SLOWLY BEING REWRITTEN!
People say we're products of our parents. that all of their good traits are passed onto us, that we pick up the bad traits along the way.
But what if our parents have no good traits? What does that make us?
Are we all bad?
K...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
more bad than good
Electricity sparked as the volts rushed through their bodies, their hands held above their heads, chained to a metal fence that left them practically defenseless, just like they had been for days now. When the two of them had left Beacon Hills to drive Cora to North America neither of them were anticipating being gone for so long, but then again, being captured by a group of Hispanic hunters wasn't ever on their schedule. In fact, no stops were planned, not even toilet breaks had been permitted. Peter had made it clear that he wasn't coming along for the road trip, to get a feel for the open road, his only intention was to act as backup for his niece and nephew during the ride considering their first attempt at fleeing hadn't gone so well, this time, all three of them were determined to get Cora to the finish line. Peter didn't want to be gone for too long, he knew that back home his daughter needed him after she had sacrificed herself to save the likes of her uncle and the other two parents, though he would have advised her against it if he had the chance to, the least he could do was support her through the decision and help her through the aftermath, the same aftermath he had no idea about because he had been here, chained up.
His only thought since being chained up beside his nephew was his daughter, well, occasionally it was getting the two of them out of here, but mostly, it was Kinsey. He wondered whether she thought anything of him being gone for longer than he said he would be, whether she thought his extended break was simply a short holiday for him and Derek, or if she would think the worst of him, assuming that he'd abandoned her, just like her mother used to do to her.
"You see this equipment?" The hunter asked the two wolves chained up behind him. "Very old. The settings are not quite accurate anymore. So it's hard to tell just how far to turn the dial."
"I think it's a little high." Peter spat out through ground teeth, shaking from the volts that were pulsating through his veins. But his remark hadn't settled well with the hunter who continued to turn the voltage up higher, a painful scream coming from the two Hale werewolves was music to his ears. Well, any werewolf scream was, but he took more joy in it being two who belonged to the infamous Hale name, he was sure any hunter would feel that way.
"I've seen some crack their teeth. Others, they just shake and shake even after their heart stops. Sometimes we don't even know they're dead." The man grinned as he looked at the two wolves who were quickly approaching that scenario, both of them shaking profusely. The hunter turned down the dial allowing the two wolves to weakly fall against the metal fence as they groaned in pain. "But nobody wants to play a guessing game." He laughed. "So why don't you just tell us? Where is la loba?" He asked, looking between either of the Hale's for his answer.
Derek shook his head weakly. "We don't know where la loba is."
"No?" The hunter asked. "Maybe you need a different method of persuasion? Maybe we cut one of you in half, the other talks?" He suggested with a pondering look.
