My Crazy, Orphaned, Dangerous Mate

2*Amos POV

"Alright, get into the van. Girls in the back, boys in the front, you know the deal," Vego shouts to us from the driver's seat.

He decided that leaving for our little 'field trip' before the Sun came up was a great idea. So, we're leaving at 5:45 a.m. to go do something that none of us have any desire to do. Hey, at least he brought breakfast for us.

If you can even call these donuts food. Jeez, when were they made, 1946? I drop a stale and crusty glazed donut back into the box and pass it on to anyone who is brave enough to try one.

"Why do we have to do this so early?" Maggie, another group-member, one I don't really know too well because neither of us have made it a point to try to become friends, asks from behind me.

"Get excited you guys! Early bird gets the big, juicy, delicious worm!" Vego cheers from the front seat.

"We're werewolves, not birds, and we don't eat no damn worms, so why the hell should we be pumped to do this?" Ace yawns, looking down and typing on his phone.

"Don't you guys want to make a difference in this world? Be an active member of society? Be a part of something bigger than just 'Atarna's Pack'?" Vego asks us all.

"No?"
"Nah."
"I'm good here."
"I'm tired."
"That's lame."
"Maybe if you brought actual food then we would be fine with it."

Yeah, so maybe we're not the most cheerful or compliant group. At this point Vego has basically gotten used to ignoring our protests and has just started forcing us to do stuff.

"Too bad. Now remember, you all need to be kind to people you see. Don't break stuff, we're trying to make good, not evil. I know that may be difficult for you because you're all evil little shits, but you need to make an attempt at doing something good," he lectured us.

It's the same thing every time he takes us somewhere. He always tries to instill in us that doing good things for others and keeping humble is important, especially with us being werewolves, we can easily forget to be good and go straight to our animal side. I mean, most of us can keep it in check, but others...not so much. At some point it's extremely difficult to go back to being part human, difficult but not impossible, mind you. It's called 'going rogue'.

I lay my head on the window and close my eyes, trying to get a few more minutes of sleep in before we get there.

Of course, Vego doesn't stop talking and Ace doesn't stop arguing with him the entire trip, so when we get to the nastiest part of the next town over, I'm not only tired, but I have a massive headache.

"Alright, a few of you need to get the bags, shovels, and paint out of the back. The rest of you, follow me.

I open the back doors of the van and hand some paint buckets and bags to Ace and the pack's future beta, Dom, who also stayed back to carry stuff.

We catch up to the group and I dump the shovels on the ground in front of Vego, making them crash together loudly.

"Amos, don't be a dick this morning," he rolls his eyes, "Okay, we're starting by picking up garbage on this street. After that's done, we're going to level out the ground by the store, then paint the orphanage."

This is dumb. Can't they pick up their own trash? I think to myself as I stab a metal stick into a thin dirty diaper on the side of the road. Oh, that's nasty.

After spending about an hour and a half cleaning up the disgusting main street, we move further into the town. The more we walk, the more poverty there is.

Houses are small and many have police tape surrounding them or have wood planks nailed across the front door. That sure makes me feel better about being here. I look at all of our surroundings as we walk, noticing a dead decaying dog on the bottom step of a porch and a forgotten frayed jump-rope on the uneven sidewalk. And the stench of the area is almost unbearable.

"I think I'm going to vomit," speaks a female from somewhere to my right.

After we get through that area, the horrid odor lessens. It lessens a lot actually, and a sweet scent begins to take its place.

It is a light scent that I've never smelled before, barely there, but I get enough of a whiff to want more.

"Do you smell that?" I ask no one in particular once we reached the store that needs some serious work done to it. A few of my group-members sniff the air before scrunching up their faces in disgust.

"Yeah, it smells like death around here," remarks Dom.

"Not that. There's something else," I tell them.

"You're literally going insane. Let's just do this and get out of here. I think the dirty air is getting to you," Maggie says as she digs a shovel into the brown grass.

We dig and replace the ground in different areas before the ground is flat and better looking-ish. When we move on to the orphanage, the sweet, delicious smell is more evident in the air than ever.