Using binoculars, I peek through the abandoned warehouse's windows and observe the target's house from a distance. In the front yard, the monster sits on a plastic chair with three other humans, a small fire providing warmth in the center of the group. The heat from the flame offers comfort against the cold, serving to warm the humans' freezing hands. They appear to be in some sort of meeting or gathering, the small group huddled around the flame.
I clench my jaws, looking down at the dart gun I have brought with me as I consider my strategy. The dosage should be sufficient to render the innocent individuals unconscious but would likely be ineffective against the werewolf. The nighttime in this area is considerably quieter than the day, making it the ideal time for a strike. However, one scream could potentially alert others in the vicinity, particularly if the workers at one of the warehouses nearby are sleeping inside.
The idea of being charged by the locals again is one that fills me with dread.
No one ever said that this job would be easy.
My eyes flicker toward the tranquilizer gun, its limited capabilities making it a close-range option. I realize that I have no choice but to advance closer to the given location before attempting to eliminate the target. My best bet is to take out the creature first and then deal with the humans within its vicinity before they can potentially alert others or create an atmosphere of panic.
With no other choice, I leave my spot in the abandoned warehouse and slip into the night, the darkness covering my movements. As I advance toward the monster's territory with my silenced pistol in hand, I feel a chill crawl up my spine, the hair on the back of my neck standing on end, my instincts warning me of the approaching werewolf's presence. I instinctively know that the creature will be able to sense my ashen scent as well, increasing the tension and anxiety I feel.
I approach closer, observing the group of individuals as they share conversation and laughter amongst themselves. I continue to inch toward the group, attempting to remain unnoticed. The target suddenly stiffens, likely becoming aware of my presence as well. He shoots up to his feet, his head jerking toward the darkened floor around him and his body tensing up, as he scans the area with panicking orbs. The werewolf's abrupt behavior seems to catch the attention of his friends as well, the group exchanging worried glances before slowly rising to their feet, a sign of caution and alertness.
Fuck!
Adrenaline surges through my veins and my muscles tense with the need to move. Without wasting any more time, I aim at the target in front of me and put a bullet through his head. The lifeless body falls to the side, next to the fire pit, drawing surprised and horrified glances from those around the individual. "Fuck!!", the one closest to his dead body curses as he quickly steps back in fright. I charge at the remainder of the group, drawing their attention to me and forcing them to react instead of bawling.
I surpass their speed and strength, tackling one of the men to his knees and holding him in a headlock while I am standing behind him with a knee against the ground. The chill of the soil seeps through my pants and touches my skin as I press the barrel of my silenced pistol against the blond man's temple. 'Be cautious not to snap his tender neck', I have to remind myself repeatedly as I tighten my grip around his neck to keep him immobile.
"Not a sound or he gets lead in the head, you hear me?", I warn the other two in a hushed tone. The stillness that suddenly surrounds us is broken by a quiet hitch of breath from the blond man's throat, a sound that instantly causes me to prick up my ears. I remain vigilant, expecting the man to speak up or make any other form of noise in his efforts to signal for help. My grip on his neck is still tight, but my attention now switches to the other two individuals, who are also staying quiet.
