Well, Jack decided he could deal with these...oddities later. After he was done with breakfast. He did intend however to look into whatever happened to that poor soul last night. Nobody deserved to have that sort of a harrowing death. Slipping on a v-neck shirt and a pair of workout pants, Jack did some light whistling along to a song he found kind of catchy as he started to head out. He gave one last look into the mirror and found himself trying to stretch again - his back for some reason felt odd in his shirt, and...damn he was gonna need to get a shave. Was that a fucking unibrow?
As Jack headed out, he found himself enduring the weight of his step-family's glares on his way out. No doubt his stepmother had registered his rejection of her depraved offer of companionship in her own way. And for some reason their Doberman Lucien was going absolutely ballistic this morning! Tugging at his leash as soon as he saw Jack, barking and snarling and waving his claws in the air.
Jack was almost taken aback by the sheer ferocity of it, and mentally prepared himself for having to fight off the dog. Nobody ever accused Jack of being a 98 lbs weakling any more, but something in the sheer animosity was overwhelming. Ian Caldwell finally spoke up and outright chuckled at the circumstances, "Well, it seems EVERYONE around here hates you now, Jack! I don't know what you did to our dog, but he wants to tear out your miserable throat! And honestly I'm of half a mind to let 'im!"
"I don't know what your wife told you happened last night but..." Jack started, only to be interrupted by more hellish snarling and barking.
"You really are a depraved little git. Whoring yourself around to modeling coaches, and then propositioning my wife!?" Ian scowled and looked over at the shack, "If it wasn't for how useful you are at the tasks we assign I would've kicked you out on the street by now. God, I hate your smug, pretty little face."
"Same to you, minus the pretty bits, dad." Jack responded. He looked at the dog and actually growled right back at it. Immature, yes, but it seemed to make the beast halt at least. Ellen seemed to recognize something and looked over at Ian.
Both started whispering back and forth, until Ellen stepped forward;
"Just...get out of here before you give me a flashback to your horrible actions last night!" Ellen said with a carefully concealed grin, hidden by her hand over her mouth.
Jack gladly headed out, hearing the manic howling and barking of the dog fading into the distance. At least his stepfamily didn't bother learning where his favorite spots were. At least he had a social life to lead. There was more to Vegas than the strip. There was also the downtown element that Jack enjoyed all the more for how it wasn't the strip. It wasn't a gaudy place full of people and their eyes and hands. As Jack approached Ruby's Diner after a quick trip on a bus, he reminisced.
He knew the owner, and frequently got a sizable discount on meals here. Ma Ruby apparently felt sorry for him, she'd gone through a similar experience with an exploitative manager back in the day, and now just ran this diner instead of living the Hollywood life. He just knew her by that name instead of anything else. Apparently she wanted to live without the "weight" of her old Hollywood moniker.
As Jack entered, the server Jaime Petit waved at him, "Well look at who it is! G'morning to ya, Jack! Ya know, Miss Ruby was really worried 'bout you last night. What with the murder and all. Glad to see you safe and sound. Yer girl's at table 7. She was pretty worried too."
Jack nodded, "Thanks, Jaime." He then proceeded along to the seventh table, seeing his girlfriend Vicki Lansing waiting for him at the table, along with a guy in a police uniform. Vicki was an athletic red haired bombshell - curvy in all the right ways but also athletic and capable. She was beautiful and always had been, and it had been her showing interest when Jack was smaller and weaker that demonstrated she didn't take the talk of social castes all that seriously.
Across from her was a brown haired policeman - muscular but a bit doughy at the middle with a lightly shaved face - stubble matching a slowly grown out buzzcut on his head. There was something though about his eyes. Almond colored but darting. Something told Jack he was constantly looking around as soon as Jack entered. What a weird feeling.
"Thank God whatever happened last night didn't hurt you at all!" Vicki breathed a sigh of relief, though she immediately took note of Jack's appearance, "Looking a little rough around the edges, Jack."
"I mean to shave uhh...later today." Jack took a seat and looked over at the cop.
"Oh, pardon me. I'm Detective Eric Battle." The man grinned and showed off his freshly shined badge. Again something about this guy set off Jack the wrong way. He seemed too...shiny. Too polished. Too forced a smile. The man then said, "Apparently, going by some testimony, you were at the scene before the incident happened. I was just wanting to ask if you had any clue about what happened?"
And again very odd. Usually the police bring you in if they want to question you about something. Jack contemplated. This guy was just talking to him out here. Either this meant that they didn't want to formally arrest him or anything or they were trying to figure out more about the case. Or---
Jack shook his head, "All I saw last night was this one really weird old homeless man. He took a seat by me in the bus stop." Jack remembered the incident well, and the horrible stench of the man-monster who sat next to him. "He murmured something to me. I don't exactly remember what."
For some reason Eric Battle didn't seem to like that answer, and looked away to hide a scowl. He uttered, "Excuse me, ma'am." Vicki got up and the cop excused himself. He looked one more time at Jack, "We're looking into all possible avenues about this incident. If it comes up that somehow you were involved, don't think pouting and making pretty faces at the judge is gonna make things easier on you."
Vicki shouted after him, "Jack had NOTHING to do with any of it! He told you---"
Jack sighed and looked over at Jaime, who seemed a little spooked by the whole affair, and was just holding a couple menus, which going by the fact they were slipping out of his hands a bit, said he had been watching that play out. As soon as Jack got his menu he immediately went for the chicken-fried steak and the pork, and found himself semi-consciously asking for them rare. He usually liked his food medium or so, and it seemed Jaime was a little surprised as well.
"Whatever you say, Jack." He wrote down the order and took Vicki's not long after.
"Jack? Are you okay?" Vicki asked, and he could tell she seemed concerned. Both from the incident just now, and the danger that only just barely passed him over.
"I'm...I'm fine, Vicki. Cop was a d-bag. Nothing's going on." Jack smiled and sipped at a cup of water at the table. By the time the meal got there, Jack was feeling suspiciously ravenous, and started eating the food down. Oblivious to the concerned looks he was getting from Vicki and Jaime, as well as the fact his mouth and lips were being stained more and more with the blood left behind in his feast. It truly was a king's feast, the generously large servings here were why he loved it so much!
-----------------------
Later on in the day in the afternoon, Jack was preparing himself mentally and physically for the trek out to where he saw that dark figure just a night ago. He remembered the strange thing that dead man told him, and he wondered if he was indeed somehow connected to these circumstances. Whoever the poor guy was that died though, that was beyond the pale. Whoever was responsible for this "zombie" or whatever it was, he was going to track that person down one way or another.
'I could've done something. I could've done anything. I could've told someone, or tried to force some answers out of that creep.' Jack pondered to himself. He needed to know. For his conscience, and for the fact that his girlfriend often used this bus system, and he did not want her in any danger from whatever foul creature lurked in the Vegas City Streets. He didn't discount the idea this could just be some sort of civilian man-slayer, but something about it...
As Jack headed out, he noted there was a car that seemed to start driving just behind him, and then followed his movements subtly, the driver thinking apparently that he was being clever. But Jack was no fool! He could tell when he was being tailed. Clenching a fist tight, Jack wondered if there was something going on here. The person had driven out of the area just outside of the diner, near some other stores. If he had to guess they had parked there and had been waiting. Why for him though?
Jack tried to keep moving and crossed the streets a few times on his way to try and shake the pursuit, but each time it would not take long for his pursuer to find a way to get back to trailing him. By the time he got back to the place he'd ran into that eerie man, he found that the entire area seemed desolate, deserted except for the police presence. Jack stuck his hands in his pockets and examined where the guy had been. There was a spot where the crime scene was blocked off by police and tape, numerous cars parked around there. It seemed he had moved a bit before attacking.
That was when he heard the sound of a car engine stopping as a car pulled up just behind him. And doors starting to open.
Jack turned in time to see a bunch of similarly disheveled looking old homeless looking guys stumbling out of the car. Could the police see this going down? Well, it was Las Vegas PD - if they weren't using overwhelming force, they were using no force at all. Incompetent either way. Recognizing when something was happening, Jack took off running, crossing the street on foot and looking back in time to see the shambling men hurrying after him.
He knew he had to keep moving! Jack felt his legs protesting as he sprinted, shocked to see the horrific looking men keeping pace somehow. For all the rot and damage to their bodies, it seemed they were driven by some dark motivating force. Jack saw a stairwell leading down into an old BART tunnel, and desperately tried to move down there, only to misplace his stride and find himself stumbling over pieces of trash and detritus.
Had to get away...
He heard them shuffling down the stairs after him. Jack dragged himself along. He knew that these creatures were after him - for what he did not know. For seeing their comrade last night? For investigating? How in the world did they know he was involved with this at all? How were they waiting for him there? Had he been followed even last night somehow?
Jack dragged himself toward one of the old bathrooms, his consciousness starting to fade. He could feel something in him burning. He assumed it was his concussion at first, but it was too intense. Too immediate. It was spreading through his body! It hurt him like few things did, this esoteric and pulsing pain. It was like his muscles were burning and his tissues were shifting somehow. The drift from conscious to unconscious was waking...something!
The dead men - or whatever they were - would be upon him soon! Jack found himself drifting into whatever dark slumber waited.
Then he saw things in a way he never had before.
Eyes widened, grew more predatory, face stretching out slightly as his body was covered in a sheen of sweat and a scream emitted from his mouth/muzzle. His skin burned, but all he could feel was a sense of release. The human Jack Romulus was fading, and something else was rising as his consciousness left him. The injuries from his fall corrected themselves, even as hair and fur grew out across his body. It was no full moon night, but he was in danger regardless - and that was what he reacted to!
Hands became claws, lined with dangerously sharp nails ready to damage close to anything. Feet restructured and shredded boots. A clawed hand ripped off the shirt and pants - phone falling on the floor, freeing him from the trappings of humanity. Wolf-like ears moved up and down, and a tail corrected his posture. The monsters had came here the hunters, and now they were the prey instead. What Jack had become sniffed the air with its stronger, wolf-like nose, and snarled.
Dead things, walking dead things. Creatures that should not be, that despoiled the world around them with their presence. Hunt. Fight. Gnash. Kill! Jack did not know what or where he was beyond the primal instincts of the wolf, even as the first zombie to crest the turn found itself slashed to pieces first in the head then missing an arm and a leg. Jack roared, and accepted the next challenger.
The dead creature ambled forward, swinging wildly, only for Jack to go to four legged movement and then rip through it with a leaping slash from his claws.
The tunnel would be the sight of a most horrendous battle - horror fighting horror as the creature man knew as the werewolf eviscerated the final zombie, leaving it torn to pieces on the ground, nary a scratch on the wolf. Jack let out a howl of triumph and, as he started moving up toward the exit of the tunnel, he saw the sun outside. The sight of the sun which triggered a reversion posthaste. The werewolf was bound to darkness and unconscious nature.
Jack found himself stirring back to consciousness. Darkness fading, his eyes shifting back to their slate grey coloration from bright gold, hair and fur retracting, claws reverting to hands. Feet returning to their usual configuration. Jack moaned as he fell forward on to the top step. Mostly naked and barely conscious, Jack groaned, "W-What...the...fuck?"
He pulled himself back up and looked himself over. Where the hell were his clothes?
Jack headed back down and gulped when he saw the outcome of the earlier violence his werewolf self had unleashed. He assumed whatever that was had been some disturbing dream, and had thought he might need to reckon where his lost time went. But seeing the dismembered remains of the zombies that had attacked him made Jack realize something. He DID remember that, all the pain, the loss of consciousness and the return to a new, altered state.
And what had happened to him. The clues that he had looked at before suddenly seemed important. The unibrow, the hair on his chest, the sideburns...all typically signs of--- "A...A werewolf. Fuck me sideways, am I...a werewolf?" Jack looked down at his hands. His fingernails were normal, not claws at all. But the more he looked at himself the more he thought of what triggered that. There had been no full moon out yet. He had changed entirely due to need.
So there was no guarantee that he was safe from random changes. Jack then felt his heart almost skip a beat when he heard his phone ring. He looked around for it and found it on the floor, where it had dropped out of his shredded clothes. Ah! It was Vicki!
"Hey top stud!"
"Ohh, hey Vicki. What's up?"
"Well, I had to cancel some arrangements tonight, so, if you're up for it, how about you come visit my place? We could have some fun. Watch some scary movies. I just got American Werewolf in London!"
Jack almost rolled his eyes when he heard that little coincidence. But now he had some choices. He could meet up with his girlfriend and try and warn her about what was going on, or he could continue his investigation. These zombies had arrived in a fucking car. A car probably not driven by someone with dead hands. Jack however also knew that the night tonight would be another full moon. Should he try and make an excuse and find somewhere far off to go...shall we say wolf out?