For all of his life Cole had expectations placed on him, get good grades to excel in school, don’t concern yourself with the likes of hunters. Be a werewolf like his mother or a someone who could channel the ghosts of the past like his father, hell or even someone who could see the future like his uncle. But no all the years of expected and excited glances from both sides of his family that was just what Cole was, normal and mundane. He didn’t have any special gifts and he didn’t have cool form that he could shift into like his mother, he was boring and that fact among so many bothered the shit out of him.
The day that all changed however was the day that he had been in a bar just outside of town, the bar in the forbidden forest was just that forbidden. What that meant was that among anything no normals were allowed in it, they were practically despised in that bar as normals usually meant that the hunters had sunk their dirty do-gooding claws into them; and were promptly run out or killed if they resisted.
Cole was lucky enough to make it past the front door much less to the barstool, however, after a long enough time of simply stirring his drink around looking bored of the whole place as a couple of werewolves in the back played pool shit went down. And when shit did go down, it unsurprisingly wasn’t towards him. Oh no, it was by the guy who had saddled in steel toe boots clicking on the wooden floors as his dark cloak swished behind him like a veil, and with his tattoos that decorated just about every inch of his skin that wasn’t his face barely remained hidden. Cole was almost mesmerized by the sight of the dark scripted names curling on the man’s skin such a contrast to the pale skin, all of the names were different and never in the same script or font as before. There were some that was written in an entirely different language and some written in the languages that he knew of, it left him wondering just why the man had so many names tattooed to his flesh for the rest of his life.
He didn’t have to wonder long, as the sneer or rather sharp toothed snarl from the bartender told him that this man was going to be thrown out very shortly, and as the stout but equally buff bartender puffed out his chest in the usual display of dominance for wolves went moving, from behind the counter he went to accost the man who as it seemed to have come in for a simple drink.
That was the exact second that everything changed, even as old as he was now Cole was only ever able to remember the swift flash of silver before a hasty spray of cerise filled the air. Screams, snarls and roars were the next thing he heard as he remained there frozen at his barstool, all of those sounds shortly followed by the quick thump of the customers’ body as their lives were ended quite shortly.
All of this should have terrified Cole, sent him sprinting for the door or even a window to make his best bet being if he could outrun the strange man; but once again he just sat there an unfamiliar sensation pumping itself through his veins making his body fill with an energetic buzz. He was…excited by such a sight, any normal person would have been frightened or possibly even peed their pants, and yet here he was.
That was until the press of the knife stained with it’s previous victims challenged that feeling, by pressing against his throat as he attempted to take in a deep breath and fill his lungs, and looking up with his awe filled eyes he could see that the assassin was curious; or rather more or less troubled by what he was staring down at.
The man didn’t see a beast and he didn’t see someone that was afraid of him, anyone else would have begged for their life but Cole…Cole just sat there staring back into the killer’s eyes. He almost wanted the young boy to bare his teeth, to snarl and curse at him therefor revealing his fangs to the man. If for anything then to give him an excuse to end him right here and now, but he saw nothing. He saw nothing but the same excitement he had seen in himself as a boy when the time had come for him to pick up the blade and end another’s life, and that alone left him hesitant. If he left the boy the way he was now there was no doubt in his mind that Cole would become a killer, who he would kill the man didn’t know.
The real question was not who but when, when would he kill someone?
In a shop, in town? In the very same woods that this little bar resided in? Or maybe his home, where his family would meet whatever weapon the boy decided to use again them. Be it a bat, a pocket knife, or even a simple thing of rope, the question was not who but when it would happen.
It shocked Cole even more than it already did to see the knife drawn away from his throat, but it shocked him even more to see the hilt of the blade offered to him.
“How…would you like to learn to kill?”
With that very sentence Cole became anything but normal.
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