Going...home? (TW/AA)

Good Ol' Ass Kicking (9)

Malia left Mitch's house after about 2 hours, claiming that she had to go to meet with the pack. It was only midday so Mitch needed to do something to amuse himself whilst he waited. Suddenly, an idea popped into his head. A dark grin made its way into his face as he thought about his plan, it was perfect. Malia had told Mitch that the pack meeting was going to be at 2 o'clock so that gave him nearly 2 hours to kill time. The pack wouldn't like it but it was going to be a lot of fun. For him.

Time skip brought to you by Mitch's shaggy hair.

After waiting for an hour and a half, Mitch was incredibly bored. The case he was working on had him stumped and Stan coming the day after tomorrow put him on edge. The only good thing about his day was shagging Malia and thinking about the packs faces when he surprises them. Nearly everyone was going to be at the pack meeting; apart from the 'adults'. It seemed kind of foolish to keep calling them that, because everyone in the pack was now in their late 20's and were also adults. However, it was now a habit to call the group of parents who stuck with them through the supernatural bullshit they had to go through, 'adults'.

Mitch grabbed the keys hung by the front door and made sure to lock everything behind him. He didn't need anyone breaking in to his apartment whilst he was gone.

After the short drive to the entrance of the Beacon Hills preserve, Mitch parked his car in the dirt track leading into the heart of the woods. He would have to go the rest of the way on foot.

The pack were having their weekly meeting by the Nemeton. Something about being all 'mysterious' made them more powerful. Pfft, flawed logic but if it made them feel better then go for it. As he neared the Nemeton he could see a few members of the pack gathered in a circle around it, the dense tree and rich earthy scent of the woods keeping him hidden from their view. There were a few stragglers dotted around the edge of the clearing, nearer the tree line. They would be his first victims.

Sneaking up behind Liam, Mitch grabbed him in the side with a swift kick before counteracting it with a punch to the face. Liam's face snapped to the right and a slight spray of blood came from his nose. He fell to his knees and clutched his probably broken nose, trying to look ready to fight whoever had just attacked him. His movements froze and his brows furrowed when he saw Mitch stood behind him. Mitch just sent him a subtle wink in response, almost saying sorry with just a look.

Mitch's next victims were Jackson and Ethan, they were sat next to each other staring into each other's eyes with love. Mitch almost felt bad for what he was about to do but the he decided ah fuck it and did it anyway. He grabbed the back of their heads and collided their foreheads together. A slight bruise was already becoming visible and their eyes blinked rapidly, disorientated and confused.

This type of thing happened to everyone in the pack, all within the space of about two minutes. It all ended with Mitch stood in front of a cowering Scott, holding a gun in between his eyes.

Scott was trembling. His eyes glistened with unshed tears as shaky breaths came out of his mouth. His tongue darted out to lick his chapped lips and he looked up at Mitch in fear.

"We really have got to stop meeting like this Scotty." Mitch feigned surprise, a smirk very evident on his face.

"And you really should train your pack better. Not even five minutes and one weak human has you overpowered." Mitch spat at Scott, the latter flinching as he did so. The rest of the pack were lying on the floor in varying degrees of pain, Mitch made sure not to hurt the ones who couldn't heal as quickly badly, he could already see the werewolves' injuries fading from view as their wounds healed. Their bodies were mostly intact but their prides were all deeply hurt.  

"We are all supernatural creatures! You are beneath us! We are more powerful than you will ever be!" Scott ranted, trying to hide his fear at the gun pressed against his head.

"Tut tut Scott, I think you've forgotten exactly who is in charge right now." Mitch said, pressing the barrel of the gun deeper into Scott head, eliciting a growl from the angered wolf. Mitch could see the frustration pooling in Scott's eyes, frustrated with being helpless, frustrated at not being the strong true alpha, frustrated that 'Stiles' was proving to be a different person from the ADHD spaz he remembered.

Deciding that he'd had enough fun toying with the pack for the day, Mitch pulled the gun back and tauntingly slipped it back into the waistband of his jeans. The rest of the pack had mostly healed and were now all staring at him, apprehension and suspicion oozing from their pores. Mitch loved the shock on their faces, proud at his evolution into Mr American Assassin. Scott was still kneeling on the ground, his chocolate brown hair littered with twigs, leaves and dirt from the forest floor. His mouth was agape, seemingly lost for words.

Mitch let out a breathy chuckle at their sorry states, embracing the feeling of utter power he got from standing above them. Finally, after everything they had done to him, he was left stood on top. All jokes aside though, Mitch knew that if the pack wasn't better trained, it would come back to bite them in the ass. If Mitch, a lone highly trained man, could give the pack a good ol' ass kicking, no doubt a group of slightly less trained people would be able to do so too. And so, despite everything, despite going against his better judgment, he decided to offer his services.

"That was pathetic Scotty. Your pack needs training in case some supernatural creature decides to visit Beacon Hills. Let me train you and you will be able to take them on."

"NO!" Scott yelled, his eyes flickered red for a moment before he took a breath to calm himself down. "I will not let you worm your way into this pack. We are fine, no supernatural could ever beat us."

"Well if you think that's for the best Scotty, I'll leave you and your mutts alone then." Mitch turned around with a smirk, practically able to feel the anger from the pack at being called 'mutts'.

"Go to hell Stilinski!" Jackson growled, his eyes flashing at the back of Mitch's head.

"Oh Jackson, where do you think I came from?" Mitch retorted, the same lazy smirk on his lips. He let out a chuckle and shook his head slightly before hightailing it out of there. He'd left the pack with enough to think about for one day, he didn't want to overwhelm their tiny little brains.

A/N

Another chapter done!! I'm gonna give you a surprise next chapter so just you wait and see....

Also thank you for 400 reads!!

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