CHPT 41: Pieces to the Puzzle, Fangs to the Maw.

Sunday, March 12th.

Despite being miles away from Beacon Hills, nobody took the car to reach the Rave where Alison and Lydia were being attacked. They were faster than the allowed speed limit. And it was night.

They moved with the shadows, scaling buildings and bounding through alleyways until Lydia's screams grew so close it became physical attacks on their advanced senses that sent shivers down their spines.

People were dying.

It didn't take long before they could smell the blood and fear wafting from one of the few warehouse buildings still in Beacon Hills.

The only place where Raves ever took place.

"Who Raves on Sunday's?!" Stiles questioned as they came to a stop and fell in at the back of the line.

"You get it when you can I guess." A calm and collected voice said from behind them.

The pack turned around to find Deaton standing with them at the end of the line.

Scott was still bewildered on how a human could successfully sneak up on a pack of ShapeShifters so easily.

Marco approached him. Under the unnecessarily loud music and deathly smells it felt like he was viewing the man through a dulled lens.

"They have no idea what's happening inside…"

Deaton nodded, "It's the perfect place to start a massacre without anyone knowing."

"No kidding." Isaac said from beside Stiles as he studied the building.

"We need to get inside…. Now." Scott growled.

Deaton pulled out a cup of black looking sand. That was all Marco needed. Just that.

He needed to know they had a way of keeping all the shifters contained. He didn't want any runners this time.

Marco looked back at Scott and Derek, the twin Alphas transformed states were barely hidden beneath their human skins.

"Clear the line." Marco said.

Scott and Derek both pushed up the line, shoving aside two men before yelling up the crowded line.

"Get out!"

The shout was intelligible but lacked any human tone of voice. Not in the plain monstrous way but as something felt more than understood. Their command echoed across the buildings and bounced off the warehouse walls like a physical projectile.

People cringed and ducked as if attempting to dodge gunfire.

It didn't take long for the bulk of them to scatter like rats.

Marco charged up the line, shrugging off his guitar case and throwing it at the empty entrance window like a spear….

The music and screams inside the rave were so loud they didn't even hear the shatter of glass.

Marco stood aside as they all hopped inside. "Keep your eyes peeled. Be patient or die."

"Quite the pep talk." Deaton said casually as he began sprinkling the mountain ash. He turned around suddenly, looking at Marco as he pointed at his arm. The markings still hidden beneath the mountain ash wrappings.

"That gonna hold up?"

"You better hope so, Druid." Marco commented before hopping inside himself. But not before taking note of the militaristic SUV's parked at the other end of the alley…..

***

Sometimes being connected to the natural world made you disconnected…. disoriented by things considered unnatural.

The Rave was loud. Like loud as hell. Some texts said hell was an endless pit of flames and screaming souls. Marco didn't practice the religion of Christianity, but what he saw inside the Rave was worse.

He pushed his way through the massive crowd. A sea of unable bodies and enough cologne to make him gag angrily multiple times.

The edm music smashed his eardrums until he was dizzy. And the abundance of drugs in the air affected him more than he ever could've imagined. Colors danced on the air like spectral butterflies. Eyes deepened into small caverns on people's young faces.

"-arco?" Stiles grabbed his shoulder.

"We need to clear this place— Right now!" Marco growled.

"O-ok… Derek and Scott already left for Alison and Lydia. Isaac— go get the Rave canceled. I need to find the admissions list."

"Wha— why?" Marco questioned as his head spun.

"I need to check a name. I think I got the killers pattern."

Marco shoved stiles, "Go then. Watch for Warlocks."

"For wha—" Stiles alarmed question didn't get a chance to form as Marco's eyes fastened on a silver glint shinning from inside a man's jacket in the distance.

Marco pounced instantly, rising above the sea of people in a flash before descending on the man in the crowd.

People shouted and fell like dominoes where he landed. Some too hyped up on drugs to truly take notice while others cursed him out.

Marco held his hand over the man's throat. "You bastards can't hid—….."

He stopped and studied the man. He wasn't much of a man. He barely had facial hair. And the silver glint he saw earlier was a Swiss Army knife on a keychain.

The chaos of the environment was fraying his focus.

It was then that a girl screamed.

"AHHHH— He's dead!"

Marco looked over at her, face covered in a LED mask. He couldn't follow her eyes but her painted fingers pointed down at the ground at his left.

Him and the man beneath him looked over to find a dead body laying on the floor. Beneath the many partygoers he could see more.

Many more.

Slowly everyone started screaming. Panic spread like wildfire, hammering against his eardrums violently.

His hackles rose. This is exactly what the Warlocks did. Every ti—

A chuckle emanated from behind him. He wouldn't have heard it if it wasn't for the man beneath him locking eyes with someone he couldn't see.

With the little time he had left, he moved his head to the left just as a blast of purple fire blew past his head. The simple force of the blast sent him through the air.

He crashed into the dj's booth with a loud bang and distortion of music until it stopped completely.

Suddenly it sounded like the war zone it truly was.

He got up and roared in unison with Scott followed by a wall busting open as someone was thrown through it.

A scrawny student hit the ground between Marco and the Warlock across the dance floor. Rubble scattered across the floor.

Marco took advantage of the diversion and lunged at the Warlock.

The man was trained. He took a step back and swung his dagger. Marco busted his arm in six places with a swing of his guitar case.

Before the man could scream, Marco ran his claws through the Rune on his hand and removed his power.

The Warlock tried to run. Marco shoved his hand through his chest, crushing his heart the second he held it.

His undersized vet clinic t-shirt was splattered with blood and bits of purple flame that ate away at the fabric. He patted it away as the student previously thrown through the wall got to his feet.

"Scott!….. ALL OF YOU!" The student raged as the pack emerged from their spots inside the warehouse to surround him.

Stiles looked the most confused. "…..Matt?"

"He was at the funeral." Scott said. Alison nodded from beside him. Lydia watched on in horror from behind her.

"RAGH!" Matt swung a clawed hand at them, hitting only the air in his disturbed state.

Marco studied him. He looked mundane at points. Painstakingly plain. He wore a torn black t-shirt and skinny jeans. His converse were given red bottoms from all the blood on the floor.

Portions of his hair were falling out, revealing thick green scales beneath. More scaling grew down his arms like an infection.

He was becoming the thing he once controlled.

"Why were you going after the two thousand six swim team?….. you weren't any older than a kid back then?" Stiles questioned.

Matt hissed and spun around to face him, "They…..KILLED…..me." One of his eyes slitted and began to glow.

Suddenly he coughed and began choking. He grabbed for his throat as he growled and black goo began to ooze from his nose and ears.

"AACK— " More black liquid spilled from his mouth, now filled with razor sharp teeth.

"His body… it's rejecting the change." Marco commented.

"Just like Jackson was at first…." Derek said.

Suddenly he fell to the floor. Continuing to cough and scream for air. He punched the floor. Heavy bangs that cracked the polished wood and his knuckles.

He flailed, swinging and swatting at the pack surrounding him until slowly, he stopped moving entirely.

He was dead before they could do anything. An attempt at chaotic revenge. His own story. A force of adversity snowballing into their world. He didn't last long. Barely noticed until the end.

"Deaton." Lydia whispered it as if that was Matt's name.

Marco and Stiles turned to face her. Slowly everyone else did the same.

"What did you say?" Stiles approached her. Lydia backed away. A look of hurt washed over the WereCoyotes face.

"Why did you say Deaton?" Allison questioned.

Marco moved to approach the window only to stumble faintly. His head hurt. Everything hurt. It hurt to breathe.

Slowly the others caught onto it as well. Coughing and itching at their burning skin.

It felt like the air was trying to kill them.

"Air…." Marco questioned before looking around the room until he found a hose stuck under the door into the maintenance room spitting out bright yellow fumes.

It shouldn't have reached them, but that was the room where Matt was attacking Lydia and Alison. Scott broke up the attack by throwing Matt through the wall separating the rooms. Now it was spilling out onto the dance floor.

Isaac fell first as he tried to make it to the door. Stiles soon after. Alison and Lydia moved to help them as Marco and the two Alphas made it towards the door.

"Alison plug the hose!" Marco yelled.

"Lydia, break the window—" His words were cut short as a silver bullet fired through the door hit him in the gut.

He stumbled backward with a growl before front kicking the door so hard it busted off the hinges and smashed into the person behind it.

That seemingly took the last bits of the resistance he had. He was the last shifter standing.

He stumbled and dropped down to one knee, watching as the person behind the door grunted and shoved it aside.

A woman stumbled in. Older. Her red short hair was clearly dyed and the makeup on her skin was meticulously done. She looked well mannered and professional. But there was a wildness in her eyes as he she entered the room. Her pencil skirt and business blazer somehow fit the mood. Like a murderous principle.

"Mom!" Alison yelled across the room.

Marco hit the ground. Signifying to her that the wolfsbane in the air had run it's course through his hulking frame finally. His eyes shut soon after.

She yelled at the two girls as she entered the room, aiming her gun at every shifter to confirm their unconsciousness.

"My god….. it was all of you the whole time. Gerard was right…"

"Mom— no. Mom you have to listen, they—"

"SHUT UP!" Alison's mother snapped before taking a deep breath. Once through a filter of sorts before passing it to Alison. She calmed herself.

"Their existence in itself is a problem, honey. Now get your friend and get out now. They will be handled accordingly."

Alison stared in shock.

"I won't say it again."

In the silence, Marco's eyes burst open.

They weren't normal.

And the wolfsbane in the air wasn't potent enough for a Grey Lion.

Nor was a single silver bullet.

His shirt ripped as he transformed.