The air was thick with the scent of alchohol, cigarette smoke, yurine, and trash. Beer bottles, crumpled cardboard boxes, and said trash filled the alleyway and the nearby weedy lot, both of which were just another part of the bad end of Bayfield - a part of town that Jason unfortunately knew all too well.

"I asked you a question, boy. Answer it!"

Jason's heart pounded as his back scraped against the brick wall that served as the dead end in the alleyway. The geezer was clearly drunk and wanted his watch back. The problem was, gold pocket watches were good enough for a sandwich - a sandwich that Jason had already eaten.

"Give it back!"

"Go suck an egg, scumbag!"

Jason was shaken roughly.

"I'll teach you to steal from me, broy! You'll learnin' your lesson!"

The geezer was strong despite his obvious old age, and he drew back to hit Jason with his fist, a fist the size of an engine block it seemed to Jason. He braced himself for the punch.

The long shadows of the approaching dusk gave the Bad End of Town an eerie twilight as Timothy Stelios steered his taxicab around a curve. Lots, alleyways, empty streets, that’s everything that shifted through his view. He looked at the ever darkening sky and began to ponder the heavens. Would the moon shine tonight? He wasn’t sure; it’s not something he kept track of.

A distant sound breached his ears, a scuffle, a brawl, maybe a shout for help, something. Tim’s knuckles turned white as he tightened his grip on the steering wheel.

He spoke to himself, “Don’t get involved. It’s not your business. Go home.” He stopped the car at street side. His eyes straining to see down the dark alley the sounds originated from. “It’s nearly night time. You can hardly see. You’re not a fighter. You’re not built like a fighter. Go home.” He knew he wouldn’t listen to himself. “Maybe the moon will come out and shed some light. Somebody needs help.”

Tim leapt from his car, locked the doors and slammed them shut. His long black coat swirled in the wind as he raced down the alley. The car keys remained clenched in his hand, as one would hold a knife. He could see them now, and old man and a kid. The kid was in trouble. Timothy grappled onto the old man, jamming his keys into the soft flesh between the shoulder and the neck. A shriek of terror and pain echoed down the long ally. The old man fell backwards upon Timmy, pinning him to the ground.

Timothy thought to himself, Stelios. You are a fool. His voice managed to wheeze out, “help me kid.”

But something was wrong. Something was very wrong. Jason could feel it - and he was scared. He knew that feeling all too well - that sinking, squelching feeling in the pit of his stomach, like something squirming around inside him, turning his bones to jelly. He braced himself against the change, struggling to hold on to his humanity just a bit longer. He glanced up at the sky. Black stormclouds filled it as the wind began to howl - much like the howl of a pack of wolves.

Or werewolves, Jason thought to himself morbidly. Oh, God...

He moaned in pain, gritting his teeth and sinking to his knees with his arms around himself. It seemed like forever, the pain gripping him in its iron-clad, rock-hard fist. He felt his teeth lengthening - and then, as he struggled against it, they seemed almost to return to normal. He felt - something - like a balloon deflating inside him. Suddenly, he was on the ground cold as ice and shaking like someone had let loose on him, his fetal position belying the ghost that had been intense pain only moments before. One thought coursed through his mind, stunning him when it finally hit honme:

I'm human.

He hadn't changed. He didn't know how or why - maybe through pure force of will. Maybe something else had stopped it. Maybe that single ray of moonlight wasn't really there after all, lighting up the dumpster just a few feet from Jason. Maybe a lot of things. All he knew was that he was still human, and that the pain was somehow fading.

The struggle with the old man continued, neither him nor Timmy gaining the upper hand. Beads of sweat slowly appeared onto Timothy’s forehead, he could feel the strain on his muscles.
My strength is fading just as fast as the light is . . .
“Kid!” his voice was raspy and strained. “Stop cowering like a scared puppy dog!” The old man rolled Tim onto his back and pinned him down. “Help me!” Tim grabbed the old man’s arms and pinned the man to his chest.
I’m not going to last much longer.
A head-butt to Tim’s chin left him bleeding a wheezing. The shock and pain loosened his grip, enough so that the old man broke free. The old man sat upon Tim’s chess in the full mount and landed punch after punch to Timothy’s face. Blood and saliva splattered onto the cement. “Kid,” blood splashed from his lips as he spoke, “help.” Again he grabbed the arms of the old man and locked them to his chest.
Stelios, why did you get involved?
Tim thought to himself. He could feel the fatigue overtaking him, he could feel his muscles giving way.
If you give up, this man will kill you.
With renewed determination Timmy held the old man pinned to his chest.
Determination won’t replenish lost strength.
Timmy's strength was fading fast, and he knew it.

But the pain wasn't the only thing that was fading. It appeared his head was clearing as well, and he began to realize that someone was calling for his help. Looking around as he got up, he saw what was happening and searched quickly for something, anything, to use as a weapon. There! That would work just fine.

Clunk!

The old man crumpled to the ground as blood splattered all over the kid and onto the ground and walls of the alleyway. What was left of the old man's head was spilling blood swiftly onto the ground.

The broken shovel [i]clankked to the ground as Jason staggered back, stunned at what he'd just done. Then again, he'd probably done worse as a werewolf - but he didn't remember any of that. Just the pain of changing and waking up naked in odd places with news of more savage murders throughout the city and some kind of silvery-gray creature streaking through alleys and parking lots. He stared at the scene, not knowing what to do. He'd killed someone. Not as a wolf - no, not at all. Jason, the human Jason, had killed someone intentionally. And all because of a damn sandwich...

Tim’s relief from the old man going limp quickly turned to shock and disgust as warm liquid surged across his face. He stepped away from the man, letting the lifeless body roll into a pool of its own blood. The hideous scene chilled his veins, entrapped his eyes, and sickened his soul. There he stood, frozen: not in terror, but in confusion. Blood fell from his cheeks, moving lips produced no sound. What just happened . . . and what do I do now?

The ex-lawyer had investigated multitudes of homicides and self-defense cases; he had never been a part of one.

Tim’s eyes roved over to the kid. He looks as bewildered as I feel. Another drop of blood rolled off his face and splattered onto the cement. Again he tried to speak, and again his voice failed him. Slowly he pulled off his outer coat and began to wipe away the blood. Stelios, you are such a fool. Why did you get involved? With closed eyes and a focused mind, Tim regained his composure. With an outstretched hand offering his bloodied coat to the kid, Timothy’s voice broke the oppressive silence.

“Here kid, take this. Clean yourself up a bit.”

After seconds of staring blankly at the man, the kid registered the words and grabbed the coat. He too began to clean himself off.

Timmy spoke again, “well listen. I don’t know what your beef was with this man,” he gently kicked the dead man’s feet, “but staying here is giving me shivers. Not to mention this will not go over well if a random passerby reports this to the cops.”

The kid had finished with the coat and stood there holding it out towards Tim. Timmy grabbed a plastic shopping bag from the trash-littered ally and dropped bloodied coat inside.

“I have no idea what you had going on with this man, be it a personal vendetta or an easy wallet, and I don’t want to know.” Tim looked up towards the sky, “my cab is parked at the entrance to this ally. It’s a bit late to be going anywhere, but I’ll give you a free ride to anywhere you choose. If you have no place to go, well, I guess you can spend a night or two at my place. It’s not much, but it’s a couch and a shower.” Tim turned and looked away, putting his back towards the corpse and the kid. “Finish your business here and I’ll be waiting at my cab.”

His mind raced as he walked down the dark ally towards his cab.
Invite a stranger into your home? What were you thinking? One who just killed a man at that!

Upon reaching the cab he turned around and rested his back on it. After wiping the blood of his keys, Timmy let them dangle from his fingers. He spoke to himself, using the sound of his own voice to reassure him. “Be the change you want to see in the world. That’s right Stelios, be the change.”

People who need help should have it given freely to them. That’s why you did this.

He stared down at what he had done. He was numb. No, more than numb. Being numb would have been better. He didn't care. And that shocked him more than anything. In fact, it scared him. It scared him real bad.

Jason looked down at his hands. There was blood everywhere - blood on his hands. He'd stolen before. He'd stolen a lot of things, mostly watches and wallets and food. But this - this went far beyond simple thievery. This was murder...

It was a few moments before the back door of the cab opened and shut. Jason didn't say a word. He was too busy replaying what had just happened in his mind, trying not to, yet not wanting to let go of it either.

Timmy slowly pulled the car out onto the street. He was lost for words, he had never thought he would be involved with killing a man, let alone actually doing it.

You didn't give the finishing blow, you didn't kill him. Much difference that makes, you might as well have.

He drove subconsciously, with no destination in mind. As they moved further away from the Bad End of Town the night-life became slightly more alive. They drove past a small group of teens, talking and laughing. Tim's thoughts landed bitterly upon himself.

I wish I could share in their innocence, I never thought I would feel so low.

The ominous silence was nearly deafening. Finally, after what felt like hours of pointless driving, Timothy Stelios spoke.

"Well kid, have you got a name? And where can I drop you off?"

It was a short while before thet kid answered. He couldn't get that image out of his head - the sound, the sight of that blood spurting everywhere, his dull thud as metal hit flesh and bone...

"Jason," he mumbled.

He didn't say anything else. The silence might have been deafening, but Jason couldn't help it. He had nowhere to go, and now he was going to be arrested for murder...

The minutes slowly ticked by as the taxicab steered pointlessly around the city. The night-life-sounds of the city permeated the thin metal, bringing slight disruptions to the near silence within the car. The sound infiltrated the car just as the war within Timothy's mind nearly diminished his ability to drive.
You’d be quiet too if you’d just killed a man. If he had a place to stay, he’d have said so by now. You can’t invite him into your home, he’s a murderer. So are you. He’s a stranger; he can’t sleep in your apartment. Be the change you want to see in the world.
Tim looked up at the night sky. He himself didn’t realize inaudible words were slipping from his lips. “The clouds of breaking, there just may be a moon tonight.”

The mental war continued to rage within Timmy. You have no idea who this kid is; you don’t know what he’s capable of. Well no, you know he’s capable of killing a man: because that’s comforting. You shouldn’t allow him into your home, it’s not safe.

Again, the wise words of a long dead man brought peace war.

Be the change you want to see in the world. Stelios, you’re going to regret this.

Timmy started to steer the vehicle to his apartment. “Well Jason, I’m assuming you’ve no place to go. I,” Tim paused, building his confidence. “I’m inviting you to bunk at my place for the night. It’s not much, a three-room apartment with a shower. It’s safe, from cops and criminals alike, unless someone truly wants to break in.” He pulled the car into the parking lot and turned off the engine. “If you’d like to go someplace else, I’ll gladly give you a free ride there.”

Timothy turned and looked at Jason, patiently waiting for a response.

"You're...giving me..."

He couldn't believe it. He'd just killed a man, and this guy wasn't turning him in. Instead, he was giving Jason a place to stay. He wouldn't stay long, though. He couldn't. He had somehow controlled his ability to transform tonight, but what about in another month? What would happen then, if he couldn't control it? If he could, would he ever gain full control of it? No. He wouldn't be staying long at all. But a shower, and some food...

He nodded.

"Thank you."

His voice sounded almost quiet, dead, as he spoke those two simple words. He hoped it was enough.

Timothy lead Jason through the apartment complex to his home. A click and a slight creek were the only sounds in the area as Tim unlocked and opened the door. He walked in and flipped on a light-switch. The light revealed a simple apartment with inexpensive but comfortable furnishings. Timmy walked across the deep blue carpet of his apartment and looked around. A small black and maroon checkered tile area off to his right with an oven, refrigerator, a few cupboards, and a microwave, served as the kitchen. Against the wall to his left a large sofa sat, just behind a small cherry wood coffee table. Placed below a window in front of the wall directly ahead of him was his bookcase, tall and wide. He motioned to a door to his right, "the bathroom is in there." He took a few more steps and pointed to a door on the same wall as the sofa. "That's where I'll be sleeping."

He stood there, looking at a small clock atop his bookcase. 12:06 AM. His thoughts argued against themselves once again.

Timmy, what are you doing? This kid just killed man. But he needs a place to stay. You can't trust him. He's a kid, what's the worse he can do? It's not as if I have a whole lot to be stolen anyway . . . it's too late to turn him out now. It's 12:06. You need sleep.

Stelios turned and spoke to Jason. "There's some easy make food in the freezer, pizza rolls and such. There's pop tarts and beef jerky in the cupboards, feel free to help yourself. I'll be going shopping tomorrow after work, so go ahead and eat anything you'd like." Timmy slowly began to make his way to his room. "Well Jason, you can't stay here forever, but maybe long enough for tonight to blow over."

He nodded.

Once he'd checked out the place where he'd be staying, he looked out the window for a long time. It was almost two o'clock in the morning when he finally wandered into the kitchen.

"Help yourself. Eat anything you want."

That's what he'd said. It was nonetheless with great hesitancy that he ate the pop tarts - all of them. He hadn't meant to, but he hadn't had a meal in a couple years. Oh, he'd had a sandwich here and an apple there, enough to keep him alive, but he hadn't had an actual meal for some time. Not enough to fill his belly. Then he found himself heating some pizza rolls up. He ended up eating all of them, too. And the beef jerky. As he sat on the bed later, almost three o'clock in the morning now, he realized what he'd done. Great. Now he'd have to run to avoid a beating. He couldn't possibly have meant for Jason to eat it all - could he've? But he had. He hadn't been able to help himself. Well, he'd get a night's sleep in a bed anyway. Then he'd take off. Then he'd...

He was asleep before he could finish the thought.

* * * * *

Sunlight streamed into the room. Jason had only just awoken. It was late. Almost noon by the clock on the wall. Stepping quietly into the main room, he looked around. There was no one here. At least, no one that he could find. Maybe the guy who'd helped him was still sleeping.

He found a couple of apples in the fridge. He stuffed them into his pocket and grabbed the single banana on the counter that was starting to go bad. He'd have his food for the day, anyway.

But if I'm going to steal food, I might as well leave while I have the chance. I won't be beaten! I won't!

Those fools at the foster homes he'd been to, and at the orphanage, seemed to think it was all right to switch a kid as many times as necessary to get the message across. But switching was so out of fashion. And yet, it seemed they didn't give a damn. He was out of here. Jason was going to get out of here before this guy grabbed something to bash his head in with.

He was just heading for the door when a voice chilled him as it cut through the warm morning air like an arrow flying toward a moving target...

A disheveled Tim slammed into the room, his voice shattered the air.

"Jason! We've got to go, now!"

He threw on his coat and flipped his keys into his hands.

"Cops were all over the scene, they've pulled your prints off of the shovel, and they've identified some of my DNA from some of my hairs at the scene. They're looking for us, and it won't take them long to find us. Do you have anywhere safe, well, from the cops, that we can go? Follow quickly, cars just outside."

He was out the door before the guy finished talking. He didn't even bother to listen to what the guy had to say. He wasn't going to be switched, he wasn't going to go hungry, and he sure as hell wasn't sticking around to see what the guy was yelling about. He was outside in seconds. No cops in sight, so he bolted. He headed down the street. Great. Now he was homeless gain. Maybe he should have given the guy a chance...

No. Chances were what got kids like Jason killed. Jason was already a statistic as far as the cops were concerned. He was in enough trouble as it was, what with running away all the time under suspicious circumstances. All he needed was some jackass to catch him stealing and send him off to the cops. He'd probably never get out of jail, and then he'd become some kind of freaky science experiment: the wolf-boy extroadinaire.

"No, thanks," he muttered under his breath. He didn't stop running until he was in an alleyway a block away. He collapsed against the ground and floor behind a dumpster, not daring to drag out the food in case he needed to get going again in a hurry. He waited...

Timothy took off after the kid. The door slammed against the stop as he leapt from his apartment. His eyes glanced both left and right, nothing to be seen. Quickly his legs carried him to the corner of the building as his eyes strained to find Jason. Nothing. He peered up and down the street, Tim slowly searched the surrounding buildings with his vision. Jason was nowhere to be seen. He began to mutter under his breath as he slowly turned to walk back to his apartment.

“Gorram kid, you’re on your own now.”

Timmy heard a bark from the street, there stood a starved wolfhound.

“Sorry pup. I haven’t got any scraps left to throw.” He chuckled to himself, “that kid sure cleaned me out well. Least he only took the food, he only took what he needed. There’s something to be respected in that.”

The dog started to whimper and whine as Timothy Stelios allowed his dispirited walk to carry him away. The man turned back, and looked once more at the dog.

“I’m sorry, I really am. You have no collar, no home, you’re alone, and you’ve no place to stay. I have no food to give you right now, and I certainly can’t manage to take you in,” his voice became a bit more solemn as he continued to speak, “well, you’re not as alone as you may think. There’s at least one other being I know who could relate very well with you.” Tim’s voice trailed off, “I can’t help you, and I tried to help him, but it doesn’t seem to have made much of a difference. Well, good luck wolfhound.”

Tim’s dispirited walk turned him around and ran him straight into an officer of the law. Startled, Timothy spoke.

“Ahem, excuse me sir. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

The officer spoke quickly and abruptly. “No problem. But could you please show me your ID? There’s been some trouble in the neighborhood, and we’re just trying to keep things safe.”

“Why, um, of course.” Timmy fumbled with his wallet until he produced his license. Fear swelled up within Tim, he knew what this trouble was that the officer was talking about. The officer spoke.

“Sir, could you please put your hands in the air and approach the vehicle. I am placing you under arrest for the murder of . . .”

Tim stopped listening. He knew what the officer was going to say, and he had handled enough court trials to know there is nothing he could do to better his position right now.

Time passed like an ice cold brick sliding down Tim’s throat. He was interrogated about Jason; he told them what he knew. The kid was being attacked, he was being attacked, and the kid spent the night and ran off without a word. The trial came and went, the ex-lawyer knew how to handle the case. He managed to get let off with self-defense.

The trial had been a few weeks ago, possibly a month or so, and now Timothy Stelios sat relaxed upon his furniture. A cold Mountain Dew rested in his one hand, and a slab of Beef Jerky in the other. His eyes remained focused on the window in his room, just above the bookcase. The full-moon glistened in the night sky. From a great distance off he heard a long, lone, howl. His mind traveled back to the wolfhound, the one stranded to the streets that stared helplessly at him. The dog he had been so inadequately prepared to help. With that his thoughts revisited the event with, Josh? Justin? Jason? Ah, yes, that’s right. His name was Jason.

“Just like the pup I was so inadequately prepared to help, well, least I tried. It’s all over now. There’s nothing more you can do Stelios.”

Timothy knocked back the drink and placed the Beef Jerky bag back in his restocked cupboards. He walked into his room and collapsed upon his bed, ready to continue his life as a simple Taxicab driver.

“Be the change you want to see in the world,” his voice was dreary and sleepy as his conscious slowly began to fade for the night, “and if you can’t be it, at least try. Stelios, that you did. You did try.”

With those thoughts the ex-lawyer and taxicab driver, Timothy Stelios, fell asleep ready to continue his day-to-day life.

And Jason went back to the way he'd been - stealing to eat, running to survive, avoiding the cops. Such was the life of a street-wise kid with no place to call his own. He'd lived that way for a couple of years, and he saw no way to alter it now. A month later, he was still there. He'd heard something about the trial, but what he'd heard were only vague details and rumors. He did curse himself for giving up a freebie, but then he thought no more of it. He was on his own. He'd always been on his own.

The one good thing to come of that night in the alleyway was that he slowly but surely learned how to control his transformations. Over the next couple of months, he figured out how to prevent himself from changing. And, by the end of the year (a few months later), he'd figured out how to start changing on his own - without the aid of the moon. It seemed that his mutation ran deeper than a mere external battery could fuel. It was more than just a mutation, he slowly began to realize - it was a part of him, a part of who he was...

[OUT]