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Massimo Volpe came back to his hideout to find Vittorio obsessively chasing after his foot, rolling around on the floor snarling. Angelica and Kocaqi looking on in apathy, as if they had always had ownership of a rowdy dog. Couch cushions that had been biten, stuffing spread out like fluffly viscera, were strown across the room. Many of the furniture's edges had been riven with teeth marks, smothered in drool.
Massimo, ever a man of few words, expressed his sentiment quite clearly.
"What the hell."
The other two turned towards him, Angelica welcoming him with a kind smile. "Massi, hello! Welcome back...", said the young girl, sitting up on her armchair, setting her crochet down on her lap. Her smile was enough to distract the man from his confusion. "Yes, hello. But-", Volpe continued, gesturing to the teenager thrashing around on the floor, "What's going on here". Kocaqi scratched his chin in thought with a hum. "He's been at this for a couple of hours. I would've stopped him, but my arm prefers to be without teeth marks, Volpe", explained the old man, fingers tapping the arm of his seat. With no further words, he returned to uninterestedly perusing the newspaper in his grasp.
The drug manufacturer looked on as Vittorio kept chasing himself around their living room, either having not noticed the arrival of the man or simply not caring about it. His other two teammates carried on their activities, ignoring the odd boy.
Suddenly, Vittorio rolled into a sitting crouch, staring forward and panting, nearly wall-eyed. The young man became aware of his surroundings. Confusion crossed his face for a split second, but he shrugged it off, leaning forward and scratching the back of his head with his foot.
Was this weird?, pondered Volpe. Sure, Vittorio had never done that, in particular, but it seemed like the thing he'd do. The teen collected teeth and fingers he chopped off, was it so farfetched to have him acting like a dog?
Massimo brough his hand to his face, placing his chin between his pointer finger and thumb, scratching at his stubble in thought.
Vittorio now lay spread out in the carpet, gnawing at his favourite dagger, hands holding it firmly. The sound of teeth scraping on metal was unbearable, thus Massimo left.
Whatever the teen had, he was sure was nothing special.
--
"D'ya think I have lice, Angie? My head won't stop itchin'! Real damn annoying!", Vittorio asked, leaning over to let his friend peruse through his messy blonde hair, "S' like I've got hair constantly growing!". "Hmm... I'm not seeing very well right now, but it doesn't look like it... Didn't you have a shower just yesterday? You still smell like lavender...", replied the young girl, combing his hair back with her fingers. The boy crossed his arms, tapping at the front of his teeth with his dagger in thought. Angelica patted the empty space on her armchair, inviting Vittorio to sit. However, the boy had to decline: he had someone to murder. He promised not to make much of a mess, nor get blood on his clothes. Against his will, even promised not to hurt himself much. Took her hands, kissed them several times as she giggled and pressed a kiss to the top of his head, and sent him away before he decided the affection was more interesting than the task ahead of him.
Vittorio did not had the slightest idea why the man had to be killed. He didn't remember, he didn't even listen to Massimo's explanation. He knew his face, he knew he had to die. That was all he needed.
The young man's mind did not even cross once the fact he had already murdered someone that day, a pathetic looking man that did not fight back at all, with the exception of a bite to his arm whose markings lingered still. It mattered not to him, nor did the bristles which spurted from the inflamed area around it.
The wound hurt. The edges of the bit burn as if he were holding a lit match directly along them, and he could not be more psyched about it. It wasn't sexual. It was just survival. He had never felt more alive.
The blue cold of the moon washing over him like January winter waves, beating against his face and washing out his existential sleep. With each burst of pain he felt adrenaline drown him. Drunk in wakefulness he dug his fingers into the teeth indentions to further drag out the hurt that shocked through his arm in rhythmical turns.
It was in waves the transformation came, synchronized with him clawing at his arm. Bones that grew as his heartbeat drummed through his veins, dragging along muscles and tendons. Structures that shifted, teeth sharpening.
His target found him mid-transformation, just as the bristles had covered the entire surface of his arms and now spread across his jaw.
The man stumbled back in fear, spreading his hands in front of him as if that could stop the slowly approaching monster.
Sharp teeth jut out of his gums, drool running through the gaps between them. The marble tones of enamel glowed in the poor moonlight, as did his eyes, pupils narrow slits and sclera of vivid yellow. Perhaps as if mocking his target, Vittorio spread out his hands in similar fashion, claws like small scythes set to tear through flesh and be bathed in his blood, paw pads forming out of callouses on his palms. The short, sharp hairs of dirty white were now a consistent layer over his skin, broken only by the scars he sported. Lit by the frigid light, he looked almost like a ghost.
The man tripped over some trashcans, fell over in the murky alley but instinctual fear made him jump to his feet again. A wise move, to lay prone in Vittorio's presence was an invitation for a painful death. The teen's feet suffered the same transformation as his hands, large claws ripping through the weak leather of his shoes, who hugged his legs uselessly when he shifted to a digitigrade stance.
The sound of claws scratching concrete, of pained breathing interrupted by ecstatic cackling echoed through the empty streets as the man sought a way out. The beast did not seem to move that quick, but he knew Vittorio was just showing off, taking pleasure in making his prey suffer before taking his life.
The boy had stopped suddenly, standing, hunched over in the middle of the alley, mouth slightly open. The man stopped as well in shock, weighing whether to turn tail and run, exposing his back to his hunter, or hide and shortly delay his death. Vittorio hung his head farther, hood covering his face, although not for long, as his jaws had stretched out into a beast's maw, poking below the cloth, accompanied by the creaking sound of leather being stretched out as was his skin, his nose hardened as its bridge had lifted.
His breathing appeared in short clouds of vapor in the winter night, his lips curled backwards, showcasing his set of sharp teeth. The boy shook his shoulders from side to side, arms flailing around limply, before tossing his head backwards to shove the hood off his head.
Fully exposed, his face was the one of a beast unknown to all, teeth sharp, edges sharp, his pale skin showing where he had scarred himself. Black whiskers fanned out below his snout, his chin, on his eyebrows, and the tip of his short ears. His mane, like a hyena's, long and beige, fell in front of half of his face, running down his neck until it disappeared under his cloak.
The man decided to take his chances and run for it, but that only amused Vittorio further. With a shrieking cackle, the teen dove into all four paws to chase after his target, jumping and tackling him down with ease, paws digging into the soft muscles of his shoulders.
The man punched and kicked the man-beast's stomach. Vittorio, drinking in the pain, sunk his teeth slowly into his target's defenseless throat, his shrieks of agony music to his trained ears.
The teen had no idea why he was a beast now. Truth be told, he did not really care until he returned to the hideout, cloaked by shadows of velvet, and heard Angelica's soft voice drifting through the open window.
Enamored, the boy left himself listen to the song for a while, sitting on his hind quarters, paws in front of his chest, snout turned upwards and eyes closed in joy. He wanted to enter the building so he could hear it better, maybe lay his head on the girl's lap as she'd sing and stroke his head.
Quickly, he remembered that... Well. He did not look as he usually did, let's just say, and he did not want to scare Angelica by showing up in such a state.
Whining and cursing to himself, he curled up behind some trashcan and closed his eyes, listening to the song.
"Where were you last night? There was this adorable dog outside, I wanted to go pet it but you know they don't let me out unless I'm with someone", asked Angelica, walking over the tired Vittorio to give him a hug. "Yeah? Well, ya never know! He might show up again, tonight!", Vittorio replied, hugging the girl back as he basked in the accidental compliment.