Geneticide: Where the Wild Things Are
The First Revelation (Revised Edition): Part 4
By: Deranged Kitsune
*** Title is in homage to the Metallica song of the same name***

"I don't bite, you know.
Unless it's called for."
-- Audrey Hepburn, Charade

Music has the power to both free the soul and cloud the mind. However, the music that is generally played at late night rock concerts commonly has the power to do only the latter. As we enter the stadium of screaming rock fans, our gaze sweeps the crowd searching for one particular individual. Well, actually it's him and a friend we're looking for. Now where are they..? Oh, yes. There they are, near one of the mid level concession booths.

Let us first focus on the fan with the brown hair, green eyes, and t-shirt with the words "Calvin & Hobbes 4 ever" upon the front of it. That is current subject in tonight's exhibition. For simplicity's sake we'll just call him Calvin. He is there with a friend; another youth just over his age of 18 with a head of dark red hair. The other youth is called Grass. His full name is Grass is Flammable, and his real name is Timothy Burns. He is Cal's good buddy for the primary reason of having the distinction of having smuggled liquor into all the major concerts in their city in the last five years. Tonight is no exception, as we can see by his sagging canvas backpack.

Now you might think that an average rowdy concert in the year 2026 would be something to behold, but with the exception of a few new pastimes, not a lot has changed since the end of the 20th century. In fact the mosh pit, an invention of the latter end of that century, is still as popular as it was back then. The mosh pit is where our subjects are heading to right now, as a matter of fact. The pair is jostling through the people, trying to find a good side of the stadium from which to descend into that dreaded pit.

"Dude!" says Calvin as his gaze falls upon a hot goth chick. "Check out that one! Check out her hair, her body, her tits!" he says, holding his hands before him in lustful reverence. "Check out how that dress flows when she walks, check out the swing of her hips..."

"...Check out how she's sucking face with that cute brunette!" bursts in Grass.

With an exaggeratedly over pained expression, Calvin collapses to the floor, his hands still held out in front of him. "No!" he screams, his face twisting in agony. "NOO!! Why, God? WHY?!" he wails, raising his hands up to the heavens. That gesture seems to be a recurring theme tonight, as is Calvin's subsequent doubling over and sobbing on the cement floor.

"God, Cal. Chill out. You're taking that a bit hard, man." Calvin remains on the ground, wailing inconsolably as he clutches at his head. "People are starting to notice," says Timothy with mounting trepidation, "so get off the floor before I beat you to death! We came here for the music, damnit!"

Calvin bounds to his feet as if nothing had happened, a silly expression playing on his face. "Okay. Sounds good to me."

Grass can only make mock punching motions and exaggerated expressions of displeasure before relenting to his friend's humor. "Why you... little... come on!"

Considering how far these types of concerts can go, this one is basically your average good time. Since the year 2014, and the advent of three-dimensional speakers, concerts have only become louder and more chaotic. At least the clientele hasn't changed their appearance much in the last few decades. Remember that shirt that Calvin was wearing? The fact that it's vintage 1990's is proof positive that rock works in cycles.

As the pair step out into the main stadium area, their gaze falls upon the throngs of people already there, either sitting around in the bleachers or moshing down in the pit. They are also treated to the rhythmic throbbing of the guitars, drums, keyboards, and other miscellaneous instruments as the band warms up for the show.

Grass lets out a triumphant roar as he turns to survey the rest of the audience. "This is going to be sweet, I tell you! Going to be good! Oh-ya!!"

Calvin smacks the back of his hand on Grass' chest. "Yo. I see more lovelies! Check out the pair sitting six rows down." Timothy's appraisal is a pained expression and a sharp intake of breath. "Yeah, my assessment as well," concurs Calvin. "Let's go see if we can introduce ourselves."

The pair of teens trot down the steps, all the time being careful not to step on anyone who had already succumbed to the festivities. The two perch themselves on the railing in front of their targets and flash the girls their best wanton grins. "Hello there, my dear," says Calvin to the first of the girls, one with dyed, neon green hair. "My name is Calvin. That's just so you'll know what to scream later."

Grass is busy looking over the first girl's blonde companion. He takes one look at her worn out sneakers before making his move. "Nice shoes. Wanna have wild, noisy, animalistic sex with me tonight? Just smile if you do."

The pair's come-on lines amuse neither girl. They convey this to them in both words and gestures. In fact Calvin's face is stinging mightily as him and Grass resume their journey to the pit. He never would have figured the one with green hair for a boxer. But Mr. Grass is Flammable is not one to let such girls have the last word. When they're about six steps from the two, he turns back. Tapping his thigh, he shouts up to the blonde, "and you just think this is my leg." He cackles at the huffing, disgusted response both girls give him.

Now it's time to focus upon the singers, and the music, and the hundreds of screaming fans. Because, you see, we have followed Calvin and Grass into the heart of the concert: the mosh pit. Calvin goes and jumps right in, laughing all the way. Burns follows right behind him and quickly begins wrestling a couple other contenders. It's hard to tell what they're doing or what either is thinking at this point, but considering the fact that it's a good-natured moshing, they're both probably enjoying themselves. We know for a fact that Calvin is. He's already laid eyes upon a sweet little honey with the purest white hair. Maneuvering up behind her, he grabs a handful of her toosh. She gives a little start and turns around. "Pardon me," he nods, "is this seat taken?"

Now both of Calvin's cheeks are stinging. He wonders what it is with women wanting to use his head for a punching bag this night. He rubs his sore face as he worms his way though the crowd in search of Timothy.

But life has designs against the pair getting together again tonight. For just as Calvin thinks he spots his friend, the band decides to start the concert. In an explosion of sound and lights, the mosh pit commences rocking and swaying in an attempt to move to the music. This makes movement noticeably more difficult for our subject.

He solves this the easy way. By working his way to the edge of the crowd Calvin manages to get up high enough to ride on top. And with a cry of "come on! Pass me around!" Cal begins to flow over the many hands of the other fans.

While his journey is a pleasant one -- he didn't feel anyone go for his empty wallet -- it ends all to soon. A group of jocks decides not to play along when Cal comes by. His landing is not the most pleasant thing in the world. If there is one thing tonight has taught us, it's that the human body does not react well when it lands on concrete or similar substances. But Calvin is a veteran mosher, and he's quickly back on his feet. Well, actually he only makes it to his knees before he's hit dead on the jaw by a large, bony elbow. This causes him to grunt some in pain, and clutch his abused face. However, as with all the unfortunate souls we've seen tonight, the real pain soon begins, and things go from bad to worse.

As one can expect after the other subjects of tonight's expose, Calvin is overcome with a abundance of fresh torment. Unlike all the others we've seen tonight, the pain doesn't originate from the shoulders, back, or tail bone. It originates from his battered face. More specifically, from his teeth.

For once tonight, Calvin screams a true scream of pain, before he falls to the ground once more. The scream isn't enough to disturb the concert, as the massive speaker system and heavy metal riffs are more then adequate to drown out even a multi-car pile-up. In general, the people standing over Calvin are clueless as to anything they could've done to hurt him, or that he is even in real pain. But for those that do notice, it's not long before they realize he seems to be seriously injured. What these people don't know, what they can't see due to Calvin's doubled over form and the close quarters, is that the change has taken hold. And if they could clearly see his fracturing and expanding head, then they'd know that he's more than a just a little hurt.

Vaguely realizing that something unnatural is happening to himself, Calvin grabs his head and vainly tries to cover up what he assumes is growing deformity. As the pain in his jaw begins to grow and expand to other parts of his body, Calvin begins to furiously try and ascertain what could cause this.

His first thought is drugs. And that makes sense. He's done them in the past. Heck, he's even had one particularly bad trip! Ah, but poor Calvin has had no narcotics tonight, and we know that this is not some simple hallucination. His next thought is that this is some kind of lucid dream. But dreams do not contain this kind of pain he immediately realizes, as his hands ignite in anguish.

A shrill howl works it's way past Calvin's extending jawline as his shoulders explode in pain. Reaching back with one hand, Calvin discovers that his shirt has also exploded. But what is really fascinating to the youth, is the fact that his shoulders are far hairier then he last remembered.

Soon, however, the combination of rapidly growing dark brown fur and expanding muzzle, as well as a few other wolfish characteristics, swiftly convince Calvin of what is happening to him. The striking home of this realization is swiftly followed by the explosion of stunning, blinding pain from three separate sources on Calvin's body; his legs, tailbone, and head.

The thought that it was a good thing that he wore a pair of his most ripped up pants tonight, briefly floats across Cal's mind as the pain from where his newly formed tail burst the seat of his pants begins to dissipate. But the burning in his legs and the pain lancing across his head quickly garner all of his attention.

Calvin's fingers play through his brown hair as it slowly begings to thicken up. The teen's ears begin to shift up the side of his reforming skull, slowly steepleing in the process. This effect allows Calvin to better pick up the swing in mood of the rock concert.

Screams begin to emanate all around Calvin. Some are human, some are animal, but all are panicked. The transforming youth risks a quick glance to the across the mosh pit to the stage only to discover that two of the band members have developed vaguely similar problems. From the reaction of others in the crowd, and further up in the stands, Calvin soon realizes that his situation is not all that unique. He also realizes that his eyesight is becoming much more acute, and he can see in the darkened stadium almost as if it were day.

Calvin's gawking is suddenly interrupted when five slightly drunken teenagers -- probably the ones that let him drop earlier -- decide that this whole thing a stunt and it's okay to kick a person while they're down. Considering the fact that it's the most opportune target, and also the most ironic considering the events of tonight, the closest drunk aims his knee square at Cal's still elongating jaw.

Calvin's pain is immense as he topples back once more the to cement flooring, clutching his throbbing muzzle in one hand. In fact the pain is so immense that he fails to notice his rapidly expanding arms and legs. Both of these are gaining muscle mass by the second, the bones growing in length and toughness as well.

The scene, I'm afraid to say, stays like this for many minutes. The drunken boys repeatedly pound on Calvin's hobbled form, but he's almost instantly healed by his transformation into a werewolf.

Finally the largest of the drunken teens kicks Calvin hard in the ribs, flipping him over and sending him rolling several feet. Ah, but what they don't realize is that the transformation has run it's course, and wolves do not take well to being abused in such a manner. As Calvin clutches at his newly healed ribs, he is suddenly filled with a great strength and an animal-like rage that is wholly beyond his control. Calvin swiftly stands to his new height of just over seven feet, and flexes the new claws on his massive hands. The claws appear to be over three inches long and are colored a deep, jet-black. Calvin hunkers down a little, going into an offensive posture, his hands held wide and to his sides. Glaring mercilessly at his aggressors, Calvin switches his ears back, opens his new jaws wide, and lets lose with a blood curdling snarl.

Normally -- and I use that term loosely -- Calvin would be intrigued and horrified during a situation like this. But as we have repeatedly illustrated, tonight is far from normal. And at this very moment, on the panicked concert floor, the wolf mentality is in charge of the situation. The fact that it's in a strange body doesn't seem to bother it in the slightest.

It is about this time that the drunken boys realize that this is indeed real, and that the wolf isn't exhibiting the friendliest behavior towards them right now. They rapidly scatter and begin to run drunkenly in different directions. The new werewolf stands confused for a split second before its attention is garnered by a scent wafting down from the stage.

The wolf instantly whirls, his jaw hanging low and his ears perked up. His eyes are now a pair of solid gold, glowing triangles. By the perking up of his ears, we can deduce that Calvin has managed to locate what has attracted him so. A centaur! Ah, fresh meat for a hungry predator. The wolf breaks into a swift lope towards the stage, the remnants of the crowd scattering before him. But the centaur has seen the wolf as well, and while it is not used to its new legs, it is still swift enough to get off the stage and become lost in the swirling crowds.

With a single, mighty jump, the werewolf lands on the stage, his massive ebony claws carving huge ruts in the wood where he skids to a halt. The wolf moves amongst the discarded instruments, patiently sniffing at each of them. A snarl comes to his muzzle as he locates the bass guitar that once belonged to the centaur. Oh, that musician is going to make a lovely meal when our subject finally catches him.

This current portion of the presentation draws to a close with the werewolf rising up on his hind legs upon the stage. It is really a spectacular sight, as Calvin is the only one on center stage at the moment. Throwing his muzzle back and his arms wide, the moving, colored lights playing across his massive chest and form, our subject Calvin, newly transformed werewolf, lets loose a piercing howl into the night. We close as the wolf leaps from the stage, trying to decide which humans to begin hunting first.

Th'End of Part 4

Forward to Part 5: The End of the Beginning
Back to Part 3: To Serve and Protect
Return to: Geneticide Index Page

Write to W.O.L.F wolf0013@aol.com
Write to Deranged Kitsune mind-walker@bigfoot.com