Battle Of Alphas

C R I M S O N V I L L E * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * D A N I E L’S P O V * * * * * * * * * * * * * [ 8:00 AM ] * * * * * * * * I walked in her some minutes ago and ordered a coffee. I love coffee, but this time, it didn't actually bring me here. I've been running for the past 24 hours, and I haven't stopped. I only decided to walk into this place to try and escape their sight . . . The sound, every sound there is... I hear them all. If there is a button etched in my temple that could turn it all off without giving a second thought, I would hit it right this moment. It's torture. But once it comes to nervousness, the super hearing cannot be deactivated. It is involuntary, just like the way the heart beats. I can no longer go back to the camp. And it leaves me with no other option but to remain in town, at the place that is most dangerous to our species. . . The sounds of shoes as they tap on the walkway hit my ears, and I can discern just by pulling my eyelids over my gloomy eyeballs... which one's for who. In the world we live in today, it'll be foolish to think all these footsteps one hears belongs to a Walker: men of the ordinary also known as PUREBLOODS. But not all men are pureblood. I can discern from these footsteps which one is for a pureblood, which is for a feline blood, and which is for a canine, just like me. They are coming! I remind myself as the felids draw closer and closer. I can no longer gulp down what I have in my cup. It would choke me if I tried to force myself in an attempt to try to keep calm. I gently sweep the cup of coffee in front of me to my left, the best way I could to avoid drawing attention to myself. They are near! I pull the hood over my head the moment the feline scent wafts over my face. As far as I know, if one is not a pureblood, they are either one of these: THEM: The felids, the Tigers and the Panthers. If we ever thought we knew the woods, the felids proved us wrong. They are the ground owners, both in the woods and in the business world. They are the Kings and Queens of the wildness. They are the cats. US: I, along with the surviving members of my pack, the canids. Inasmuch as we are a dangerous species, our fear is to be torn apart by feline claws. We are strong, but only as a pack. I'll do the math. A pack of wolves with 30 members is equal to 5 Panthers and maybe equal to 15 Tigers. Whoever there is, approaching the coffee shop where I'm sitting, I know one thing for sure. They are not US, and if they're not US, it means they're not Canids. This means they aren't wolves, and for this, it can only mean their THEM. I raise up my head from the table as I glance up to fix my gaze on the glass doors. Through the clear glass, I can see vividly, 3 men in pressed black suit, a white sleeve, and a red tie resting between them. Expensive gentlemen, as they'll definitely look to the purebloods in here, but are they really gentle in their other forms? The purebloods know nothing about the supernatural aspect of this town, and all they do is walk around and stuff their faces with junks while such a crisis is ongoing. Any pure blood would wonder why 3 business men would leave their jobs behind and all of a sudden decide to have a cup of coffee together. They step closer to the door, and they hinder the morning sun that is actually the main source of light in the coffee shop I'm sitting. The power source had an issue earlier, about 10 minutes ago, and that was really when I should have known it was no longer safe to be here. The tigers are enemies to electricity. They'd rather stay in the dark than have an electric bulb fixed in their rooms. Man made light blinds them temporarily, and for them to get into this place, they definitely had to toy with the power source. It is a bit too late for smart thinking now. All I can do is try to be calm, and not point out myself to them as my heart races. The one in front places his right hand on the glass door gently, and he slides it to the left, gentle and slow. He walks elegantly towards the Barista’s counter and the other two trails him behind like puppets. “Nathaniel!” I mutter to myself as I get a better look at his face. Nathaniel has been, for quite a long time, the head of the Tigers. He has been the mind behind all those attacks, and he's not done yet. He's back to get the unfinished job finished. I still haven't healed from the last attack and somehow, his bite from the last attack won't heal. If it were a regular injury, it will take a maximum of 24 hours for a wolf to heal, but it has been three days for me, and it is still as fresh as the first day. Nathaniel reaches the table, and he gently places a hand on it and leans over it to speak with the barista. I place my hands gently on the table and I breathe in and out, and then I listen to their conversation. Even as I'm quite far away from them, I can hear every word they whisper. “Hello!” the barista says with such enthusiasm. The young man definitely feels it is an honour to have three business men in his coffee shop by this time of the day. “My name is Nathaniel Law,” He says to the young man behind the counter and he freezes in shock. As though he has seen a ghost, but this second, he has a huge smile on his face. “It seems my name isn't so new to your ear?” Nathaniel says and the young man bangs the counter with such excitement. “Are you freaking kidding me? Who doesn't know Nathaniel Law? The sole owner and CEO of LAW ENTERPRISES!” He says and Nathaniel presses his suit and arranges his tie pompously, as though the barista is supposed to fall down and kiss the ground he walks on. “I must be very lucky to have you here in this place. What can I get you?” He asks and Nathaniel chuckles softly. “I’m not here for coffee. I can have my secretary do that for me all day,” Nathaniel says to the Barista. “But trust me, you're going to get lucky pretty soon. There's a wounded dog in here, and it needs to be hunted down by a cat,” Nathaniel says to the young man and his brows draw together in utter confusion. “You must be mistaken. There's no dog here at my place. I hate dogs. Why would I even keep a dog in a place like this where customers keep barging in?” The barista says to Nathaniel, and Nathaniel chuckles, knowing the barista knows nothing about what he has just said. “Trust me, there's a wounded dog in here, and I can't leave until it has been exterminated,” Nathaniel says, and the barista draws his brows together in absolute confusion. “I don't know if you know this, and I sure don't know how this would sound, but you're a great business man and you are like really smart,” the barista says. “What are you driving at?” Nathaniel says to him. “A dog is always the one who chases after a cat, and not the other way round,” the young man says to Nathaniel and Nathaniel grinds his teeth. He is just a Walker. Of course he knows nothing about what Nathaniel is saying. Nathaniel only enjoys making him clueless. A dog is a canid, just like a wolf, and for this, the felids call us dogs just as we call them cats. In the ordinary aspect of life, a dog chases the cat, but in the supernatural aspect, a dog is and has always been the runner. I watch intently through my hood and i see Nathaniel slide his hand into his right pocket, he slips out a check book and writes over the first page quickly. I can't really see what he is writing, even with my amplified sight. It is too far from me, but whatever amount he scribbled on that sheet must be good enough to have frozen the young man behind the counter. He pushes the cheque over the counter and the young man accepts it. “I’m buying this place. This should be enough to get you off it forever. I also think this place would need a little reconstruction after the extermination,” Nathaniel says and my heart beat quickens. The barista says no other word. He leaves the counter and walks straight to the door, staring at the cheque. It takes him less than a minute to hit the alarm and put up the large closed sign on the glass door. He walks straight out, smiling at the cheque in his hand. “You know what to do, no wolf escapes,” Nathaniel whispers to the two behind him and they walk out to stand at both sides of the door—one on each side. The Walkers who in here are beginning to gather up their things to leave. They heard the alarm and they definitely know it calls for an emergency closing of the coffee shop. They all walk out one after the other, walking past the tigers at the door. Nathaniel signalled them there so they could sniff the air that followed everyone that walks out of the shop, just to be sure no other wolf was in here. I close my eyes as I feel the presence of the last Walker in here moving towards the door. My heart has never raced this fast. I open my eyes when I can no longer feel the presence of a Walker, but there is only one presence I perceive, a Tiger's. I open my eyes and my eyes meet Nathaniel's. He has already pulled off his coat and rolled up his sleeves. He pulls his tie and cast it in my direction. It is only I and him in the shop. I avert my eyes from him and glance at the door, only to see that the two Tigers that accompanied him are still waiting outside by the door, so I don't escape. “And so it shall end, Wolf number 15! It isn't such a bad number right. I mean, 15 out of 30 is an achievement,” Nathaniel says and I gulp. This is not just an attack. The Tigers work under a code known as The Creed. The Creed is and has been the cause of war between the Tigers and the Wolves. Code number two states that “when a wolf is spared, he comes back to kill the one who spared him,” and for this, Nathaniel would never spare me. He has bitten me once, and I survived, but he is here to complete the job. “One shall rise out of the minor, and it shall rule the major and prove dominant,” Nathaniel says, stating code number one. Code number one was the one which drew the battle line between the wolves and the cats. They believe in a prophecy which says a wolf will rise and rule over all, and for this, they've joined forces to seek out wolves and eliminate them. It doesn't matter who, so long you're a wolf, you're considered a threat to them. “I’m just an Omega who is trying to survive. You already killed the Alpha, if one is to rise and dominate, it is not from my pack, it is not from the Crimson pack,” I say to him as I take off my hood and he chuckles, showing no sign of mercy or willingness to consider his actions. “Code number three ‘a scared wolf is the most deceitful, never spare it, for it can do anything to save itself,’ we live by the code,” Nathaniel says and I know I was stupid to have thought my words would mean anything to him. “This is it, for the creed. And this is how it ends for you,” He adds and I hop on the table in front of me. I take a squat on its top and my claws lengthen as I make a scratch at the table. My fangs protrude and my eyes glow blue light. “Not without spilling at least a drop of your blood,” I say to him and he roars. His pupils glow yellow—like flames—and mine glow blue in defence. He charges forward towards me and I hop down behind the table and flip it in his direction to hinder him and give me some time.