Néon Raider ♉

Framed

No! Not Jacqueline. Léon shook his head, unable to grasp the images sprawled before his very eyes. Jacqueline was dead...murdered and he was arrested for it. She lay in pink silken undergarments, her auburn hair sprawled across the Arabian Tapis as her contorted body lay twisted in an impossible position. Her neck was turned ninety degrees from its original angle, her hands twisted from their sockets and her limbs smashed till the tendons laid bare.

Who was the monster capable of such a thing? Why was he being arrested for killing his ex wife?
He hasn't spoken to her in 4 years. They never had the best of relations, but he would never kill her. They had the shortest marriage lasting only four months, when he found out the classic beauty, Jacqueline Roseaux, had a couple of extra marital affairs, after complaining about the lack of emotional intimacy between the two of them. Maybe Léon was flattered when he'd found and courted her. She was a Lycan, guising an A list actress. He'd immediately smelt her when he'd attended the elite Cannes movie festival. She'd smelt him too. They'd dated and travelled round the world in private jets, degusting of all the finer things in life. He was carried away. He was infatuated with her beauty and her image of a star, till she had grown bored of him and the thrill had died down as fast as it had started. Now, she laid dead. Murdered and he was accused of it. He was innocent. He was framed.

"Can't you see I am being framed here?" Léon held out his hands chained to the interrogation desk. He clenched his Jaws, shut his eyes and cursed.

"I didn't do this. Believe me. I didn't kill her. She was once my wife, for crying out loud. " Léon barked.

"Your fingerprints were found allover her body and on the door. Your hair was found in her bed. You cannot lie yourself out of this one." The curly headed, middle aged interrogator pounded his hands on the table and shoved the pictures to Léon's face.

"You will pay for what you have done. You killed her, didn't you?" The muscular interrogator yelled.

"Hold on, you do not need to answer that." Louis Laurent marched into the room stinking of Givenchy perfume and a loose fitted grey suit, placing his suitcase on the desk and shoving papers at the disappointed investigator, who scratched his brow.

Louis Laurent what took you so long, god dammit. Léon exhaled sharply, placing his head on his aching limbs.

"Now, if you'd excuse me, I'll like to exercise the client advocate privilege, since he has a right to a legal counsellor, please grant us some privacy." Louis Laurent articulated, nodding as the interrogator gathered his evidence and stumped out of the room, his nose flared and his orbs, gaped in fury.

"Bien." Louis Laurent breathed.

"Before you say anything, I didn't do it." Léon whispered.

"I know." Louis Laurent, cinched his nose and drummed his knuckles on the desk.

"Do you know who would have done this to you? This isn't good. This isn't good. You had a proceeding on accessory to theft, now this. How do we control this?" we Louis Laurent coursed his hands the hospital Brown hair.

Léon breathed and fell back on the metal chair.
"Danielle will be here as soon as Ivory calls her. She will do her ritual thingy and trace who is behind all of this...behind it all. It could be the rival wolves from the north, but why?" Léon creased his forehead in question.

"And do you know someone shifted in this city, in the open? Ivory called me to her apartment. A Lycan attacked her. This isn't something random happening. Someone is out to get me. Ivory!" Léon gasped.

"She is alone out there. She is in danger." Léon jerked.

"How did you get..." Louis Laurent started.

"Before you begin to ask about things that do not matter for now, you need to find her and keep her safe. She saw a supernatural creature. They wouldn't let her live to tell the story. It's all my fault. I should have stayed away." He ran his hands on his face, exhaling sharply.

"Louis, do everything I cannot go to jail. How will I survive in there when I have to shift?" Léon groaned.

The full moons where unbearable. Any other lunar cycle was harmless. He could suppress his need to shift but not during full moon's. He would be totally exposed in prison. Lycans were Therianthropes and along sides other Therianthropes like, the hybrids...werewolves, Werecats, Werefoxes, Foxtherians and shifters ranking as such, ailed from Selenophobia or Lunaphobia. They were severely affected by the lunar energies. The moon's light was their biggest enemy. It hummed at a frequency so loud and terrifying it gave Therianthropes a wave of temporal insanity. They clawed their human flesh till what was left of their bodies was that which could withstand the torture. It was as though the moon and the Therianthropes fought and endless war. Some shifters had sought for solutions. Some had dug catacombs, built reinforced soundproofed caverns to escape the moon's perpetual punishment, but it seems the moon's eerie hum, seeped even into the deepest of earth's core. And so, every full moon, every Therianthrope in mortal habitats had to either go the the pack or to some distant woodland to turn.

Many lore's blamed the moon goddess.
Pfff! Léon scuffed. There was no. Moon goddess...she wasn't responsible for sending the injurious energy to harm Therianthropes. Though, witches benefited from the energy tremendously, they harnessed it and casted powerful spells. It was as preposterous as lores that believed in mates. Therianthropes weren't flamingos. Lycans loved just as humans. If a Lycan fell in love and somehow separated from their love, they couldn't die of broken hearts like flamingos, or become insane and lost in their own minds. Like humans, Lycans fell in love deeply, divorced and fell out of love. There was no supernatural bond that glued them for eternity. Nonetheless, he believed in true love and hoped to find it in the future.

Léon hung his head thinking of prison. There were guards and wardens that were Shifters for that purpose alone, of keeping secrets safe. But had they ever dealt with a Lycan in jail? He superhuman senses, strength, speed, reflexes, agility, dexterity, coordination, balance, durability, stamina, regenerative healing factor. Somehow someone was going to find out and the rumour mill would spin. He did not want to be objective of the species undoing. He was puzzled. He could consider suicide. Other Lycans did it in similar situations. It was honorable. In so doing, they'd ensured the species survival. Was he one of the greats? Or just a coward.