Series Rewrite (A Teen Wolf Fanfiction) Continued

Werewolves of London Pt 2

   One weird phone call later, and we were walking down the halls of Eichen House. Not because we had a choice, but because our lowest-of-the-low-ally said to meet him here. But I suppose Peter always had a flare for the dramatics. However, I'd be lying if I said I didn't hate being in this shithole. It wasn't a question of why he wanted to meet here, though. It was why he agreed to meet at all. Malia voiced this question as we rounded a corner.

Peter, from the other end of the hallway, said, "Curiosity." He was leaning against the gate frame with his arms behind his back. I narrowed my eyes at him. "Mostly."

"Okay," Scott sighed, unimpressed. We continued down the corridor. "We need your help."

"With what? Another suicide mission? Not interested." Peter rose his chin into the air, moving his arms to cross over his chest pompously. "Or do you need my help?" His question directly addressed to Malia, and I rolled my eyes.

"I'm here for moral support," she replied, all of us stopping when we were close enough to him.

"For him or for me?"

"You'd need to have morals." Peter pursed his lips like he was offended by her words which only made me bite my cheek to conceal a smile. Way to go, Malia.

"You helped us fight the Ghost Riders," I said in order to keep my smile down.

"Self-preservation."

"But we couldn't have won without you," Scott replied.

"You're stronger than all of us," I said, though it wasn't true at all. I just had to fluff up his ego a bit. "You're the real reason the Wild Hunt-."

"Stop," he said suddenly, calling my bullshit. "Solid effort, but you don't need to appeal to my ego. It's quite healthy. You're gunna need to work a lot harder than that if you want my help."

"What do you want?" Scott asked.

"Everything pretty much is the way I want it. My penthouse apartment is filled with mid-century furniture. My passport has more stamps than the post office. And did you see the car parked out front?" Peter walked casually towards us as he listed his assets. "That's a Shelby 1000 Cobra. There are only 100 in the entire world. I have two." He stopped, a cocky smile on his face as he waited for us to react. I stared at him, unimpressed by his material belongings. "Two." Even with his reiteration, I didn't change my expression. He may have a rare item, but I had something better. I had friends, I had family. I had people who loved and cared about me, people who would be upset by my death. Peter had his penthouse and his cars. There was nothing to be jealous of or impressed with. Peter meant nothing to the world because he never left a positive mark on people. I thought about telling him this, but since we were asking for his help, I figured maybe it wasn't the best option.

"But Gerard has an army," Scott replied.

I nodded, adding, "And every single one of them want you dead."

"And you think that means I'm going to enlist in your little endeavor? Because you're going to defeat Gerard? You aren't going to beat him, Y/N. And let me show you why." Peter pushed a lever to his right upwards. I had expected the lights to turn off and Peter would reveal an attack or something, but instead a room on my right lit up.

There was a man in all black lying casually on the cot. The second his eyes saw us, he started to move. Peter explained, "When I found him, that was pointed at my face." At the man's feet was a large gun that was probably courtesy of Gerard. This man was a hunter. An amateur by he looks of it, but he still wasn't to blast our heads off. "That is a G36 which fires 750 rounds per minute. And it's empty. For the moment." Peter pulled a full magazine out of his pocket and slid it through the slot in the door, giving it to the man inside.