CHPT 22: A Common Enemy, An Unlikely Stalker....

Sunday March 5th, deep in the Beacon Hills Forest....

The wind was cold-- warmer than it had been in the passing months, but still cold enough to need a jacket. At least for Alison-- a human.

She hung around Shape-Shifters...and inhuman existences so often that her own natural reactions had felt wrong-- lackluster. Embarrassing. Weak.

A sixteen year old girl who could simply shoot a bow wouldn't survive in her world. And the demeaning and genocidal lessons her father sprung on her every now and then weren't enough to bolster her progress into survivable territory.

Not with what the news was saying about all the violent animal attacks. Not with the new people walking through her home at all hours of the night.....new people like the armored Hunter she'd run into at the police station.

That night was still a collection of foggy images. Even as she tried her best to remember in the middle of her workout, she conjured nothing of substance.

Nothing other than darkness, purple flashes, roars and a lions head. At least that's what she assumed it was. It didn't look exactly like a Lion...

The face flashed in her mind again-- stunning her as she took aim at the target placed on the tree a couple hundred feet ahead of her.

Her fingers released from the string regardless and the arrow flew, slamming into a collection of bushes far from its mark.

"Dammit....Dammit!" She snapped as she looked down at her shaking hands.

Before she could begin to feel sorry for herself, she loaded another arrow. The weight and shape of the deadly object felt like an extension of her own limbs-- completed when the nock was secured on the string.

Her back muscles warmed and hardened as she pulled the string to her cheek, focusing her vision on the target. Her fathers guiding words seeped into her mind.

She stood there for minutes-- stilling herself, centering her mind. Forcing herself to sit beside the giant blue-eyed monsters, leonine creatures, WereWolves and dark warriors that roamed her house like rats in a sewer. She forced herself to live with her nightmares until she could look back at them.

Then, she fired.

The arrow whistled through the wind. Before it hit it's mark, she was moving again, dashing off deeper into the forest while loading and firing another arrow. The sequence continued until she was seamlessly dancing through the silent forest, firing off shots at every loosely placed target in the distance.

For the next series of minutes, the quiet forest had become her shooting gallery. And she didn't miss.

When it all came to a close, her focus faded and she found herself standing in a clearing, reaching for air. Her quiver had gone empty. Not good. She always told herself to keep a few just in case.

She lowered her hand, catching a glimpse of her gloves. Torn at the fingers and dyed by the blood dripping from her two fingers.

Blood.

Her heart froze in response to her rising paranoia.

In the distance a branch crunched loudly enough for her to barely notice.

She yelped and whipped out a pure silver dagger, using it to cut a portion of her jacket off to wrap around her bleeding fingers.

Once she was done, she pulled another knife from it's sheath at her hip. While wielding both weapons, her eyes scanned the forest. It felt more silent than ever. Unnaturally silent. So silent she thought she could hear each bead of sweat gliding down her clear porcelain skin as if it were a loudly running river.

Another branch crunched in the distance, causing her to spin around to face its source-- just in time to witness a dark blur weave through the trees. Something she saw out of the corner of her eyes. Just barely.

She could feel her heartbeat in her throat.

No arrows, no electricity, bleeding. Bad odds.

"Come on!" She yelled impatiently.

"--Lison....Hello? Gerard calls for you!" A male voice in the distance behind her yelled.

Her stomach dropped. She'd almost forgotten the new Hunters had been stalking her wherever she went. Probably a guard detail emplaced by her father....or that new guy. It took every bit of skill she had to escape them and train alone. It seemed she wasn't so skillful this time....fortunately. Even if they were genocidal maniacs.....

In a rush, she faced the sound and yelled out to the distant voice.

"Ov--HMPH!" Alisons words were cut short as a gigantic hand clamped over her mouth and yanked her off her feet.

One moment she went from standing alone in the silent clearing, to being dragged through the woodlands at blurring speeds, fast enough to make her nauseous.

The madness only lasted a few seconds, zipping twisting and weaving through the wooded lands until she was suddenly in the shadows.

The smell of minerals and dampness filled her nose as her body was centered and lifted as if she weighed as much as a feather.

Her feet never hit the floor and her eyes met another. Gold and slitted like a cat. They took up the small bits of light, expanding and shrinking in the darkness.

She screamed and kicked at the massive individual, shoving her dagger into it's stomach repeatedly.

The monster didn't budge. Then she swung at it's face, causing the eyes to blur as it lunged at her and bit the blade midswing.

She flinched in it's grip as her dagger shattered into a dozen little shards like shattered glass.

With no weapons left, she grabbed ahold of the arm that held her face, wrapping her hands around the monsters massive forearm.

After a few seconds of crying and straining, her stamina waned. And surprisingly, the monster dropped her.

She dropped to the cold rock floors of the shallow cave and slowly stumbled back towards the light.

Instead of violently giving into the chase, the Monster spoke.

"I don't like talking to people....."

She was so stunned by the words-- and the odd hybrid accent that she didn't reply.

"I actually hate talking to people. You're all weird.....I think thats saying something when it's coming from me...." The Monster said as it stepped out of the shadows.

Over six and a half feet tall, with muscles that strained against it's thin black Henley t-shirt. The silver and gold bands that adorned the mans long dreads shimmered in the sunlight and glowed in unison with his eyes.

She knew him. She saw him arguing with Scott and Stiles often. Both of whom had differing opinions. Scott thought he was a problem-- he told her to stay away from him. Stiles wanted his workout routine....Stiles made her head hurt sometimes. He'd also said the man was a valuable source of information and that they should stick close to him.

At the current moment she wanted to be anywhere but where he was. How could someone move so fast in khakis and timberland boots?

"M-Marco?"

"Argent." Marco replied.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Alison asked, still slightly shaken.

"I was victimized at a young age."

Awkward silence fell. Marco simply stared.

"Something tells me your boyfriend told you to stay away..." Marco said.

Alison stiffened.

"Yea-- he tends to do that. Try to control things....no wonder he's not under the Alpha's care."

Alison's anger rose, "You don't know what you're talking about-- Derek is no Alpha...he stole something that wasn't meant to be his. He ruined it for Scott. You don't know...."

Marco laughed silently, "Do you not know what the Alpha's spark is. It's power-- power that belongs to the strongest. It's meant to be stolen-- harnessed by the most fit. Or else it's wasted on weakness. The spark is a fruit meant to be harvested-- or a gift to be granted....." As Marco finished sneaked, he adjusted the bandages on his arm beneath his shirt, "Derek being the Alpha tells me he's the strongest....and that isn't saying much."

"You don't know anything..." Alison pressed.

"I know Scott and Stiles don't know enough about what they are to fill a piece of notebook paper. I know they don't know what's happening to his hand.....I know Lydia is tripping balls off Wolfsbane....I know your aunt was murdered only a few months ago and now it's prime hunting grounds here. And I think.....I know the Argents are abandoning their code."

Alison's eyes rose from the floor to meet his in shock.

Marco squatted down to be level with her, "But I don't know anything, right?"

Alison scooted further away, "What do you want? You didn't attack and drag me out here for no reason."

Marco seemed to look at her more intensely than before as he scooted closer to speak quieter, "I want to know.....how you feel when those....those armored men and women-- with their foreign markings and odd smells, walk past your door in the middle of the night. Or when they watch you through your window from the driveway....or when you find them hunched over your grandfathers shoulder, speaking sweet horrors into his damaged mind endlessly. How do they make you feel?"

Alison was taken off-guard by the question. The only other person who asked that question was Scott-- and he usually followed it up with the idea to sneak her out to live with him. In a perfect world it sounded like a wonderful idea. But the world wasn't perfect. Hell, she was sitting in a cave talking with a giant dark-skinned cat eyed brute who seemed to move as fast as lightning.

Even so, she had an answer. it was the same answer as always, "Afraid. T-They make me feel afraid...."

Marco nodded, "I can work with that."

"W-what?" Her words came out reflexively as he stilled in the shadows.

"I don't like talking to people..." Marco said again, "I'm much better at watching-- observing. It's less taxing. To observe, I mean. And I've observed you. It didn't take much to learn that they make you uncomfortable-- you know what they're doing is wrong. You know they need to be put down. You're an Argent, not a murderer. And I think that's why you'll help me."

Alison scooted further away, "Help you?! Wha-- what do you plan to do? You're one Shifter....you don't know what they can do."

"You'd be surprised." Marco whispered before replying, "As for my plans-- I plan to clear up some of your house space. All I need is information-- and you have all of it."

"I....I--..." Alison stammered in confusion as she looked from him to the floor. A million questions flowed through her mind-- none with answers and many birthing a dozen more.

Before she could try to speak again, Marco's eyes retained their glow and his head perked up but she heard nothing.

"We're out of time." Marco said, standing up soundlessly in the cave.

"Wait--" She yelped a whisper at his back.

"You owe me a shirt, Argent." Marco said without looking at her.

"I didn't even agree..."

"I'll know your answer when you make it-- and then we can get to work. Until then, stay inside-- things are only going to get worse out here....thats a promise."