can't catch me now*

OPTION A location: Yellow Submarine

On breaks from work, Zuri loved to walk around the aquarium, visiting her favorite exhibits and sea creatures. A cuttlefish, nearly fully blended with the sand and rocks around it, lived in the massive tank before her, and was one of her favorites to visit. To the other person standing beside her, she offered, “Did you know cuttlefish are actually colorblind? It's kinda crazy, because they can exactly color match their surroundings to blend in. Kinda like what people think chameleons do, but cooler.”

OPTION B location: Happy Harvest Farmer's Market

Stevie enjoyed farmer's markets, and needed to stock up on produce and other essentials before heading picking up Rhiannon up from school. The school year was winding down and with summer about to start, Stevie was anxious to find a more permanent living situation for her and her daughter that didn't end in Motel. With those thoughts momentarily on the backburner, she passed a stand specifically for different flavored honeys. “Huh. Eucalyptus honey... Interesting, but not sure how my eleven year old will feel about that one.”

He wasn't stalking Stevie. She had asked for space, and that's exactly what Malcolm gave her. If she had asked him to take a long walk off a short bridge, he would have done just that. There was nothing on this earth that Malcolm wouldn't do for Stevie. The love he had for her could never shift into something platonic, but he would stuff his feelings away in a nice little box if it meant he could be in his daughter's life. The universe was a comedian when it came to him. It had brought them together many times in the past. It was doing so again now. For a split second, Malcolm considered backing up and heading in the other direction. He realized quickly that it was a very silly thing to do. He was a grown man who could absolutely be in the same vicinity as his ex. "She might say she's not a koala." Malcolm mused, coming up beside Stevie to stand beside her. "What about Orange Blossom? That seems like a safe bet."

Still, amusement lingered in his expression as Malcolm stepped closer instead of backing down. Zuva noticed the inhale, the tension buried beneath the stillness, the way Malcolm watched him. It was interesting. His own posture remained loose by comparison, hands tucked casually into his pockets like this conversation was amusing. "What was you supposed to do? Exactly the thing you did." There was no teasing with that, no games, just truth repeated with a shrug. "You throw yourself in front of danger because you want people safe. That's not your father speakin'. That's you, slay—" he stopped himself from saying it, lest the other man get all up in arms again. "This whole modesty thing you do?" Zuva continued, almost exasperated now. "I don't get it. Not every good thing you do gotta be dragged to the ground by guilt after. Ain't that exhaustin'?" His gaze flicked briefly toward where the silver burns surely lay hidden beneath fabric. "Though maybe next time try bein' slightly less suicidal about it," he added with a grin. "Just as a fun little personal goal. And lighten the fuck up too, it's like you don't know how to relax."

Malcolm would have been offended that his sincerity was being laughed at. The annoyance he held for Zuva overtook any other feelings he may have had in that moment. His patience was worn thin; Malcolm couldn't even attempt to muster his usual sunny disposition. "I haven't exactly had time to workshop my excuses. I didn't think I'd need them here." It was an oversight on his end. In the back of his mind, Malcolm thought he could just walk through Lunar Cove scott-free without having to delve into his past too much. For a while there, he had been able to. However, lying had never been his strong suit. "Yeah, you're right. I do. I have much to atone for." The usual banter fell short. The exhaustion settling onto his features.

It was hard to wind Malcolm up. Normally, he was someone who let things roll off his back, but somehow Zuva knew the right strings to pull. His insides felt as though he were guitar strings wound too tight. The slightest turn threatened their rupture. What came next stilled Malcolm. There was no witty comeback or snarky remark. Instead, Zuva's tone was genuine. Malcolm almost dared to pinch himself because surely this was a dream. For the first time in his life, Malcolm may have agreed with Zuva. That alone caused his senses to go into high alert; he eased up enough to let his shoulders sag a bit and exhale. "It's not modesty." He attempted, but no other words came to mind. Had he been raised differently, of course, he could have boasted about killing a hellhound. Who wouldn't? What he had done was not something he was proud of. A storm of conflicted emotions swelled inside of him. He had done what was right, but at the cost of falling into old habits he had buried. "Of course it is. I'm tired of carrying the weight of actions that weren't mine, of a life I didn't ask for, of guilt I can never wash out. I'm afraid to fully embrace what I am, in fear of my past taking it all away from me. So yeah, there's guilt with everything I do. I'm walking in a town of people I was raised to hate. I live among them knowing I don't deserve to. My intentions are good, but not everyone is going to see that."

Malcolm's eyes only narrowed at the comment. He didn't think his actions could be described as such, but he hadn't allowed himself to spiral into those dark thoughts either. "I don't think I've been relaxed in the last ten years. Unless you have any ideas on how to unwind and chill, I'm going to be a stick in the mud."

"Hey, hey, this is an ice cream run, not a therapy session. You can unlock my deep, dark secrets after Christmas." The truth was, yes, Malcolm was absolutely scared of who he was at his core. However, that wasn't exactly a light topic you casually brought up to the mother of your child's sister. "Huh, you know, you're absolutely right. Are you always this insightful, or am I just asking dumb questions here?" He replied playfully. "Oh, come on, I know the ways of Mr. Miyagi. It wasn't exactly karate. I riffed it here and there." Malcolm hadn't exactly taken the time to think of a brilliant lie to tell people where he learned how to slay a hellhound. He had hoped no one would attempt to broach the topic. "Hiking trip accident. I went missing for a few days, presumed dead. By the time I was found, your sister had left town." He shrugged. "If I knew where she was, I would've found her and Rhi sooner."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Anyone I might know?" Brow furrowing, JC cocked his head to one side. Most werewolves he knew were tied to this town and this pack, but he did know others lived beyond. Some of those others had just swarmed them all a few months earlier.

Crossing his arms, then, the Alpha studied him for a moment. "Well, there would be some paperwork, yes, but...uh, what do you mean?" Lunar Cove was a place for wandering supernaturals to come as they were, of course, but now, more than ever, he found he had little tolerance for surprises. "Is it something you can talk about?"

Malcolm nodded in agreement. Life in Lunar Cove had certainly been an adjustment. He was used to dangerous situations growing up. For a moment in time, he had found a sense of peace. It was wishful thinking to believe someone like him could continue to deserve peace. "I'm not sure. His name was Felix. Lived in the woods in California. He knew of Lunar Cove, so it's possible he was here." Malcolm had never asked further questions about Felix's knowledge of Lunar Cove. By the time the information had been presented, the old wolf's life was coming to its end. Malcolm wanted to spend those last moments with him and not in the past. The memory of him made Malcolm's smile falter, tinged with a sadness he tried to hide. Felix was the only father figure who ever accepted him. A man who owed him nothing, yet unbeknownst to him gave him everything.

He lifted his gaze, eyes meeting the Alpha's. It wasn't the first time he had come face-to-face with one. It certainly wouldn't be the last, either now. Still, the same guilt swirled in his stomach as their eyes locked. "Yes, of course." The words lodged themselves in his throat; shame kept them at bay. His past was a secret he carried like a scarlet letter. Even before his transformation, he had never been the proud son of a hunter his father wanted him to be. Being a hunter never felt right. It had always felt like he was putting on a second skin that didn't belong to him. His transformation into a wolf was the first time Malcolm felt at home in his body. Of course, it took a few years for the internal conflict to subside. There were still days he felt like an imposter. To some extent, he was. He certainly felt like one now as he looked at the resident Alpha, willing to share his secret past even though he knew for certain he would be greeted with distrust rather than open arms. The truth always had a way of coming out. Malcolm would rather have been honest now than burn bridges with JC later.

"Before I became a wolf ... I came from a family of hunters. I no longer have any ties to my family. If anything, I'm dead to them. I ... I wanted you to hear it from me first, rather than find out later on from someone else." Malcolm's gaze averted to the ground for a split second. His throat constricted with emotion. "I understand if you'd want me to leave town. I don't want to cause problems or harm to you, your pack, or anyone else here. I just want to live a peaceful life." A peaceful life that included Stevie and Rhiannon was all he ever wanted, but he would always put their well-being first, even if that meant he wasn't in the picture.

"Me? Physically? Fine. Can't say the same for my pride. Do you know there's a witch potion that makes you just a total fucking douche? I didn't. I can't brew potions. They're locked behind the DLC." He grumbled a bit, shifting back and forth. "Don't tell me I look great. It'll go to my head. I was walking around telling people how great I looked. Disgusting, right? How about you...? Besides the...you know, not all dogs don't go to heaven whatever."

"Yeah, I'm out shopping for my daughter. Just regular Wednesday activities." His own face twisted into one of concern as he watched Kamran. The bottle he was holding seemed to contain the suspect for his discomfort. Kamran's face confirmed it, and Malcolm felt his own ease back into a more pleasant expression. "I think it depends on what kind of ingredients you use. Some shakes taste awful, but some can taste really good. What did you use?"

"I guess physically fine and emotionally bruised is better than nothing, yanno? I didn't until now. I know there's a spell that makes you sparkle like Edward Cullen. I will keep that in mind. So you had no way of countering the spell? You just had to deal with it? Man, that sucks. I'm sorry." His apology was sincere. People had experienced varying degrees of trauma from the masquerade. He hated that Kamran hadn't left unscathed. "Okay, uh, you look decent. Just okay. There's a fine line between knowing you're great while being humble and being a total asshole about it. I'm guessing the potion did the latter. Oh, yeah, I'm... kinda physically fine. I have some bites, scratches, and burns, nothing too crazy. Maybe emotionally bruised as well, but I'm here. I'm alive." He rubbed the back of his neck, his hands burning at the mention as if the silver he pierced the hellhound with was still in his grasp. "I do .. feel bad for Bobby."

Malcolm knew all too well what it was like to have a younger sister. However, Lennon was vastly different than Josie. Expect, of course, given they were two different individuals, but the comments she made rolled off his back like water. If anything, he found them amusing. The wolf enjoyed his ice cream as he listened to Len's explanation of her powers. It was interesting to hear firsthand what their powers meant to them as opposed to gaining the knowledge from books written by humans. This world he had now found himself part of was not what he had been taught. Malcolm was happy to be proven wrong. "That makes a lot of sense, yeah. I think some people are scared of who they are at their core. Some are just brave enough to accept and acknowledge it." He gestured to Lennon. "I watched too many action movies growing up. Pair that with karate, and you have what I did. Haven't you ever seen Cobra Kai? They were fighting everyone, everywhere." It felt like a good enough white lie. He had been trained, just not in the ways he had said. "We grew up around each other. I've known your sister since I was like, oh, nine? maybe ten. It's hard to really say because I don't remember a time without her in my life. I always had a giant crush on Stevie, and she never gave me the time of day until high school. We started dating, moved in together once we were in college, and then Rhiannon came along. We weren't exactly, uh, careful, but I wouldn't change a thing about how our daughter came to be."

He tilted his head slightly, studying Malcolm now beneath the dim streetlight. "No? What would you call it then? Seemed very action hero to me." And there it was again, that rigid sense of responsibility wrapped so tightly around him it practically creaked when he moved. "That line sounded rehearsed, by the way." It should've annoyed him more than it did. Maybe it showed in the subtle roll of his eyes, but mostly it just made him want to poke at the thing until something honest slipped out.

Zuva stepped closer, just enough to invade the edge of Malcolm's space without fully crossing into it, his gaze flicking briefly over him with that same sharp attentiveness he always carried. "You don't mean that, though," he said, like stating a fact. "About never doing it again. Folks like you always say that right before throwin' yourselves directly back into danger. It's exhaustin', honestly."

"I think no matter what I say or do, you'll still get the wrong idea." It was late. Any buffer Malcolm had for his thoughts was long gone for the evening. His body still aches from the grief of his actions. It left him antsy. The burns from the silver had yet to fade. Malcolm wondered if they were permanently scarred. "Yes, you're a beautiful man, scars or not, and the sun is a giant ball of gas millions of light-years away. These are things we just know." He hated to fluff Zuva's ego in any way, shape, or form.

He kept his gaze transfixed on Zuva. He was grateful for the low lighting and dark night that concealed his facial expressions. Malcolm wasn't exactly trying to hide his annoyance. "We can just call it action hero. I watched a lot of Indiana Jones when I was younger. Maybe I picked up a thing or two from Indy." It was a lie and a blatant one at that. Malcolm would have much rather been searching for lost treasures than enduring the training of a hunter. "Shame. I practiced in the mirror all night to make sure it didn't." A proud smirk danced on his lips. They were playing a dangerous game. One Malcolm refused to break from first.

Malcolm stood his ground as the space between them closed. He took a sharp inhale, his eyes watching the other's every move, just as he had trained to do. He would have snapped himself out of it, but then it would only prove that Zuva had gotten under his skin. "What was I supposed to do?" He hissed, voice low as if the night could expose the secrets he held. "People were going to die. I knew what to do, so I did it." His instinct to protect had always been a driving force. When he was younger, he was taught to defend humans from the monsters that lurked in the dark. Now, all these years later, he was protecting his loved ones from the monsters he was raised with. "You're right. I would throw myself in harm's way a hundred times over if it meant other people make it out alive." It was Malcolm this time who dared to take a step forward. It wasn't a challenge, nor was it even a warning. It was a statement to let Zuva know he wasn't scared. "I did what I had to do, but I am not my father's puppet anymore."

josie didn’t move when he said her name. it hit her like something physical, like a blow straight through her chest that knocked the air from her lungs. her vision warped at the edges, the world tilting, blurring, and for a second she thought she might collapse right there in the street. her stomach twisted violently, sharp and sudden, and she swallowed hard against the rising sickness clawing its way up her throat. this wasn’t real. it couldn’t be real.

“don’t,” she managed, her voice thin and trembling, even as he stepped closer, even as his arms wrapped around her. josie’s hands hovered uselessly at her sides before she pushed against him, not hard, but enough to break the illusion of it. her heart was racing so fast it hurt, each beat louder than the last, drowning out everything but the one thought screaming in her head. you’re dead. you’re supposed to be dead.

she stumbled back a step, shaking her head like she could physically deny what was standing in front of her. tears spilled over, hot and relentless, but there was nothing soft about them, nothing relieved. they burned. “they buried you,” she choked out, her voice breaking, anger bleeding through the grief. “there was a funeral, malcolm. i stood there and watched them put you in the ground.” her hands came up, pressing against her stomach like she could hold herself together, like she might actually be sick if she didn’t.

josie looked at him like he was a stranger wearing her brother’s face, something familiar twisted into something unrecognizable. betrayal curled deep in her chest, sharp and suffocating, mixing with the years of grief she had carried like a second skin. “so what is this?” she whispered, shaking her head again, her voice cracking under the weight of it. “what am i doing here? what about you? how are you here?”

Malcolm wasn't naive enough to believe that these reunions, if they were ever to happen, would be joyous. In a perfect world, perhaps they could have been. There would have been no pain, lies, or betrayal. There wouldn't have been a mystery shrouding his death. But that wasn't the reality they were living in. There had always been a level of secrecy in their relationship. Malcolm had shielded Josephine from their hunter lineage. He would face their fathers' expectations if only to ensure his sister would get some semblance of normality.

Protecting her meant she was now staring at him like he was a ghost, rising from a grave he did not dig.

The initial pushback cracked Malcolm. His heart felt like it was made of glass, fragile and ready to crumble at any given moment. The hurt that was laced in his sister's voice was a sound he never wished to hear. He only knew joy from his little Josie. His arms had always been a place where she felt secure. Now here she was, barely even hugging him back, treating him like someone she didn't know.

It was her tears that shattered him. His heart was scattered into a million broken pieces. He had tried to protect the ones he loved, but by doing so, he ended up hurting them. "They buried something." His throat tightened with emotions he refused to let free. "I know. I was dead to dad. He wanted to make that known." It was an odd feeling watching your funeral from afar. Malcolm had hidden in the shadows on that dreary day. He remembers his mother's tear-streaked face, mourning a son she knew was alive but could never see again. His father looked disgusted rather than sad, knowing what his son had become. A disappointment. A disgrace. A monster.

And Malcolm? Well, he watched as the person he once knew was put six feet under. A life that was once his was now a distant memory. Josie was right. He had died. The person she had grown up with was killed the moment he had turned into the very thing he was taught to destroy. In the ashes of tragedy, he was born into something else. Perhaps the closest he'd ever be to his true self.

There was so much to explain in such a short amount of time. A whole world had been hidden from his younger sister, and now she was thrown into it without a single warning. "It's a long story," Malcolm didn't even know where to begin. "What are you doing here? How did you hear about Lunar Cove?" His older brother curiosity and concern jumped in, not that he had any right to it in the moment. "I .. I'm here because this is a safe place for supernatural beings. I am ... now classified as one of them." His words were careful, slow, as if the truth would be harder to believe than fiction.

option one where: broken records

He looked under the display before him, sighing as he stood up and ran a hand through his hair. This was the fifth store he had been in, searching high and low and it looked like he was coming up short, yet again. Looking to the person next to him he sighed in defeat. "Have you seen a rock, he's got a little cowboy hat, googly eyes, a moustache?" It was a prank and it was beginning to drive him insane.

option two where: echo acres woods

From a distance it would look like the witch was setting up a relaxing bonfire in the middle of the woods, a small clearing a neat stack of wood surrounded by stones to contain it. That was until the small firepit was engulfed in a giant fireball, the kind that ought to have burnt the witch, had the fire not curved around him, spreading through the small clearing, nearly kissing the looming trees before retreating to be contained by the firepit. From the outside it seemed fake, an illusion, but in Lunar Cove it was normal, or normal-ish. Flexing his hands, Mac nodded to himself, glad that his magic seemed to back to normal, enjoying the quiet crackle of the fire before he heard someone approaching from behind him. "You need a bell or something, I could have barbequed you."

option b.

Whenever the world felt like it was too much, Malcolm reconnected with nature. Stevie had always told him it was because he was a Taurus. When they were younger, he always wanted to be outside. Whether it was climbing trees to see the world and all it had to offer, or lying on picnic blankets on a summer night watching fireflies dance across the sky. Being connected to the earth was integral to his being. He used to laugh it off then, but now felt that she had been correct (as per usual). Malcolm thought he had overcome what had taken place at the masquerade. He was fine for the most part, but there were nights when the hellhound's eyes haunted him. Even when he closed his eyes, he couldn't escape its pleading howls. So, a walk in the woods was his remedy.

He expected unusual things to come from the woods in Lunar Cove. A fire wasn't on his list, but it was one of the more tame things he could encounter. A reasonable person would have called the fire department or turned the other way. Malcolm was not always that kind of person; his curiosity often outweighed any logic. The wolf decided it would be a good idea to see where the fire was coming from. As he got closer, he could see a giant, familiar figure. Stevie's brother? Introductions didn't actually happen amid all the chaos. "I don't think I'd look good with a bell," Malcolm replied. "But you didn't, and for that I thank you. We don't need anymore roasted wolves."

A few days after the ball, Lunar Cove had started doing what it always did, patching itself up, sweeping the glass away, pretending the bloodstains had never been there. People still whispered, of course. They always would. Hellhound, fire, panic. But the streets were quieter now. Fear settling into gossip, and the gossip into something almost ordinary. The bar door swung shut behind Zuva with a dull thud, muting the spill of music and laughter back into something distant and muffled. One drink in and he already decided that was enough, mood wasn't quite right tonight, or maybe it had been the company that couldn't help still his thoughts, either way, he was glad to be outside.

The night air was cooler and Zuva rolled his shoulders as he stepped onto the pavement, hands sliding into the pockets of his jacket, letting the quiet settle around him for a moment, it was late enough that most people had gone home but early enough that the night still felt awake. And just off the main stretch, where the town gave way to quieter roads and fewer eyes was when he spotted Malcolm.

Zuva smiled to himself, slow, private, and already troublesome. "Well, if it ain't my favourite slayer." His voice carried easily through the night as he crossed toward him, unhurried, like fate had arranged this little reunion specifically for his entertainment.

His gaze swept over him, slow and assessing, "Look at you," he murmured, amusement curling warm through the words. "All in one piece. Clean up nice too. Did you have fun playing hero? I was impressed, hadn't seen you in action."

Malcolm had grown used to the routine of chaos happening in Lunar Cove one moment and the next day, people going on about their days. It felt like the town had become conditioned to expect such disasters. Malcolm considered himself lucky that he had left unscathed on New Year's. This time, he hadn't been so fortunate. It left him wondering how much more tragedy needed to occur before something changed.

He had stayed late at Blank Slate tonight after closing up. It wasn't recommended that he stay too late after hours, but Malcolm needed to let off some steam. Before he knew it, his hands began sketching. Sketching turned into painting, and soon hours had passed. Malcolm made sure to clean up his mess before leaving the store but decided he had to go home sooner or later.

The night air kissed his skin as he walked down the street. The mugginess of summer had yet to appear. The soft breeze of spring still echoed on, bringing a sense of calm after the storm. Malcolm had allowed himself to melt into the weather. He was almost at peace until a familiar voice rang through the air. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. As Malcolm turned, he came face-to-face with Zuva. The wolf did his best to look pleasant.

"I wouldn't say that." Technically, slayer wasn't the correct term for him, but he didn't want to be associated with the word, regardless. Malcolm bristled under Zuva's gaze. The witch was the last person he wanted to see. It almost felt like a cruel joke from the universe. "Thanks. You don't look too bad yourself. I see you came out unscathed." He replied with a quiet hum. "I did what I had to do to keep people safe." He sounded like his father in that moment. It was the rehearsed answer that was given to Malcolm each time he asked why they did this. "Well, I hope you got a good look at it because it's the last time I'll ever jump into action like that again."

"I would say more along the lines of party trick, but now that you say that ... I won't be able to get it out of my head." He cringed slightly at the thought of turning into a werewolf, being something akin to a supernatural period. Lennon wasn't entirely wrong, but he still shook the comment off. "That makes sense. Does dark magic ever scare you?" He remained cool on the outside but could feel his heart rate pick up a bit. "Hellhound is a wolf. I just took an educated guess and hoped silver would hurt him the same way it does me. I wouldn't say I have a death wish I was just trying to keep people safe."

Malcolm was taken aback by the tone in her response, but chalked it down to her having a bad day. His day wasn't going so well either, with all the thoughts clouding his mind, so he gave a small nod and went back to busying himself with work. It wasn't until he heard her next words that his head shot up, eyes squinting with confusion. "Excuse me?" he asked. Okay, so maybe the tone had been pointed at him, which only confused Malcolm further. "I have no idea what you're talking about." Malcolm had made sure to keep his past under wraps. There were only two people in town who knew who he was before Lunar Cove, but only Stevie knew the entire truth. "I can help you with anything else in the store, but that request I can't."