Things We Never Saw Coming

Kanima

Sunday, 11:16pm

         Stiles was almost certain he was going to die. Pieces of the ceiling flew everywhere as the body of the lizard creature crashed onto the floor of the storage room. He fired bullet after bullet at its smooth metallic scales, but nothing seemed to pierce the creature’s armor. It rolled back onto its feet and hissed at him, tracing the floor tiles with its tail.

         Stiles’ hands shook as he held the gun. He was completely and utterly defenseless against the creature. He bared his teeth at it. “What are you waiting for?” he shouted, his voice hoarse and rasping in his throat. “Come on! Come on!”

         The creature’s head tilted to one side, like it was measuring him up. It hissed at him again, but it sounded like more of a laugh to Stiles. He frowned, but didn’t have time to do anything else before the creature leapt at him. He fell back as it hit him squarely in the chest, its claws dragging their way across his thin chest. Stiles screamed as he hit the ground. His arms had gone limp. He couldn’t move; he couldn’t even twitch…

         The lizard put its mouth next to Stiles’ ear, and he could hear its breathing. It made another rattling hissing sound, but Stiles was almost certain that he heard a word in the creature’s sibilate growls: “Kanima.”

Sunday, 11:36pm

         “Stiles! Stiles!” Derek’s eyes burned scarlet as he slid into the Onyx. The smell of blood and spilt alcohol filled the club. Derek’s heart leapt into his chest—was he too late? He sprinted towards the storage room, calling out for Stiles again.

         The hallway was in shambles. Pieces of the ceiling littered the floor, and something had dented and clawed the door of the storage room. “Stiles?”

There was no answer. Derek slammed his body into the door to the storage room. It creaked loudly, straining to hold steady against his weight and strength. He slammed into it again, and the hinges gave way.

Gunshots shattered the still air, surprising Derek so much that he leapt back into the wall.

“Stiles, it’s me!” Derek shouted, crouching against the wall. “I’m coming in. Put the gun down.”

There was a long pause before Derek heard the muffled whispering rasp of Stiles’ voice. Something was wrong. “Derek…”

Derek leapt into the room, eyes searching for Stiles. He found him crumpled on the floor, the gun hanging from his limp hand. He made no movement towards Derek when he entered, or when Derek crouched down beside him. “Stiles, are you okay? You’re bleeding.”

And it was true. There was a gash running across Stiles’ collarbone, staining his grey t-shirt with blood. But still, Stiles did not move. He stared accusingly at Derek, and Derek thought for a moment that Stiles was going to burst into tears. “Kanima,” he whispered, his voice rasping in his throat. He closed his eyes. “Kanima…”