Manuel approached the speakers at the front of the stage, and whispered Charley Dunne's name. His sibling turned his head, subsequently, his girlfriend did the same thing and now two pairs of eyes were on his monstrously muscular form. Arabia Quintellwood, the daughter of the German Moonbearer president. Charley, a 17 year old werewolf, trained since birth to be the perfect fighter, both brains and brawn packed away into a flawless package of boyish charm and immaculate manhood. Seemingly lacking weaknesses, Manuel would have quite the hard time pushing past his brother.

"How's the army treating you?" This was the first question presented towards the older man, although he was only older by two days. The 3rd of April, 2016. In two days this would be his own birthday party. Funny how fast time passes when a man is away from home. Even if their sacred bond had been preserved, they would have been exchanging more than piercing insults tonight. Metaphorical jabs would not convey the criticality of the situation to Charley, therefore... physical, literal jabs would need to be introduced.

"I'll try not to hurt you tonight." Now, he realised he had been arrogant, choosing to ignore the question, but honestly the Spanish militia could not have recruited a more enthusiastic person for the job of front-lines fighter. He was an active dutyman over in Puerto Rico, where the summer was cool with a beaming breeze, not a blistering scorch. He rather despised such hot temperatures, and Moonbearers had natural heat immunity after all. It was such a gift to be living this gorgeous life, full of mystery and mesmerising adventure.

The actual physiological changes to the now post-mortal form were astronomically awe-inspiring. For one thing, just by blinking their eyes, a trained Werewolf could detect any and all moods by visual sense, but emotions were also noticeable by tastebuds. Furthermore, they could make walls only semi-translucent, far from transparent but still an ability nonetheless. Amaranth was currently the only known Werewolf weakness; Love-Lies-Bleeding being only one of two variations that could even begin to incapacitate their kind. Strongylodon macrobotrys, the counterbalance to the Werewolves' vulnerability, the vampiric equivalent of their own weakness. Despite popular opinion, at least in Charley and Manuel's world, wooden stakes would cease to fully neutralise the Bloodsuckers. The familiar, tried and true method of vanquishing the Vampires was to first poison the bloodstream with a purified form of Jade Vine, adding Quartz and Silver beforehand. Werewolves could pick up Silver, so clearly that was another myth, and therefore they were able to kill the Vampires. After poisoning the bloodstream, they would stake the heart, rarely from the front of the heart, from the rear would be sufficient to prevent any possible reactions or blocked attacks to the wooden weapons.

The myth about Silver first derived from the Spellcasters, the Axis clan being the first to conjure the rumour. Then, another Spellcasting clan, the Papaya clan, added to the rumours, stating that the Werewolves were only capable of shifting under the power and influence of he Full Moon, and that they must therefore be bound to its effects. Two lies will now be solved, firstly, Silver (mainly bullets) does not weaken Werewolves. Bronze mixed with Copper does that. Secondly, any Werewolves, even Marked Werewolves (the latter being weaker than Chosen Werewolves) are able to shift with their willpower, awareness, concentration and discipline. Furthermore, rankings hold no bearing on this basic transformation ability, meaning that even Delta Moonbearers can shift with willpower, although the first 200 or so shift attempts may be painful, both for Delta wolves and Omega wolves. Beta wolves being stronger than Omega wolves, and Alpha wolves being stronger than Beta wolves, the most powerful two pack rankings are able to shift almost instantaneously, or as soon as they envision the shift, depending on potency and durability of both the user's abilities and the user themselves.

The strength and stamina boosts were simply an extra expansion to the supernatural statuses of all Moonbearer creatures, whether Hybrid/Chimera Wolves or normal, plain-Jane Uni-breeded Wolves. The Delta wolves could lift 100 lbs, when only just starting out, with practice and such the growth limit for one month's training was a multiplier of 100, resulting in an Delta Werewolf that was capable of lifting 10,000 lbs, or approximately 4.53 tonnes, or 5 short tons if one wishes to get more specific with their calculations. Next were the Omega Werewolves, beginning at a minimum weight-lifting level of 1,000 lbs, and ending up with a multiplier of 500 or so after the same amount of practice that the Delta wolves were entitled to, this more intense training would end up resulting in a strength capacity of -- on average -- 223,000 kilograms, or around 234 tonnes, of course limited and suspended in potential for increase, until the next month of training. Thirdly there were the Beta Moonbearers, beginning at a capacity of lifting 1 million pounds (lbs), after a month's worth of practice the training would result in a maximum anount of 453 tonnes, or once again, 453,592 kilograms. Last but most definitely not least, the Alpha Werewolves, starting with a capacity of 20 million lbs, after one whole month of practice, they were able to calmly lift a total weight amount of 9,071 tonnes. All of this is not even factoring in the additional titles, such as Chosen and Marked Moonbearers, and for example "Royal" "Nobleman" and "Peasant", so on and so forth.

The first blow came from a left footed front-facing kick, which was delivered thrice by the bigger male of the pair. The combatants reached for the chair at the same time, Charley's right ribs being crushed under his brother's chest as he imposed his weight upon him. No matter how much he tried he could not unpin himself from the bully's torso, which was beginning to feel life-threatening if he was unable to escape in time. Charley panicked even futher, and here in the midnight hour, he had managed to roll Manny to the side of his own torso, thus ridding his bones of the fat being, which was currently present right in front of his eyes. A Linkin Park song began playing then, 'Numb' seeming to take up a portion of the lyrics. Drums bashed and smacked at the same exact time that fists connected with noses and jaws, and Charley kept swinging his barely-bruised knuckles into his older brother's beefy, battered face. His bitch-boy smile only served to further piss off the teenager, and Charley saw his opportunity. Chair leg already in hand, metal began to scrape against impeccably smooth wooden floorboards, as the sounds of desperate, almost pleading breaths, began to drown out screams, which only grew weaker and weaker in the still of the night. A dimmed disco ball flashed overhead, dimly highlighting blood and then focusing its spotlights on any othet areas, as if even the inanimate objects surrounding the fighters were repulsed by the gruesome scene.

Rubble and dust clashed and collided into Charley's spinal chord, and he turned his head to find Fitch with both hands raised, fingertips meeting the horizon, currently, purple shadows of magick were being aimed at the liquor racks lining the back of the wall. Charley glared all the way around Mage Flame Manor, green eyes turning yellow both by the lights overhead and also by the Werewolf Super Vision ability. A heart monitor quickly popped up over his older brother's head and Manuel sighed, hastily deducing his plan. Charley decided to switch to something that held a little more risk within itself. And then --

BANGGgggggg!!

A cross, a hook, two uppercuts, four jabs to the chest, two more (one to both eye) in rapid succession as Charley brought up his right kneecap, managing to score a confidently placed black eye, causing the Spellcaster to immediately thrust one hand up towards his left cheekbone, the East-facing side of the ugly witch's visage was currently untouched. Time to change that. Soon enough, he had him where he wanted him, a headlock. As Charley was placing himself into the crouching position, a solid BOOM of magickal energy was enough to flip him upwards and over the Mage's hairline, his shoulder colliding with very recently polished floorboards, a clawed hand reaching up and over in order to grip a collar bone. Dunne flipped up onto his feet from a laying down position. Right in this second, the intended effect was achieved. Time, for the third instance in just a little over two days, was slowing down around Charley. Pursed lips and love-struck eyes came to a standstill, a golden dress being pulled up with both of the woman's beautiful hands, her beet-red face buried inside Markus' neck as she watched the scene in front of her unfold. Masochistic knife-twirls were stopped at the literal tipping point, and the handles balanced on the men's thumbs were being suspended in thin air, merely supported by chronokinesis, the quantum forces being more than generous as one iron-tipped kitchen knife came foolishly close to poking out the eye of one man's nephew. As Charley began to stare at said nephew, he recognized him, slowly but surely growing certain of the fact that the boy, who was no more than a few months older, was Charley's middle school mentor. Far from the days of hopping home sweat-drenched and mud-covered, his gym instructor was seemingly annoyed by his uncle's presence in his life. Joel Everwest. Could it really be him?

Charley shook his head with anxious curiosity as his temples began to blaze and set themselves alight, the symptoms of a quantum induced headache becoming increasingly noticeable to Charley over the last half-week or so. He counted out 600 seconds, and on the 601st second, his watch-hands lazily resumed their ticking into existence, once more reminding the young man of just how mature he was now.