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Liz the Tomboy
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Liz ran through the alley with all her might. Just barely dodging garbage cans and dumpsters has she ran like a bat-out-of-hell. Still not believing what just had happened before her eyes.
She had been out on the town with her new friend she had made at the bar she worked at. Unfortunately for her the bars her new friend liked to frequent were of the Sapphic nature. After being hit on for the third time by a vary drunken butch, Liz told her friend she wanted to go home and since it was a few blocks away from her apartment, she would be ok by herself.
Liz walked out of the bar heading in the direction of her apartment. When all of a sudden, she was grabbed roughly from behind and thrown into a nearby disserted ally.
She was on her feet ready for her attacker. She saw he had a switchblade knife out and started to lunge at her with it.
Liz dodged the lunges and delivered a round house kick to the hand that held the knife. Her attacker locked at his hand like he was dumb-founded. Seeing he was distracted she decided to finish him off.
She manages to land several well placed kicks to the upper torso, not noticing that any of them made him falter. The last kick she was able to get off was aimed at his head. It didn't land at all. Her attacker caught it, and sent her flying several feet away. To land amongst several garbage cans.
When she managed to get to her feet, she couldn't believe what she was seeing happen right before her eyes.
Her would-be-attacker was...... for a lack of a better name...... transforming into– a... a... a... a Werewolf.
And so here she is, running for her dear life.
Liz turned just turned a corner onto a dead end street when she felt a powerful slap that sent searing pain shot through her entire body as she landed several yards away in a crumpled heap. She just barely managed to sit up when she heard it start to talk.
"Yooooouuuuu'rrrrrreeeee miiiiiiiinnnnneeee nnnnooooooooowwwwwwwww, biiiiiiiiitccchhh!" the Lycan said menacingly has it stalked towards his intended victim. "Firrrrrsssssttttt, I'mmmmm goooooinnnnnggggg tooooo ssssllllack mmmy luuuusssst wiiiitttthhhh yooooooouuuuuurrrrrrr boooooodddyyy. Theeeennnn I'mmmmm goooooiiinnnggg ttoooo eat yooouuuuuuuuu oooooooooooooow!"
"P–Please, I–I'm b–be–begging of y–yo–you d–d–don't k–ki–kill me......" Liz stuttered softly, as she painstakingly tried to slide back away from the Lycan.
The Lycan seen what she was doing, and lunged at her with his right hand claws extended to deliver the equivalent force of an upper-cut. Liz caught it in the chest lifting her off the ground. Sending her crashing against the wall, knocking the wind out of her, to land hard on the ground with a muted thud. Liz had enough strength to raise her head to look at the Lycan. "Conlan, is that you? Get aw-......" Liz barely whispers as she sees Conlan transform right before her eyes. This being the last thing she remembers before she passes out from the searing pain.
-*-*-*-*- Conlan -*-*-*-*-
At first glance, you might say Conlan is a typical handsome young man, standing at 6'5", 250 lbs., cobalt blue eyes, and bluish-black hair. That is, if you didn't know him like his longtime best friend Liz did. At least the side she knows.
Conlan has a secret, a very dangerous one at that. A secret that not even Liz, his best friend since the fifth grade, knows about.
You see Conlan is what you might call a Lycanthrope. In his case Conlan is a North American White-Timber Werewolf. Since he is considered both by the local pack leaders and the Lycan Coalition as a "lone wolf." Conlan is allowed to take on certain side jobs that the packs and Lycan Coalition can't handle due to internal Lycanthrope political problems. In other words he is a problem fixer. If one of the local pack members goes should go rogue. Conlan would be contracted to "deal" with the rogue were-creature.
On this particular evening, Conlan was on assignment from the Lycan Coalition. It seems that a psychotically deranged human killer had somehow gotten bite by a Werewolf. Thus, turning an already mentally unstable human. Into an even more deranged psychotic killer than before. A normal psychotically deranged human is bad in itself but give that particular human the abilities of a Werewolf. Well let's just say it's like giving Adolph Hitler access to modern-day tactical and combat training. In other words not good at all!
"Hmmm...... {sniff, sniff}...... this way," said Conlan, as he got wind of the rogues scent. He followed the scent for several blocks until, "{sniff, sniff}... a second scent...... {sniff} it smells familiar............ naw it can't be......" Conlan was still sniffing around the alley when he came across piece of a torn shirt. Raising it to his nose, he inhaled deeply. "LIZ!"