As Thursday morning dawned over the sleepy little town of Moon Lake, Washington; in the alternate continuity we call "Earth-2"*, the town's citizens–whether they were normal or weres–awoke to start a new day.
"And this is Station KMLC: Moon Lake College Radio. It's 6am and here's the news headlines..." began the announcer, as the Andersons staggered from their beds.
Werefoxes William and Martha awoke within each other's furry arms after another passionate night of sex before falling asleep together. A smile crossed their vulpine muzzles as they kissed, their life/soul mate bond just as strong now as it was the day they joined were society.
"You still taking the kids to school today?" asked William, as he got out of bed and reluctantly resumed his normal human appearance. The more I'm furry, the more I don't want to be anything else, he mused, while looking at himself in the bedroom mirror.
"That's my plan," confirmed his wife Martha, not bothering to switch forms until she took her shower. She grabbed a brush off her nightstand and began to comb out her fox tail. "Eric's broken nose should be healed by now**, but even though Nate is recovering from that ambush Monday***, he's still in no shape to drive himself around yet."
"Agreed. Say, how do you think I'd look with a beard?" her husband asked, while staring at the five o'clock shadow on his face.
"I don't know. Would it be as soft as your fur when foxy?" Martha asked in return.
"I'll have to check the college handbook in regards to faculty appearance regulations, but there's only one way to find out," replied William, before kissing his wife and heading to the shower in the master bathroom.
"...a low pressure system is moving through the area today, and while it will cause more havoc for the mid-west and the eastern seaboard than us, there is a chance for scattered showers off and on today..."
Eric Anderson let his older brother Nate use the bathroom first, because he knew it would take him longer to shower while still struggling with his inner ear imbalance***. As a werewolf, Nate's healing factor was much greater than a normal human's, but that still didn't mean any member of were society was invulnerable.
Which reminded Eric of his own recent injury.
As most weres did, Eric slept in the nude, although he couldn't assume his fursona because he needed to give his broken nose a chance to heal.**
He walked to the mirror on top of his dresser and carefully touched it.
Feels fine, Eric concluded, after putting various degrees of pressure upon it. But now comes the ultimate test.
Slowly, he released his fursona, relishing in feeling the werepanther within him come forth.
White fur spread across his body as Eric grew taller. His feet became paws as his toe and finger nails extended longer than they were.
As the panther's tail started to form, Eric stared at his face.
He was fully prepared to stop the transformation and change back the moment there was any pain around his nose.
Eric's ears started to shift to a higher position on his head as his jaws extended to shape his feline muzzle.
But while he was nervous about doing so, Eric felt no pain at all as his transformation finished, revealing a white furred werepanther with a touch of brown on top of his head staring back at him.
"Growl," Eric said proudly, turning this way and that to make sure everything came out okay.
Then he touched his nose again.
"Still good," he said happily, as a smile crossed his muzzle. "Watch out Frieda and Spencer," he said, thinking of the women in his life that made up the unique threesome between them. "First chance I get, I'm making up for lost time with both of you!" as his panther penis twitched happily in its sheath.
MEANWHILE...
The assassin had played it cool since being contracted for this killing.
At the moment, a simple tourist passing through town stayed overnight at the Moon Lake Inn. If all went well, that person would be long gone and never connected to the murder.
His fellow mobsters wanted Freddie "The Shark" Parker dead before he caved in under Federal pressure and started squealing like a pig about things he should keep his big mouth shut about.
The fact that the first assassin contracted for the job botched things didn't sit well with them, but someone else had the job of eliminating that loose end.
A brief visit yesterday pretending to be a relative of a fictitious patient revealed the basic floor plan of Moon Lake General Hospital, as well as the fact that Parker was still being kept there under Federal and local guard until the proper transportation could be arranged, because the other killer only managed to permanently make Parker a cripple, not permanently dead.
Best way to do this job is old school, thought the assassin, while getting ready to check out of the motel.
Go back in pretending to be a visitor again. Get as close as I can in that guise, then switch outfits and pretend to be part of the hospital staff until I'm actually in Parker's room. Then I'll just use a hypodermic needle to inject an air bubble into Parker's IV tube. It will course through the Shark's body naturally, but when it reaches his chest cavity: heart attack! By then I'll already be back in my visitor disguise and leaving the hospital with no one the wiser, hoped the killer, while wiping down everything with a motel towel to make sure no genetic evidence was left behind, just in case.
The air bubble will never show up on any autopsy, and Parker's demise will be ruled death by natural causes. If searched, I'll be clean coming and going. Sometimes, the best way to kill someone is with a K.I.S.S. Keep It Simple, Stupid. Of course, if any of this goes South, I've got orders to frame some guy named Crawford in Seattle for all of this. That part the assassin didn't understand, because she had no idea who Crawford was, let alone how or why the mob singled him out for such an "honor". Otherwise, I just get out of Dodge as fast as I safely can.
With that, the killer grabbed her suitcase and left the rented room to check out, tossing the used towel back toward the bathroom after wiping the door knob clean on both sides.
A simple walk to the front desk to turn in the key and settle the bill. In cash, of course.
Then back to the car with Oregon license plates provided by her employers, which is where everyone thought 'Miss Debra Johnstone' (although such a person didn't exist) of Beaverton, Oregon (of which there really is such a place, according to Google) was from and would be returning to; despite the fact that the killer had never set foot in Oregon in her life.
Instead, once the job was done, a short drive to meet her contact in Spokane, Washington (for Seattle was too obvious) and then they would take care of the car while she caught a flight back to New York under a different disguised alias; flying coach to keep a low profile.
It's a living, mused the killer, while heading to her car.
TO BE CONTINUED...
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*Compared to all the other Moon Lake adventures that take place on Earth-1.
**Suffered "yesterday", as seen in recent episodes of this series.
***Labor Day, 2016 to those on Earth 2.—tmw.