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Emitter: Stiles
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 Sheriff Stilinski
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Stiles starts to get too close to the truth, which draws out Glory--and the pack pays a heavy price.
August 12, 2016
Stilinski Residence, Beacon Hills
The meeting with Ben Wilkinson had been a complete waste of time. The guy was polite in a dismissive, Go away, kid, I'm really busy kind of way, and while Stiles still had a nagging feeling about the medical intern, he wasn't about to make a scene at Melissa McCall's place of work.
Well. Not again, anyway.
Unfortunately, he didn't see that as he left, a pale-skinned, almost goblin-looking creature had been peeking in a window. Nor did Stiles see, as he put his Jeep in gear, that the creature slipped away, vanishing beneath a manhole cover, to scamper off to a brick building in one of Beacon Hills' failed industrial parks. He did not know that there, in the abandoned perfumery, that pale-skinned demon would soon report to its mistress.
Arriving home, Stiles had sat down on his bed, pulling out his phone, and considered texting the pack. What to tell them, though? The whole afternoon's effort had been pointless. At some point, he'd drifted off to sleep, the problem still turning in his mind.
The dream of endlessly reciting nursery rhymes in his underwear in front of the whole school is interrupted when he awakens, hearing the front door open. Had he forgotten to lock it? Weird.
"Dad?" Stiles calls out, hearing footsteps on the stairs. But the sheriff should still be working, and the footsteps don't sound quite right--and that's when Stiles catches a whiff of Nookie-brand perfume on the air.
He scrambles to his feet just in time for the woman in red to appear in his doorway, smile so wide that all he can think of is The Joker. Her voice is so normal, strangely, despite the manic look in her eyes.
"Hey there, little boy! Heard you came to see me, so I thought I'd see what was on your mind!"
Backing away, Stiles tries to get to the far side of his bed. If he can just reach the baseball bat! To distract her, as much as anything else, he asks indignantly, "Came to see you? Lady, I don't know what the hell you're talking about. I was talking to a doctor at the hospital, and you don't exactly look like a doctor--more like an escaped mental patient."
She laughs. "Oh, yes, good ol' Doctor Ben! I know, I know. I was wearing his face at the time, which--Shame!--means I don't remember what you said. So, I figured we'd play a little game. You hold very still, and I'll crack open your brain to see what you know!"
Managing to inch back to the wall as she spoke, Stiles reaches back. His fingers close around the handle of the steel bat. He meets her gaze. "Wearing his face, huh?" He licks his lips, which are suddenly dry. "Wait--you're him?" That explained, at least, Melissa's encounter at the hospital. That could be useful. Now he just needs to get away so he can call Derek, Scott, Lance, Lydia--anyone--and let them know what's going on.
Oh, and a rescue might not hurt, either.
But since no shirtless lupine cavalry is in the offing, Stiles knows he'll have to rescue himself. He lets her walk closer, leaning back to show fear--which is easy, since she's scary as hell--and then, as she draws near, he lifts the bat. He feels a spark of the Quickening beginning to flow into it, and he slams it toward her head with every bit of strengh he can muster.
And she catches it. Casually. Effortlessly.
Laughing, she says, "Oh, wow! Look at you, Li'l Slugger! That's so cute." She shoves the bat from his hand with no difficulty, and suddenly she's got him pinned against the wall, hands on either side of his head. "Now, don't be afraid," she nearly croons to him. "Because this is totally going to hurt, but afterwards, you won't remember a thing."
As he fingers sink into the sides of his head, Stiles begins to scream.
A short time later...
After she's spent days holed up in the library with LJ Knight and books on ancient Sumerian languages, Soo has all but forcibly kidnapped Lydia and set her about getting some food in her stomach. The pair, on their way to a greasy diner, texted Stiles to see if he'd like to join them... but no answer. When several minutes pass, Lydia exchanges a concerned glance with the werecat in her passenger seat, and the car is swiftly thrown into reverse, and a U turn that would make a stunt driver clap is executed by the Banshee. Mere moments later, the pair are exiting the car, Soo rushing ahead of Lydia, to Stiles' front door.
The scent of Nookie hangs heavy on the air.
...The perfume.
"... Lydia, get back in the car. Call Derek, Scott and Jackson." Soo's voice is quiet, but deadly serious. He slips inside the house almost silently, and as soon as he's inside, those already odd eyes of his start glowing, and the shift from teenage boy to werecat is rapid and slightly unsettling... And then he just seems to disappear from view. One moment he's heading toward the staircase, the next he's... invisible.
... Cellphone out, Lydia shoots off a rapid text to the Pack members. 'At Stiles, send back up' ... And then she's stepping in, quietly. She can't move like Soo, but she knows her body, and she knows Stiles' house well enough to avoid creaking floor boards and things of that nature. She follows the invisible werecat up the stairs, not sure she's following... but knowing where, exactly, he'd want to be.
Stiles' room has been messy before, but nothing like this. His bed has been flipped entirely on its side, his desk literally smashed in half, and dresser emptied all over the floor and then discarded, upside-down, against a far wall. Were he conscious, no doubt Stiles would be upset as hell having his underwear, even the really embarrassing pairs, strewn all over the floor.
Stiles, unfortunately, is lying unconscious on the floor, cell phone still clutched in one hand.
The active occupant of the room is a woman in a fire engine red satin evening dress, short and low-cut, with a pair of stiletto heels, nail polish, and lipstick to match. Honestly, she looks quite well put together, just... in a "cheap but fabulous, trampy and proud" sort of way. It sort of works for her, with the wild blond curls and energetic motions.
Of course, she's also ransacking the room.
Currently shaking out the contents of Stiles backpack, she kicks aside his books, scattering notes everywhere, and snarls, "Those idiots! This clueless loser doesn't have anything useful. He doesn't even have anything that isn't lame." She whirls around, dropping the backpack then smashing a fist through Stiles' cork board--mostly old cases on this one, since he's more recently been using the one at Derek's--and releases a wordless howl of outrage.
She hasn't yet noticed Soo or Lydia.
"Well, some of his underwear is pretty nice. Especially on him. Which is vaguely discomforting, because I kind of think of him like a sister?" Soo's voice rings out clearly, but the teen is still stealthed as he moves about. "I mean, it'd look terrible on you, but... Well, have you seen the dress you're wearing? Also, could you stop screaming? You're going to drive down the property values!" Soo materializes near the bedroom window, head tilted to one side, a cheshire grin on his face. His body language is perfectly relaxed and at ease, a cat watching a bird it's thinking about eating.
He's crazy. Genuinely, utterly crazy. That's the only thing Lydia can think when Soo appears in the room with Glory. But it gives her an idea, and a chance to get Stiles out safely. Lydia knows Soo is fast enough to handle almost anything, and Stiles is there, vulnerable and in need of help. Another text is sent to the Pack's group text, 'She's here. Stiles down. Soo distracting. HELP.'
The lady--well, woman, anyway--in red turns to face Soo with an expression of quite genuine-looking delight. "Ooh, kitty!" she croons, taking a step closer. "Aw, man, I just want to put you in the computer and spread pictures of you all over the place!" Tilting her head some, she reflects, "But by the time I fit you inside, I doubt you'd still be as cute." She heaves a long-suffering sigh, kicks over a collectible Darth Vader figure, and gestures with both hands to the mess around her. "Do you see what they're putting me through, Mister Kitty? They keep leading me on, but none of these loser mortals has my Key."
"I'm surprisingly flexible, but computers do not work that way. You're thinking scanners. They're smaller, and generally require that you flatten the object you're trying to scan and I'm probably just giving you ideas right now. But I'm always super cute." Soo watches the Darth Vader figure fall, wincing inwardly, while giving Glory a big, toothy smile. He somehow seems even smaller and more harmless in werecat form, despite the fangs and claws that could shred a man to pieces... "Odd question. Have you tried looking where you left it?"
Keep her distracted, keep her talking. Lydia's wishing she could telepathically communicate with Soo for what is probably the first time in anyone's lives. The Banshee slips almost silently into the room, moving carefully toward Stiles' crumpled form on the ground. And then she's somehow managing to slip his arm over her shoulder and she's lifting him from the ground. It's not so much that Stiles is heavy, it's that he's dead weight and Lydia is a lot smaller than her personality would lead one to believe.
Glory regards Soo as though she's not quite sure what to make of him. Is he a kindred spirit or another annoying mortal? "Obviously," she answers, "but those stupid monks went and hid it." This seems to really vex her, for she puts a hand to her temple and begins to massage it firmly.
Then, without looking, she puts an edge on her voice and says, "You stop, Red." Looking over her shoulder at Lydia, the woman says, "I mean, go ahead and take the loser nerd if you want. His brain was annoyingly not filling at all. No brains, no headaches--right? But, seriously. Before you go--have you seen my Key?"
She looks back to Soo. "I mean, it stands to reason one of you people has to've seen it. They said the Slayer was protecting it, and at least one of those stupid monks knew something about your stupid school, so what's the deal?"
"None of us know anything about your Key. What did you do to him!?" Lydia's eyes are narrowed, her nostrils flared, and her posture downright aggressive. As aggressive as it can be with a teenage boy's worth of dead weight draped over her shoulder. She's afraid, but in the moment, she's more afraid for Stiles' future than she is her own present.
Lydia's mouthing off. Great. Soo shifts to position himself between Lydia and Glory, grinning wide at her still, his head tilted, looking up at her in his best 'I'm so cute' sort of face. "Hey, why don't I help you look for your Key? I'm really good at discovering things that are supposed to be secret, and those shoes are even cuter than Lydia's, so clearly you know a lot about the world... Between us I bet we could find it in no time!"
Glory just plain stares at Lydia. After a moment, she snorts and declares, "I barely even nibbled. Honestly, like there was nothing even there. But you, little girl... I bet your brain's just all kinda juicy, isn't it? I mean, do you think 'strawberry blond' affects the flavor of your thoughts?" She starts forward, but of course Soo gets in the way and she stops short. Suddenly glaring at him, she aims a fierce backhand--with enough force to uproot your average oak tree--with intent to bat him out of her way.
"Shut up, Mister Kitty! Cats. Don't. Talk. I've got enough voices in here already!" She lifts one finger to her lips, loudly declaring, "Sh! I'm interrogating them. Don't spoil the game!" This dissolves into a half-laugh, half-snarl, and she lunges for Lydia, whether she's connected with Soo or not. "Come here, little girl! Mama needs a snack!"
"Have you ever met a cat that did what you want?" Soo asks, easily dodging Glory's strike with about as much effort as the average person avoids a slowly wafting balloon. "You hurt my friends. Your perfume is a condemnation of society, and your dress is ugly." The cuteness is gone, suddenly, his eyes blazing amber and the claws out to their rather intimidating full length. And then he's meeting Glory's lunge with one of his own, intent on staying between the very fragile girl and the very pissed off crazy demon goddess thing. Claws rake at her abdomen, and the werecat screams a challenge that sounds more wildcat than human.
For her part, Lydia just stares at Glory, eyes widening slightly. Brain juiciness has always been one of her more defining traits, and she doesn't want to have her brain tested for ripeness any time soon. When Glory lunges, Lydia rushes as fast as she can through the doorway, still dragging Stiles with her. It's hard going, but she doesn't for a moment think that Glory will just ignore Stiles' body if it means a chance to cause pain to someone else, especially now. The girl scrambles for the stairs and overbalances with Stiles... and the pair go tumbling, with Lydia doing her best to protect Stiles' head from further injury... And there they lie, crumpled at the bottom of the stairs, with Stiles' head pillowed on Lydia's shoulder, and the girl frantically trying to roll him off of her with her one free hand.
Glory doesn't seem to have ever even considered what would happen if she didn't hit Soo. Charging ahead, she looks quite shocked when he not only slashes her dress open across her belly, but then he trips her up so she pitches forward, going down face-first into the floor with angry werecat tangled up between her feet. "Damn you, kitten! You are right in my way, and I've got a head full of bees right now!"
Stiles, sadly, isn't much help. He's doing his best impression of a sack of potatoes.
Upstairs, Glory struggles with Soo, proving quite nimble as well, but her real power is her strength--and she's trying to bring it to bear in the werecat, attempting to drag him close so she can get her hands on his head. "Kitty, kitty," she groans, eyes going glassy. "I just need a little jolt.. come and give me a piece of your mind!"
"If you insist!" Soo slams his forehead into Glory's face as hard as he can, squirming his way out of her grip and leaping over the upper banister, blood pouring from his forehead. He lands on all fours next to Lydia and Stiles, the werecat lifting the boy over his shoulder like he weighs nothing as he pulls Lydia to her feet. He may not have superhuman strength, but he's a lot stronger than his frame would lead one to believe. "She's coming. Run!" And then he's dragging Lydia toward the door as fast as he can, and the car, the only hope for transporting the non-weres to safety.
Lydia is dragged along, trying not to show exactly how much pain she's in, her feet barely touching the ground as she's pulled. "Just get him to Lance! I'll be okay!" She knows she won't be, but she knows Soo can't save both of them...
Glory is much more annoyed than hurt by Soo's headbutt, but it did sting some, and it made her eyes water. "So... rude...!" she snarls, scrambling to her feet and then stumbling down the stairs. Heading toward Lydia, the daemon goddess snarls, "Cat, girl, catgirl--I don't even care, but I am going to nosh on one of you little mallrats!"
Determined to utilize his perceived as superior speed, Soo continues rushing toward the doorway and the car, dragging Lydia and still carrying Stiles. Unfortunately for him, the weight of two extra people is slowing him down to almost human speeds, and Glory is a goddess.
The front door flies off its hinges as Glory kicks it open. Charging forward, she doesn't even engage in snappy banter--either too pissed off or too mentally scattered, at this point. She leaps at them, landing perched on her toes (in stiletto heels, no less) and scrambles forward, reaching and snatching with clawlike fingers. When she screams, it comes out much more like the roar of a beast--which would sound much more out of place, were this not Beacon Hills.
It isn't Lydia that's grabbed, though. Looking over his shoulder at the last moment, Soo sees what's happening. Stiles is dropped like a beloved sack of potatoes, and Lydia and Soo are suddenly dancing, ever so briefly, as the werecat spins and literally launches the girl toward her car as he launches himself into Glory's arms, snarling, legs wrapping around her waist, claws scratching at Glory's face as the werecat makes a last ditch effort to defend the people he loves, another of those feline battle cries escaping his throat.
Spinning, Lydia falls against the side of her car, bouncing off and shoving herself to her feet as quickly as she can, turning once more toward Stiles, dragging him toward the car. The rest of the pack will arrive any second, eyes glowing, shirts off and to the rescue, she just knows it...
The renewed wash of violence might be what sends Glory over the edge--or maybe she was already in freefall--but either way she seizes Soo's head with both hands, snarling bestially, and with a sudden jerking motion, buries her fingers in the sides of his head. For half a moment, a look of peace crosses her face...
And then she hurls Soo to the ground, his head not visibly injured but his manner now strangely vacant, even catatonic, before staggering a few feet back. She stares down at her hands, shudders, and wails, "What's... wrong... with... you... people...!? All of your thoughts taste like week-old fish."
And then she's gone. A flattened fence, a distant car alarm--and she's made her escape, moving if anything even faster than normal.
Soo is left on the ground, conscious but inert, while Stiles lies sprawled, comatose, nearby. As for Lydia, she may soon hear the howls of approaching werewolves. But, for the moment, she's once again alone with two motionless bodies.
At least these two are still breathing.