The Were-Wolf of the Everfree Forest

           The Tale of the Wolf is one that shouldn't be recalled ignorantly. For the Tale of the Wolf is a tale of death and horror, a tale of romance and tragedy. But more importantly, it is a tale of a man who had lost his way. This man's name is Rickter, or he was formerly known as Rickter, now he is only known as "The Wolf." Before the tragic accident, one could describe him as an average Joe, to say the least. Only his close friends knew about his secret sins, one of which was collecting cards. But now, if anyone knew of his fate, their only words that will describe him will be: He was a very heavily burdened man, who has single-handedly bore the blood of the wolf, of his victims, and the curse that loomed over his head.

           His schedule was simple: wake up, go to work at the local GameStop, come home, sleep, and repeat. Whenever he could find time in his schedule, he would fill it in with his favorite pastimes, one of which was playing videogames. Being an employee at GameStop wasn't the most profitable job on the market, but it was all his skill set would allow him to do. At the cost of having to reside in a run-down wing of the city, his position allowed him the opportunity to discover games that may appeal to him, which resulted in making him own a vast selection of games. Among them, he did have a few apples within the garden of Eden, among these was "The Wolf Among Us." He enjoyed the game during his first play-through, but after completing the solo campaign half a dozen times his appreciation for the game decayed tremendously. The one aspect of the game that continued to draw him back was the main character. The game answered all of the questions he may have about it, all of them except for one: What about the main character makes him so intriguing? Was it his voice? His out look on life? Or maybe it was the fact that he was a fucking were-wolf!

           The third possible explanation held its grip on his mind's eye tighter than any of the others could. The reason was very simple, envy. Rickter always thought it would be awesome to be a werewolf; so naturally, he always desired to be any characters that had the ability to become a werewolf, except for that one guy from that movie. What he didn't know was what his future had in store for him. He would have the opportunity to live out what he had always desired, but he, instead, has to enjoy the positives and endure the negatives of his new lifestyle. If only he understood the horrors of the truth beforehand.

          The dawn of a typical weekday morning breaks through, and as expected, Rickter set off to fulfill his daily schedule by completing his shift at his job. Along the way, he heard a noise that reverberated from one of many alleyways. He would've simply ignored it, but something in the back of his mind demanded that he investigated. Against his better judgment, he gave in to the voice behind him and ventured down the alley. As he made his journey deeper, the putrid odor of the rotting garbage became overwhelming, he acted upon instinct and covered his nose, which did little to protect his sense of smell from the onslaught of the foul stench. At the end of the filthy hall was... nothing, nothing at all, or so he thought. Rickter turned to return to his life as a man materialized from the shadows that protruded from the walls. In the man's hand was a handgun, which was pointed at his head, "Give me all of your money or I'll blow your fucking brains out!"

           "Whoa, whoa easy man, let's not do anything stupid, ok?" Rickter said with his hands in the air.

           Not liking that he wasn't listening to him, the thug yells out, "Just give me your money, shit head!"

           "What gives you the right to order others around, asshole!" Rickter was sick of all these thugs, thinking they owned the world by simply waving a gun around. This wasn't the first he was robbed at gun point, it happened regularly to him at least once a week. Although he immensely enjoys his job at GameStop, it just doesn't pay him enough to help with the bills and eventually move somewhere else. Today, however, he had reached his breaking point; he was now fed up with it. It is high time for someone to stand up to fuckers like him, he thought to himself, and by God I am going to be the first.

             He began to scan his surroundings for any items he can improvise as a type of weapon. Nearby, his eyes picked up a rusting pipe lying next to a garbage bin. Not a choice weapon, but it'll have to do. He began to reach for the pipe, but he was stopped in his tracks by a thunderous CRACK  that was shortly followed by a sharp, piercing pain that was radiating from his leg. A quick glance down informed him that the mugger aimed to prevent any counterattacks by immobilizing him.

             "I think you are forgetting something, I have the gun."

No shit, Sherlock. "Ok look, you win, but I don't have any money on me. So just let me go and I won't go to the police." Rickter was trying to talk his way out of this.

             The shady man responded with a shake of his head, "I can't trust you to go scot-free. However, we will play a little game." The man emptied his clip and pulled out a single bullet plated in silver. After placing it in the mag, he spun the clip around and stalked up to his prey. "The rules are simple; if I pull the trigger and you don't die, you can leave and I won't rob you again. However if I pull the trigger and you do die, well it's pretty straight-forward from there."

             Rickter felt the cold metal barrel press against his temple, sweat began to trickle down his body. All he could do was stare at the man's face, which wore a twisted grin. "Let's see if lady luck is on your side today." Not even a moment after concluding his sentence, he pulled the trigger. What came after, Rickter couldn't comprehend; all he felt was a small burst of pain and then nothing at all. I bargained with fate, and I was it's bitch.