Wolfe listened to Tristan speak. He made a good point, Wolfe was technically not part of the Corps anymore, and he didn’t have to lead that life anymore. Although, it wasn’t like he can just uproot from his former position, those he served with became brothers, closer than blood. Those he trained and had serving under him were like his children, and they made him proud. All Wolfe knew was the Corps, but that didn’t have to define him.
Tristan trailed off, and redirected the conversation back to Natasha. Wolfe was trying to pay attention, but he kept getting an itch behind his ear. He casually scratched the spot and changed position, crossing his arms. His stomach began to hurt a bit, and then his heart started pounding, it echoed through his ears, he started to breathe rapidly.
He noticed his heart rate pickup he could feel his heart racing in his chest, beating against his rib cage, sending signals to his arms. Then why did he hear a rhythmatic beating if his heart was racing? Wolfe realized it wasn’t his heart he was hearing, focusing, or trying to focus he began to hear two separate heart beats. He realized it was the other two he could hear. Wolfe became confused, just as his head started to throb, and an intense malaise feeling flooded him.
The smells that flooded him almost overwhelmed him. Tristan smelled of seaweed and salt, a hint of bourbon, the man is a closet drinker. Natasha smelled of pheromones and… trouble.
“Wolfe, are you ok?” Tristan asked.
Wolfe tried to answer but a growl came out, he coughed, trying to clear it away, it became more intense. He dropped to a knee, his muscles tensed, throbbed, felt as if they were to rip out of his skin, every vein began bulging grotesquely. He became hot, sweat began pouring off of him.
He dropped the armor he was wearing, it clattered to the floor, hoping the released weight would help, it did not.
Wolfe let out a small grunt, then it happened. His bones began to snap, it was painful, and every snap brought a grunt or a pained yelp. Breathing heavy, labored, he screamed, his body shifted, the skin becoming ebony, fur began to sprout around his neck and head, down his back into a mane of hair. His arms extended and bulked, finger nails extending into points, claws, like razors. His knees snapped inward ankles outward, the pain was unbelievable.
His face began to change, a snout protruding his teeth becoming spaced, and sharp, very sharp. He tried to move out of the office, and crashed through the door, the secretary screamed. Wolfe screamed back. He still wore his uniform, sort off, the trousers were ripped from the knees down, boots gone, and the blouse remained in tatters around his now massive chest. The wolf pin still present.
When he was fully morphed he let out one more howl, this time long, loud, and sharp. He took a large draw through his nose. The scent from the office had that smell that was trouble, but the beast caught another scent. A scent that the former knew, and with that scent…was…corruption. Corruption was what the former knew well, and he hated it, much like the beast who could smell it. With a roar beast charged down the corridor toward the source of the smell, bounding on all fours mouth agape with large sharp teeth showing. The secretary, paralyzed with fear, did not move out of the beats way, only to be shouldered roughly away and into a wall, she lay on the ground unconscious.