“Wake up Frederick.”
It was past midnight at the hospital. While most of the staff would be at home sleeping, there was an evening shift keeping an eye on those recuperating. Mostly doctors and nurses fresh out of medical school; a few were from the local college. Putting in hours for either school credit or to help pay for their tuition. Few if any of the morning staff are in at this hour; save for an emergency. Or for personal reasons.
“Wake up Frederick. We don’t have much time.”
The man gently shaking the handcuffed criminal in his hospital bed. Eliciting a moan as he slowly opens his eyes in the near black room.
“What time is it,” Frederick responding groggily.
“Its time for us to have another chat,” the man quickly opening the hospital room door; checking to see if anyone was about and heading towards the room. Satisfied that there was no one, he closes the door and turns around to look at Frederick.
“Have you had time to think on what we talked about earlier,” the man removing his lab coat; “about what animal you would like to become?”
“Is this a dream,” Frederick still shaking the sleep from his eyes; “who are you?”
“The man who offered you a way to be whole again,” the doctor sitting in a nearby chair; turning on a small light so as to allow Frederick to see him, or what is about to happen.
Smiling at Frederick, the mobster looks as the man before him stated to shift and morph; watching a fur sprout on the skin that was exposed, not seeing that the entire body being covered thanks to the clothes he was wearing. Frederick look on in both fascination and horror as the man stands up, his face pushing out into the shape of a rat’s muzzle; whiskers poking out behind the nose on the upper jaw. The iris of the man’s eyes turning brown or black; with the light available, Frederick could not tell what color they were, but he did a clear sight of the man’s tail. A tail strikingly similar to that of a rat’s tail; pink and hairless, yet looking rather prehensile.
“I am not a dream,” the rat man speaking; his voice slightly higher in pitch as looked at Frederick who was now doing his best to try and back away. Unable to do so as half of his body refused to function thanks to the assassin’s bullet severing his spine.
“I am very real,” the man speaking; “this town’s inhabitants as similar were’s like me. Were-species of all shapes and sizes; we have been living in secret amongst you normals since who knows how long.
“Normals,” Frederick watching the man grab the lab coat just as he reverts back to his human form.
“What we call humans who were either not born a were or became one through the act of another were,” the doctor leaning over Fredericks bed.
“What are you,” Frederick looking genuinely scared.
“A were-rat,” the doctor answering; “and the only one who is willing to help you be whole again. Unlike you doctor Tora Tachibana,” the were-rat speaking; “a were-fox and the head of this hospital.”
“Wait,” Frederick looking confused; “the doctor who was here earlier, he is like you?”
“Yes,” the man rolling his eyes; “but his fursona is based off of the North American red fox. But lets get back on topic can we? Save the tangents for another day? If you could become a were like me, what would it be?”
Frederick was silent. Thinking on what he just saw; a creature that should not exist, telling him that there are more like him.
“If what you are saying is true,” Frederick trying to regain composure and some semblance of calm; “and not some crazy dream derived of the powerful painkiller being pumped into me.”
“I can assure you I am very real,” the man looking at Frederick; “and I can deliver on giving you back your legs.”
“What is the strongest and most powerful of your kind,” Frederick asking; more out of curiosity than anything. The fallen mobster wanted more information before giving an answer outright.
“That is matter of debate between most were-species,” the man responding; “while the werewolf is the most popular and common. Thanks to movies and ancient folklore; they are not the strongest nor the fastest. Some would argue differently since they like to hunt in packs like a regular wolf would. Others would say the various feline were’s are stronger and faster. While there is some merit to this,” the man getting up to look out the door once again; “some are more solitary hunters or what have you.”
“Name them,” Frederick probing for more information; “which were’s are we talking about?”
“The were-cheetah,” the man speaking; “naturally the fastest of us all; yet they are mono-gender. All females and are primarily lesbian and or bi-sexual. The were-tiger is another contender,” the man continuing to drone on; “strong and quite territorial.”
“Something to think about,” Frederick chiming in; “but there is more is there.”
“Were-panther, cougars and leopards are roughly the same,” the man answering; “but don’t say that in front to of them. Not unless of course you want a genuine cat fight. And I’m not talking about the sexy kind. One could say the strongest of the feline weres is the were-lion,” the man responding.
“They are the strongest were,” Frederick keenly interested; “the most feared?”
“They’d like to think so,” the man smiling; “I know they knocked you down off your high horse.”
“What are you talking about,” Frederick looking at the man.
“The Talbots,” the man looking at Frederick; watching the color drain from his face; “the Talbots are were-lions and their patriarch, Leon Talbot? Well,” the man pausing; “he is the were-lion king. Your son Daniel made the foolish mistake of shooting Peter; Leon’s son.”
All of sudden all the pieces fell into place for Frederick; the fact that Leon Talbot had connections, resources, influence. It wasn’t because he was a criminal like him; but some form of royalty.
“I hate to derail your train of thought,” the man snapping Frederick out of his reverie; “but time is short with us.”
“Is there any possibility,” Frederick speaking quietly; “despite what you just told me, that I could be a were-lion?”
“A tall order,” the man looking surprised; “but it might be possible. Expensive, yet you might have to settle on a second choice. Perhaps a were-grizzly?”
“And look like yogi bear from those old Hanna Barbara cartoons,” Frederick looking disgusted; “I think not.”
“Well you did want to know the strongest of the were-species is,” the doctor sighing; “despite all of the bravado with the various canine and feline weres; the bear variety of us are the strongest. Hell our sheriff and the judge that denied you bail are were-grizzlies. Just food for thought,” the man once again checking the hallway.
“Alright,” Frederick sighing; “but what about a shark. Like my nickname?”
“Wer-mers,” the man shaking his head; “they are the weakest of the were species. They grow a fish tail in there fursona and can breathe underwater. On land, they are only slightly stronger and faster than a normal.”
“So no sharks,” Frederick digesting what was just spoken to him; “how soon can you make this happen?”
“It will take a few days,” the man looking serious; “but before we agree to terms and what not. I must make something very clear. Becoming a were of any species is a one time only thing. There are no do overs and no going back. One of benefits of being a were is an incredibly long life span. It may not seem apparent to you, but I am eighty years old. And I don’t look a day over twenty.”
“So I’ll have my youth back,” Frederick looking shocked; “How long can you live?”
“Its only a guess,” the man checking the hallway again; “but its been theorized that we can live up to four hundred years. I do know of a couple of weres pushing three hundred, so it is possible.”
“Make the arraignments then,” Frederick finally sold on the idea of being a were; “were-lion or grizzly. Actually,” Frederick thinking; “make it either a were-lion or a were-tiger. A tiger is fierce and not one to trifle with.”
“Very well,” the man putting on his lab coat; “just keep this to yourself then. Don’t tell anyone; not even to doctor Tachibana.”
“What is your name,” Frederick asking just as the were-rat is opening the door to his room to leave.
“Marcus Huntington,” the were-rat answering; “and I’ll be in touch.”
********
In another part of the hospital a seething were-fox snarled and growled as he slammed his paw onto the desk; denting the top despite is being made of sturdy wood. The man exploded into his fursona as he listened into the conversation that was taking place between Marcus and the crippled mobster Frederick Parker.
“I’m going to rip his throat out,” the were-fox growling; breathing hard as he fought the urge to leap out of his seat and race through the hospital and chase down a rat for a doctor. With his brother present, the were fox had the good sense to resist the temptation to let his emotions dictate his actions. Looking at the slightly older man as he sighs, shaking his head as looks at the sizable dent on the desk.
“I’d rather you not do something that rash brother,” the other were-fox speaking; “our grandmother would most definitely not approve.”
“The cat’s out of the bag,” the younger were-fox throwing his paws into the air in dismay; “killing a were-rat is not going to change the situation.”
“Marcus and Frederick have only talked Tora,” the older were-fox calmly answering; “talk that we can pass off as a fevered induced dream. The man’s immune system is probably compromised.”
“What are you getting at Daisuke,” Tora glaring at his older brother.
“You’re the doctor,” Daisuke sighing; “despite the advances in medicine, aren’t post-operative infections still something to be concerned about?”
Tora paused for the moment; thinking on what his brother just stated and listening to the fact that Frederick was still groggy, even mentioning that fact that several powerful painkillers are keeping him from feeling the pain that comes from surgery. Surgery to sew up severed arteries and punctured organs.
“That is going to be a hard sell,” Tora responding; sitting back down in his seat as he turns off the recorder. Thankful of the foresight of having a bug placed in Frederick’s recovery room. Tora never expected Marcus to make a second visit to Frederick Parker; despite being told to stay away.
“You’ll think of something,” Daisuke placing a hand on Tora’s furry shoulder; the doctor’s rage in listening to the conversation, destroying the man’s clothes. “Grandmother will need to be informed of this… situation.”
“We need to make sure Marcus doesn’t visit Frederick again,” Tora looking at his brother; “he needs to be locked up in the council’s cells now.”
“I’ll have skulk agents follow the man,” Daisuke responding; “for now let the man think we don’t know of his plans. I’ll let grandmother listen to what we just overheard and let her decide the appropriate course of action.”
“Appropriate course of action,” Tora looking piqued; “the were-rat just revealed our existence to normal. A criminal no less. A man who wouldn’t give one shit about keeping our kind secret.”
“Our grandmother already has to deal with a were on the verge of going rogue,” Daisuke looking serious; “don’t make the situation already worse than it is. Compared to Jack Crawford, this is a situation that can easily be handled.”
“For a person who is next to take over as the were-fox rep and CEO of Tachibana Medical,” Tora looking exasperated; “you seem awfully calm over what we just listened to.”
“The advantages of spending time learning from grandmother,” Daisuke smiling; “you learn not to sweat over the small stuff and to take things in stride. Drink some tea and think of a non-violent way to handle Marcus Huntington for the moment.”
“I can fire his ass,” Tora still fuming; “but then there are his patients that I would have to take into consideration.”
“While I’m sure that will happen in the end,” Daisuke heading to the office door; “may I suggest you suspend him pending an investigation over ethics instead. But not before you defur and put on some clothes that have not been shredded.”
To be continued.