Reborn as the Lycan Beta

Prologue

Universe Number 602-22

Planet Earth

Just Some Years Back

Kerrick Valentine POV

I was lost once. When I was a kid. And no, not in a forest. In the city. With people — lots of people. Like me. Human. Or so I thought.

It’s only now, looking back, that I realized it wasn’t just humans I saw.

There were them.

It’s only now that I realize.

A stray tail here, an antler there, an ever-permanent space from behind that gave additional footste— no, hoofbeats.

A gossamer pair of wings at one time. Then, at another time, hands… glowing. And I even heard talking… and recalling that time, I just realized — I think they spoke… orc?

So yeah, that was when I was still a pup. Or no… a kid. After all, it was out there. I remember… I cried when I got lost. Like, really bawled my eyes out. And that was while searching for my Pa and Ma.

All the things I observed, even if back then I didn’t really think about it, somehow everything just spooked me. I suddenly felt scared.

The people were tall. Too tall. Like trees and something else. No… it wasn’t a forest. I was not in a forest. There were no trees. Only concrete. Concrete jungle.

Yet, looking back, that concrete jungle had way too many people. Probably as many as now. Which is not possible because the country’s population — the world’s population back then, was just a half, maybe a third… or a fifth of what we got now? So yeah, definitely impossible.

So anyway, yeah, later on — I mean today — today I found the truth.

I was right all along…

—

He’s finally here! It’s been a while since the last time I saw him.

He’s a police officer, the most handsome I ever saw. A pair of amber eyes that seem to shimmer, especially when he smiles * ah, yes, those rows of gnawers that could’ve landed him a modeling career. Not to mention those kissable pink lips that slightly turn up and get more emphasized whenever he gives this… mischievous look. I haven't seen it many times, but I saw it whenever he was with his colleagues.

Yet even if he wasn’t smiling, he still had a prominent jawline and short wavy dark hair to boast of. Heck, just the look of him makes my mini me down there twitch that I have to shift from one side to another as I stand here behind the counter.

He and I were probably of the same height, although it makes me wonder… how come he seemed so confident compared to me? Was it because of the way he dressed, that no matter what he wore, and even if he wore glasses like I do, he would always look hot? Was it because of his job? Was it because he, like his colleagues, was gifted with genes that gave him broader shoulders and stronger lungs?

Perhaps that was the case. Compared to him, I was lanky. Maybe even a little effeminate in build. I’m already nineteen; my family said I might get a second growth spurt this year thanks to our genes, but I haven’t felt it start yet. But then, I guess, I was also fortunate enough not to have suffered from acne compared to most teenagers of my generation… although I did get peppered with freckles. So many of them, just like some allergies whenever I eat forbidden food.

Speaking of which, I do have many allergies too. I even have an inhaler in my pocket. All the time. Besides shells, crabs, shrimps, lobsters, and crayfish, I’m also allergic to chicken, eggs, and nuts. I also can’t handle gluten and I have lactose intolerance. I even have an alcohol allergy. I hate my body, to be honest. I have to take multiple medicines whenever I sneak a bite of some of these foods.

Oh, and did I mention that my flame-red hair is scruffy, like an out-of-this-world, hard-to-control curly? It was so hard to maintain that I wanted to try wearing those dreadlocks my African-American friends in school wear. They’ve been encouraging me to try it, but my parents won’t have any of it. Possible allergic reaction, they said. Too hard to maintain, they said.

One thing my long hair helped, though * I could hide my face. I mentioned I had no acne, but I felt my freckles were one too many, especially on my face. And again, I hate it when they say I look like a female. That’s why I wear glasses.

Not that I hate females * I love them, though not in the way most men do. It’s just that I’ve got a couple of female best friends, and they love me for who I am.

“Kerrick!”

There goes one of my best friends, Natalie. She trotted as she entered from our shop’s side entrance where our breakroom and employee exit was. Her green and white uniform complimented her dark chocolate skin and brown hair perfectly, making her naturally green eyes pop.

With the perfect curves in the right places, she was gorgeous. Too bad we bat for the same team. Still, it was our eyes having similar colors that brought us together, although…

“Sorry I’m late,” she said. “I had to drop off my twin on his group date.”

I rolled my eyes. “Why must you pamper your brother?” I asked her as I began arranging the shelves behind the counter.

“Because he’s my baby brother,” she said, setting up the second cash register. “And I’m his only family left.”

I sighed. Almost.

“Ohmygodohmygodohmygod!” She squealed as she pinched me by the elbow, on my bicep. Ow! Is there such a thing as workplace and friendship violence? There ought to be!

“Natalie!” I hissed, slightly turning to glare at her, although I could see some movement in the corner of my line of sight.

“Sorry,” she lowered the volume of her voice to a squeak, but she also slapped me. I swear… “I can’t believe your hot Officer Evans is here!”

“Will you shut up?!” I muttered as I rolled my eyes.

Apparently, Mr. Cop had noticed our commotion, for he smiled at us as he approached, carrying his basket of groceries. He was known to his colleagues as “Morty”, but was actually a dude named Detective Murtaugh Evans. It’s just that Nat and I find him such an eye candy, that we gave him the codename of Mr. Cop.

Yeah — so original, I know, but I doubt anyone would catch on to it right away since our store is just a couple of blocks away from the back of the nearest local police office — although with all the traffic routing system in this area it will probably take a while for anybody to travel from there to out here using cars. On foot or on a motorcycle, however…

Tonight was the week’s usual slowest shift. Our night shift manager had already left for her “lunch” break, there was no line at the counter, and only a couple of other grocers besides the officer were perusing the aisles.

He seemed to have just ended his shift; his usually well-swept hair was a bit windswept. He wore a long navy blue coat and matching pants, with a dark steel blue shirt that emphasized his toned build and dark blue eyes. The button-down had a couple of buttons undone, giving me a peek at Mr. Cop’s pecs and collarbone underneath.

Simply put, he was absolutely. Delectable.

“Hey…” despite his worn-out expression, he broke into a grin.

Mr. Cop was almost near the counter, when…

“EVERYBODY DOWN! EVERYBODY STAY F**KING DOWN OR WE WILL F**KING SHOOT!”

It was so quick and out of the blue that I froze. I didn’t even realize that the pulling sensation from below had been Natalie, who had already crouched down with one hand covering her head.

“Ker—” her voice had been cut off as one guy, dressed in an all-black windbreaker, dark blue jeans, and branded basketball shoes knocked her out with the butt of a .45. He had this V mask* and wore black gloves, of which on his shoulder was an AR-15. In a blink, he proceeded to point his gun at everyone else in the grocery store while he went to the entrance, locked the door, and opened the store blinds.

“OPEN THE REGISTER!”

By the time I realized what really happened, it was already too late: a second guy, of the same height as the first but dressed in all black from head to foot, and underneath his jacket’s hoodie he wore a ski mask. He had a ‘Hood accent, but it was obviously fake. Not that I could point it out in annoyance, of course — all I could see by then was a barrel of an Uzi. I gasped and held back a squeak as pain shot on my side; he had just jabbed me by my side with his fist. Or something. I think I just broke a rib.

“I — I d-don’t have access—”

“OPEN IT!”

I could no longer contain a whimper as I shuddered involuntarily. I mean who wouldn’t when some nasty gun is shoved in their face? I felt hot liquid in my eyes; my eyeglasses had gone foggy and askew. I could feel an impending breathing difficulty, but I did my best to raise my hands in surrender and went towards the cashier.

“HURRY UP AND OPEN IT F**KER!”

It was only then I noticed that there was a third robber. He, too, was dressed all in black, from a Trilby hat to jacket, turtleneck, and chinos, to leather shoes and gloves. His hat hinted at strange shoulder-length blue hair, tied by a ponytail, that was either dyed or a wig. He wore some Japanese onna mask that made me shudder once more because of its creepy, unusual smile. I didn’t recall him entering the front like the other two; he probably used our side entrance.

“HURRY UP, THEM COPS ARE HERE YO!”

From a distance, sirens shrieked through the air.

“QUIT DRAGGIN’ IT F*G! HURRY UP!”

“F**K MAN, THEY’RE HERE!”

“HOW THE F**K DID THEY GET HERE SO FAST?!”

There was screaming from the two robbers and whimpering from our poor grocers as they got dragged around until they were together, facing one another, their hands in front.

“Ow!”

“WHO THE F**K SAID YOU’RE ALLOWED TO LOOK?! HURRY THE F**K UP!”

I shuddered one more time and whimpered as I got another jab. I guess my initial plan to slow down emptying our cash register was seen through, for the man kept poking me in the side.

Guy with the V mask had resumed watching the grocers while the retro hat dude went about the entire store once more. Outside, the cops were shouting warnings via megaphone while our store phone rang. Apparently, the guy who had his gun trained on me got pissed as he knocked our phone off and unplugged the wiring.

“Hey p***wad, I’m motherf**king taking you as a f**king hostage. Those Mofos need to back off. Feel me yo?”

I was about to answer, but —

“F**K! THIS GUY’S A COP!”

Chaos ensued. I mean, s**t just hit the fan — there was screaming, hissing, and even strange growling.

“MOTHERF**KER! F**KING COP!”

“DON’T SHOOT! DON’T SHOOT!”

“No — wait!”

BAM!

“ARGGH! WHAT THE F**K ARE YOU DOING?! YOU SHOT ME! YOU F**KING SHOT ME!”

“Noisy. Annoying.”

BAM!

“WHAT THE F**K MAN?! WHY’D YOU SHOOT HIM?! THAT’S NOT WHAT WE AGREED! F**K!”

BAM!

“NO! OFFICER MORTY!” It was only a split second later that I realized the scream had been mine.

BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM!

As the one who held me at gunpoint went down from the dude with a hat’s gun, I ducked and scrambled, crawling as fast as I could from behind the counter all the way to Mr. Cop. I don’t know what happened afterward, or whether all the other hostages were alive or dead, except that I could hear shouts, more sirens, and even more gunshots from the outside. All I know was that I was able to reach the fallen officer’s side, unscathed.

“Ohmygodohmygodohmygod…” I cried.

“Kerrick…”

Officer Morty’s shirt had turned even darker as blood pooled underneath him. I didn’t realize I had cradled him in my arms.

“Y-y-you know me…”

“Of course… sorry we never got… to talk much…” I could sense he was giving every last ounce of his strength to hold my hand.

“Y-you shouldn’t talk… we need to get you to the hospital…”

The last words I gave were probably drowned out as more shouts from both outside and from our last remaining captor filled the air. It was only then I noticed that not one soul was alive.

“I really… really… like…” Mr. Cop’s hands then went limp.

“O-officer? Officer?!”

Nonononono…

Those endless series of nos and screams were probably said aloud and not in my head. Really, I didn’t care anymore. There was so much shouting, so much chaos. I felt myself getting dragged by someone, a cold barrel on my temple. My eyes could barely make out what was happening, except for Natalie.

Natalie was there, collapsed on the floor, a bullet in her head…

I should feel bad for my best friend, but the death of Officer Morty in my hands couldn’t be wiped off my mind.

I didn’t even realize that the grocery shop was totally wrecked. Or that people had gathered to see all the drama. Or that I was in the news along with my captor, hissing in some alien language that seemed out of this world as his gun was trained on me.

Or that he had opened his jacket to reveal explosives. Lots of it.

“FINALLY I GET WHAT I WANT!” Came that Darth Vader-y voice that would haunt me, even in the next lifetime.

Then everything went white.

—