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They say every man has a monster inside.
They're wrong.
My monster isn't inside. It is me. It's in the set of my jaw, the tension in my shoulders, the way I calculate the space in a room, the exits, the threats. It's in the scent of ozone before a storm that only I can smell, and the way my own heartbeat is a drum I must constantly quiet, lest it stir the thing that sleeps in my blood.
My name is Jack Russell. And for two years, the full moon was my master.
I remember the first time. The agony of bones breaking and re-knitting, the terror of feeling my own mind being submerged in a tide of pure, predatory instinct. I woke up naked, covered in blood that wasn't mine, surrounded by devastation I couldn't remember causing.
That was the curse.
This… this control I've carved out through pain and meditation? This is the prison I've built around it.
But some cages have bars stronger than willpower.
[SCENE: A high-tech laboratory. Alarms blare. The stench of fear and chemicals is thick in the air. JACK RUSSELL, in his human form, moves with a stillness that is more dangerous than any motion. He faces a scientist, DR. ARIS THORNE, who is backing away, his face a mask of fanatical awe, not fear.]
DR. THORNE: "We're not your enemies, Mr. Russell! We're your liberators! That beast is a masterpiece of evolution, and you keep it chained! We just want to set it free… for everyone."
He gestures to a chamber behind reinforced glass. Inside, a creature—a mockery of my form, all exposed muscle and glistening synthetic skin—strains against its bonds. Its eyes are blank, soulless. A "Synthetic Alpha."
[The scene shifts. A moonlit chase across the rooftops of Los Angeles. JACK, in his intermediate werewolf form, muscles coiling with supernatural power, leaps a twenty-foot chasm. His eyes, glowing yellow, are not feral. They are focused. Intelligent. Furious.]
JACK : "They think they can manufacture what I am. They think it's about strength and teeth. They don't understand the curse is in the soul."
[SCENE: The hidden Monster Metropolis, a breathtaking city of caverns and ruins beneath the city sewers. JACK stands alongside MORBIUS, the living vampire, and ELSA BLOODSTONE, the monster hunter. They face a horde of shambling, transformed humans.]
ELSA BLOODSTONE: "They're turning ordinary people into puppets, Jack! This is on you!"
MORBIUS: "Her tact is lacking, but her point is valid, my friend. Your unique… biology… is the key to this plague."
JACK : "My curse. My responsibility."
[A flash of memory: JACK's mother, LAURA, on her deathbed, her hand gripping his.]
LAURA (ECHO): "Don't hurt Philip… Promise me, Jack…"
[SCENE: JACK, in a moment of quiet, traces the faded photograph. The weight of his promises is a heavier chain than any silver.]
JACK : "I've kept the promises I made to the living. But the dead have promises of their own. And they are calling."
[SCENE: A dark ritual. The CHILDREN OF THE DARKHOLD cult, chanting. An ancient book, the Darkhold, lies open. The air crackles with malevolent energy. JACK's sister, LISSA, is bound to an altar.]
CULT LEADER: "The blood of Grigory Russoff will open the way! The wolf-demon will rise!"
[JACK's roar of pure, unadulterated rage shakes the very foundations of the chamber. It is not a human sound. It is the promise of vengeance.]
JACK : "They can try to copy me. They can try to control me. They can try to use my blood for their rituals."
[A rapid-fire montage: The Synthetic Alpha howls. A legion of new, feral werewolves erupts across the Hollywood Hills. Demonic shadows tear through reality. JACK, in his full bestial form, stands alone against an army of darkness, his eyes burning with a hellish light.]
JACK : "But they forgot one thing."
[The final image: JACK RUSSELL, in his human form, stands at the edge of a skyscraper, looking down at the city. He turns his face to the bloated, full moon. His eyes are no longer melancholic. They are resolved. Accepting. He speaks his final line, not as a victim, but as a king accepting his throne.]
JACK: "I am the curse."
Werewolf by Night
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