ᴡɪʟᴅꜰɪʀᴇꜱ

The Dark Moon

"I don't like this plan", i spoke, legs carrying me over the sun-baked earth of Mexico. "Y/N, you don't like any of our plans", replied Stiles, waving his hands about. "I have to agree with Y/N", Lydia said. Stiles turned to us, clasping his hands together, "what's wrong with the plan?". "This is the stupidest plan we have ever came up with. You know that, right?", i replied, folding my arms.
"I'm aware it's not our best".
"We're all going to die", Lydia said, pursing her lips. Beginning to walk again, we made our way over to our destination. "Are you saying that as a banshee or just being pessimistic?", Stiles questioned the red-head. "I'm saying it as a person who doesn't want to die", she replied, raising her brows. "I second that", i spoke up, pointing to her. Rolling his eyes, Stiles looked between the two of us, "okay, would you mind restricting any talk of death to any actual banshee predictions?". "This plan is stupid and we're all going to die", she replied, tucking her hands into her denim jacket pockets. "Oh thankyou", Stiles commented, raking a hand through his hair. Cracking a smile, we came to a halt at a large wooden door, two men guarding it.

Lydia spoke to them fast in Spanish, making me twist my head in confusion. What doesn't this girl know? The two guards shook their heads, meaning whatever the banshee had asked resulted in a no. Sighing, Stiles pulled a card from his pocket, a skull decorated with gold swirls. Staring at the item, one of the men looked between us all before nodding his head to a security camera. Following his vision, Stiles held it up to the small gadget.
The pounding of bass music entered the crisp air as the doors slid open. Granting us access, the two men let us pass, their eyes following our every move.

Vintage lights decorated the hallways, gloomily shinning on the floor. Coming to another door, i hesitated before quickly opening it, ears flooding with party music. People danced about wildly, bodies barely covered with clothes. Wrinkling my nose in disgust, i grabbed Stiles' hand so i wouldn't loose him in the sea of people. Intertwining our fingers, he led us over to the bar, where less people danced and more people moped. The bartender slammed three identical shot glasses down, the contents a swirling brownish liquid. Whatever that stuff was, it looked strong. Reaching down in his pocket, Stiles rummaged around for some money. Stopping his actions, a heavy weight landed on our shoulders.
"No, on the house", a man spoke, voice thick with an accent, "what? American teenagers don't cross the borders to refuse a drink". I tilted my head to him, eyes glaring, "we didn't come to drink". Returning my gaze downwards, i dropped a single golden bullet into the alcohol. Its shell engraved with the same skull that was on the card.

*queue title sequence*

"Sivero hates this type of music", the old woman spoke, ripping some stitches from an old cloth, "me, I've always loved the music of youth". She glanced upwards, making a sharp cut through the fabric, "this kind especially, it has a savage energy". "We're here for Derek Hale", Lydia spoke, arms folded on the table in front of Stiles and her. Standing behind them, i kept guard, a sort of back up if things go wrong. "Is that so?", Araya smiled creepily. "We know you have him", i piped up, already bored, "we've heard you can be bought". The woman leaned forwards in her chair as Stiles placed stacks of money on the table, "it's 15, 000 for Derek". "Wow, where does a teenage boy get money like this?", she spoke, placing the knife and fabic down on the wood, "Japanese mafia?". Surprised, i turned to Stiles as sounds of guns being loaded echoed the room, making me dig my heels into the ground, eyeing the men dotted around the room. The old woman folded her arms, "not smart to come alone". Stiles smirked, "what makes you think we came alone?".