Stilinski ran ahead of everyone else, not knowing exactly where Parrish and Fisher were; it was hard for him to find his way through that hellish labyrinth of a basement. He'd lose more and more of his patience, little by little, at every turn, every corner and every dead end. Unlike Parrish, Noah did not see a dark and endless corridor; he was forced to turn left or right every time he was greeted by a wall. The only thing he knew for sure about that place was that it was vast and confusing; other than that, he felt like he was dropped in the middle of the ocean with no chance to find a way home.

His mind wasn't quiet. His thoughts were loud, louder than everything else around him. Nothing in that place helped appease his inner voices. Not the fact that he was completely out of his element, nor the fact that he couldn't find Parrish and Fisher and it certainly wasn't going to be the unsettling silence around him as he walked. He felt at such a loss that he'd even hoped the walls around him had voices of their own, just to keep him company.

But somewhere along his bleary path, at some point, he came to regret that wish. His wish to hear something other than the voices in his head came true. Noah Stilinski stopped dead in his tracks when he heard a deafening gun shot in the distance. For a moment, his brain did go silent; his head flipped round and round from left to right, in an attempt to catch sight of the sound's origin. But then, the flood gates opened up again and all of his thoughts resumed their screaming all at once. The only good thing that came out of that was the fact that he was able to find his way towards that sound.

He finally began to slow down when he discerned a figure standing at a considerable distance. He cautiously closed the gap between himself and the figure, gun in hand, ready to defend himself. He instinctively started to slowly lower his weapon when he recognized the figure to be none other than Fisher. The closer he moved towards her, the more details he was able to see. Details such as the fact that she was standing over an unconscious body, or the fact that she held her gun in hand in a manner that indicated she was the one that had fired the shot he'd heard only seconds prior.

Although, a far worse realization was yet to hit the sheriff. And when it came, it hit him to such extends that his legs couldn't hold his weight anymore. The realization that the body laying at Fisher's feet belonged to Parrish.

"You missed the show," Fisher broke the silence with a tone that froze Noah's blood in his vains.

She'd addressed him in the same manner Jennifer did when she'd attacked them earlier, and thus for a moment, he entertained the possibility that what he had before his eyes was yet another illusion, thrown his way in order to further break his will, "What?" that question was all he could afford to utter.

"You know, I really hate that I can't read your mind right now. I just want to hear what despair sounds like," she spoke again.

"Fisher? What are you saying?" Part of him was up and arms, ready to fight anyone and everyone that would dare tell him that it wasn't an illusion and yet... Another part, a much smaller and quieter piece of him... Had already begun to dig through his head for... Proof, reasons, clues to prove to the rest of him that it was all real and that Fisher wasn't... The Fisher he knew.

"God...," she said, sounding exasperated, "I really hate that name as is and it's far, far worse when I hear it from you,"

When he no longer had the strength to keep his eyes up and withstand her gaze, he allowed them to fall downward. His sight landed on Parrish's motionless carcasse. Jordan's eyes remained wide open, growing hazier by the second, colder and emptier; the ghost of the last thing he'd seen gradually fading with his warmth. His blood was still gushing out without any restrains out of the open hole between his eyes. Stilinski kept staring at him, thinking that perhaps if he waited long enough, Parrish would rise again from his death; he was a hellhound after all. He waited for his flames to ignite and surround him like they'd always cradled him and shielded him from danger. But the fire never came.

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"Don't hold your breath. He won't heal," she brought him out of his thoughts.

It was almost like he'd forgotten her presence in front of him until she'd spoken again. In a swift movement, he raised and pointed his gun at her, "Don't move!" he barked.

"I am not moving," she simply stated, almost like she was mocking him.

"Why? What happened? Wh... What did you do?" he threw all of those questions her way in one breath.

"You know what, I take back what I said before. I've been by your side long enough to know what's going through your mind right now,"

In reality, it was hard for anyone watching him right then, not to know what was racing through his mind. Fisher'd managed to raise a storm of conflits within him. It became hard for him to move his limbs as he stood, sweating through his uniform, his gritted teeth only allowing his breaths out in grunts from now and then.

"Are you going to shoot me or..." she began, but when he gave no reply to her taunting, she continued, "You must be very confused. Wondering why or what made me do this, am I correct?" he again remained silent, "Your mind must be scrambling to find a half decent justification for my actions. I even bet you think I was forced to do this, to work for the apprentice, that I had no choice,"

Upon hearing her words, his tongue tied itself into a untwistable knot. She was right; his mind had already rushed to try and find rational explanations to her actions, to make them more excusable, hoping against all hope she'd be a redeemable soul, but alas... From the way things were looking, they weren't taking that route.

"I guessed right, didn't I? yeah... I was right," she giggled before her demeanor shifted to a tad harsher one, "Do you have any idea what's it like for someone like me? To live among people like you?", she pointed at him, then at Parrish, "On your high moral grounds, constantly judging everyone, deciding who gets to roam earth freely and who doesn't,"

"Then why?"

"I guess I can be nice enough to tell you what creature I am," she made another pause, "It may surprise you but... I am nothing but a human; a very lost one. Well, I was lost,"

"Until the apprentice found you," he whispered through his pained windpipes.

"See? There you go again making assumptions. He didn't find me, I found him. Contrary to popular belief, people like me aren't very common. Even when I joined the apprentice, I realized that I was still the odd one out. They all have their bullshit reasons for doing what they did; even the apprentice, even he doesn't hurt people unless he thinks he has to. Kate Argent is a sociopath; she doesn't mind hurting people, but she's not quite like me. Then there's Jennifer, that one is just a spiteful bitche, she too doesn't hurt people unless she feels she has to. Anas and Kali are no fun and Matt... Well Matt still hasn't figured out what he wants already, but he is vengeful and a lunatic,"

"You're trying to tell me that you're somehow worse than all of them," he said, he did struggle to speak but a lot less than he did in his previous attempt.

"Well, almost. There's one of them that match my hunger for pain and chaos, can you guess which one?"

"The nogitsuné," he stated, his facial features twisting further when he pronounced that word.

"Him and I like to play these games, we really do complete each other,"

"You really think he cares about you?" he asked.

"Care?" she sighed, "I didn't expect better than that so, why am I so exasperated? You don't get it, do you? He doesn't care, I don't care and that is precisely what brought us together,"

As Stilinski was fighting the pull of gravity, urging him to just give up and let his entire weight drop to the floor, he was all of the sudden forced to bend forward and grip his abdomen area. His mind had already been so clogged before the fact, that he couldn't find any other way to describe the burning sensation that was coursing through his vains, other than the sting of pure agony.

"Oooh! It's starting!" she exclaimed with a lack of energy.

"What?" he grunted.

"Tonight, is a full moon night, and it is finally completely out," she stated.

"What does that have to do with this?"

"Shrapnel bombs are the nogitsuné's ammo, right? Say he has a friend that is just as demented as he is and say that friend suggests a little addition to the bomb,"

"You knew about the bomb? You helped him with it, didn't you?" he tried his best to yell, to scream his rage out at her but all he could afford was to grunt his frustration.

"Helped him? How do you think he even got the bomb inside the station? All I needed to do was to make sure my colleague wasn't there to receive his brand-new printer,"

"What did you put in the bomb?"

"Just a little something to spice things up. Have you ever wondered what it felt like to be a werewolf on his first full moon night? Well, tonight you will,"