Chapter Text
“Where next, Tommy?”
Thomas rolls his eyes, smiling fondly at the blond haired Brit.
“An issue has been sent out by Argent about a rogue werewolf pack in-” Thomas ruffles through some papers that were sitting in front of him, “a town called Beacon Hills.”
“We heading out tonight or tomorrow?”
Thomas makes a face. “Who said we were even gonna check this out?”
Newt grinned. “I know you, Tommy. You can never stay away from an unfinished case.”
Thomas rolls his eyes again. “Gosh you shank, making me sound like an FBI agent or something, whatever the klunk that is.”
Newt chuckles and shoves him, jumping away before Thomas could recoil and smack him back. Thomas jumps up from his seat behind the desk, ready to attack.
“Shut up you shanks! Some of us are trying to get some beauty sleep!” An annoyed voice interrupts from across the room.
“Well, Min, if you’d slept at the last hotel , you wouldn’t be so tired!” Thomas retorts, turning back and leaning down to sort the papers in front of him. He’d printed out an assortment of supernatural cases from across the country, and he and Newt had been going through them, trying to find the more exciting ones. A rogue werewolf pack? Sounds both a bit challenging and fun for the group of Hunters.
“I wasn’t tired!” Minho whines, pulling a pillow over his head. Thomas rolls his eyes good naturedly. Minho was certainly something, though Thomas was yet to figure the Asian boy out.
“We’re heading out tonight,” Thomas declared, shuffling the papers into a neat stack and sticking them into a folder. “Get your stuff packed up. Teresa, we still good on weapons and provisions?”
“Of course, Tom! You asked us that literally the last time we stopped! How could it change so fast?” Teresa stands in the corner of the group's hotel rental, hands on her hips.
Thomas rubs the back of his neck, “Oops, sorry Ter.”
Teresa rolls her eyes at the boy's antics, turning to finish sticking the Gladers weapons into their cases. She was the official ‘Weapons Keeper’, since the last time Minho had tried to case them, he had almost blown off a toe.
Newt grabs a bag of provisions in his left hand, snacks in the other. “Got the rest of the stuff!” He declares, nodding at Thomas. Thomas turns to Minho, who still was lying in the bed with a pillow over his head. Thomas grins mischievously, before running and jumping on top of the other boy.
Minho squeals and no, it was not girly at all! Shut up Teresa ! Thomas pulls the other boy into a headlock, laughing when the boy fails to escape.
“No fair!” Minho whines, hands scrabbling to get Thomas’ arms from around his neck. “Not all of us have supernatural strength!” Thomas sticks his tongue out at the boy before letting him go.
“Good thing I’m the leader then, you wouldn’t last a second!” Thomas says, a satisfactory smile crossing his face when Minho throws a pillow at him.
Turning away from Minho, Thomas crosses back to the desk, stuffing the file into his little briefcase dubbed ‘the Supernatural Library,’ since it had all of Thomas’ notes about the supernatural in it. The rest of his things are in a duffle bag, similar to the ones the other Gladers have.
Looking over at his second in command, grinning when the Brit gave Minho ‘the look.’ No one wants to get on Mama Newt’s bad side, and Minho leaps out of the bed faster than if a pack of werewolves were chasing him.
“Faster you shanks!” Teresa gives Minho a smack on the side of the head as he rushes to pack his stuff up. ( He’s definitely the messiest of the group. Some of his stuff was in the fridge for goodness sake! Like, what the shuck, Minho? It helps my complexion Teresa! )
Thomas leans against the wall, watching his friends. Ever since they escaped WCKD, he had made sure that each of his measly group of Hunters were cared for, no matter how annoying a certain Asian is!
WCKD’s trials had been brutal to all of them, testing them to the very ends of the earth in combat, stamina, tactics, anything a Hunter would find needed for a Hunt. The Maze had been full of feral werewolves, bloodthirsty vampires, vengeful kitsunes, really anything and everything that the kids would ever face in the supernatural world. And the other tasks. . . Let's just say they were no more pleasant. Thomas never wanted to relive the moment WCKD had tried to control him and his powers, saying it was for the greater good, Thomas, you’ll see. The experiments on him had been more brutal than anything the other kids had had to go through, all because Thomas was a Nogitsune , a dark kitsune that lives on chaos and pain.
WCKD had tried to harness his powers through all sorts of injections, trying to ‘mind control him’ or something similar.
The only reason they didn’t work was because they underestimated the will of Thomas and the power he held beneath his fingertips.
After escaping the Maze, ( through a tunnel that was filled with the worst the supernatural world had in store for them, and out into WCKD’s hands once again ), the group had been down almost half of the boys who had been training in the Glade originally.
Survival of the fittest in all of its glory.
The group had ‘escaped’ into the Scorch, a large, desert region, housing even more creatures, only this time they were whole packs and groups. ( How WCKD had managed to get their hands on whole packs of werewolves Thomas will never know. )
Halfway through the Scorch, Thomas had discovered something curious. A tracker implanted in the back of one of the werewolves he had recently killed, and, once hacked, lead to the eventual destruction of WCKD once and for all.
Thomas’ mood sank, remembering all of the people who had died in that final explosion and escape.
Chuck, Winston, Frypan, Gally, Alby, Brenda. . .
Safe to say the only people who escaped were Thomas and his measly group of skilled Hunters.
Newt, the glue , the one who kept the group together even when they had arguments, with a mom glare that would force even werewolves to back down.
Minho, the protector , the one who would do anything for his friends, no matter the cost. ( Also a bit. . . obsessed with his hair. . . )
Teresa, the initiator , the one with the clever ideas and always with the words to push them on, even when all seems lost.
And Thomas, the leader .
He hadn’t wanted to be the leader, that was Alby’s job! But after Alby died and the Gladers had barely escaped with their lives, the other teens had differed to Thomas for leadership and protection. Both because he was the most powerful of the group, being a Nogitsune and all, but also because of his strategic brain, concrete loyalty, and firm leadership. He was the perfect leader for the traumatized teens, always with careful encouragement and strict-yet-meaning-well speeches.
“Earth to Tommy! You gonna wake up or am I gonna have to lead these bloody shanks myself?”
Thomas snaps to attention, eyes on Newt as he takes a shaky breath.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m awake.”
Newts eyes narrow in concern. “You alright, Tommy?”
“Yeah,” Thomas takes a breath, “Just wrapped up in some memories I guess.”
Newt claps the Nogitsune on the back, nodding sympathetically.
“This Hunt’ll make you feel better, promise.”
Thomas nods shakily, not knowing how much more complicated this Hunt was actually going to make their lives.
~
Scott is oblivious.
That much is obvious. He definitely isn’t the smartest wolf in the pack, even though he is the alpha. He has trouble checking in on his pack most of the time, but in the end that was Stiles’ job, even if Scott didn’t realize it.
But he does, oh he does now.
Because his pack is barely hanging on by threads .
Scott will admit that at times he tended to. . . neglect Stiles. As his best friend, Scott assumed that, well, he and Stiles would always be best friends. No matter what. So in the end, he didn’t have to pay as much attention to Stiles as he did to Issac, before he left, or Allison, his girlfriend . But Scott realizes that now, with his pack weak and his heart broken, maybe he should have paid more attention to Stiles.
Realizing that it was Stiles who was being possessed by the Nogitsune, now that was a real smack in the face for Scott. Scott, Stiles’ best friend, the one who should have noticed that something wasn’t quite right with Stiles, hadn’t realized his friend was in trouble. In the end, Scott had gotten too tangled up in hanging with Allison, training the pack, and preparing for any new threats to pay attention to his best friend.
Afterall, Stiles was human, he’d be fine. He didn’t have to deal with turning into a bloodthirsty monster every month, he didn’t even have to be mixed up in this mess.
But now Stiles is gone, and Scott is finally realizing just how important Stiles was to the pack.
It happened after Stiles had checked himself into the Eichen House, the institution for the more. . . crazy people .
He just. . . disappeared.
Malia, the werecoyote Scott had turned human after being stuck as a coyote for eight years, was found unconscious and strapped to a chair in the basement of the mental institution, a drill on the floor next to her. There had been another chair as well, with broken restraints and reeked with the scent of Stiles. But it had been. . . wrong. Dark. Sour. Sick.
And Stiles was nowhere to be found.
Scott had been frenetic, frantically searching everywhere for his missing friend. He had followed Stiles’ scent out of Eichen House, when suddenly it had stopped. It was like Stiles had simply been removed from existence, the trail there and then. . . gone.
And then.
And then, Scott had been told that his best friend had been the one possessed by the Nogitsune.
“What? No way, he’s just missing,” Scott said, waving a hand in the air. “Stiles can’t be the Nogitsune. It's not possible.”
Deaton shook his head slowly, “I’m sorry Scott, but everything leads to that conclusion.”
Noshiko barged into the conversation, one hand on the katana hanging from her waist.
“It's true, my Nogitsune is gone. You won’t find him in this town anymore.”
Scott whipped his head over to Noshiko, anger evident in his eyes. “What do you mean, ‘we won’t find him in this town anymore’? Did you do something to Stiles??”
Noshiko straightens her posture, looking at the Alpha coolly.
“I did nothing to the Nogitsune’s young host, though he is most likely dead by now. The Nogitsune must have moved on to the Kitsune Plane. It is no longer any concern of mine.”
Deaton raised an eyebrow, “Kitsune Plane?”
“The place Kitsune go after they pass on.” Noshiko said dismissively. “The Nogitsune must have finished what it came to do, and can find peace.
“汚い生き物.” Noshiko cursed. “It doesn’t deserve peace.”
Scott glares at the old Kitsune, “That doesn’t answer where Stiles is! We need to find him!”
“There’s no finding him now, young Alpha. A Nogitsune doesn’t give up its host easily. If it did, it would be gone. If it didn’t, well you know what would happen to the human. Besides,” Noshiko turns away from Scott and Deaton, “This doesn’t concern me. I came to see the Nogitsune leave, and it has.”
“So you’re going to do nothing!?” Scott raged, anger filling him. This was Stiles they were talking about!
“No.” Was all the old Kitsune said before she left Deatons clinic.
“ARG!” Scott yelled, flipping a table. The contents spilled to the floor, books crushed and jars smashing everywhere.
“Calm, Scott,” Deaton cautioned, holding his hands up. “Think of your anchor.”
“IT DOESN’T MATTER, DEATON! STILES IS GONE !”
Scott collapsed to the floor with a sob, clutching his heart.
“Stiles is gone. . .”
Scott had scoured Beacon Hills for months after the meeting with Deaton and Noshiko. Derek had ended up helping as well, admitting that as much as he acted like he didn’t like Stiles, he was a little attached to the spastic teen.
But Stiles was gone.
And as time moved on, Scott lost more and more hope that he would ever return. After all, he would still be possessed by the Nogtistune, wouldn’t he? Noshiko had said if the Nogitsune was still here, Stiles would still be possessed. Was Stiles in pain? Was he screaming as his body was forced to do terrible things? As he was forced to be a passenger in his own body?
Was Stiles beyond hope?
Scott’s little pack consists of himself, Allison, Lydia, Malia, who joined after being released from Eichen House, and surprisingly Derek, who admitted that with the death of his Betas he needed a pack. And Stiles.
Scott can tell how Stiles’ absence has affected his pack in these past three years.
Past.
Three.
Years.
Everyone is colder, quieter. Less likely to laugh or smile if they didn’t have too. Not everything is all gloom-’in-doom all of the time, no Stiles wouldn’t want that. But, one can definitely tell that Stiles had affected each pack member, and him being gone has affected them once again.
Scott still wakes up in the middle of the night and texts Stiles something funny or something that occurred to him before realizing that Stiles is gone.
And he’s never coming back.
~
“Elch, that's not creepy at all ,” Minho complains once he catches sight of the ‘Welcome to Beacon Hills!’ sign with the crossed out population numbers.
Thomas shudders, looking at it as well. A dwindling population? And from what Thomas had pulled up when researching, it had been happening for a while now. Murders, missing people, you name it, it happened in this little town.
“Looks like a supernatural beacon, get it? Beacon? ” Thomas jokes, hiding how much that sign really unnerved him.
Teresa rolls her eyes at their leader's corny excuse for a joke.
“Really, Tom?”
Thomas grins back at her from the steering wheel.
“What can I say, I’ve just got that thing!”
The remaining occupants of the car groan.
The hotel the Gladers decide to chill in is. . . haunted feeling. Nice enough, but unnerving at the same time. Thomas makes sure to cloak the room the group are staying in to hide their scents from any passing supernatural.
“Alright!” Thomas claps to bring the attention of the group. “We’re gonna lie low for a bit, get all the facts we can about this rogue pack. I’ve already contacted Argent that we’ve arrived, so we shouldn’t get confronted by any other Hunters.”
Newt nods, “Anything else we need to know about this town? It's giving me the bloody chills.”
Thomas grins at that, “Apparently the Hunters and the local werewolf pack are allies, which is practically unheard of, but is a thing. And they’ve got a lot of action in the past years. From an Alpha Pack to a kanima to a werewolf coming back from the dead? This town is definitely a supernatural magnet.”
Teresa shudders. “I’ll be glad to leave as soon as possible then. I agree with Newt, this town. . . I don’t like it.”
Internally Thomas agrees. There's something about this town. . .
“Anyways! Who wants burgers?”
Thomas grins as the Gladers cheer at that. He loves seeing his ragtag group happy.
The local café is just what the Gladers needed.
A hearty meal was the perfect way to start a Hunt, but Thomas couldn’t shake the feeling that something was. . . off.
But no matter how many times he checked all of the available entrance and exit points, nothing stuck out.
It was obvious the other Gladers didn’t notice it, sitting around the group's little booth in the corner, Minho throwing fries at Teresa while Newt laughed, throwing his own occasional fries into the mix.
Maybe it’s something to do with being supernatural. Thomas thought, frowning at the entrance to the place. He’d almost say the feeling was. . . familiarity. But that's absurd. I think I’d know if I’ve been here before!
Newt side-eyes Thomas, once he noticed the Nogitsune wasn’t participating in the food fight.
“What's wrong, Tommy?” He asks, eyebrows raised in concern. The group had learned long ago that when Thomas felt that something was off, it usually was.
“Nothing. . .” Thomas replies vaguely, still staring at the door.
Newt punches Thomas in the arm. Hard.
“Ow!” Thomas exclaims, rubbing his arm. A punch from a human usually would barely faze him, but the Gladers had been experimented on by WCKD, so their strength and stamina were almost that of a supernatural. “What was that for??”
“Yer phasing out, Tommy. Snap out of it!”
Thomas rubs the back of his neck in shame. He didn’t mean to phase out, but it happened sometimes, especially when he was remembering or thinking about something hard. The Gladers tried to keep up with it, but sometimes they had to be real with Thomas. If it ever happened during a fight. . .
“Sorry, Newt. It's just. . . supernatural stuff.” Thomas reaches for his curly fries, stuffing them in his face by the handful. Newt smirks at Thomas’ childish behavior.
“Don’t worry you shank, it’ll be alright. We’ve got you after all!”
“Any plans?” Teresa spoke up, after the group had mostly finished their food.
“We need to arrange a meeting with the rogue pack, maybe they come in peace,” Thomas says, but Minho shook his head.
“You forget the part about the murders, shank? If they come in peace they wouldn’t be murdering the occupants of this town!”
Newt nods in agreement.
Thomas rolls his eyes but ultimately agrees.
“Teresa, any ideas?” Thomas turns to the girl. She rolls her eyes.
“Obviously, Tom. We need to get a list of the murdered people. Maybe there's a connection between them and the pack. And we need to meet with the local pack. You said there's a local pack right? They might have some information we could use.”
“And that's why you’re the smart one, Teresa!” Thomas exclaims, grinning when Minho frowned in mock anger.
“Betrayal! From our own fearless leader no less!” Minho says dramatically, draping himself across the Nogitsune. “And I thought we could trust you!”
Thomas shoves Minho off of him, before sticking his tongue out at the boy.
Teresa grins as Minho grabs Newt and together the duo start pelting Thomas with the remaining fries, laughing when Thomas falls off of the bench with a loud thump!
Meanwhile, a pair of blue eyes watch the group before blinking out of sight.
~
Scott gets the call right as he throws his backpack down after a particularly rough day. Stiles' absence had been especially getting to him, and all Scott wants is to collapse on the couch and call it a day.
“What is it, Derek?” Scott groans into the phone, sluggishly moving towards the living room.
‘I was out scouting the territory with Malia when I saw something strange.’
“What is it?” Scott asks tiredly, collapsing onto the couch.
‘You know the rogue werewolf pack?’
Scott rolls his eyes. “Yes Derek, how could I forget? They’re killing innocents for goodness sake!”
‘Well I think some Hunters heard about the issue, and are here scouting.’
Scott’s head perks up at that.
“Hunters??” He exclaims. The sound of shuffling can be heard over the phone.
‘Yes, Hunters. Four of them, though there might be more.’
“Sure they aren't some of Argents?” Scott questions, all of his attention directed to the phone.
‘I don’t know. If I were you, I’d give him a call.’
“Alright, Derek, thanks for the update. I’ll call him after this.”
‘You got it, Alpha.’
The call ends and Scott stares at the phone for a split second before dialing Argents number.
“Argent?” Scott asks when the phone picks up.
‘What is it, Scott? I’m a bit busy right now.’
“Derek said he caught sight of Hunters in our territory, looking for the rogue werewolves. You have any info on that?”
Chris sighs over the phone.
‘They must have arrived.’
“Did you call them?” Scott asks, anger evident in his tone. Chris, calling for Hunters without the packs permission??
‘I did, Scott, and no, before you protest, there was no other option. These wolves are dangerous, they’re trained and know how to work together. They’ll be hard to beat without allies who know how to do this sort of thing.’
“But Hunters?” Scott asks, “Really?”
‘They called in last night, and from what I’ve heard they’re the best of the best. We’re gonna need them.’
Scott curls his lip. “I’m calling a pack meeting. Meet at the Loft in 30.”
“So what’s so special about these Hunters?” Lydia questions, lips pursed and eyes narrowed.
Chris leans against the table the pack are all crowded against. They’d all arrived just moments ago, ready to hear why Chris was so eager for them to work together.
“These Hunters call themselves ‘the Gladers.’ They were trained by a ruthless organization called WCKD whose mission was to create the most powerful group of Hunters this world has ever seen. The group escaped WCKD after it was destroyed, and have been scouring the country for supernatural cases. They go after the more ‘righteous’ cases, like what we have going on now.”
“And?” Lydia asks, raising an eyebrow.
“And,” Chris continues, “the most peculiar part is that their leader is a Nogitsune.”
The pack gasps, exchanging glances.
Scott feels like he's drowning. He hadn’t expected that.
“Wait, you said is a Nogitsune. Don’t you mean possessed?” Allison asks, eyebrow raised.
“No, this individual is a Nogitsune, through and through.” Chris responds, dragging a hand through his hair.
“So it can’t be Stiles,” Lydia clarifies, and Scott feels his hope start to slip away.
Chris shrugs.
“I don’t know anything about this type of stuff. Maybe you should ask Deaton, or better yet, the boy himself. You all know that you’re bound to cross paths, even if Stiles doesn’t actively search you out.”
“But what if he’s here to cause more chaos?” Allison asks, worried. What if he’s not Stiles anymore? Is the unspoken question going around the group's heads.
“Won’t know till we talk to him.” Scott says determinedly.
Heh, who knew a talk about a group of super Hunters would lead to Stiles.
“What's he doing with a group of Hunters anyways?” Malia asks, looking sharply at Chris. Everyone knows she still had some feelings for the boy.
Chris shrugs. “All I know is in this stack of papers I’ve printed out.” He hands Lydia a neat stack of articles, newspapers, and more. Lydia grabs the papers like they were her life force. Anything that would lead to Stiles.
“This says something about an organization called ‘WCKD.’ What is that?” Lydia asks after a few seconds of browsing the first page.
Chris sighs. “I knew you’d ask about that. ‘WCKD’ stands for ‘World Catastrophe Killzone Department,’ and their main goal was to train the next force of Hunters that would finally wipe out the supernatural. They would kidnap young kids with potential and force them through horrifying trials, experiments, and more. They were forced to fight feral werewolves, creatures that couldn’t think for themselves and were only out for blood. From what I’ve heard, the organization was blown up a year ago, with no survivors except these four Hunters.”
The pack's eyes widen at that info. No survivors?
“Are we really sure it's Stiles?” Derek asked, eyebrows narrowed and face frowning.
Chris shook his head. “There's no way of knowing until we see him. And there's no way of knowing if he's still the same person. These trails. . . from what I’ve heard, are brutal, taxing, and horrific to experience. And with that is the potential possession of the Nogitsune. For all we know, he’s been through hell and back in these last three years.”
The pack collectively shuddered.
“Then let's go rescue him,” Scott says, face set in determination.
He’d get his friend back. No matter what.