Page 36 of Total Carnage
"Shit," I muttered under my breath, pushing off from the table to join Raven at the door. That wolf, it just stood there, calm as you please, like it was the most normal thing in the world to show up at a biker clubhouse. But nothing about the past four days was normal—not by a long shot.
The wolf stepped inside, and the air in the clubhouse went thick with anticipation. Nobody breathed as it prowled forward, its eyes locking onto each of us in turn.
"Alright, what's this, some kind of joke?" Shivs said, his voice a mixture of annoyance and awe.
"Hold up," I said, my gaze not leaving the creature. Its muscles rippled beneath its shaggy coat as it moved to the center of the room. And then, right there in front of our stunned faces, the wolf began to change.
Bones cracked, fur receded, and in moments, where the animal had stood, now was a man. Naked as the day he was born, that man grinned at us, mischief dancing in his eyes.
"George 'Toolie' Rizzo, at your service," he said, extending a hand as if we were just meeting at some fancy cocktail party instead of him popping out of a damn wolf.
"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph," Moab muttered, crossing himself.
"Welcome to the freak show," I quipped, but my heart was hammering. This was no parlor trick; even my skeptical mind couldn't wrap around it. Toolie just chuckled, unfazed by our disbelief, as though turning into a wolf and back was as normal as kicking back a beer.
Before the questions could start flying, Mama Céleste rose from her seat, commanding attention without so much as a word. The talismans around her neck clinked like a death knell, and every eye in the room fixed on her. "Y'all need to understand somethin'," she started, her voice low and resonant, "this ain't no coincidence. Each man here has been touched by the other side. Resurrected for a purpose."
"Resurrected?" Canon echoed, skepticism etched on his face.
"Oui." Mama Céleste nodded, amber eyes burning with an intensity that made me feel like she was looking straight through me. "Each of you has walked through death's door and returned. You think that's by chance?"
Silence settled heavily over the room as we digested her words. Skulls, accidents, close calls—we all had stories that should've ended with us six feet under. Even in my most shitfaced moments, I knew I'd dodged more than one bullet that should've had my name on it.
"Your lives are bound by blood and spirit," she continued, "and the transformation you will undergo... it's only the beginning. You've been given gifts, tools for the fight ahead."
"Fight? What fight?" Shivs asked, glancing from Mama Céleste to Toolie, still trying to make sense of it all.
"Against darkness," she said, her voice dropping to a murmur that seemed to vibrate through the room, "against those whowould see this world swallowed up in shadow. Charles Stansfield is but a pawn in a larger game."
"Great, supernatural war games," I muttered, shaking my head. "And here I thought dealing with rival gangs was a headache."
"Take heed," Mama Céleste warned. "This is no light matter. You are chosen for this—chosen to stand against forces that would tear apart the very fabric of this society."
A weight settled on my shoulders, the gravity of her words like chains wrapping around my chest. This wasn't just another street brawl; this was destiny, fate, or whatever the hell you wanted to call it. We were in deep, deeper than any of us had ever imagined. "Chosen or not," I said, finding my voice, "we'll be ready. Let Stansfield come. We’ll give him the welcome he deserves."
"Bon," she said, a slight nod acknowledging my resolve. "Prepare yourselves. The night is long, and shadows grow bold."
As she settled back into her chair, like a queen upon her throne, I couldn't shake the feeling that our world had just tilted on its axis. And whether we liked it or not, there was no going back. I pushed back my chair, the legs scraping against the concrete floor with a sound that felt like the start of something big. The rest of the guys were silent for a hot minute before Canon cleared his throat, his eyes locked on mine.
"Alright, so we're up against some supernatural shitstorm," he said, voice steady as the engine of his Harley. "But what's new? We deal with the impossible every damn day."
"Damn right," Moab chimed in, cracking his knuckles like he was preparing to go another round with destiny itself. "We didn't rise from the damn ashes to be taken down by some puppet master playing god."
"Stansfield doesn’t know who he’s messing with," Shivs added, a wicked grin splitting his face as if he'd just been gifted a new blade to play with.
Their words were like gasoline on my already raging fire. Yeah, skepticism had its place—kept you alive in our line of work—but now wasn't the time for doubt. Now was the time for the kind of balls-to-the-wall action that made legends or ended them.
"Listen up," I barked, feeling every pair of eyes in the room snap to attention. "Stansfield wants a war? He'll get one."
A chorus of grunts and affirmations filled the clubhouse. We were united, each of us bound to the others by more than just leather and chrome. This was about brotherhood, about the unspoken oath that tied our fates together.
Toolie, still naked, sat at the table next to Shivs who shifted his chair. Shivs pointed at Mama Celeste. “What did you mean about us going through transformations?”
Mama Celeste nodded at Toolie. "Transformations like you’ve seen here tonight," she said, gesturing towards Toolie who was now casually leaning back in his chair like being buck-ass naked in front of strangers was an everyday thing for him—and maybe it was. “Each one o’ ya got somethin’ wild lurkin’ deep inside,” Mama Celeste continued like it was straight outta some fucked up fairy tale. “And each stigma—or mark—on your body ain’t just some scar or tattoo.” She leaned forward staring us down like she could see straight through us. “They’re marks signifyin’ what you got runnin’ through your veins.”
Something flickered across Canon’s eye—a particular gleam he got when his curiosity was piqued. “So how does this work exactly?” He asked. “We just change into...what—wolves?” He nodded towards Toolie, who grinned, seemingly enjoying all this attention.
“Not necessarily.” Mama Celeste said. “Toolie here’s got some wolf spirit inside ‘im—that’s what lets ‘im change.”
