Atonement...

[Adele Holst]

Watching as her father's fist came closer, Adele blacked out on impact. The force of Charlie's next few hits was Enough to jar her awake ever so briefly, but unconsciousness quickly took her back under its power.
The next few hours felt like days. While her body remained stationary in the dark cooler, her mind wandered away, returning to the cityscape of Athens. Standing alone on a beach, Adele looked out at the tide as quiet waves washed ashore. The wind here was strong enough to whip the blonde's hair across her face, bruising her skin. No matter how she turned or restrained her hair, it flailed about, smacking her sharply across her cheeks, nose and eyes. One moment she was watching the grey tide come rushing in; the next, sand and rocks filled her vision. Old shoes, her shoes, pushed sand from one foot to the other, making a smooth, deep patch directly between her legs. The seemed familiar, but why was she here? It felt like... She was waiting for someone. Someone familiar... Why couldn't she place this? It felt like she'd been here, yet the waterfront wasn't exactly a place she frequented.
Grey seemed to fill her eyes, casting it's shades over the beach. She felt completely alone here, only her thoughts to keep her company. Was this how it had been? Turning her back to the sea, Adele looked around at the dunes, toward the city proper. Another strong breeze came around, hair assaulting her face painfully. Everything felt quiet.
Almost instantly, the young woman felt someone nearby; she wasn't alone anymore. Was this who she's been waiting for? Damien appeared beside her, but something didn't feel right. It didn't smell like the golden-eyed boy. It smelled like something, many things, had died. The scent was so strong she could taste it, and it didn't taste good. All too quickly, Adele felt ill.
She reached out to Damien, trying to break this dream. Maybe, if she could just touch him, if she could just open her eyes enough, she could wake. She'd be back in bed, safe at Perrin's villa.
The young woman's hand missed her Packmate no matter how she tried, and from somewhere to the other side of her, she heard a voice speaking nondistinct words to her in English. Turning to see who else was there, Adele swallowed a thick lump in her throat the tasted suspiciously of whiskey. Two large masses of meat stood precariously before her. Though they had no heads and stood awkwardly on two and three legs, the gaping necks of these bovine carcasses seemed to stare right through the girl. The two chunks of cattle had been skinned and quartered... For the most part, and they laughed deep and dark at Adele. She couldn't be sure, but it looked like the tube of neck flesh and muscle that remained seemed to open wider as the boisterous laughter grew louder. "Was zum Teufel..." A hollow scream built up in the girl's lungs, and though she pushed with all her might, only air came out; no voice at all. If she could just scream loud enough, maybe this would all go away and she could wake from this nightmare.
The voice was behind her now, but Adele didn't dare turn her back on these bloody grotesques who seemed to taunt her. The carcass with two legs staggered forward through the sand toward the blonde, dragging its rear quarters on the ground behind it.
Eyes wide in horror, Adele tried to inch back. Though her mind screamed for her muscles to obey, they were unresponsive and she stood on the beach, frozen in terror. "D... Damien..." Suddenly she remembered that the boy had been by her side, maybe he could help her. Glancing over she shoulder for Perrin's son, Adele saw nothing.
A heavy blow assaulted her from her front, knocking the air from her lungs. Then another and another hit to her ribs. It felt like her chest was on fire and the force was strong enough to send the girl to her knees. More shocks of pain surged from her knees and thighs, causing her to spasm violently on the sand.
Somewhere far away, the lights turned back on, and Adele heard more voices calling to her in English. There were three. Three voices laughing and chiding her.
Laboriously, the girl tried to open her eyes. She was awake enough to know she wasn't on the beach. She was in a room somewhere, a very cold room that filled her body with extreme aches and pains. As her golden eyes rolled back down and her kids opened ever so slightly before snapping shut once more, the young woman recognized the source of the voices. Hanging all around her were lifeless remains of unprocessed meat. They seemed to be swaying minutely to some unfelt breeze. Jeering at the girl, the closest meat bags called her naive and a waste of potential. A couple meters away, one carcass with a particularly deep voice insisted, "Even ants need to breathe."
Confused and racked with pain, Adele tried lifting her eyelids open once again. She felt sluggish and weak, but at least they weren't hitting her anymore. Her eyes refused to stay open, but she could tell she was surrounded by grey. Drab shelves and carts were stationed nearby and the strangest tools she'd ever seen lay close to her. Where the fuck was she?
Frozen cold washed over her body, her heart beat rose and she inhaled sharply, sending more pulses of pain through her ribs and entire body. Now she remembered where she was: Hell. For a brief moment, Adele's eyes opened wide and the grizzled visage of the man she saw made her wish for the company of the critical cattle corpses instead.
Blood throbbed painfully in her ears, so much so that it was the only thing she could hear above the cooler's generator. Blinking slowly, carefully, Adele tried to focus her sight as her father grabbed her rough by the hair and spoke. Watching his mouth move, the young woman heard Charlie's voice in her head; she couldn't ignore what he said, even with the blood rushing in her ears. Though she heard him, it took a moment for the word's meaning to register. She felt so groggy. Slowly, the neurons in her brain seemed to fire in the right order for her to understand. "Golden.... Eyes..." Those words, barely audible, was the answer to her father's questions, as much as it was a cry for help. Perrin may have given her a new chance at life, but he had not been around to help her in quite some time. Almost a decade had gone by since the passing of her Sire; she was all alone here.

[Damien]

Damien had no need for a Façade. He didn't need to act hard; he was hard. He'd been plunged into a world of shadows and violence as an impressionable youth. He'd seen corpses before. He'd made corpses before. Alena had chiseled him from marble and gave him an emotional depth to match. With eyes cold as steel and a stomach of iron, he covered his nameless allies under the soil, and he was glad. Glad that these were nameless allies, and not somebody he'd known. That's what made him strong, Damien knew to keep his distance from others, even from his own kind. Afterall, life for immortals seemed ironically fleeting these days, you never knew when your friends or family would be mauled by beasts, so to speak. That's what made Damien so useful to Alena, and to the Pack. He had no one to lose - he was the perfect little soldier. He could stomach this. In fact, he would have prefered to do the deed himself. The others... they weren't cut out to bury their dead. Damien would have been glad to shoulder that burden alone. If for no other reason, than to protect Adele. She'd been through enough of this. Fortunately for everyone save the recently deceased, everyone silent went about their own ways once the deed had been done. Pete was probably off to lick his wounds. It was obviously weighing on the man that he wasn't there during the attack, regardless of whether or not he was able to put up much resistance. And Adele... She decided to cope in the way that made the most sense to her; drowning it away in liquor. He didn't blame her.

Perhaps this was the opportunity Damien had been waiting for. There was something he wanted to ask Adele. It's been on the tip of his tongue for a while now, but the timing had always seemed off. Shit. I've missed my chance. What a colossal blunder. Nobody would question him if he'd simply asked the girl if he could tag along. A stiff drink or a dozen was basically an assumed reaction to the day's events, nobody would have batted an eyelash if even Damien needed the comfort of his good friends Gin and Tonic. And if there ever was a time, it would be when Adele was plastered. What a gentleman I am. Fuck. But she'd already gone. How would he ever find her? Well, she was somewhere in the city. Somewhere with booze. That narrows it down. The best part was that his working vocabulary of Italian was limited to pronouncing various shapes of pasta. Fortunately, he had one clue - Adele always bragged about being able to find the most... How did she put it... colorful bars. She really did have a knack, she just worded it oddly. Adele truly did have a talent. For finding the shittiest, most bottom of the barrel, dregs-of-civilization-scum hangouts that a city had to offer. And that's where he would begin his search.

He was a few hours behind, but Damien was definitely on her trail. It was simple really. All he had to do was wander into the bad part of town and follow the smell of armpit to where it was strongest. The bar he ended up at was a real gem. it wasn't just armpit. There were also not so subtle hints of cheap cigarettes and... crotch, perhaps? Appalling... and perfect. Bracing himself for the inevitable impact of the stench that lay inside, he strode forward and tried to hide his disdain. Dirty, just as he expected. In fact, it wasn't terribly easy to find Adele within the burgeoning cloud of cigarette smoke. Alternatively, she just wasn't there. A theory he confirmed after his eyes adjusted to the smog. But how? This was by far the shittiest dive in the city, but it might have been in the standings for shittiest in the country as well. She had to have been here. On a hunch, Damien fumbled his way to the bar. Perhaps one of the bartenders there had seen her. He went out on a limb, and attempted to communicate with a combination of simple English and pantomime that he was looking for his strange friend who drinks a lot and speaks German. It wasn't until he pointed towards his eyes that one of the waitresses brightened up. Golden eyes. They weren't common. People remember eyes like those. She had been there. Once it was made clear who he was looking for, other patrons clamored among the bar staff until that same waitress pieced together their drunken testimonies and replied in strained English. "Her father took her in a Taxi." All color drained from his face. That simply wasn't possible. Adele's father was dead. She'd killed the man herself. Unless...

The waitress didn't know where they went, but one patron had watched a man toss her into the passenger side of a cab and drive towards the outskirts of the city. Had Charlie somehow survived, and was now here to exact his revenge? Was that even possible? What sort could be ravaged by a Lycanthrope and live? His heart was pounding, matching his feet on the pavement. But how on earth would be find her? All he had to go on was a direction. Even if he was able to find her... Would he make it in time, He had to. It was as simple as that. He'd buried enough people that day, he couldn't bear the thought of digging another fresh grave. He couldn't shovel dirt over her cold, lifeless eyes the way he did with the others. Not her.

He'd been running for what felt like an eternity. His search was both frantic, and aimless. It must have been practically morning when he heard it. It sounded like whispering in a breeze. He couldn't make out what was said, only that it was directed towards him. In that moment, he knew Adele was truly in danger, and he knew where she was. Or at least, he knew what direction to go. Dashing across the street to a car stopped at a red light, he must have seemed a mad man. More so when he ripped the door off of the frame, and abruptly dislodged the driver from his vehicle. Typically he wouldn't want to draw attention to himself, or alarm humans. This was not a typical sort of day. After about fifteen minutes of white knuckles driving, Damien saw it, and he knew. Her voice was more clear than ever. Fortunately, the gate at the facility was not designed to withstand the impact of a car traveling in excess of 135 kilometers per hour. Unfortunately, the car was not designed to withstand the impact of... anything, really. His entrance was marked with the thunderous applause of twisting steel and shattering concrete, and brought with it the fury of nature's perfected killing machine. That building would never forget Damien, and whoever had taken Adele wouldn't live long enough to forget the mistake they made in doing so.

[Charlie]

Charlie grunted softly, watching the girl try so hard just to keep her eyes open. There was something that felt so earnest about what she was doing, and failing to do, that he almost laughed audibly at her pathetic attempts to meet his stare. He heard what she said and smiled callously; the dosage of drug must have worked pretty well: all the dumb bitch could do was spit back what was spoken to her. That was good to know.

Stepping back to look at Adele, Charlie took off his jacket, setting it on a nearby cart. Her skin looked pale, on the verge of turning blue from the cold, and her breathing seemed strained. That was part of the reason he bound the girl as he did; asphyxiation was a painfully slow way to go.

Procuring from his pocket a zippo, Charlie lit the cigarette he'd stashed behind his ear and lifted his hand to his daughter's breast. Inhaling deep, he felt the girl's shallow breathing, her slowed heartbeat; she wasn't even shivering anymore and her skin felt cold to the touch. Sending a breath of smoke into the girl's face, he moved his hand to the scars on her chest. There were two in particular that seemed deeper than the rest; two he didn't remember her having a decade ago. The first scar, the bigger of the two, looked like it had faded a bit, suggesting it was old. The jagged-shaped scar had smoothed over, but looked like it should have been coarse. What that had come from, Charlie didn't know. But the other one had clearly been a gun shot wound. The only thing odd about this second scar was that it appeared to be silver instead of white or red.

Finishing his cigarette, Charlie snubbed it out on Adele's chest, flicking the butt to the ground. Stooping, he rifled through the dufflebag on the floor. His hands passed over the hatchet he was eventually use, to a sheathed hunting knife. Pulling out the knife, Charlie returned to the girl hanging from a hook in the ceiling.

Thumbing the blade, he tested its sharpness. Satisfied, Charlie rose it to the back of the girl's arm. Tracing a long rectangle into Adele's arm with the tip of the tool, he started at the top of the new wound, positioning the knife into the cut, ready to go underneath the skin. With the blade at a 30 degree angle to her skin, he dug the knife into his daughter's arm, as if he were cutting thin slices from a tomato, flaying her arm.

Somewhere in the near distance, the sound of shattering glass and compacting steel cause Charlie's ears to perk up. He paused his work, listening for a moment; sounded like it came from just outside the plant. He grunted, looking at his daughter; so, someone had been sent after her. How inconvenient. No worries, he would go deal with whomever was outside and finish up here.

Holding the knife in a reverse grip, Charlie jammed all 6.5 inches of steel blade into Adele's side, between her ribs. Turning out the lights in the cooler, he let the door click shut behind him. Wiping his daughter's blood onto his shirt, he made his way to the exterior of the building.

Leaving the building and stepping outside, Charlie was met with an interesting scene: looked like someone had driven an already beat-up car into the side of the factory. Climbing out from the wreck, a tall, skinny blond man emerged. He looked ready for a fight. Charlie almost laughed, a smile on his grizzled face, and he thumbed his nose. Charlie was twice as big as this boy with at least twice as many years experience under his belt. This would end quick.

[Damien]

His nose was undoubtedly broken, and a piece of the dashboard that had most likely came free due to the airbag deployment had left a nasty gash above his left eyebrow. Damien was otherwise uninjured by the accident. And as if by cue, moments later, he saw a man emerge from a doorway not fifteen feet from where he'd impacted the building. It was rather difficult to make out the details as the abrupt stop had been very disorienting, and quite a bit of blood had seeped from his brow into his eye. Thankfully, the cut was quite shallow, and would heal within minutes, and all that was needed to restore perfect clarity was a quick wipe of his eye on his forearm. Apparently his gambit had worked all according to plan. Without a doubt, Damien knew that Adele was in that building. But a blind sweep would have been painstakingly slow, and acutely dangerous. There could be traps, or enemies lying in wait of her would-be savior(s). So instead, Damien had quickly decided that he would simply knock really loud and see who answered.

Damien had to kick the door from its hinges to free himself from what was left of the vehicle's framework before he could get out and assess the situation. As far as he could tell, the man standing before him was the only kidnapper, no other unfamiliar scents were coming from the building, unless those scents were being masked by the beef. The man himself was large by human standards, muscular, and reeked of sweat and blood. The man also had the scent of Lycan about him, but didn't exude the alien regality of one who had seen many moons. This theory was further supported by his facial expressions and body language. They weren't terrible difficult to decipher. He had a mocking grin, and he stood unafraid as Damien might stand before a child flailing his fists. What a fool. Hubris would see him dead before he knew what a tragic mistake he had made.

Damien had considered just rescuing the girl and fleeing, avoiding confrontation entirely, much to the disappointment of the wolf inside. That is, until he saw her blood on that man's clothing. She'd been injured, most likely tortured. Waves of anger pounded against his consciousness and his muscles became taut, it was every fiber of his being as ready to leap into action, ready to choke the life from this man. The wolf inside begged for release. It had always reveled in Damien's rage, biding for the chance to tear flesh and sinew and bone. Damien had long trained himself not to give in to his wolf's urges, but the struggle to contain that beast was always present. It took great effort, but Damien unclenched his jaw to speak. "I'll make you a deal. You tell me where she is, and if you're gone by the time I come back out, I might find it in my heart to let you live." The man seemed thoroughly unimpressed. Everything about him was infuriating. Damien had seen his type before. He abused his strength and picked on those who couldn't defend themselves to inflate his bloated ego. A sadistic bastard who thought himself infallible, invincible. Damien and the wolf were in agreement, this man deserved a painful death. And Damien would deliver it. His transformation had already begun as he dashed forward, images of that man's mutilated corpse dancing through Damien's mind as adrenaline and bloodlust surged through his veins. "Let's see if you can still make that face after I've torn out your throat! He roared before giving himself over to the wolf, both mind and body. Damien lunged at the man with inhuman swiftness, hoping to grab ahold of him and crush the life from his body. You think you're a Lycan? I was born a Lycan, I was molded by this power! This form is more familiar to me than the light of day! Now, show me what fear looks like on that ugly fucking face of yours!

[Charlie]

Crossing his arms, Charlie watched patiently as this boy climbed from the wreck.

"I'll make you a deal. You tell me where she is and if you're gone by the time I come back out, I might find it in my heart to let you live."

"Heh," snickering, Charlie cracked his neck. This lone 'hero' smelled familiar, like he shared the same affliction as Adele. He too, had gold eyes; strange. By the boy's accent, though, he was clearly American; what he was doing here for Adele was a mystery. Nothing but an entitled brat his daughter had probably fucked. No man at all, but a child having a tantrum. What had she done to get this boy to come after her and seem so fevered by the sight of her blood? Whore.

Holding out his first two fingers, still coated in his daughter's blood, Charlie grinned in amusement, "Take a good whiff. Maybe you'll find her by smell. Pussy-whipped bastard."

He could see the anger rise in the kid, and the moment he charged, Charlie flexed, forcing his transformation. He'd been this, a Werewolf, for about two years now; the change didn't come as quickly as it seemed to for this boy, but he was able to shift on command. Standing at 9.5 feet tall, covered in a grizzled grey hide, Charlie wasn't the tallest Werewolf he'd met, but his muscles increased in mass, giving him a stocky figure; still an imposing sight to see.

The boy's thoughts entered Charlie's mind as scathing lashes, taking the man off his guard. -The Hell?- Mind speak was not something the man was familiar with; he'd never had anyone invade his mind before, and to his knowledge he'd never spoken to anyone else's mind before. The brief seconds of confusion that hit Charlie were enough for his assailant to get the contact he'd wanted. Pinned against the outer wall of the building, Charlie met the boy's angry gaze. Deep laughter escaped the man; this boy would soon learn what force he was truly dealing with.

Bringing a claw up, Charlie swiped at the kid's eyes, simultaneously bringing up a knee between the other beast's legs to get him to loosen his grip. Slipping out from under the boy's hold, the grey Werewolf moved to where the dismantled car door lay on the ground, bringing it up to wield as a shield or weapon.

[Damien]

Fortunately Damien had a great deal of experience in sparring with others of his kind, and was able to throw his lower body outward and backward out of the range of the man's blow at the cost of his momentary advantage. But he hadn't prepared himself to defend against the strikes of a coward, and despite raising his guard, he felt the searing pain of sharp claws rending his flesh. He was lucky that the deep furrows did not bleed into his eyes, obscuring his vision, but likely even more lucky that his eyes remained unharmed altogether. Just like a coward, his opponent swiftly disengaged, retreating to what remained of Damien's "rental", bringing the car's door to bear. The door was made from thin, printed sheet metal, but it would still be quite effective in shielding it's wielder from the tear of Damien's claws. This wasn't the place to fight... but how could he get the man to drop his guard? Simple... all Damien needed to do was force this man to be the aggressor. Taking advantage of the distance between the two men, he dashed into the building through the same door the other Lycan had exited, quickly barring it from the other side.

It wouldn't be terribly difficult for a Lycan to dismantle a doorway, but it would give Damien time to find Adele, and to come up with a plan. The building itself was perfect for an ambush. A model of corporate penny pinching, the building had few windows, and those few did little to light the interior. Despite having better senses than a human, even a Lycan would be hard pressed to see clearly in the dim lighting. His opponent also could not rely on his acute sense of smell, as the combination of the raw and industrial disinfectant would leave his nose just as blind as his eyes. The man likely wouldn't even be able to hear the lithe movements of a hidden assailant over the sounds of the ventilation and cooling systems. It would take that man less than a minute to destroy that door, but he would have to move about the building slowly and carefully unless he wanted a quick death, coming unseen from the shadows. Thankfully, there couldn't be many places inside this building capable of detaining a Lycan. To do so, one needed two things; thick walls, and a strong door. This building had just such a place. Walk-in coolers were ubiquitous, and the insulation in the walls and door would likely keep Adele from breaking herself out, and would muffle any attempt to cry for help. He found the cooler with ease, remembering the relative position of the refrigeration unit on the roof of the building. Strange... Damien thought. The cooler wasn't chained closed. In fact, the cooler had no lock or barring of any kind. That could only mean that Adele was incapacitated, or worse.

And there she was. Hanging naked from the ceiling in chains, bloody and bruised. She'd clearly been tortured. It was terribly difficult to be delicate in the movements of his hulking mass, but he was able to check her pulse via the carotid. Weak, but still there. Her breathing was shallow, noticeable only due to the temperature making it visible in the air. Damien only had the time to take a cursory glance at her wounds, but she would likely survive. Well, she'd survive if he was able to kill the man who'd taken her. Forcing back the urge to seek out and kill her captor immediately, he instead first removed the chains holding Adele and set her frail body on the floor against the wall before giving her a less than kind shake.

Don't move, and be silent. The man who brought you here, he's likely on his way. I can't remove that blade without you losing too much blood, and I don't have time to dress the wound. You'll have to grit your teeth until I come back for you. Wiping the blood from his face, he took one last look at his surroundings, deciding how he would go about his ambush. Quickly, he set about jamming the door to the cooler open. In a short while, the condenser would fill the room with a thick layer of mist. That just left a weapon. There were plenty scattered about the room: Blades of varying lengths, a hatchet, and more importantly... industrial grade chains. Five eights of an inch links, several lengths of them more than ten feet long, they each likely weighed over thirty pounds. More importantly they could be used to strike from well out of the reach of even a Lycan. They would be heavy enough to break bones, exactly what he had in mind. I'll come back for you. I have a man to kill in the mean time. He then crept out of the room with his chains, careful to keep his breathing quiet as he waited to spring his trap.

[Charlie]

As the young Werewolf turned tail, running inside, Charlie roared vehemently, whipping the car door after the boy just as the door to the factory slammed shut. Scanning the immediate vicinity quickly, nothing appeared to have changed since he'd fist come to the meat packing plant except for the arrival of this beater. That told him the kid had tried following after Adele quickly; his only plan was to locate the girl; he hadn't accounted for much else. Though, when you had supernatural strength, there wasn't much else that needed to be accounted for.

Digging his claws into the rear bumper of the beater, Charlie flipped the vehicle, letting it smash into the side of the factory. While the act did little damage to the building, it did total the rest of the car and satisfied his frustration, if only temporarily. Bounding on all fours over to the door, Charlie kicked it in, crumpling the metal and forcing the hinges apart, sending it flying into the building. By the slight resistance the door gave, it appeared the boy tried to jam it shut. He was trying to buy time. Something had clearly gotten under the golden-eyed kid's skin. He seemed to really care for Adele. That would be his downfall.

Moving through the plant, Charlie didn't bother turning on any lights. Prior to bringing his daughter here, he'd walked through the facility, mapping the path to the cooler he'd use. He'd become fairly accustomed to this part of the building. Stealth had never been a priority for Charlie. He'd gotten through life so far by forcing his way obstinately through any obstacle that presented itself; that wasn't about to change now. Since becoming a Lycan, it had only become easier to brute force things his way. Lycans did not prove to be the subtlest of creatures.

As he neared the cooler he'd left Adele hanging in, a couple of things became noticeable. First, only by the smallest margin, was the smell. The scent of unprocessed meat seemed to filter its way out into the dark hallway, trying in vain to mask the aroma of his daughter's blood. It had to do with the fact that Adele had given him this curse of Lycanthropy, he figured, that made it so easy to smell and detect where the girl was. The second thing Charlie noticed was the sound of the refrigeration unit in the cooler pick up considerably. It was working harder to keep things cold. Those things made it obvious that the boy had found Adele and that he'd left the cooler door open. A diversion? Could be; not that it mattered. Either the kid was lying in wait inside the cooler and left the door open in arrogance as an invitation. Or, the boy had left the door open as a distraction to allow a vantage point as Charlie passed the threshold. Whatever the case, the kid seemed to want him to enter the cooler. If it meant getting this confrontation over and dealt with, he would play along. He didn't have all weekend, and there was still things he wanted to do with Adele before killing her.

Padding on two feet, Charlie entered the cooler, tensing for an attack as he noted that Adele had been taken down from her comfy position dangling from the ceiling.

[Damien]

The fool had fallen for Damien's gambit just as predicted. Moreover, it was apparent in his brutish, lumbering stride that he payed his opponent no heed. In fact, the man had strode right past where Damien prowled in the shadows. It took a considerable amount of willpower not to lash out at him then and there... his chains were coiled and ready to strike vehemently; both the chains and Damien himself were dripping with murderous intent. He'd tried to suppress that feeling, stilling his heartbeat to make sure he would be hidden, but the bloodlust almost took him away. He could almost smell it now, the sweet sanguine mist that would cover them both as Damien tore out the man's throat. Too soon... just a moment more.

The man padded across the threshold into the cooler, and Damien made his move. The doorway, coupled with the noise from the condenser and ventilation system served to cover his approach, and with one fluid movement he leapt onto the man's back and looped the chains around the Lycan's head and underneath his chain as a make-shift garrote. He pulled the chains upward and backward, forcing the Lycan's head down as he struggled to swat and claw at his assailant. Of course, Damien was all too familiar with Lycanthropic anatomy... the musculature of the neck would protect both the jugular and carotid, but it wouldn't stop the chains from collapsing his trachea. After several grueling moments and a few flesh wounds, the giant stopped struggling and dropped to his knees, unconscious body already reverting to it's original form. Barring his fangs in preparation for the coup de grace, Damien shook himself to his senses. The man simply did not deserve a quick death... besides, Adele would need time to recover the strength to move on her own before they sought treatment for their wounds. Damien had time to kill.

Once he'd reverted his shape as well, Damien set about binding the man to one of the buildings many support beams. He was sitting on the floor, legs outstretched and hands chained behind his back. Surely even a fledgling Lycan would be able to break through chains, but that feat would be impossible without leverage, and Damien allowed him none. He couldn't mask his disgust as he wrapped the remaining length of chain once around the support beam, and again around his captive's neck, the free length resting in his hands. Now finished with his work, he reeled back and kicked the unconscious man in the ribs with all of his might, paused, and delivered another kick just to make certain the message was clear. Wake up. Damien spat. You understand the tragic mistake you've made now, yes? You fucked with the wrong girl. You see, there was a time not too long ago where there were far fewer of us. It was... frowned upon to kill another of our kind. But now, well, you filthy mongrels seem to multiply like the bacteria you are. Now there are plenty of you to kill. So many in fact that our Progenitor needed someone to cull the weak, degenerate, and feeble-minded such as yourself. Now, I'd considered torturing you until you begged me for the sweet release of death... but you know what makes me so fucking special? Not only was I chosen for the job, but I'm damn good at it. I'm... efficient Damien explained, tightening the chain further with a quick yank. I don't like wasting time with that sort of thing. It's beneath me. But I figured I had enough time to explain things quickly before I ended your miserable life. You see, when you fucked with her, you fucked with me. That was your mistake. He said, placing his foot against the man's head for leverage as he pulled his body weight against the chain. Already, the man was an unnatural shade of burgundy. Shifting into the form of a Lycan would do him no good, it would only serve to increase the pressure now. That was the difference between the Damien and Adele, he pondered, staring directly into his victim's eyes. Unlike her, I'm a real killer. And with that, he place both feet against the support beam, and pulled until his arms burned with the effort and no life remained in Adele's captor.

[Adele Holst]

Everything felt so cold; so numb. Disembodied voices all around her seemed to echo the thoughts she didn't know she was thinking. Criticizing the way she seemed to subtly sway from the ceiling. It almost felt like she could see herself; her small, pale frame, broken and battered, hanging from bruised and shattered wrists. Small wisps of fog coming faintly from her nose, frozen strands of golden hair falling over her face; it felt like she'd never known warmth before, nor would she ever again.
A sudden, hot shock of pain in her side seemed to sober the girl up and wake her in a violent fit. Yet again, she realized she couldn't move, and seemed to feel every painful centimeter of her body. Her eyes opened in time to see the large form of her father walking away, turning out the lights and closing the door. She inhaled sharp to protest, tell him not to leave her alone in here, but the act sent lightning through her chest and lungs, and instead of speaking, Adele coughed violently and painfully.
After what felt like an eternity of darkness and whispers, a subtle light came back, filling the room. Darkness still filled the area, but now it was less dark. Consciousness seemed to come and go from the young woman, but the next thing she knew, she was sitting on a very cold ground, propped up against something. All at once it felt more more easily accessible to breathe, but shocks of white pain still pulsed through her body at every try.
She was just beginning to doze off again when strong hands shook her violently back to reality. Opening her eyes once more, Adele's surrounding seemed to shake and radiate with a feverish energy. The rough form of a wolfish face loomed directly overhead, and the young woman looked up at it with fascination and adoration. Golden eyes! Smiling for the first time in what felt like months, she tried to reach out to touch the Werewolf in front of her. “Traum...?” The word came out weak and filled Adele with an icy fire.
Damien's thoughts entered her head urgently; she welcomed his words gratefully, glad to have a tangible force behind one of the voices she was hearing. But as he promised to return and left, Adele whimpered softly, “Neinneinneinnein...” She'd heard promises like that before; they'd never worked out as well as they sounded rolling off the tongue.
As the golden-eyed wolf disappeared out the door, Adele shifted restlessly, believing she could make her way out, following him. That thought proved very quickly to be a mistake. The girl's wrists were thoroughly bruised and broken in a couple places, and when she moved her arms, they brushed against the knife in her side, sending a heavy twang of hell through her chest. That was the reason it hurt to breathe, she determined: the knife. Gripping the handle, however, the young woman could not keep a strong hold on it, and soon gave up her attempt to pull the blade out.
In the moments between Damien leaving the cooler and Charlie entering, Adele had slumped over herself. She could hear singing in the near distance under the strong murmur of refrigeration, and it didn't register that the song she was hearing was actually herself humming. When her father did come back into the walk-in cooler, the young woman stirred violently, feeling his presence as if slapped across the face. Her eyes opened wide, and though the image she saw was not the familiar visage of her doting father, she knew that the beast standing before her was none other than Charlie. She'd known it before, that he had become a Werewolf; but finally seeing him in his Wolf form was terrifying. Adele tried to push herself further away with her feet, only to find her kneecaps still thoroughly decimated, and she cried out in agony. From her view on the ground, the blonde looked up in horror as the wolf-like form of her father's muzzle seemed to distort into a crooked grin. Odin...
Her eyes were closed for what felt like only a second, but when she opened them, her father was no longer a wolf, but a man still large of size, now naked and unconscious, chained to a pillar within the cooler. The large, dark Lycan Adele had seen earlier stood, his back to her as he shifted back down to his Human form. In the darkness, the young woman could make out the messy blond hair of her packmate, Damien; her brows furrowed. What had happened? Was he really here? “Damien?” Her voice was the softest whisper, hardly even audible over the sounds of the factory.
Watching as hard as she could, Adele tried with every fiber of her being to focus on what was going on in the room beside her. She still felt incredibly sluggish, but the voices were starting to go away. Now she heard nothing. Damien stood, holding a chain fast around her father's neck, but he seemed to pause. “Bitte...” Again, the word came out choked and quiet but full of emotion. Finally the blond man acted, pulling the chain tight around her father's neck until his face turned dark shades of purple and blue and the life seemed to fade from his being. His head, she thought. “Cut it off cut it off cut it off.” She whispered over and over, praying to whatever gods would listen that Damien would hear and oblige. It was the only way she could be sure this nightmare would end forever.