Cyneric

Part 2

A new day had dawned, leaving school behind on the first day of Summer. Peter hadn't had any incidents with bullies or his little "problem" in nearly a month. Peter awoke on a sunny day. Outside, the weather was jumping, said to even out at about seventy degrees at Noon. He launched himself out of bed, invigorated by the fact that school wasn't going to be around for three months. He stretched and yawned. The early morning sunlight drifted through the drapes into his room and onto his body, warming him quickly.

Peter's room was a dull blue in color. His walls were bare apart from some furniture that pressed up against it. There was a bed in the far corner, facing towards the door. A couch sat opposite the bed, facing an old, beat-up T.V. that sat on top of a faded wood end table. Another end table sat next to his bed, which held his alarm clock and some miscellaneous things that he almost never had a use for. The window stood on the wall at the foot of his bed, shining light onto his black comforter that lay crumpled on the navy blue sheets.

Peter walked around his room, putting on semi-baggy blue jeans and a white tee-shirt, accompanied by a dark sweater. Although it was Summer, Peter had a slight problem with exposed skin. The warmth of the sun always discomforted him. He limited his exposed body to only his face, neck, and hands. The rest of him was always covered if he went out into public, day or night. Even with minimalized skin exposure, he got sunburns very easily.

Peter ran about the house, checking the things that need to be checked and picking up the things that needed to be picked up. This seemed like a normal day, as if last month's events hadn't taken place. He finished his morning routine and started for the front door, walking down the stairs and onto the foyer to reach the white obstacle, which had a large window implanted in its surface.

Peter turned the knob and swung it open, stepped outside, and embraced the morning air before locking the door behind him and striding to the sidewalk with an atmosphere of confidence around him. He rounded the corner and walked briskly toward a nearby gas station. Upon reaching the building, he pulled open the doors and headed toward the back where the drinks where held.

Peter opened the refrigerators and sifted through the sweet teas. Finding one he approved of, he turned to head to the cashier. One step into the walk, he collapsed and lay huddled on the floor. The pain returned to his chest and lit it up in a fire of hurt. He clutched at the needles of pain and huffed, panting while the pain stabbed at him. Again...? He thought, just before he slipped into the increasingly familiar darkness of unconsciousness.

Peter cracked his eyes against the bright light above him. When did the sun get so bright? He thought. But, foolishly realized he was indoors. The fluorescent light was shining on his small figure, which had been stripped of his clothes and dressed in a white material that felt like cotton. The material was like a bed sheet and was wrapped around him intricately in a tunic shape.

He lifted himself up into a sitting position and squinted around the room. He was on a bed that was pushed in the far right corner, away from the large metal door on the opposite side of the room, implanted in the center of the wall. It was a concrete room about the size of a common bathroom. The walls were painted white, making the clean feeling almost palpable. The scent was lemon, faintly laced into other smells that Peter didn't find interesting enough to give attention to.

Peter had to squint to see through the room, the light bouncing off the clean walls making it difficult to see at first. As his vision adjusted to the immense light, he saw the outline of a figure in the far corner, to the left of the door. The bulking frame gave way to a skinny head that seemed out of place on the enormous man. When Peter looked at him, he stirred and stood. The man shuffled toward Peter moved into the small area of clear view that Peter had.

The man was close to seven feet tall, the muscles and bulk on the man would place him at about 200 pounds of power. The man's face was narrow, his cheeks seem to melt into his nose. His eyes seemed to glint with a reddish brown when he bounced toward the light in his stride across the room. Standing in front of Peter, the man seemed ten stories high and ready to pound Peter's face into next week.

A shiver of fear slithered down Peter's spine and he gulped, swallowing his fear with it. Peter straightened up slightly, trying to appear more bold than he actually was. This effort was in vain, though, since the gesture looked pathetic on his frail figure. He inched back a little bit and held the man's gaze. The want to break the eerie silence was broken as the man shifted his gaze from Peter's eyes to the wall behind him.

"Do you know why you're here, Peter?" The man said. The voice was deep and frightening, exactly what you would expect from the serial-killer-looking man. When he spoke, Peter's rib cage seemed to shake with the vibration of his voice. The burly man seemed serious beyond any belief, but what was happening to Peter seemed like one huge joke. Unless...

"No, but, I'm sure it has something to do with what's been happening to me lately, since I've just woken up from one of the 'episodes'." Peter replied. He swung  his legs over the side of the bed and began stretching. The hard bed made his muscles uncomfortable.

"You're a very bright kid, Peter. That will be most useful in your tasks and understandings to come. Follow me, if you will." The man turned and strode toward the big door, throwing it open and glancing back at Peter with a questioning look. Peter stood and gave his muscles a few more stretches and cracks, then walked lightly behind the man.

The behemoth of a person took long, rhythmic steps into the hallway beyond the door. This hallway was around 40 feet long with no doors on either side. The coloration was slightly more yellow than the room behind them. Peter struggled to keep up with the huge man, having to take bigger steps than he'd prefer to keep from falling behind. They turned left into a corridor at the end of the hall, then took the first door on the right, leading into a room similar to the one they had left, but with a desk planted in the middle, and no bed.

"Take a seat," the man gestured to one of the two red fabric chairs in front of the desk, rounding the side of it and taking his seat behind the desk.  Peter did as instructed and took the seat on the right, having to look slightly left to peer into the man's odd eyes. Nothing covered the desk, letting the light above the room shine off the metal surface.

"My name is Sebastian, I'm your new guide. The building you are in is located in Northern London. We are on the negative twelfth floor at the moment. This is the Bilkin Company building. They specialize in electronics." Sebastian said with his overly-low voice.

"That's interesting, Sebastian, but that tells me nothing of why I am here in the first place." The intellegence in Peter's voice surprised him. He even sounded smart to himself. Peter shifted in his seat and rested his left elbow on the corresponding armrest.

"Peter, the reason you have been blacking out so often and having spasms of immense pain is subject to a biological disorder. This disorder was long ago named 'lycanthropy'. You're an intuitive kid, I'm sure you know what that means."

The information hit Peter like a brick wall. It went so far as to take the air from his lungs, which he immediately replaced with a muffled gasp. This explains so much, but me, a werewolf? This seems impossible, but the signs... They're undeniable. Peter straightened after a minute of thought and nodded slowly, trying hardest to accept this new reality. Me, a werewolf...