(This story is based on events that would have happened after the end of the movie "The Howling". For those of you who don't remember, the movie left the chance for a sequel open, by having Marsha Quist survive the killing of the werewolves at the colony, and ends with her having a burger at a local bar and grille.)
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Marsha sat at the bar, eating her rare-cooked hamburger, still reeling from the loss of her two brothers, as well as the rest of the Colony. She'd taken a grim satisfaction from watching the newswoman die on television, but felt a bit of disappointment as well; she'd never have the chance to take her own revenge on the murdering bitch.
But Marsha was nothing if not resilient. Now she was the alpha, by virtue of the rest being dead, and there was much work to be done. She scanned the bar, taking note of each patron, seeing if any would be suitable for the gift. Alas, there were none. All of them were old and broken, or young and broken-spirited. None would be worthy to join her. She wanted beauty and vigor; that's why she'd chosen the newswoman's husband. Truth be told, she wouldn't have allowed half of the colony to be gifted if she'd been in charge.
She craved the flesh of the humans; this burger wasn't cutting it. It had been to long since she'd hunted a man or woman, and her stomach was rumbling for their meat.
She heard a man at the bar talking loudly; she could smell the scotch on his breath. "I'm telling you, what we just saw on the news was real!" he was telling the bartender.
"Look, Pat, you're shitfaced," the bartender said, "And you're making a fool of yourself."
"No, you're the ones making fools of yourselves," Pat protested, "You're just too blind to accept the truth!"
Marsha listened to the conversation, amused. A minute later, the drunken Pat got up and left angrily, to a chorus of barely-stifled snickers.
Marsha finished her burger, still hungering for more. She considered her options.