Kastler wore a twisted smirk. The many chains he wore around his waist clanked slightly, as he moved. He was wearing only faded holy black jeans and his chains. Nothing else. He stood in the middle of the circle he'd drawn, painting protective runes on himself with blood. He had much work to do still, so much.

He took his time with his own protection and then let himself out of the circle and closed it again. He'd ned back in it later. For the moment though, he needed the moonlight. It was necessary for the spell for starters, and he wanted to witness the shift when it happened to his two new guests. Young angry were wolves, he'd caught the night before. He wondered if they knew they were about to be sacrifices? They hung chained to the walls of his dungeon.

He went to the body, the whole reason he was here. He began to remove the spells supending the body in a timeless state. He'd stolen this body quite some time ago. He'd switched it afer a suicide attempt.....Easily enough done, when there are not friends or relatives to be sure of who's being buried.

He moved the body into the circle once he'd brought it back into synchronization with normal time.

Now it was time to make it live again, He knew littl about his newest subject, he couldn't even remember his name. The important thing he remembered was that this individual was a werewolf. His spells on initially dealing with the body in the lab had revealed that. He's always wanted to study one in action.

Kastler was about to have his chance, he'd get to se how they died as well. His two other guests were still hanging around in the pale moonlight. A shaft of moonbeams lit his circle. He began the incantations to make this body and soul breath again. The soul had not been ready to leave the body when he'd collected it, suicides often were that way. Unfinished business made the soul cling.

Kastler was going to take great delight in this evening, he couldn't wait to see what his new puppet would do.....Mastery over the dead could be such an entertaining hobby.

The body in question would have not been offended in the slightest that his name could not be remembered. It was the way he would have expected it to be. But just so the reader knows, Silas Shepiro was that nameless body and Silas Shepiro would be offended at being part of an outrageously stupid and entirely inappropriate experiment that would bring him to life and bait him into feeding almost immediately. He would also be offended at being brought to life and having his perfectly effective suicide ruined and disturbed. He would have rather let his soul lingering for eternity then become that werewolf monster one more time.

His body, that the nutty mage-technician had laid into the circle, was pale and thin. He was still in that expensive, beautiful suit that his own funeral money had provided in which to burry him. But that would not matter, soon enough, it would be torn into shredded clothe. His hair was not blonde but was nearly perfectly white, tied away from his face neatly to reveal a clean line of jaw and simple but perfectly handsome, ideal features.

In life, his flesh had been a good few shades darker, though nothing in his features had changed. Even in death, a peaceful expression escaped him. He looked saddened, eternally angry, torn within.

The peaceful expression won't hold, the moon is nearly fully risen. The mage's incantations continue rising to a nearly fever creshendo. The other guests are writhing in their chains. Spells had kept them in this form, he didn't want tehm to shift and heal from the things he'd done to them.

He moved himself into the smaller circle of protection he'd prepared so he could observe. Just before the newly resurrected body began it's transformation he let the barrier on the larger circle fail.

Now he had only to watch and wait. His body practically hummed with anticipation.

The body awakened first. Dead don't go furry after all. In fact, the furry become human after they become dead.

Silas' eyes flicked open to reveal those startling blue eyes that Kastler had no doubt already noted and studied once, or many times, before during his examinations and experiments. Those eyes looked less dead then they had before he'd been made, once more, alive. What was happening? Silas couldn't understand, couldn't remember. He had not the slightest clue what was happening or where he was.

And he was given only a breif second to take in his surroundings and attempt to understand before that firmiluar other awakened within him, that pressance, the beastial side. It stirred and then pressed itself outward at the beck and call of the whole moon. Outward he pressed, until Silas felt his flesh tearing, his skin being ripped apart by his own clawed hands. Beneath the skin was fur, white as one might expect from Silas' hair. Tawny eyes, that hunters color. They were no longer lovely and blue but rather something dark and preditorial.

Within moments of pain and pleassure at odd sensations that couldn't be described to a human by a human, there stood a wolf, erect and human life, towering feet higher then the human he had been had stood. The wolf had more time then the man was given to take in his suroundings, to attempt to understand what was happening. And he realized exactly what.

But instead of attacking the bait, instead of even noticing them, he crept to the other, the one that was protected behinde a barrier and snarled, began viciously attacking that barrier.

Still very entertaining even if not what he'd planned. Such close scrutiny of the beast was available to him. It had a marvellous anatomy. Kastler had been eating ver well in preparation for this. Eating the flesh of other men. It made him very powerful in his magic.

Still one can never be to careful. the barrier wouldn't hold forever, and he couldn't be certain without a doubt the creature would exhaust itself trying to get at him. So with a few more incantations he laid his contingency spell. In the event the barrier began to collapse Kastler would be turned to stone for twelve hours.

He continued to watch, and just because he could, he taunted the creature that so furiously wanted to get at him.

His mien seemed to scream at the other: turncoat scum you are! Bastard! You should learn the error of your ways and I will gladly teach that lesson!

Why, exactly, would you taunt such a creature in the first place, let alone one so furious? Unless of course you were mad. But then, a mage that would eat human flesh and bring dead bodies back to life just to study them would have to be mad. The scent of flesh, by the way, was now capturing the beasts sense of smell, but the feel of the magic was capturing his attintion.

Marvellous anatomy indeed, Silas was not only in his prim in humanity but the wolf in which he became was also in the prim of it's life, of it's physical stature. Alpha material if I do say so myself. A raging monster with finely sharpened teeth, black claws. It lowered back and sat, looking much like a full wolf, even in this half-way body. It would wait.

Unless something distracted it soon, and the smell of flesh was doing a job of that already.

The smell of flesh was coming from a braier in the corner of the room. The remaining portions were only cooked to rare. The poor beasts chained to the wall no doubt smelled too, they had been bloodied on purpose just after sunset.

Kastler is no doubt about it mad. His experiments aren't even cruel and with a purpose most of the time. Just his twisted fancies brought to life. Each moere twisted than the last. He takes a perverse pleasure in these little diversions. He finds the whole thing arousing.

The scent of blood was better then flesh. He was quickly looseing interest in the man behind the wall that he couldn't see.

Why frustrate himself with a man that he couldn't get to when there were two perfectly still men chained up near by? Because the wolf liked the chase, he liked the fight. He enjoyed taking his prey down. But if one could not run and one he could not get too at all, he'd prefere the easy prey that could not run. And he lost all interest in Kastler then as he turned and stalked, on two legs, to the men chained up.

His wet nose pressed feircly to an open wound, rubbed, sniffed, and then his tongue rolled over the blood in a long, slow motion before he circled them both, lurched forward, and tore tendon, muscle, and bone. He'd nearly taken one man's head off with just one snap of his jaw.

The mage watched in fascination. He wove in a few more contingencies with his spell. Thee are so many things that can go wrong when you experiment as he does, it's best to cover all your bases.

When he felt comfortable he resumed watching the carnage. It really was very exciting to him. Very, very exciting.

Might he be excited to know that wolves don't play with their food, werewolves often do? Silas was now toying with the other man, or...the wolf was at least. The white creatures fur was spattered with red, blood, fresh. And he was circling the other man slowly, nipping, biting. The first man would have fed him fine, filled him, but it was better like this, funner.

The wolf toyed with the second man for a long time, an arm went missing, ended up lying near Kastler's circle, a leg on the other side of the dead man. Eventually, the man bled to death and the wolf began to strip away meat from the corpse with his teeth. And when he felt filled, he returned to pace in front of Kestler's circle, dark eyes never leaving his target, stalking back and forth.

Eventually, however, it grew werry and stretched across the floor, laying before the circle and drifting to a sleep nearly exactly as still as Silas' death had been.

This all excites the mage enough he sticks a hand in his pants. He is one sick individual. I'm sure it isn't hard to imagine what he's doing while the carnage goes on. He continues for a while after the wolf watches him even. Pervert that he is. He likes an audience.

It stops being fun once the wolf sleeps though. Then Kastler just stands there humming show tunes.

Sunlight made his eyes twitch beneath the lids. He turned his head away from the sunlight and opened his eyes to find himself staring at a gruesome sight, two, what he could only guess had once been bodies, were mangled, bloody. The stench of death was heavy in the air, the smell of flesh and blood. He wrinkled his nose in disgust, closed his eyes, and turned his face away from the carnage.

Why was this so very firmiluar? Oh yes. Because he used to wake up bloody and gorey every morning after the moon had been full. But he'd thought he'd put an end to all of that. Had his attempt failed? He could remember putting the note in his pocket, jumping off of the tree limb, struggling, passing out into blackness. Had someone come across him too soon and cut him down?

He was filled with misery suddenly and rolled over onto his back. Alas, poor guy was lying there completly nude. His body was as perfect as his face. It comes from his parents breeding rather then just having a kid. Two perfect people, you get what you expect from such a combonation. A perfect child.

His white hair was stained and caked with dried blood, his eyes tired and sad. His fingers clutched tightly against the floor beneath him.

Kas came into the basement again. This morning he's wearing a biohazard suit. Though I really think he may be the biohazard. He has a garden hose in his gloved hand. His voice sounds funny and metalic through the rebreather and mask. "Bath time beautiful." the mage says. he tosses a rubber duckie onto the floor and turns the high presure nozzle on the end of the hose to full blast.

Silas rolled over again to turn his eyes towards the sound and then the voice. At first, he was startled and he sat up, scooting backwards using his heels against the floor to back away but after just a moment he stopped when he realized it was just a man in a suit. A biohazard suit. Biohazard suit? Was this the man that had cut him down? Why was he in a suit? Did he know what Silas was, and if so, what good did he think that suit would do. Besides, he wasn't going to change in the middle of daytime.

Then the ducky hit the floor and he looked suprised, then the water hit him and he threw his arms up to sheild his face, only just becoming aware that the man hadn't made any comment to the two hunks of meat, nor the blood in his white hair. And he only just realized he was nude. And the water was cold enough to rise goosebumps along his skin.

After his bit of fun with the hose he walked off. This whole thing hadn't been as fulfilling as he thought. He needed to find something else to divert and amuse himself with.

He walked over to his truck and tossed his helmet onto the seat before pulling off leaving a trail of dust.

He came back an hour later. Walked back down into the basement after replacing his helmet and rebreather and tossed a newsparer at the naked man. He was careful not to get it wet.

It isn't today's paper, it's an old one. It's the day Silas's obituary ran.

Silas watched him leave before he could even comprehend what exactly was happening. He moved himself as far from the bodies as he could after having tried the basement door, he'd also looked for clothing and found nothing. Could he please get something? Then the man was back and he sat up, nudity was the last of his problems.

Silas reached out slowly and noted the date of the newspaper. Ok. So it's been three days since his attempt. Had he been out that long? And why was he being shown the paper? Was he in some sort of werewolf solitary confinment? He opened the first page but paid little attintion.

"What's going on? Who are you?" His voice was rusty, unused.

"If I tell you, I have to kill you." Kastler says. He walks to the top of the steps, picks up a Tuperware tote and tosses it down to the man. "Here chose your fate." he says. Then he locks up again from the outside.

He goes into the house to watch all this on the closed circuit cameras.

In the tuperware tote is a dark blue mechanic's coverall, a pair of one size fits most rubber garden boots, a 357 snub nosed revolver, two bullets, a wad of miscellaneous money, A straight razor, a can of beer and a bag of honey roasted peanuts.

Silas looked confused for a long moment after the door had closed. He felt rather weiry about approaching that tuperwear after those words. But why should he? If he'd wanted to die anyways why would it matter what was in there? Except that he didn't want to die suprised. He frowned after a moment, rubbed his arms, looked at the box, then the paper. What was significant about it?

He peeled back another page and scanned it, then another, then another. Jobs wanted, Personals, Obituaries, weath... he flipped back a page. There it was, in large print with a picture included. He isn't famous or popular but he was the owner of a country-side chain of appartments. He stared at it a moment without comprehending, then his hands started to shake. He got up and found his legs shaking too as he moved up the stairs and banged on the door.

"Hello?!" He sounded frightened even to himself.

Kastler watched on from the cameras. Not as much fun as physical torture, but phsychological torture was mildly mausing and educational. He sits drinking coffee out of a large laboratory beaker.

It will be interesting to see how long his guest will try to behave normally. Pounding on the door and calling out for someone, seems so very boring. It isn't the sort of approach that will move Kastler to open the doors at any rate.

He picks up a piece of jerkied meat and eats it, home made, need you ask what flavor?

....

Ew.

Human jerky. Gross.

Anyways.

Silas banged on the door for only a few moments before turning away from it. He broguht a hand up to wring out his wet hair. So cold. He went back to the paper and stared at it for a little bit longer, looked up at the ceiling.

"Alright. I get it." He spun in a slow circle. What was he looking for? He's smarter then he looks Kastler, how do you think he ran a business without any education in that feild? Common sense. He's not shouting because he's sure you have a microphone around here somewhere. And he's trying to find your camera. "What's todays date then?" How long have I been dead or not dead? Because he's initiate it comes as no suprise that he knows he could have been resurected.

He stopped at the box, kicked open the lid. Looked in. Picked up the jump suit because he's cold and pulled it on without so much as touching anything else.

"Oh come on find the camera and shoot it, shoot yourself, but do something." Kastler says. It makes no sound in the basement, the microphone in there hears Silas, but there isn't a feed to let Silas hear him.

This is getting boring much like the night before had. How dismal. Maybe Kastler should just get direct T.V. like everyone else.

I don't think television could satisfy his sort of entertainment.

He can't shoot the camera. He hasn't found it. And he's not likely to shot himself, he'd thought about that before. He'd chosen to hang himself for specific reasons. Drowning is very unapealing and so is bruning. Shooting was too messy but hanging you didn't have to hold your own head under water or make a mess. Besides, holding himself underwater he'd have just passed out and lived. Hanging he passed out and still hung there and died.

But when no respone came he did pull his sleeve over his hand and load the gun, trying not to leave fingerprints or show that he was shaking. Loaded, he climbed the stairs. He may not shoot the camera but the shot rang out as the bullet pierced the basment door.

Kastler had to change to the outside camera to see if the shot had managed to hit the padlock on the outside.It hadn't but there was a hole in the door. Doors were replacable though. Oh well, come nightfall the door wouldn't hold up. Kastler didn't really care at this point. He was watching the basement on the main monitor and playing back a tape on another. A very incriminating tape.

There is still one more bullet. Maybe this will get interesting.

Not if interesting means shooting himself. Because that just can't happen.

Silas rattled the door only enough times to know that it was locked somewhere on the outside too, not just the inside. His hair was drying and it was straight but begining to look a little messy.

What else was in that box. Still holding the gun with the sleeve of the jumpsuit, he returned to the box on his knees. He used his sleeve to set the gun down and pick up each item, disregaurding the peanuts and the beer. After all, he's full. And he doesn't drink beer.

He picked up the razor, stared at it, knew it would be of no use to him and looked again for the camera, searching everywhere he could think before finally finding it. He stared at it, trying to think what to do. Do we see his hands shaking?

"What am I doing here?" Scowl. Back to the door, then the case, then the door again. Oh my. Do the wolf and the man share a trait? Paceing. Scowl.

No, really interesting is shooting the camera, Kastler has a thing about the sound of breaking glass.

At the moment he's hardly paying attention to his pet wolf man. He's still watching footage from one of his more recent rape victims. The kid he'd marked with a "K".

He sets off the smoke alarm in the basement. It has a very loud test sequence, plus it trips teh sprinklers. He sings, "It's raining it's pouring, the wolfman is boring....."

Wolf comes out.

Silas snarls.

He's been dead for a good amount of time. Who can blame him for looseing all that precious control he'd worked so hard to gain over the wolf? No one. He's not had to control anything for a very long time. The wolf is the one that makes him pick up the raiser and throw it in rage at the door. The wolf is the one that picks the gun up again. It's Silas that stops the wolf from shooting an already dead body out of rage.

Last bullet. Save it for something useful. You want free right? To chase? Kill? Not that Silas would ever actually allow it, but it was the only way he could think at the moment to gain control of the situation.

"What do you want?"

Meh the current antics are hardly diverting. Kasteler leave the camers rolling, there are several but one that's live feed all the time down there. Which Silas has already noticed. Kastler goes out to his truck. He's wearing jeans and a black t-shirt. He has no idea where he's going. Just out, very bored little sicko.

He doubts the cameras will even capture any interesting footage. Besides, it's not like anyone can actually get into the house. Not with the wards he has up. A hundred people or more died to fuel those wards.

Kastler might come back to a broken camera. And microphone. And a nearly broken door. Silas has been a busy boy. Finally subduing the wolf made it easier to think. He'd taken the razor from the door and began trying to unscrew the henges. He's already unhooked one of the three, nearly two, and the door is starting to hang slanted on the frame.

The gun has been tucked into one of the jump suit pockets, the butt sticking out, safty on. The camera is broken just so Kastler won't see what he's doing. He's guessed the man left though because when he broke the camera with the blade, the man hadn't come down to investigate.

Three more cameras are still rolling footage, finding thm could take forever in the dungeon they are only slightly bigger than pushpins.

The spell on the camera has alerted Jimmy, but he hardly cares at the moment. He's peeping in windows and watching people clear over in the bad end of town. Sitting in his truck using a spotting scope to do it from an alley.

He's easily entertained.

Silas worked free the last bolts and pushed the door away from the wall. Isn't it funny, he has this super human, werewolf provided strength but refuses to use it at all, so much he hates being what he is. Anyways, off topic. Silas pushed the door off of the door frame and stood for a moment, listening, waiting. Nothing.

He began to search for the door and then stopped. Camera meant film. Film meant that man had footage of Silas changing, killing. He went in search of the film room to destroy them, then get the hell out of there, as far from there as possible and figure out what to do. He couldn't possibly go to Pierce, that would scare the shit out of his friend, not to mention out of Dagger. And he had no one else to go to.

The wards hold and send him hurtling backwards knocking him outwards when he gets closer than two feet to the house.

The wards being tampered with does get the Mage's attention. He stops watching people who might make suitable future house guests and heads abck in the direction of the house. He parks a good distance down the road where he can watch with the spotting scope.

Silas was thrown back and he landed agily on the balls of his feet and crouched to gain balance. What was this madness? He walked forward with his hands extended before him, slowly moving towards whatever had thrown him and stood between him and that house. Those tapes. He wouldn't linger longer then he needed. But a prikling sensation ran his spine as someone began to watch him.

He turned slowly in a half circle, his pirecing blue eyes searching the area slowly, forgetting what he was looking for. Perhapes he should just go now. Forget the tapes.

Kastler sat in the truck watching. While he did he began to lay out an array of weapons on the seat. He talks to them all as he does so. He still manages to contiue watching through the scope too.

what a strange, sad little man. Kastler that is. he's just weird.

Silas found the barrier and was once again thrown backwards, landing once more, off balance but on his feet nonetheless.

Fuck this. He wasn't going to get in because he didn't know what it was pushing him back, aside from it being some spell. And he's not a mage, just a lycanthrope, so he can't break it even if he knew what it was. He turned and hugged his arms around his slim frame and began to walk away, feeling those eyes on him.

Kastler just watched him go while singing the song "Callendar Girl" to himself. He watched the wolf mand go down the road until he couldn't be seen through the spotting scope any more.

"Happy Birthday baby...." he said setting the scope down.