𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐊⠀ ⁽ ¹ ⁾

BODIES

"What is that?!" Someone cries out, just as I round the back of the building. Opening the gate with the key card attached to the chain around my neck, I race over. Holding onto my camera as tightly as possible, there's a massive crowd huddling by a viewpoint looking into the ocean beside.

Pushing my way through, there are body parts floating around, arms, legs, even a head. Impulsively, I lift my camera taking as many pictures of the scene as I can. From behind, I feel someone grabbing my shirt collar, yanking me back. A man looks angrily at the camera, then at my face. "What is wrong with you!" He shouts at me, shaking me in his grip. The anger radiating in him, slowly brings out the anger in me, and against my will fangs begin to probe out. 

Another person comes around, and instead of continuing to scream at me, they put a hand on my shoulder and push me behind them. "That's enough!" The voice and the touch are from two different people. The one that shouts is from a long-haired, brunette, woman in a sophisticated blue business attire, and mini skirt. While the grab is from a very muscular figure, with the word security printed across his chest. "Everyone, get back to work. This area is officially off limits." She states, a stern, brown, glare darts from each and every face.

Begrudgingly, the people head back to the massive building behind us. "Mr. Marsden." The woman says to me. Turning to her, I find just how relieved I am to see her. "Hello again, Ms. Bates." I greet her back more relaxed, the fangs that were so eager to appear, retracting. "Looks like you were in a tough spot for a second, is there anything I can do to make up for it?" I shake my head, looking down at my camera and making sure it's safe. "I'm fine, thank you." 

She waves for me to follow after her. "The company would appreciate it if you didn't publicize this sort of, 'unfortunate' occurrence. I'm sure you understand." In all honesty, I was thinking the same thing. But now something else has happened here. Glancing over my shoulder at the railing, and the floating parts in the ocean, I'm starting to wonder what.

Getting back to the warehouse, everyone is sitting around on the ground. Arthur skimming through files, Darlene helping, Aunt Patty polishing her miniature handgun, and Dirk and Allison looking down at a map. Immediately, Dirk and Darlene are the first to look up. "How was it?" When they say that, everyone looks over.

With a deep sigh, I remove the camera strap from my neck. "Deadly." From my camera bag I pull out a folder, from inside the building I managed to print out the shots I took without anyone noticing. Everyone takes one, and I join them on the floor reviewing them. "These hands here look like claws." Dirk points out, holding one in his hand. He passes it to Allison beside him, and I peer over her shoulder.

"You're right, but they look like they were chopped off mid transformation." She says, pointing to the distinctive way the hands are frozen mid transition from human, to claws. "It's a werewolf corpse." A silence comes over the rest of us at her clear statement. A werewolf that was dismembered and thrown into the ocean like trash, nameless, and lifeless.

...

The next day I go back to the work. Sitting in a cubicle that with my name on a plaque. Mr. Marsden. It's strange to hear someone calling me that, my father was more used to being called that rather than me. Just the sentiment alone triggers the familiarity about it. Dismissing the thought, I start to get up and move around, hoping that I can get more information about the 'incident' yesterday that everyone seems to refer to.

In the cubicle beside me is a man, perhaps in his thirties, short, thin, gelled back hair, who is more attentive to his screen, then to me behind him. He's also the man who didn't take too kindly to me taking pictures, and had no problem showing me. Moving down the aisle, there are more people focused on their work, but there is one man that has his eyes wandering towards the ceiling, and his surroundings, in aimless boredom.