“So how did your date go?” George heard a voice call out in a heavy accent.

“Hey Mr. Kang. It went well.” George replied to Mr. Kang.

Kyu Kang was the manager of Kang's Market. He came over from Korea as a boy with his family, although he never said which one. His family had started with a small fruit stand, but by the time his father died they had grown the stand into a small grocery store that everyone in town knew, whether they shopped there or not.

“So did you two decide to go steady?” Mr. Kang asked.

“No Mr. Kang. We decided to just stay friends. We didn't want it to get weird between us.”

“Ah I see. Well too bad. She sounded like a nice girl.” Mr. Kang said in a saddened tone. “Hey, did you hear about the clock tower in the park?” He asked while sweeping an aisle.

“No, what happened?” George responded with a little hesitance while stacking canned tomatoes on the next aisle over.

“They say it collapsed last night. They are not sure if it is vandals or just bad construction.”

“Why would someone tear it down?”

“Why would anyone do anything?” Mr. Kang asked off handed. “Dares. Rebelling against parents. Boredom." Kr. Kang chuckled, "I wouldn't worry about it. I think it was bad construction. Companies today always looking for a way to cut corners to save a dime.”

"But the clock tower has been there for a long time Mr. Kang. I thought companies back then built things to last."

"No, George. It was built to look old. Maybe twenty years ago or so." Mr. Kang leaned on his broom and got lost in memories. "Back when we first came here when I was a boy, there was not much in the park. Just lots of open spaces and the trees to wander through and connect with nature."

After a few hours of stocking shelves, cleaning windows, and helping the few customers that came in it was time to head home. “See you later Mr. Kang.” George said as he headed out back hanging up his apron in the office.

“Have a good night, George. Ride safe.”

George exited out the back door, unlocked his bike and started riding home. His mind drifted as he rode. That fight last night must have been a dream. Mikes brother Dave couldn't be a warlock because they aren't real. Magic isn't real and neither are giant wolves the size of horses, but then how could he have dreamed of the clock tower getting destroyed on the night it happened. Thinking of his dream reminded him of Dave which made George think of Mike which reminded him of what Liz told him about going out with Mike which made him remember about the date with Liz and the fact that the girl he liked didn't see him that way. Ugh! Why did I have to be such a cliche and fall for my childhood friend. George chided himself.

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“Hey you! Stop!” George heard someone yell pulling him from his thoughts. George slammed on his brakes and slid to a stop. Looking around George realized he was in the park and several officers from the Luxton Police Department were standing around a taped off area where the clock tower used to be, but now there was just a pile of rubble. One of them was standing a few feet in front of him “This area is off limits until we find out who or what caused this.” The officer continued. “You wouldn't happen to know anything about this would you?”

“No sir. I was just on my way home from work.”

“You were cruising pretty fast back there, almost ran me over.” The cop said in a joking tone.

“Sorry sir. I've had a lot on my mind since my date last night.”

“I understand son. I had my own girl troubles when I was your age, didn't get much better when I got married either." The cop laughed at his own joke. "Just keep your eyes and ears open for any information and contact us if you find out anything.”

“I will sir. Have a good night.” George turned his bike and started to ride away.

“And pay attention to where you’re going next time, don't want to take you in for reckless riding.” The cop yelled laughingly after George.

George rode along the path away from the cops and the crime scene wanting to get home as quickly as possible.

George had to take the long way around the park since his shortcut was taped off by the police. He rode along the path lost in thought about the night before when he was tackled from the side. Pain blasted through his body and head as he was slammed to the ground. George had a sudden case of Déjà vu when he groggily looked into the dripping maw filled with razor sharp teeth before him. A large furry paw Pressed heavily against his chest, the sheer weight of it making it difficult to breath. He closed his eyes and prayed that this was just another dream, and he would just wakeup in his bed. The hot fetid stench of the Wargs breath washed over him.

He heard a thump and the pressure on his chest vanished. He opened his eyes hoping he snapped out of a daydream, and he would just be riding up to his house but found something odd instead. He saw the large wolf, Warg, he reminded himself, fighting a wolf man in jeans and a t-shirt, like that old wolfman movie his dad had made him watch for Halloween. George wasn’t sure whether he should be afraid that either of them could turn and kill him in the blink of an eye, or excited that he was seeing a real-life werewolf.

The werewolf dodged as the Warg lunged at it but was not quick enough as the Wargs claws slashed across its stomach leaving four shallow cuts. The Warg circled around and tried to charge at George, but the werewolf intercepted and bite it deep in the shoulder causing a loud yelp of pain as the werewolf pushed it away. The Warg circled again but the werewolf always stayed between George and it.

That’s Weird. George Thought. Why would he be protecting me? Unless he wants to eat me himself.

After a bit more circling the Warg stared George in the eyes, growled deeply and ran off into the night. The werewolf stared after it to make sure it wouldn’t return before turning back to face George. George started crawling backwards in fear as the werewolf walked over to him. His black, fur covered muzzle pulled back to reveal a mouth full of huge fangs that dripped with saliva. The moonlight glinted of the large, razor-sharp claws on the tips its long furry fingers. George bumped into a tree hitting his head again and covered his face with his arms weakly to defend against the inevitable attack of the werewolf.

“For a fantasy nerd you’re kind of a scaredy cat, aren’t ya?”

George froze remembering that voice. A voice that he had grown up around. One that had apologized for stealing his girlfriend earlier that day.

“Mike?” George asked before passing out from fear and stress.