-shirts that only geeks would get, costumes, weapons, even cookbooks from the best sci-fi shows. Patrick knew he was going to love it, but he was surprised by how strongly his friends responded to it. Max, not surprisingly, was mooning over all the superman merchandise, from the modern stuff in the last movie to the antique toys of the 1930’s. What did surprise him though was how Lisa’s initial indifference was replaced by her joy of finding a omnibus of Xena comics. She tried to hide it from Patrick, but she eventually relented and let him talk her into buying it. They lost all track of time there, and they barely had time to purchases what they had found before rushing out to the theater.
A few hours latter they came walking wearily out of the Diamondway theater, laughing and being silly with each other, even Lisa to a small extent. They had gotten some O.K. seats, but they were a steal for what they got them for. Heck, they could see the actors, hear the music, and got to watch a Broadway play, what else could be better? But it was over now, time for the post-performance review.
“Wow! What an awesome show! I mean, a full ten out of ten from me!” Max declared.
“Most defiantly, no wonder it’s got the record for making it’s investment cost back in the least amount of time. I love stuff like that, taking a new view at old, accepted stories.” Patrick added.
“All I know is that if you guys start singing any of the songs and dancing around like a pair of idiots, I am going to hurt you, understand?” Lisa warned. Patrick and Max knew they shouldn’t, but they immediately broke into the girlish of the song, laughing as they ran down the street, daring her to chase them. Breathlessly Patrick took a sharp turn down the first street he came to. He was swept up in the tide of theater patrons exiting their shows, searching for a good café to go dink coffee at and try to look intelligent in. Flowing with them, he tried not to jostle the wrong people, those who felt that theater should only be for the super snotty. It was only when he reached the end of the block that he realized that neither of his friends were behind him. He gulped to himself silently. He had lost his friends in the middle of New York City. His immediate reaction was to panic, but not for himself, it was for his friends. Though they had had a good day together, neither one of them had ever been to the city before, and to be frank he considered them a bit naïve of some of the social norms of the people here. He was especially worried about Max who he could see trying to talk with people on the subway. As he almost got ran over by a messenger bike his mind finally kicked in. The first thing he had to do was to make sure that he wasn’t going to get into trouuble, which meant getting out of the way. Spying an alcove next to a restaurant he made his way over to it. Ducking in he took out his phone, which he had turned off during the performance. As he saw the screen glow to life he was greeted with one final ‘beep-beep’ before it died on him. He quietly swore to himself, and then started back down the block. Hopefully they hadn’t gone too far, maybe they were waiting for him under the marquee of the theater. By the time he had gotten back though the area was open enough that he could see that this wasn’t the case. He kicked at the ground. Had they not noticed he was gone? He looked left and right. No sign of running feet. Unconsciously stroking his backpack straps, he began walking down in the direction they must have run in. Perhaps they had already gone on the park, assuming he was already there? It was their next stop, it would make sense …
As he walked, he began to feel nervous. Intellectually, he knew that the city was actually very safe, as long as one didn’t go sticking their nose where it didn’t belong, but his heart was hammering just the same. All by himself, no cell phone … he knew it was a recipe for disaster. But he was even more worried about his friends, so he pushed on till he reached Columbus circle. He looked around. He wasn’t quite sure what he should be looking for. Just as he was thinking of going back to the theater, he nearly doubled over with pain. It felt like something was burning deep in his gut! Had it really been that long since he went to the bathroom? As the pain pass, he jogged over to the map of the park. Thankfully it seemed there was a bathroom not too far into the park that he could use. The night was already dark, despite being summer, and as he made his way into the shade of the trees, it got even darker. Now he knew this was stupid, alone, from out of town, walking though central park. But when your body is telling you that there is something inside of you that had to get out, you listened to it, or the counsequences wouldn’t be too pretty.

[Idesin]

However, as he walked down the path, something caught his eye. There was a girl … no, a woman, lying partially hidden under a bush, wrapped in some sort of long coat. She must have been homeless. Next to her was a wrapper from a fast food restaurant, and it seemed everything she owed was right there with her, down to a small, tattered teddy bear. He knew all the rational behind not giving money to people like this, in fact, he had had passed several others thought the day. But something struck a cord with him, she looked about as old as he was. He couldn’t see her face, but her long hair was messy, and her skin was cut in far too many places. Looking around quickly, he pulled out his wallet. He knew that, not having an income himself, he didn’t have much to give, but he had a lot more that she did. Pulling one twenty out he looked at it. He then pulled out a another, and then the last of his three twenties, and he looked at them. This was wrong. How could he enjoy his birthday, spending all that money on himself, all that excess on things that didn’t really matter, while out here there were people with nothing. Taking all of his money out of his wallet, all of his bills and all of the change, he pushed it into a fold of her jacket. “Happy birthday to me.” He wisped to himself as he walked away. Ash he did so it hit him that It was the best thing he had gotten for his birthday. The chance to help somebody else out. The chance to make a difference, however small, in somebody else’s life.

Several minutes latter he exited the bathroom. It hadn’t been half as bad as he expected it to be, there was paper on the roles, seats on the toilets, the water wasn’t brown, and there was a distinct lack of rotting organic matter, which made it one of the better public bathrooms he had been to. He was beginning to feel that things should be looking up, after getting the positive sign of a good bathroom. However, what he ran into as he left more than made up for it. Making his way back up the path, he decided the safest, if not the quickest, way of dealing with this problem of missing friends was simply to head back to Grand Central. Perhaps he might even find a payphone before he got there. He was pretty sure he could remember Max’s cell number at least. Looking down at his pants as he climbed up an incline, trying to fish around for the two quarters it would, hopefully, take to make a call, he didn’t realize that he had walked off the path. Suddenly he found himself on the ground, his face buried in the ground. Hearing a low laughing above him, he quickly turned himself over, and began scooting backwards.
“My my, what have we here? Some little idiot from out of town? Didn’t you mother tell you it wasn’t smart to walk alone outside after dark? Especially though the park, who knows what kind of degenerates hang out there.”
Patrick’s eyes went wide. There, standing above him, were tree large guys, clothed in big black hoodies that hid their face form him. He didn’t see any weapons, yet. But still, he was scared, this was exactly why he didn’t want to walk around Ney York by himself.
“All right, hand it over kid. Your watch, wallet, cell phone, that backpack of yours, everything.” He would have gladly obeyed immediately. It wasn’t like any of his presents or souvenirs he bought weren’t replicable, and none of them were worth his life. But there was one thing. His mothers gift. He knew it had to be something special, something home-made and one-of-a-kind. Trying to back himself up more, he found himself with his back to a tree. Taking his backpack off slowly , he began to unzip it.
“Hey, what the FUCK do you think your doing?” The thug to the left said, kicking him in the side. “Don’t even think about going for a piece. Just hand your backpack over, and nobody will get hurt.” he said, his voice rough, like a smokers. It was aggressive, but also contained a hint of fear.
“Sorry, it’s just … There’s something very personal to me in there. I promise, it’s not expensive, and it’s defiantly not a gun.” he said, wheezing out from the kick to his side. A life of avoiding any kind of conflict had left him a very nice guy, but it also left him one that wasn’t quite prepared to receive violence.
“Too fucking bad your not the one calling the shots are ya, you little wimp.” The thug to the left said. Suddenly there was a thwack, and the thug stumbled backwards.
“Yo, leave the kid alone.” Suddenly there appeared a figure out of the bushes. She had to have been at least six feet tall, if not more, with long shaggy hair. Her voice was smooth, like chocolate. Though her cloths were ragged, whoever it was still looked bad ass in them. Gloves with spikes, A long trench coat, and combat boots. “You all right?” Turning towards Patrick the figure extended a hand, helping him up. She smiled at him. There was something familiar about him. “Figured since the universe gave me a chance to pay ya back …” Patrick nearly fell back over again. It was that homeless women who he had given the money to! Wow, so that’s what insta-karma feels like! Unfortunately, it didn’t seem like it was going to last much longer.
“I’m sick of your shit Demmora, pushing in where you don’t belong. This is our territory!”
“You and what fucking army dirt bag? All I see here is three wana-be gangster who’ve never know what a tough life really is. You want to fuck with me? Do you really want to fuck with me!? Bring it mother fucker, I’ve got nothing to loose!”
“Maybe you don’t ya cunt, but your boyfriend sure does.” Before anybody could react, the thug in the middle had trusted forward, a knife seemingly appearing from nowhere in his hand. Patrick suddenly felt like his stomach had been pierced by an icicle, the strange feeling of an icy invader in his gut freezing him mid-yell. Looking down, he saw the knife sticking out of him, seemingly unreal. How could this happen? Lightly, he touched it, following it’s handle down into his body. The world seemed to stop, grow quite. His eyes slowly closed, he felt like he was falling into a deep sleep. He knew he should fight it, he shouldn’t give in so easily to death, he had so much to live for … but it just felt soooo good to just … go to sleep. Even as he slumped to the ground, the short grass and rough dirt felt like the softest mattress he had ever felt. Closing his eyes, he could see the light. A sense of peace washed over him. He could feel himself slowly leaving his body as his blood was. He was dieing, and it didn’t feel too bad

But there was a sudden, wrenching pain in his gut, a hot, searing, burning sensation that only grew and grew. His eyes snapped open as the cacophony of the sounds of the world came slamming back into him. His head felt like it had been host to a concert of the New York Orchestra playing a rousing edition of the 1812 overture with real cannons. Even in the dark of the night he could make out every last dry, dead leaf in front of his face, he could smell the blood that was coating his chest. His ears were filled with the blaring of taxies, the ravings of a crazy man a few hedges over … and the muffled screams of Dem as the three thugs attacked her! He must have been out for a while he realized, for he had been shoved himself to the side under a bush he could see two of the thugs holding Dem’s arms back against a tree, while the third, the one who stabbed him had already pulled her pants down and was now fumbling with his own pants. He couldn’t let this happened, but what could he do? Reaching out an arm towards her, he herd a rip, and a pop, and then he knew no more.

[Baddemona]

damn it. It wont let me rep you. This is top stuff. Why have you not written a book??
your awesome.

[Howlinger]

*Scans the story, and quickly slams his paws on the table.* This is an out rage. How can there be a werewolf story with out ME in it? *Laughs* I'm kidding. I'm loving the story so far Idesin... even though it dosent have me in it. *Cough* I look forward to reading more of it.

[Tacomaster]

But there was a sudden, wrenching pain in his gut, a hot, searing, burning sensation that only grew and grew. His eyes snapped open as the cacophony of the sounds of the world came slamming back into him. His head felt like it had been host to a concert of the New York Orchestra playing a rousing edition of the 1812 overture with real cannons. Even in the dark of the night he could make out every last dry, dead leaf in front of his face, he could smell the blood that was coating his chest. This INSTANTLY reminded me of the dialogue in the Max Payne games. http://en.wikiquote.org/wiki/Max_Payne_2:_The_Fall_of_Max_Payne The "dick justice" quotes are so good. Nice work on this though, my man.

[pinksnake]

Beautifully intriguing story. You should be very proud. Puff it out.