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Red Moon: Revolution

Chapter 1

The weather was dank and dreary as always. The storm that had laid siege to the city of London was once again dropping another 8 cm and there was no end in sight. Falagan didn't like this kind of weather, it made it hard to watch the streets, which were mostly empty except for the occasional passerby. People who could just as easily be a hostile.

Falagan shivered as a wet breezed spattered him with water which always seemed to stick right to his glasses, making his job even harder.

"Blasted weather," Falagan muttered under his misty breath as he hugged himself tightly, squeezing out a few drops of water from his soaked coat that had done little for him. His eyes darted from the left side of the cobbled street to the left from his place at the gate which led what seemed like an abandoned railroad complex. To the normal person, it would look like Falagan was just there to ward off any children who might try and wander inside. While he did have to scatter the occasional child, his job was much more dangerous.

The tunnels held more than just dark rails. Underneath London was a complex that was the backbone of the entire western Inquisition. 300 personnel currently resided there, year round for most of them, including one very important man who simply known as "The Coordinator." No one knew anything about him other than he was in charge of all intelligence and that even the heads of the Inquisition, old and stubborn men and women who all together had hundreds of years of experience, listened to. He seemed to have a knack at knowing exactly what was going to happen and where. Although he was not godly, that he had missed things before, his track record was well beyond anyone who would even have the faintest thoughts of trying to take up his job.

Recently, intelligence was released by The Coordinator that an attack on London was imminent. This was why Falagan was standing guard, for he wasn't just an ordinary soldier in the war between the Inquisition and the werewolves.

"Shit must really be going down if they got one of you Guardians up here." A high pitched and nasally voice called out from Falagan who didn't even bother to turn and look. Any danger would be coming from the front, the only entrance to the tunnels that wasn't protected by a massive array of cameras that watched all of the roof tops of the buildings that surround the area.

"The Coordinator said something was going to happen so they sent me up." Falagan shrugged, stuffing his arms into his jacket, checking his MP5 that was loaded with silver coated ammunition. He would be able to stop a werewolf as long as he got some warning, he just worried about what would happen if there was no warning. He was only human after all.

"Shame that the one time you get to go up in three months, the sun isn't out." A Caucasian in his late twenties in a black leather sports coat strode confidently up next to Falagan with a smile and took a look up to the sky and let a few drops of water fall onto his face. "This storm is expected to stay for another week."

While the weather was a nuisance and Falagan had wanted to be able to stand in the embrace of the sun, he had his orders and he intended to follow them to the letter: allow nothing to pass alive. They were simple, but very strict orders. No one was to get past him unless they killed him which he had no intention of allowing. "What do you want?" Falagan didn't even know who the man was, but he came from the tunnels which weren't his concern. He kept his eyes forward on the road which was beginning to fog up now that the last rays of the sun were beginning to fade and were beginning to be replaced by the low light of the ancient street lamps that had been there since before the Second World War.

"We bad asses need to stick together." The man said with a low chuckle, he himself now watching to road and his own hand on his MP5 that was concealed under his coat.

"I suppose two is better than one." Falagan said just loud enough to be heard. "That's how it's supposed to be if you weren't always late, Creighton."

Creighton threw up his arms in mock offense. "You know chili night always gets to me. Don't know what they make that stuff out of, but it burns coming out."

Falagan curled his lips in a slightly disgusted look. "I don't need to know that."

"All right, suit yourself. But you do need to know this." Creighton got serious now that his friendly banter was over with. Guardians were professional, trained from an early age to defend important sights. Capable of forcing their bodies to its limits for extended durations to be able to hope to match the strength of a werewolf which could easily tear a man in two. They were the first and last lines of defense on any large installation and London, being home to one of the largest complexes, had its more than fair share of Guardians on double guard on all exits.

"If you have something, then let's see it. I don't like how dark it is." Falagan said as he turned to face Creighton, he paused for a second to give one last look at the street. He saw something out in the distance, it could have been anything, a person scurrying home from work, a stray cat or something else. Creighton had his eyes on the road and wasn't alarmed by it so Falagan ignored it and went back to face his colleague of a year and a half.

Creighton dug his hand into his pocket and pulled out a piece of printer paper that was folded up tightly so that it would take some effort to open up and handed it to Falagan.

"You really like to fuck with me don't you?" Falagan sighed as he began to pry apart the piece of paper without tearing it.

"You know how I was in Berlin before I got here?" Creighton said, ignoring the rhetorical question entirely.

"Yeah, came right before we lost contact with the headquarters there." Falagan recalled. Everything was normal one day and then suddenly it was as if every single agent stationed there had disappeared without a trace. Not one person ever came back from the city and anyone who was sent to investigate either disappeared as well or came back empty handed. It was so unexpected that not even The Coordinator had even seen it coming, but it was known that he was hard at work on it. "Why are you bringing this up now?" He asked as he finally got the first fold undone on the piece of paper. Creighton was always like that, a bit of a trickster whenever he could be. While it was annoying to Falagan and much of the rest of the personnel, he just theorized that it was a way to keep sane when there was little freedom as a guardian.

"There was a reason why I got transferred here when I did." Despite saying it innocently enough, the words got Falagan's attention right after he noticed that the paper was completely blank.

Dropping the paper onto the wet stone ground, Falagan took a step back. It was a futile attempt to put distance between himself and the person who he had thought was a trusted Guardian. By the time he took two steps back and put a hand on his weapon, it was too late, but not because Creighton already had his gun drawn, but because he had taken his eyes off the road for too long,

The was a wet slicing sound that echoed down the street that was quickly painted a new shade of deep red that was already being washed away.

Falagan's eyes widened up as his whole body shuddered from the fleeting shadow that seemed to pass right through him, leaving a gory mess in its wake. A gurgling sound came up from the mortally wounded man's throat as blood blooded bubbled out of his mouth. He tried to say something, but only his death rattle came out as he toppled to the ground with half of his torso gone.

Creighton averted his eyes from the scene. Though Falagan was the enemy, the enemy wasn't always evil. He knew the dead man as someone kind and helpful, only wanting what was best for others. IT was a shame to that he was also completely devoted to the Inquisition's cause. Endless talks in the mess had made Creighton sure of that, if he could, he would have recruited him like had done so too many other people who were now residing under London.

"I could have done it much cleaner and probably less painfully." Creighton turned himself completely away from the corpse to face the culprit. A pair of golden eyes regarded him with a cold disinterest. Creighton had worked with many werewolves ever since Director Brennan had made her plans known to all the people loyal to her and her new vision for the Inquisition. A lot of people were lost that day as it became apparent that there was no peaceful way to deal with those who wouldn't change their views. While that day left a lot of people with dead and cold eyes, none were as haunting as this on particular wolf that kept its gaze planted firmly on him. Something about it just didn't sit right with him.

"Ignore him." A voice called out from down the road. Creighton recognized the voice as another werewolf, one that was simply referred to as Alpha. He was an aging man that still had the look of strength and some youth on his wrinkled, bearded face. "Dmitri hasn't been himself in sometime and you're not going to win a staring contest with him. There isn't any time for that now anyways. It won't be long before this man is missed." Alpha walked past the body. "There is much to do and little time to do it." Even as Alpha said the words, he began to change shape from the sturdy Russian into a great beast. His cheap and poor looking clothes that were worn to be expendable tore off his body as it changed into a four legged form. Fur sprouted from his skin and his face extended. It was a sickening sight to most, but Creighton had seen a few times now.

"Everything is ready." Creighton said and began to walk down into the tunnel flanked by two man sized werewolves. "I have my agents in position and the other entrances should be cleared by now and the virus that I planted into their systems should be knocking out their automated security systems." All of that goofing off and pranks that he did, which were entirely out of character to Creighton who was usually one of the most serious people one could meet, were just a distraction so that no one noticed when he did something truly devious. Nothing, but the might of arms of the defenders inside would stop the sixty three armed men and werewolves from getting inside and getting to The Coordinator and cutting the head off of the snake in Europe.

No one above would hear the screaming, the shooting and fighting that took place under the beds of the slumbering residents of London. It would be a whole week before anyone would go down into the tunnels which by that time had been completely cleaned out of all evidence by quick acting cleaner crews that would dispose of all of the evidence that would even hint that something had even happened there. Equipment would be moved to be analyzed, walls bleached and the bodies off all of the fallen carefully cremated and buried in unmarked graves after proper honors were given. Though, there was one body that was supposed to be there that wasn't for inside one room that at the moment looked like a storage closet had been an empty desk, The Coordinator's Desk.

While a major blow had been struck against the Inquisition, they were still a major threat with most of the Directors still alive and in charge of their respective commands and with The Coordinator still about, it would be a long hard fight to victory. A long fight for revolution.