Mitchel Crawford had been an army brat his whole life, like his dad before him. Of course Mitchel had made it back alive. He'd ended his career with five years in the Special Forces before a bullet had gone through his lower back. It had been less than an inch from his spine, almost leaving him crippled. He had been very lucky, but even still it tore through his stomach and his guts badly, and effectively ended his time over seas.

Mitchel had been paid well over his military career, but the costs of life added up. When his mom had been dying of cancer that had hit them all the hardest. But there were always more expenses with the kids (he had three), and money to the ex was a constant strain. When the right offer was made to Mitchel to do a bit of off-the-books work for substantial pay, it didn't take much convincing beyond that. He understood right from the beginning what the Imperial Cult was. He understood the job they were offering would involve killing, and kidnapping, and sometimes those people would be innocent. But the treatments they offered saved his mom's life. And the money was sending his kids to the best private schools. He understood that the Imperial Cult was working towards a cleansing, that times of death and war were ahead. He understood war, he understood the necessity of it, to break down the chaos and create order in the aftermath. He knew the work they were doing was dark, but if it secured a world on the other side where him and his loved ones could lives like kings on earth; a new Eden, damn right he was going to take it.

They'd been on the trail of this werewolf for a few days now. It was far from the first they'd captured for the Imperial Cult. There were now cages full at the Sanctum because of their work. Most were pathetic, mangy things, which Abraham had deemed unworthy. Mitchel didn't exactly know what a worthy werewolf would be, but he figured he'd know it when they saw it.

He thought the one they were after now had potential. It had done a better job of eluding them than all the others, and based on the tracks and markings they'd found (plus the shit), it was a big one. But it had gotten sloppy today. They were following a thin trail of blood through the trees. They had picked up on it at the body of a large male deer, ripped to pieces, heart gone. There had been some blood on the antlers, and then the drops of blood leading away from the body. It seemed the werewolf had been injured in the tussle with the deer, probably no more than a scratch, but enough to lead them back to its den perhaps.

They moved cautiously and silently through the trees, the other four with him were all military trained as well. Mitchel halted them as some twigs snapped up ahead. More snaps. Something was walking up there. Mitchel signalled for them to fan out. He took the left with Chase close behind. Trenton and Foster did the same on the right. Norris stayed the course along the middle.

Mitchel saw the fur through the trees and knew it wasn't the wolf, just another deer. Still they moved forward, keeping their guards up; the wolf could still be close by. A few steps more and Mitchel had a better view of the deer. It was limping. Blood was running down its hind leg from a claw mark on its rump. Mitchel understood what was happening even before he heard Norris stumble: the wolf had set a trap for them.

He looked around when he heard the thump, and saw Norris stumble forward onto his knees. Then he fell face first into the forest soil, the back of his neck split open, spine and all.

The next attack happened fast, just as Norris settled in the dirt. Mitchel saw a dark flash to his left and saw the blur of the beast as it pounced into Trenton. There was a quick scream from Trenton mixed in with the crunching impact, and then his body was being dragged into the trees with the wolf.

"Fire!" Mitchel called, though the other two were already in motion to shoot. The tranq darts from their rifles stuck into the trees as the wolf ran behind them. It had been visible for only a moment before it took cover in the thick trees once more.

"To me!" Mitchel called. "Backs to each other." Chase and Foster did as ordered, and the three with their backs to one another shuffled into the more open, flatter ground, near where Norris had fallen. "Keep your eyes on the trees too. It's likely using them." Then they waited in silence, broken only by their breaths, and the light tap of their fingers on the trigger. The rustle of the forest seemed to settle back to normal, but they would not be fooled. It was watching them, and just waiting for their guard to drop.

There was a snap to his right as a branch high in a tree broke. They all looked as Trenton's body crashed through the leaves, smacking down in the dirt. Another trap, god dammit, Mitchel thought.

"Behind!" he screamed, pivoting one-eighty, but the other two were a fraction of a second slower, and already in the wolf's grasp. It struck Chase first, digging deep into his right arm pulling it clean off the socket with its mighty claws. Chase dropped his gun, blood spraying from the diced up hole where his arm had been a second ago, screaming. He staggered back into Mitchel, which was unfortunate since he blocked Mitchel's shot. The wolf was already on top of Foster, knocking him to the floor, heavy jaws crushing down on his jugular.

The rest were down but Mitchel had a clean shot as the wolf turned on him. God it was big, at least seven feet of thick black fur and muscle, and the sharp yellow eyes of a skilled predator. Mitchel took his shot, backing up, as the beast pounced toward him. He saw two darts connect with the werewolf, but they didn't stop the thing. Those tranqs were suitable for elephants; they'd knocked out every other werewolf in seconds, but not this one, this one barely staggered. 

They saved Mitchel's life temporarily at least. The wolf's claws failed to reach him, but the beast grabbed hold of the rifle, tearing it from Mitchel's grasp, and ripping it to pieces on the ground. The wolf was ready to strike again and finish Mitchel off, but crawling on the ground, one-armed Chase saved his life. Chase drove a knife into the wolf's side. It let out a horrible, guttural roar at this wound, but was quick to repay Chase. The wolf's claw moved with incredible strength and swiped Chase's head clean from his body.

Mitchel used this moment to pull out his pistol. This one was filled with silver bullets instead of tranq darts, but at this point he was willing to fuck the mission in order to survive. The werewolf was very sly though as it seemed to understand that Chase's distraction had left it vulnerable. Instead of turning back to face him, as Mitchel had been hoping, the wolf ran straight over Chase's body and back into the trees. Mitchel fired three times and saw the puff of blood from one bullet connecting. Then the beast was out of sight.

Mitchel quickly weighed his options. He needed to leave the area, the trees were too thick and they played strongly to the wolf's advantage. With no one left to watch his back, he needed to find a clearing or something he could put his back to. He ran, taking off fast as he could, further into the forest. He would never be able to outrun the wolf, so he was simply praying that the bullet that struck it had done enough damage to make it more cautious before attacking again.

There was the faint sound of running water ahead and Mitchel ran towards it. The hill dipped down and then fell away just before a thin stream. Mitchel slid down this ledge, his feet landing in the muck just on the water's edge. He took a quick survey and shuffled further to the right, close to the roots of a large tree hanging over the ledge. He had full visibility to the left and straight ahead, back was firmly against the dirt wall, the tree roots would provide a moments protection if the wolf came that way, but he would have to keep his eyes weary overhead. Whatever way the wolf came at him (and he had no doubt it would), it would all depend on which one could kill the other first. Five shots left in the clip; if he couldn't get the job done with that, he'd already be dead.

There was the sound of soft crunches in the earth on top of the ledge. It was the wolf. It's steps were softer than the deer's had been, but Mitchel heard it. Maybe more accurately, he felt it. Mitchel steeled himself, waiting for it to lunge over the ledge, and then...

Nothing.

The creaks stopped, but no attack came. Mitchel could feel a presence hanging just behind him. He was tempted to turn and fire, but he wouldn't make that mistake. That's what the wolf wanted, for him to show himself first. He kept his eyes fixed overhead, waiting for the attack, waiting for movement.

It was barely in the corner of his eye that he saw something. Many people wouldn't have even noticed. But he saw enough to fix his eyes forward again. If the wolf had been behind him, it had slipped away a while ago. Paranoia had gotten the better of him. The wolf had snuck itself right to the other side of the tree he'd been using as a barrier, and with a kick from it's long legs, using one claw to spin around the truck, had thrust itself to the other side right in front of Mitchel. The pistol was at his chest, ready to go, he let instinct take over, firing as the beast fell on top of him. The shot definitely hit, and he saw blood in the wolf's midsection, but it wasn't a lethal blow. 

Damn. 

The heavy claws stabbed into his forearm and the gun fell. The weight of the monster on top of him pushed him deeper into the mud. Mitchel had a moment to register the face of the werewolf. The snout, the teeth, the eyes, the ears, none of that looked human, but there was something eerily human about the face underneath, the shape of the face.

Then the jaw opened wide and came down with a juicy crunch on the side of his neck, and everything went hazy.