Author's note: The last thing I need is another WIP. Especially one as big and complex as this will be. But, my muse and fellow author, NightSlash, were very, very insistent with this story. So, here is my first step into the Matrix, and of course it would be because of werewolves. Anyway, hope you enjoy, reviews would be delightful. Warning, this will be violent, and this entry is rather gruesome. It's rated R for a reason.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Matrix. Nor does it own me. And I don't own anybody from it, except those you've never heard of, meaning, the random humans and program victims, and the lycanthropes. I mean no copyright infringement, so don't sue me. Savvy?


Emily walked down the sidewalk briskly, wrapping her coat around her even tighter. The wind had a strong chill to it, too strong. It was the kind that chilled the bone to the marrow, made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, and cause you to shudder form something other than cold.

Not a star could be seen in the night sky. But the moon could be seen through a thin haze of cloud, full and bright and hanging high over her head. She suddenly stopped dead in her tracks as she looked up at it.

It was full.

Emily had never been superstitious. Not until recently, after so many attacks during full moons, and even at other times. But the violence, the sightings, were so much worse on the nights of the moon's fullest state. And tonight was one of those nights. There she was, standing on a fairly desolate sidewalk, alone, unarmed, during a full moon.

Within seconds her heels were clapping against the concrete as she ran, not caring if she was being silly or foolish. There were still predators of some sort, whether human or something else, out at night. Perhaps not a monster lurking in the alleys near her, but a rapist or mugger or just some sick psycho that liked spilling blood.

Only one more block, and then she'd reach her apartment building, go up the elevator, walk into her apartment, check on her niece, go to bed, and scold herself she was never to go out for a walk so close to dark.

She turned the corner, and there it was. Her apartment building. Safety, sanctuary. The light of the entrance was bright and inviting, the most glorious sight she had ever seen, and she paused to catch her breath, let out a sound of relief, half laugh, half sigh.

That's when the beast tore into her back. Claws, long and sharp, sliced through her skin and spine, paralyzing her before she could even let out a scream of pain. Then teeth, just as fierce as the claws, tore at her flesh, pierce skin and latching into muscle, yanking chunks out of her back.

Another set of teeth joined in, tearing out flesh, feasting on the now slowly dying woman's body. Finally a third mouth came over, and the massive maw opened wide and lunged down, biting into the skull savagely, yanking the head off and gnawing at the exposed wound where it once was connected to her neck.

The third mouth looked over to a fourth, left out of the kill, and it laid the head down at the paw like feet, and the fourth lycanthrope greedily chewed at the open, gushing wound before ripping the face off and opening the skull with its own claws, feasting on brain matter and tissue.

The third watched the first two as they dug in, the first briefly glancing up, snorting as if in disapproval at the third's lack of activity. But it then returned its focus on its meal, sharing easily with the second, both relishing the sweet taste of raw meat and the scent of blood and fear in the air.

Suddenly the first stiffened and rose to its full height. It sniffed at the air, slinking more into shadow, dragging the body with it, growling to the others to retreat to where darkness was thicker. They began to follow their leader when suddenly five men, five beings, came into vision, coming around a corner.

They stopped, seeing the body and the other three. Two, the two who reeked of a scent most offending to the lycanthropes, pulled out guns and started to open fire, but the third lycan attacked, knocking the guns out of their hands. They walked forward, the third of their group following slightly behind. The third lycan attacked, knocking the guns out of their hands, roaring.

But the third of the others pulled out his gun, shooting the lycan.

The third yelped as the bullet grazed its shoulder, the fourth lycan snarling after hearing the other's cry. The two lycans reared on their hind legs as one, a fearsome sight.

The third lycan was tall, somewhere between seven and eight feet, obviously built for upright walking on its long, muscular legs. It's skin was as dark as the coarse fur that sparsely covered it, and its eyes were like silver slits. It had a fairly short muzzle, with a wicked looking maw, though its features were almost feline like.

The fourth was the same height, and also built for upright walking, though its body was more humanoid than the other. It's head was big and completely lupine, gray fur and wolf head with enlarged features, the fur coming down to its shoulders and ending there. It had a gray body, with patches of fur under its arms and on its elbows. The teeth on it were not quite as fierce as those on the third, but bits of brain and skin hung from the bloodied canines.

The two werewolves, similar in shape and obviously mates, charged, tearing into the other group's third mercilessly as the first two watched from a few feet away, horrified.

The other two, the albinos, the two who appeared to be like physical manifestations of ghosts, watched but did not partake in the fight or even try to give their companions any help. Their expressions were a mixture of amusement and boredom, and they irritated the first lycan.

But his focus on them was shattered when he heard the his second, his mate, yelp as a shot echoed in the night. One of the horrified two, the vampires, had shot her, the bullet going clean through her thigh. The first roared, startling everyone, his own kind, his mate, the vampires, the ghosts. His bellow of rage shook the buildings practically, and once he finished, he had lunged, knocking the vampires to the ground and tearing their stomachs open.

The others, all the others, watched as the huge, towering monster of a werewolf tore into the vampires. Black fur, matted in spots with Emily's blood already, covered his body, thick and long and shaggy. His eyes were like big pupils, completely black, just like his fur, no sign of white or amber or silver in them. His snout was long, like a wolf's. In fact, his whole body was like a giant, upright wolf's, mixed with humanoid features as well.

And his maw was huge, teeth now black from so much blood, but they were long and sharp, and he was using them with pleasure on his two latest victims.

Blood began to spatter onto his coat, soon soaking it as he tore of limbs, bit off certain organs, feasted on vampire flesh and bone, his clawed paw like hands crushing their skulls simultaneously. He took his vengeance and disgust out on them even after they were dead.

Finally looking up, he noticed the ghosts striding away at a brisk pace, but he growled at his fellow lycanthropes. Those two were not for tonight. They didn't have the time.

Walking over to his mate, nuzzling her with concern, he lifted her up, her form identical to his own in shape, but varying in color and size. Her fur was a lovely chestnut brown, and her eyes a glittering silver that shown brighter than the moon, and were fairer for the first lycanthrope to gaze at. She was two feet shorter, and not nearly as muscular, but fierce in her own right.

Still, she was not as fierce as her mate, but he protected her well, took care of her when she needed, and avenged her for any pain she felt, as proven by his killing of the two vampires. Now it was time for him to tend to her, once they were home

Growling at the other two, the first led them down an alley, hurrying back to their sanctuary where his mate could rest and heal, with him to protect her from more harm.