Werefox

Chapter Eighteen

Speaking of time limit, how the hell was he going to get there? It's not like he could drive at all. God, how he wished his mother taught him such a crucial skill.

How far was the Argent building? It was a good twenty minute drive from where he was at the moment, and he probably wouldn't be able to get there any faster than forty five minutes, figuring that he would need to conserve any energy he would need for getting into the actual building.

Stiles went into the elevator, his hand finding its way into his pocket and feeling the note there, weighing down on his conscience. He pulled his hand out as he left the building, starting off his run at a steady pace as he went in the direction he knew the compound was.

Stiles knew in the back of his mind he was going to need to use his powers. They weren't something he used quite often, in fact he didn't even know if Gerard was aware of them. His powers were something quite rare in his kind, and not everyone had them. His mother had one of them, but Stiles had both; he didn't use them often in order to keep himself safe, but if saving the pack meant he had to pull out all the stops, then he was going to do it.

He didn't particularly like them that much either; one of them was practically making everyone forget him, as if he was a shadow permanently. It had been proved useful quite a few times but was extremely draining, so Stiles had only done it a few times in his life for longer than a few seconds.

His second power was much more dangerous. It took concentration, but if Stiles touched someone he could drain them of their life force. It was scary and he truly hated it, and it made his skin crawl. This is why this ability had been used only once before by the fox, but he knew if he wanted to go up against a building of hunters this would need to be taken out of its permanent residency in the retirement home.

It felt like the longest run of his life, all the way to the compound. He had to stop himself from speeding up too much when he thought about Derek trapped somewhere or Isaac being in the same situation as before.

Surprisingly, when he arrived, there was no one there. No guards, not security outside the dark grey building in the small grove of trees. Stiles frowned, making his way towards the first door he saw, listening for heartbeats and finding nothing, pushing the door open with a quiet creak.

He looked around, seeing no cameras in his view, taking a tentative step in. This part seemed to be under construction, translucent tarps covering plaster walls and floors with abandoned painting equipment.

Stiles made his way to where he thought Gerard would keep them, closer to the heart of the building, the only sound was the soft ruffling of the tarps under his feet as he took cautious steps through each room. He wondered briefly why they were redoing the whole place, pushing that thought down as his heart leaped as his heart picked something up.

A heartbeat.

Not just one, no. He couldn't tell how many there were, they blended together too much and were too far away for Stiles to single one out, but they had to be his friends. He moved forwards once again, his hands opening and closing into fists as he got closer and closer, and soon the only thing between him and the nine heartbeats in the room.

Nine? He expected more, to be quite honest. But he figured that Gerard would know he wouldn't try and fight when he probably had them in a position where they were unable to fight back or help the fox in any way.

Stiles looked at the door in front of him, taking a calming breath before pulling the door open, walking in as his body went cold for a moment realizing this was the room where he had almost been killed last Friday.

He pulled his gaze away from the chair in the center of the room, the small patch of dried blood on the left side where the tube spilled out his blood when Derek pulled the thing out, and instead looked at Gerard who leaned against the counter in the left corner across from him.

Stiles cast a nervous glance to his right, where the pack was pressed against the wall, electrical wires attached to the werewolves, chains on all of their wrists and ankles, gags in their mouths, looks of worry as Stiles walked into the room, the note held tightly in his hands.

"Sort of a new low, chaining your granddaughter, isn't it?" Stiles asked, his eyes landing on Allison, who was chained up next to Lydia. "Even for you."

Gerard glanced at Allison, who glared at her grandfather with a face that could make Derek scared. "It was a... necessary evil."

"For what?" Stiles asked, his thumb rubbing the crinkled paper in his hands, the only source of comfort for him at the moment. "What are you getting out of this?"
Gerard looked Stiles up and down, the tense boy biting his bottom lip. "You're nervous." The old man observed, grabbing something on the counter next to him.

"Yeah, I wonder why." Stiles said sarcastically, making Gerard let out an empty chuckle.

"Why don't we begin?" The man said, gesturing for Stiles to sit down in the chair that he was in before.

"What are you going to do?" Stiles asked, his voice defensive. He finally got a good look of what Gerard was holding in his hands; a large syringe filled with a silvery liquid.

"Well, after that whole fiasco last week," Gerard began. "We discovered a way to just inject the werewolf DNA without having to almost kill you, a much faster method."