Not Quite The Same (Hiatus)

Chapter Thirty Five

(A/N: Happy December guys!! I hope you guys have a good holiday season and hope you have a great time doing whatever you do to celebrate whatever you celebrate! And if you don't celebrate anything, I hope you have a good month and day!)

Once they arrived close to the sight, John and the others saw the full extent of what had happened.

Trees had been uprooted, there were fires scattered around, cars had been turned over, people were hiding and running, there was shouting and screaming and voices loudly telling them, "Shut up!"

John looked around, slowly taking out his gun, which Stiles had given back, in case there was anyone near by. Allison pulled out her knives from her boots, gripping them tightly. The weres wolfed out, using their heightened scenes to stay alert. Kira took out her katanas, glancing at Malia for reassurance. Lydia didn't have much to defend herself with, instead staying close to Parrish, who had taken his gun out as well. John looked over as Stiles walked off a little ways, over to what looked like a man on the ground. Stiles grabbed a couple of things, which varied from guns to knives. He grabbed two knives, both different sizes, and three guns. A SIG-Sauer P220ST, CZ Vz. 61 E Skropion, and a M4A1. He stuffed the two hand guns into his waist band and slung the M4A1 over his shoulder. He put the two knives into his waist band as well.

Stiles walked back over, glanced at them before walking forward, towards the main source of the damage. The others followed quickly behind them. Stiles, John and hopefully the other noticed, seemed all too in his element. He moved like water, swiftly and calmly and fluidly, as if he had done this a million times before, which, John assumed, he probably had. John walked beside his son, staring at him then to his hurt shoulder. "When we get back, we're patching that up." He told his son.

"When we get back," Stiles repeated, his voice still as hard and cold as usual, but now held a more soft tone to it. "You guys got some explaining to do."

Stiles moved to behind a nearby car, one that had been turned over onto its side. The pack quickly followed and joined him. "You guys--" He started suddenly and quietly, pointing at Derek, Scott, Malia and Aiden, "and I will take to the front. You--" he pointed at Isaac, Kira and Allison. "Take to the sides." He then pointed at Ethan, Parrish, Lydia and John. "You guys take care of the hostages."

The plan was sudden but actually pretty solid. Put strength at the front (Stiles, Derek, Scott, Malia, and Aiden), agility, quickness, and stealth at the sides (Isaac, Kira and Allison), then the rest, and frankly more kinder, of them to deal with the hostages.

"Sounds like a plan." Isaac agreed with Stiles, which was something he never usually did.

The others nodded in agreement and then proceeded to move out. Isaac went to the left, while Allison and Kira went to the right. John, Parrish, and Ethan went towards the back, waiting for some sort of safety signal. Stiles, Derek, Scott, Malia and Aiden stayed towards the front. "You guys can take care of the other agents; leave Visage for me." Stiles ordered.

"What? No way are we letting you go off alone." Malia protested.

"Visage wants you. Going out there alone will only give him a chance to take you." Scott pointed out.

"It'd be safer to go with one of us." Aiden added.

"Fine," Stiles said, a tad snappish. He looked away and over the car. "Scott, you go with Malia and Aiden. Derek, you come with me."

Stiles didn't wait for the others and moved out to another nearby car. Scott, Malia and Aiden followed, though hid behind a different car as Derek joined Stiles. Stiles took the M4A1 into his hands, cocking it. Derek unsheathed his claws, his eyes glowing a dangerously bright blue. "You do realize that this is a trap, correct?" Derek asked suddenly as Stiles cocked and reloaded the rest of his guns.

"You and Allison seem to think alike," Stiles replied instead of answering Derek's question.

"So you do realize," Derek answered for him. "Then why are you going?"

Stiles sighed as he stuffed his second hand gun back into his waist band. "I'm tired of being afraid of this organization," He said honestly, shocking Derek. "I'm tired of selling my soul to it, I'm tired of being their puppet, and I'm tired of not remembering. I'm not about to let them go."

Derek stared him for a moment, admiring the boy--No. The man in front of him. Stiles glanced over at him and pretended not to notice him look away with a blush on his face. "Let's go," Stiles grunted.

Stiles and Derek moved out into the open area, stiff and alert. Scott, Aiden and Malia moved in from the right.

"Well, well, well,"

Stiles and the others stiffened, preparing themselves to fight as Visage came into view.

"It seems that our little Asset has gained some friends," Visage continued to taunt. None of them missed the way that Stiles flinched at the mention of 'the Asset'. Stiles aimed his M4A1 at Visage though didn't shot.

"You came after all." Visage smirked. "But without the sheriff..." He trailed. "I have to admit: I am very disappointed. I would've loved to put a bullet in between his eyes."

Stiles let out a growl, a literally growl, that sounded so much like a wolf it made Derek proud.

"You fucking touch him--touch any of them--and I will not hesitate to send a knife through your throat." Stiles glowered, his eyes glaring with fire.

Visage, however, didn't seemed swayed by the threat. "Now, that's no way to talk to your superiors." He chided then sighed loudly. "You're acting just like you used to."

That caught Stiles' attention. "What?" He managed to choke out. He didn't want to give away his eagerness or curiosity.

"Before, Asset." Visage supplied. "Before all of this. Before the murders. Before the torture. Before."

Stiles tightened his jaw, and steadied his position again. Derek could see that he wasn't holding up. "Fuck you," he said hotly.

Visage simply chuckled. "I wonder how you would fair now, you know, with the murder and the torture. I wonder how your friends would--" Visage was cut off as Stiles fired multiply shots at him. 

Visage dodged and ran.

And all hell broke loose.

(A/N: WOOO! Cliffhanger! I know, I'm sorry, it sucks but I couldn't resist! Don't worry the next one won't be a cliffhanger, and I plan to have some Sterek themes in the next one *wink, wink* i must stop that. Also! I am sooooo sorry that this took for-fucking-ever to post! Anyway, love you guys and hope you liked the chapter!)