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A/N - Before you read this story, I highly recommend you read Two Worlds Collide. This is a continuation of that piece. This piece does involve moderate violence and death. All characters & locations fictional. As always, I welcome any comments or thoughts. And without any further interruption from me, I present...

Preying on the Past

Chapter 1 - Bridging Two Worlds

Who has fully realized that history is not contained in thick books but lives in our very blood? - Carl Jung

Thompson State Park

New London, NH

August 6, 2012

'Life is perfect.'

For the last few months, those had been my first thoughts upon waking, and today was no different. The sun had just started to peek over the White Mountains, showering the wooded glade where I lay in that beautiful first light of dawn. As a small, satisfied smile crept over my muzzle, I felt a most curious sensation to my left ear, the sharp, invigorating sensation of nibbling from beside me.

Tilting my head ever so slightly, I saw my mate beside me, bathed in the beautiful light in the clearing. Her chestnut fur glistened in the dewy morn as she groaned in her sleep, her incisors working at my ear, a habit that, while different, I wasn't complaining about. Nuzzling her neck, enjoying her delicious scent, I was rewarded by a louder groan as her captivating amber eyes fluttered open. With an impish grin crossing my face, I let my long, pink tongue snake out of my muzzle and lap across her nose lovingly.

"Amy," I whispered, "I can get breakfast if you are that hungry." At my snide whisper, a flare of pain shot out of my ear as she nipped me. A short yelp left my muzzle as I jerked forward, causing the other four Lycans around us to stir. Jerking my head to face her, I playfully reciprocated her interest, jaws trying to capture her ears as they sleepily twitched away from my grasp, a Puckish grin on her face as I followed her toying, finally capturing the thin skin of those lovely ears between my teeth, nibbling gently.

"Time to wake up, you two," I breathily whispered in her ear, satisfied that she had learned her lesson...at least for the next few minutes. A small snarling groan of disagreement escaped her lips, but I had my own morning rituals, and her...disagreement with mornings was usually the start of it.

"I'll be back for you in a bit," I mock growled at her. My paw gently reached down, caressing the gravid belly of my mate. My soft touch was met by a soft thump as my son greeted me as well. That feeling made me swell with both fear and pride...pride that I had made that, but fear that I wasn't going to be worthy of the gift of both my amazing mate and a new son. Pushing those emotions from the forefront of my thoughts, I rolled away from my mate, her quiet groans telegraphing her displeasure with my absence.

In my peripheral vision, I saw my companions starting to rouse. Enjoying the cool summer morning, I started towards the hidden parking lot where David and I had parked our trucks a few nights before. The cool breezes ruffled my fur, a sensation that I still was not used to, even after having this form for almost a full year. The feeling of...wholeness that these morning walks infused me with just could not be described, even if that wholeness was marred by the lack of the presence of my mate on this morn.

Reaching the lot, I grabbed the one food staple that my body craved. That deer from last night was...amazing, the taste of the meat still almost dancing on my tongue, but as I popped the latch on the black Suburban parked in the lot I was bathed in the delicious scent of my greatest weakness. Even the metal and plastic container couldn't hold in that strong, delicious aroma.

Opening the small container and smiling as I inhaled the intoxicating aroma of the brown grounds, I quickly set about making my morning dose of coffee. I had learned a long time ago that if I didn't have my caffeine, well, I became the Mr. Hyde of legend. After my rebirth, so to speak, I had learned real quick that even if I was a normally stable man 99% of the time, without my morning fix, I was real grumpy, and grumpiness was bad when you were a Lycan.

As the coffee maker brewed the black, bitter elixir of life, I caught the sound and scent of someone coming up behind me. The flickering wind only blew enough scent my way to tell me that I was being stalked by a Lycan, but couldn't tell me who. I calmly turned around, finding my mother quietly stepping out of the forest, having apparently followed me on my short sojourn through the woods.

"Have enough for two cups? We need to talk."

Nodding silently and turning and digging through the rear hatch for another coffee mug, I heard the soft footfalls closing on me as she padded to me. As she approached, I poured the black liquid into the two mugs, offering her one mug of the steaming liquid in a night black paw as she reached me.

"Mike, I need a favor."

I merely raised an eyebrow at her quizzically, suppressing the urge to tilt my head as I silently sniffed at my mug, lips curling up in a satisfied smile at the aroma. I simply waited for my mother to continue with her favor. I had learned long ago that when someone asked a favor, the best response was typically to let them explain the favor first, and go from there.

"Mike, I've been doing some research on our family tree. There are no Lycans in our family history until us. I've even used the Lycan's records, and there's no Lycan blood in either of us. If that's true, every bit of research that any of the Lycan biologists have been able to learn about the cause of the Lycan's ability to shift, well, it says that what happened to you and I is completely impossible."

I was inclined to believe her. If she had used the Lycan records, that was as good a confirmation as we could find that there wasn't any Lycan blood in us. The Lycan records rivaled those of the Mormons for their breadth and completeness.

"Well, apparently they are wrong," I remarked, idly regarding the paw holding my mug as I lapped at the steaming black liquid, mildly amused as I always was at the ease and automaticity of the motion.

"No, Mike. I think we were wrong."

"Huh?" was my only reply as I was surprised enough to allow the canine instincts to come to the fore as I quizzically cocked my head, the confusion rolling through my mind plainly evident on my face.

"Mike, The only explanation that makes any sense is that there was some Lycan blood in our family tree. It has to be on my side, but I can't find anything. There's not even any information that the Lycans have, and their genealogical records rival that of the Mormons. Then I remembered an old safety deposit box that your father had taken out at the bank in town. He always said that it was...What were the words....? Oh... 'Ancient history I didn't need to see.'"

I nodded in understanding. "So, you need me to clean out that safety deposit box." It was a statement, not a question and she fidgeted with the black strap on her wrist. I recognized it as common method used by Lycans to carry critical items such as ID's or housekeys. I actually had one on my own wrist, the black cloth matching my fur. Extracting a small brass key, my mother offered it to me and I slid it into my own in a small pocket behind my obscured brass shield. "I need to stop by the bank later, anyway."

Finishing my coffee, I took both mugs and put them back in the truck, emptying out the pot and locking up the truck, shouldering a black duffle bag before I left. The sun had risen just a little higher, starting to burn off the dew of the morning. Both of us just walked back to the grove where we had spent the night, the sights, scents and sounds of the early morning forest all around us and the feeling of serenity that we could almost feel washing over us. I had always preferred the water to the forest, but over the past few months I had grown to appreciate the surroundings when I was out here even more than I had when I was growing up.

As I came closer to the clearing, I heard the sound of roughhousing and laughter, undoubtedly signaling another bout between David and Sarah. Reaching a small fork in the barely discernable path we were following, I started down the path away from the glade where we had slept and where the commotion was coming from. As I started down the path, I felt a jerk on my shoulder.

"Camp's that-a-way," came my mother's growling voice, her white arm pointing down the opposite path. I knew that, but I wasn't heading back to camp just yet.

"I know, but I'm not going back yet. It's a perfect morning for a swim." It had been a while since I had had the opportunity to swim, so I had been sneaking away for a short swim every morning after I had my coffee. It was odd. None of the other Lycans were interested in accompanying me, either for coffee or for the swim, but I just chalked it up to preference for being in the woods since that's how they grew up and what they had always known.

Reaching the lake and dropping the duffle bag near the shoreline, hearing the gentle lapping of the waves and the sounds of the forest overlapping the quiet water. I shuddered slightly as I stepped into the cool water, feeling the ever-strange sensation of water freely flowing through my fur. Something deep within me shuddered at the sensation, but a familiar feeling of freedom filled me as I started a powerful forward crawl through the still water. The sound of my strokes filled the fog still slowly rising off the lake.

As I continued my laps, I let my mind drift away, the only thoughts passing through it those controlling the rhythmic strokes of my arms and legs as I pushed myself through the water. Sometimes it was just nice to be alone...to feel as if you had the whole world to yourself. The minutes swept past, the world disappearing as they did with only my steady breathing and the rhythmic striking of my paws on the water as I continued to run my laps in the large lake, time immaterial as I continued my self-appointed rounds in the lake. Finally reaching my goal for that morning, I started toward the rocky shoreline. As I approached the shore, I consciously started to try to pull the wolf back from the forefront of my body.

I had never been able to explain it, but even after I had been shifting at least once a month for the past eight months, typically even more than that when I managed to spend weekends at home and get out with Amy, the shift was still uncomfortable at best in either direction. That strange mix of the heat of a changing pelt, the cracking pain of a face erupting into a powerful muzzle...or vice versa, and the churning within my guts as they rearranged themselves within my core would diminish, but would never go away. I had found, completely by accident, long ago that if I was in the water, be it the shower, a river or a lake, the pain almost disappeared. The only sensation that could really be described was the feeling of relief at the change...something that I never experienced when shifting dry.

I emerged from the water dripping wet, but as "human" as I would ever be again. Pulling a towel from my duffel, I quickly started to dry myself off. It was a little off-putting when I realized how cold the air felt to me without a thick pelt of fur, just another reminder of how much the past year had affected my life. Feeling the chill of the cool morning and the rough scraping rocks underfoot, I quickly dressed in a pair of jeans and boots. As I was stooping to scoop up my tee shirt from the duffle bag, I caught the quiet scuffle of scattering rocks.

As I was trying to straighten up and turn to face my stalker, I was ambushed from behind.

As adrenaline surged within me, I started to try and release those two powerful palms that were gripping my biceps. As my attacker and I danced on the beach, the wind shifted just enough that my attacker's musk blew across my face. Recognizing the scent, I slowed my struggle just a little bit as my attacker leveraged herself onto my back, legs grasping around my chest. Sometimes you have to let them win. Darkness enveloped me as a pair of paws covered my eyes and I felt and heard a cold nose snuffling along my neck.

"You smell like wet wolf! Yuck!" The pup's laughter filled the glade and I jostled her on my back, wrapping one arm around her leg while the other swept down to the ground to grab my duffle bag and tee shirt.

With a giggling pup astride my back, I quickly walked back to the small glade where everyone was stretching out the kinks of sleep from the night before. With a heave, I pulled a squirming pup off my shoulder and put her on the ground, eyes scanning the glade searching for my brown wolf as I felt a heavy weight fall on my shoulder.

"Morning, Mike," Came David's low voice. "Amy'll be back in a minute. Does she always take that long to wake up?"

"Nope," I answered simply as I turned to face my still wolven friend, a lopsided smirk on my face. "Usually even longer. Why do you think I go for a swim every morning?" That clawed paw still on my shoulder tightened for just a moment, not enough to be overly painful, but definitely noticeable for that split second. "You OK?"

"Sorry. Habit. Never been a huge fan of water. Most Lycans aren't."

I simply cocked an eyebrow again, hoping to get a more complete answer. This was new to me. I'd always thought wolves had to deal with water in the wild and that the Lycans were the same.

"Don't know why, but born Lycans typically can't stand the water...It's just the way we are, I guess. I...we deal with streams or rain just like anyone else, but we just can't do swimming. It's just...Gyah!" At his exclaimation, a small shudder flowed down from the tips of his ears, to the end of his tail to the claws digging into the dirt.

Our discussion was interrupted as a pair of brown furred arms encircled my waist, pulling me into a reverse embrace as I felt my mate's chest and belly against my back as she nuzzled my neck. My nose may have been human again, but I could still detect her delicious scent as she snuffled at my neck just as Sarah had earlier.

"I smell someone went for a swim," she whispered in my ear, canine jaws sitting just beside my smaller ears, well within striking distance if she wanted to retaliate for the morning. Apparently she did, and my answer caught in my throat.

As her fangs began to nibble at my ear, a small smile came to my face as I wished that this week of freedom from work would last longer, but today was it. Tomorrow I was going back into the thick of it, but here and now, with my mate nibbling on my ear, that world felt as if it was fifteen hundred miles away.

Darné Bros. Shipping Warehouse

Just outside Mobile, AL

August 6, 2012

"Stack it up," I spoke into my throat mike as my team scurried into position deep within an alleyway entrance to the Darné Brothers shipping company. 'Hopefully this ain't another morning spent chasing ghosts and wraiths', I thought as I saw the black suited figures lining up around me near the door. Over the past few months we had been running more than a little ragged as we were still cleaning up after that debacle up in New Hampshire. It seemed that each week we were running raids on these damn vigilante/hate groups.

Some of them were completely baseless, nothing more than a man with a website and mailbox, while others were a little more...interesting. The last three weeks worth, however, had all been the same, baseless call-ups, so our new guy had actually managed to get a few days off. No sooner had he gotten that time off, than we get this lovely meet and greet. Lucky Mike.

My gnawing gut was telling me that this was going to be different from the last few. For years, the bureau had been tracking groups of hired killers that were connected to the Brotherhood of Believers, a mysterious anti-Lycan organization hailing out of Germany. No matter what we tried to do, it seemed that we were never able to root all of them out...they just kept moving and popping up elsewhere. Both law enforcement and military intelligence assets had learned that they were using this warehouse as a base of operations. Hopefully this time we could put a good dent in their operations, but I wasn't too certain given their history.

I stood at the door with my team behind me, our head to toe covering of black armor, goggles and BDUs just visible against the dark brickwork of the surrounding buildings in the growing light of dawn. I felt the weight of my Benelli heavily occupying my hand, much as the menagerie of M4 rifles and additional shotguns that filled out the arsenal of our five man team undoubtedly weighted down my compatriots. Running through the operation plan mentally as my team checked their partners, I hoped that the intelligence was right that this operation was only a few men deep. I doubted that it was. I'd read enough about these brotherhood creeps to want to be prepared...and I remembered Mike's story about the organization. If they were smart enough to trick a SEAL team, and take them out...I wasn't going to take chances. I'd called in some favors with an old friend of mine. He brought his team in to back me up if needed, half entering the building via another entrance and another half behind us in reserve.

These guys weren't federal...they were too smart for that. These civilian teams could, and would go head to head with any of mine and win...well, most of them. They typically contracted out with the local state government for minor operations as well as being willing to both go overseas where the military teams could not. Their specialty was actually dealing with infestations of any of the more...unpleasant underground creatures and mythos. Zombies, trolls, feral Lycans, even vampires were these guy's bread and butter, but, at least as far as I was concerned, any time we had a tough call, these teams were more than welcome for their help. Right now, that niggling feeling in my gut was warning me that this might be one of those calls.

As we stood in the dawn darkness, I heard a pair of clicks in my ear, signifying that the second team was at the other door. Feeling the reassuring hand on my shoulder of the man behind me, signifying that the team was ready for entry. Taking a deep breath, I readied myself for the raid as I hefted my Benelli, nodding at Randall, our doorman. The smile on his face spread wide as I caught his eyes, revealing a set of jagged white teeth set into that dark face as his huge hands and size dwarfed the heavy ram in his grip. The tall half-orc lifted the three foot long ram and stood waiting for my go.

"Three...Two...One...Entry!" I spoke into my mike before announcing ourselves. "Federal Agents! Search Warrant!"

Randall's battering ram shattered through the wooden door we were making entry at. A muffled crack filled the air as the other team explosively breached in an attempt to confuse anyone inside. I quickly tossed a flash-bang in through the shattered doorway, and before echoes of the concussive bang had even faded from the air, I was through the doorway, shotgun up and actively moving through the small hallway with my men splitting into teams of two to clear the small storerooms beside this hallway as I stood, eyes and the muzzle of my shotgun covering the area ahead of us.

I moved forward smoothly, eyes alert and searching the area before me as my teammates cleared the smaller rooms to either side of the tight hallway that we were standing within. Hearing the calls of clear from behind me, I moved forward toward the end of the hallway where a single doorway into the sub-basement shipping area of the building stood in the wall, trusting that the remainder of my team was directly behind me.

Trying the door, I found it unlocked. The man behind me pulled the pin on a flashbang as I opened the door. Tossing it through the entryway, we ventured into the brightly lit room.

And then all hell broke loose.

As suddenly as we had entered, the light flipped off, plunging the room into darkness...a darkness through which three sets of glowing red eyes could be seen in the darkness before they too faded with the light. Fuck.

"Light it up!" I called to my team through the darkness, thumbing the switch for the forend light on my Benelli, bathing the area before me in a cone of harsh LED light. Hitting my radio transmit switch, I called for whatever help we could get. Vamps were a bitch on their own. Three would be a pain in the ass...at best.

"Priority. Team one. Nightfall. Repeat nightfall."

"Team Two. We're clear. On the way to you."

"Reserve ...we're coming in from behind. How many?"

"Three." I called back over the din of my team's burst fire as they tried to hit their attackers. Not that it did much. These creatures were very resilient to gunfire and fast. Seeing one coming at me, I snapped my shotgun up and loosed three shots at it, the interlaced buckshot and silver slugs slamming into the creature's chest, throwing it back a foot or so and tearing a trio of gaping holes in the front of the monster's chest. That didn't work for long, though, because I saw the holes in the creature's chest quickly knitting, the dark black fluid formerly gushing out slowing to a trickle and then stopping in the glare of the forend light. The look of pure hatred that I saw on the creature's face is something that I realized I'd carry to my grave, but as it started to come back to its feet, it began to feel like that wouldn't take too long. Seeing the creature lunging back towards me, I loosed a couple more rounds hoping that I could knock it back a little more. The only problem was that as I did that, I was expending ammo much too rapidly.

If only we had suspected bloodsuckers...if only I had brought a rifle...if only, if only, if only. The creature still tried to come at me, forcing me to loose my last two rounds at it.

"Fuck! I'm out!"

I let the shotgun hang from its sling and drew my sidearm, starting to fall back to the stairs where my team could hopefully give me a little more protection. As I backed into the stairs, I heard my team all fully engaged, the thunder of almost fully automatic rifle fire and shotgun blasts filling the small room, only amplifying as I entered the narrow hallway near the stairs. With a sense of finality, I saw the disgusting, pasty skin of the undead that had been coming after me entering the bright white light of my sidearm's light.

Time almost seemed to slow as I fell to one knee at the base of the stairs, seeing those cold red eyes following my movement as I lined my sights up with the creature's sunken chest and fired, seeing the creature almost shrug off the impact of the almost half inch round, but I continued firing, quickly emptying the magazine and ejecting it as I saw the creature notice my predicament. I swear it smiled at me, revealing rows of sharp, pointed teeth, punctuated by two ugly fangs filling its yellowed grin as it lunged at me.

Suddenly I was jerked backwards by the deadman strap on my Kevlar and from behind me, I heard...or rather felt the sound of a fully automatic shotgun started ringing out, tossing silver slugs into the beast ahead of me, its thunderous boom almost deafening in the confined environment. Seating my second magazine in my sidearm, I saw the bastard stumbling back from the onslaught, and lunged forward, firing as I went. As I came close to the creature, black ichor pooling from its demolished chest, now healing slower with over a dozen silver slugs lodged within its body, my left hand grasped one of the many...unorthodox tools of our trade.

With as much force as I could muster, I forced the creature onto the ground, feeling that ichor smearing across its chest, its foul stench filling the air around me as my left hand slammed that six inch ashen stake into the chest of the monstrous creature hissing and writhing on the floor below me. As the sharp, pointed tip of the stake speared through the creature's ribcage, still not knitted from its pounding from my sidearm and my rescuer's shotgun the writhing creature below me only redoubled its efforts to escape.

The squirming and caterwauling only stopped when the stake passed through the mushy tissue of the creature's chest into the creatures unbeating heart.

The thing finally slumped...dead...err, no longer undead? Hearing the change in the environment, I scooted backwards from the dead vamp, looking around as I took cover in the entry, reloading my shotgun with silver slugs. The two remaining vampires were spotlighted by a plethora of weapon lights, bodies jerking spastically from the immense volume of fire. I could see the sporadic muzzle flash from my compatriots' weapons, joined by the flashes from the other teams who had finally made it down to join the engagement. As I finished reloading, a gloved hand suddenly appeared in my face. I grasped it and felt myself hoisted back to standing position.

"Thought you could use the help" came a gruff voice from beside me as we both started toward the fray, but from the sillouetted bloodsuckers that we could see, we may not be needed. In the white glare of the available light, I saw both of the other two bloodsuckers on the ground, stakes standing proudly out of their chest. I thought I could relax just a little bit as I started to take roll.

"Team one. Everyone report?"

"Mitchells"

"Keenan"

"Parker"

That fifth name stayed silent, and I felt that gnawing feeling of danger and despair coming back to me. That worry not yet entering the level of panic, I hurriedly tripped my transmit button and tried to raise him.

"Tanner, Report."

Static. Nothing but static.

"Tann- Fuck!"

My transmission was cut short as I heard the pop of another one of our special tools through a small passageway between the stacks of shelving and boxes towering above us. Now that worry reached the level of near panic and fear for my man. I had to force myself not to break into a run, keeping my eyes and weapon forward and searching as I moved forward as quickly as I could in the dimly lit environment, seeing flickering orange light coming from a bend in the passage.

Entering the small storeroom, the sickening stench of chemical incendiaries and burning flesh, fat and hair filled my nose and my mind as the fire in the center of the room licked at what was once a human body, now no more than fuel to the hungry fire feeding off of it and the cloth atop it. Even in this state, this soon after the incendiary had gone off, whoever this was...was dead. As I looked at the body, I felt my worst fears realized.

The body had been clad from head to toe in black Kevlar and plastic, the plastic already starting to melt from the intense heat and burn on its own. My team's uniform. From the rapidly blackening corpse I couldn't identify the body, but I knew that it had to be Nate Tanner, one of our old hands.

As I stepped forward to inspect the body for any better identification, a crunch beneath my boot caught my attention. Moving my boot from the spot where it lay, I found a pair of dogtags on a broken chain. Picking it up, I saw that the tags were marked as belonging to Jimmy Tanner, and I knew.

Nate had been carrying those tags...his only son's, in his vest ever since the Army gave them to him...along with a folded flag.

"Damn it." I almost threw the tags into the fire, but I slid them into a pocket on my vest, promising that I would give them to his wife. I had no clue what I would say.

It was in an all-consuming silence that I left that room, the corpse of my friend still burning.

Ocean Credit Union

New London, NH

August 6, 2012

I could still smell her on me. I stank of wolf.

My mate had again enjoyed a nice meal of my ear again and a little more roughhousing...well as rough as I was willing to get with Thomas caught in the middle before everyone else headed back to the cabin and I headed into town for some errands before the night's festivities. Sarah had wanted to see fireworks before the end of the summer, and I had promised a show. Everyone had pitched in some cash and fireworks she would have. Hopefully the forest would still be there after tonight.

My mate's scent was slight enough that anyone who wasn't a Lycan wouldn't catch it, but any Lycan would catch it without any difficulty. But... why should I care? She was my mate. With that thought warming me, I started into the bank, wondering what this quick sojourn would tell me about my past.

Walking through the glass atrium into the renovated credit union I waved to the older security guard standing beside the door, adorned in his grey uniform and slacks.

"Mr. Hart," he greeted me. "Didn't expect to see you in town this week. Figured you and Amy would be enjoying that honeymoon." The grin on the old man's face grew even wider as he continued. "Even more than you two already were."

"Well, Wes," I replied with a predatory grin, "She needed a little bit of rest from that honeymoon."

Wes' grin mirrored mine as I started toward the manager's desk. In this rather small branch, the only employees were the two tellers standing behind the desk and the manager. They hadn't even had a full-time guard until the hold-up that first brought me up here.

I could hear the manager's grumbling about payroll long before I got there. Reaching the manager's desk, I caught his attention as my shadow crossed his desk. As his eyes caught sight of me I caught a sense of fear, before he put on that standard 'client is here' smile. I didn't need any sort of inhuman senses to know that he was nervous and preoccupied.

"Agent Hart, what can I do for you?" He offered his hand to me, more than a slight case of nerves apparent in the mildly trembling appendages.

"Just Mike'll be fine, Mr. Wilson. I have a safety deposit box key, but I don't know what the box number is. I assume you can pull the box number from the key number."

"Yea...Yes, Mike. No problem." I handed the key over to him. He dropped it, the small brass key falling to the floor. The thought of telling him to switch to decaf crossed my mind as I grinned silently at my unstated joke. His hands flew across the keyboard while he looked up the box number as I stood there watching and waiting.

"Ah, there we go. Box 404." He stood up and handed me back the key. "If you'll follow me, we can go get it now."

I followed the manager through the double doors heading back into the safety deposit area. Walking into that room, covered wall to wall in dull silver boxes, we both scanned the rows of boxes until the manager caught sight of the box we were looking for.

"Here it is. Uhh... may I have the key back?" I handed the key over, wondering what was within the box...what that would tell me about my life...my history.

Without any flourish or fanfare, the manager slid in the two keys, the old locks resisting for a moment before squeaking free. With a little bit of effort, the box was sliding out to the slight screech of metal on metal.

"Mr. Hart, You can use that table over there to take a look at your box" he pointed at a small wooden table nestled in the corner of the room. "If you'll excuse me, I need to attend to some other issues for a moment. I'll be back in a bit." With that, Mr. Wilson turned and strode out of the safe deposit vault.

Setting the box down on the table, I flipped the lid over and my vision was met by a plain manila envelope filling the box. My hand reached out to retrieve the manila envelope, but as soon as my hand lifted that envelope out of the box, a trio of sounds grabbed all of my attention.

Two staccato pops sounded in quick succession, closely followed by a deep boom. Gunshots, my mind quickly processed, as the envelope slipped from my grasp as I instinctively went for my sidearm at my back, the black leather manacle unmasked when I removed the envelope from the box un-noticed in my haste.

"All-right everyone! On the floor! This is a robbery."

A flurry of thoughts flew through my head at that, but there was one that stood out among all others.

"You gotta be shitting me."

A/N - Please read and review. I plan on having more of both this and Monster somewhat shortly.