Word...play?

[WP] Believing it to be a simple typo, you've accepted an interview to be a janitor at a "Werehouse".

******

I was used to a harsh life, struggling to make ends meet and barely having enough to take care of myself.

I ran away from an abusive home, joined a circus, pickpocketed, street-performed, and did all manner of things to try and keep my head above the water. Of course, not having any formal education beyond middle school, I was severely handicapped in job searching.

Tio put it straight, I was not the guy anyone wanted to be. At all.

But this particular situation, how I came to work for, or should I say 'with', these guys, and how I came to work at such a.. eh, unique, place of occupation, was what baffled me.

I normally jumped from one job to the other - better pay was the aim. I didn't care about the hours, damn if they paid 500 dollars a month to work 24-friggin'-7, you bet your ass I'd take the damn job.

So when I saw this job interview ad on the local paper to be a janitor at a 'werehouse', I was... skeptical. I mean, 10 dollars a day plus free accommodation sounded really lucrative, but then again, how was I sure someone who couldn't spell 'warehouse' could pay that amount?

But believing it was just a typo, I got dressed in my 'best-first-impression' clothes and took a cab to the Moon Manor at 12, Admiralty Way. It was in quite a secluded place, only a few houses were there within a hundred-kilometer radius.

Buzzing the intercom, I noticed a security camera angled towards my face as a female voice asked over the intercom.

"What's your reason for coming to the Moon Manor, sir?"

"Ah... uh, I'm here for the job you posted in the paper yesterday."

"You mean the job interview," the voice did, emphasizing the word 'interview'.

No, you friggin' twat. I mean the JOB. Because I'm getting it. Me. So shove that up your ass till it hits your damn brain, moron.

But no, no matter how annoying whoever this lady was, I couldn't ruin my chances. I had to stoop to conquer.

"Y-yeah, that. I'm here to apply,"

"Enter and knock on the door; you'll be directed from there on."

The gates swung open majestically, which was strange because there was no manual about involved. I thought only sliding gates could do it, but I guess I was technologically ancient.

Knocking on the door, it was opened by a dark-tanned guy in a corduroy t=jacket. He was damn handsome... well I used to be handsome, but my features had become... harder and rough-hewn I guess. He was like a Greek Adonis, and I was more like a slick-talking gun-slinging cowboy from the Wild West.

Get your shii together man, stop drooling over a guy you just met.

"Earth to the absent-minded guy still standing in the doorway," he said.

"Oh, ah, sorry,"

"Yeah," he said, casting me a suspicious glance. "The last guy is done so you're next," he said, pointing a chair and turning to leave.

As he walked away, I watched the well-rounded muscles of his Gluteus Maximus. Oh, the perfect bo...

"Next!"

I turned around to see a sweaty, confused guy stumble out of the office, looking at me with bulged eyes.

"There's so freaky shii going on here man, get out!"

Pfft, princess, I thought as I marched into the room. My first thoughts on seeing the house were that it wasn't a warehouse so-to-say, but rather a mansion. Which was strange, because the newspaper ad referred to a warehouse. Or at least I thought it did.

If I was going to be cleaning this whole thing, I would definitely be bargaining for a pay increase.

"Your name?' a voice asked, jerking me back to reality. There was a lady seated at the desk in front of me, and the first thing I noticed was her eyes. I'd never seen something look so beautiful, yet so fierce and dangerous. The golden yellow color of her irises was just beautiful.

'Ah... Clint. Clint Dempsey," I stuttered.

She smirked.

"Clint, huh? You can take a seat. And you're here for the job?"

Yeah... Yes, Yes I am here for the... uh, job."

"Uh-huh. And where are you from, Clint?'

"The Bronx."

"Ah, the Brox. You must be a hustler then, used to the struggle to make ends meet huh?"

iI looked at her. There was some mild amusement on her face, but it didn't look like she was ridiculing me.

Fine, foxy lady. We'll play it by your rules then.

'Yeah. I guess that's why I'm here. I'm tired of jumping from one bad job to another. I need something stable and profitable to do."

"And you think this is it?"

'Yeah, why not? The pay is attractive, and it does not seem to require any special skills other than those which I already possess."

"Oh, really?' she asked, and then I saw something flash over her facial expression. Something... inhuman. Fear washed over me as I grabbed the armrest of the seat, noticing the goosebumps spread all over me.

Why was I sudden;y petrified? Why did I feel like a cornered pray facing a hungry predator?

"Aren't you going to answer my question?" she smiled.

God, I was such a loser.

"Yeah, really. I can handle the damn... sorry, I can handle the job."

She sized me up and smirked again as she brought out a paper from a cabinet under the table.

"Sign here,' she said, sliding it across the table to me.

She lazily threw a pen and I caught it.

"What's this?" I asked as I looked at the contents of the paper. It was an affidavit or oath of secrecy of some sort. Stating that I would not tell anyone what went on in the 'werehouse' (funny that they kept using that word) and that if I did, I would face 'damning' consequences.

"It is what it is. We don't want to have the finer details of what goes on in this, er... house..." she said, winking. "...to be revealed to people who are not directly associated with what goes on in this house. And we are very... forceful about that.'

I swallowed. What was that wink about, and what did go on in this house? I was beginning to see why no one had gotten the job yet.

'Do understand that by damning consequences, we mean a whole lot of things. Some which may not be very orthodox, or pleasant," she said. Again, that feral look flashed in her eyes, and I was petrified. Yet for some reason, I saw it as a challenge to rise up to instead of running back from, and I signed the papers.

She took them from me, sized me up again, and smirked, something which seemed to be her trademark. Or something about me amused her. Either way, it was a little uncomfortable.

'Welcome to the Werehouse,' she said, grinning.

Instantly, I felt a strong breeze in the room, even though the windows were closed. As I looked at her, her d=features began to change. Her hair grew longer, fangs and claws sprouted from her mouth and hands, and her eyes became wolf-like.

'What the fuck?!'

A few hairs sprouted over her skin, but all the same, she still managed to maintain a human look while having almost all the features of a wolf. She got on all fours and hopp[ed on the table, revealing she was wearing a tight-fitted silk gown.

Not now, impure thoughts.

I was fixed to the spot, looking as she approached, before I tried to stand up. A strong grip on my shoulder forced me back into my chair, and as I turned back, I saw five other 'were-humans' standing there, including 'Adonis' from earlier.

'Leaving so soon, you just started," the lady who held my shoulder said. She should have been in her late twenties and seemed to be the eldest among them all here. At 24, I suddenly began o feel like I was in the company of much more older people.

Maybe it was how fierce they looked.

"What did you think the ad meant by 'werehouse' with an 'e'? You thought it was a typo, huh?'

I was frozen.

"Y-yes. Wait, this is actually a 'werehouse'? As in, a house of werewolves?'

'You could say that," she said, as they all looked at themselves and grinned, "or maybe it is all that and more."

She left my shoulder and helped her friend, my 'interviewer' down.

"I'm Aurora," she said.

"Lucille."

"Andromeda."

"Kane."

"Erik."

"Amethyst.' the last girl said.

'I-I... uh, I'm... uh... Clint." I finally managed to blurt.

There were two guys and six girls in total, and Kane Nand Eric, the guys, extended hands for handshakes... which I reluctantly took. The girls just smiled and began to talk to each other in low growls.

How was I supposed to follow up with this?

The guys joined in the growling while I just took a seat and watched them, numbed by the shock of the turn of events. Was I high? Was I dreaming? Could I take the risk and jump out the friggin' window? A lot of thoughts swirled in my head, none having to do with how the ad was quite... unique.

Suddenly, the noise stopped. I looked up, and they were all looking at me.

Aurora growled at me.

"Sorry, I don't speak.. sorry, cry wolf. Care to dial it down a bit?"

"Ah, sorry., We communicate like that a lot. I guess you haven't been marked."

"Marked? What is that?"

Eric's eyes lit up with excitement; he seemed to be the youngest among them.

"Let me be the one to mark this one," he said.

"We have not established if I will be marked or not. Now, what the hell is a marking?"

"We'll have to leave a little imprint in your DNA, to make our association with each other seamless. You will have a bit of a fever, but it will allow you to communicate with us and give you a few heightened senses, nothing more. Lucille will handle the marking this time," Aurora said, stepping back as the interviewer approached me.

"What about me? Why do you guys always leave me out?"

"You're still a cub, you can't control your bloodlust. We can't assume that you'll be able to get a hold of yours while you taste his blood," Eric said, patting him on the back.

"Exactly," Aurora said.

"Blood? What Blood? What..." I didn't even notice that Lucille had reached where I was until she gently but firmly grabbed my head. I felt her lips dance on the side of my neck, and with what felt like another smirk, she slowly sank her teeth into my skin.

The site of the bite tingled a lot and burned a bit, and I felt my blood rise to her teeth. I also felt a bit of hers flow into my bloodstream, and my heart began racing as my eyes bulged.

"There," she said, stepping back. "His blood is sweet though, I don't think Eric would have been able to let go."

I felt a bit of that feral instinct overwhelm me, and I believe I howled a bit, which made them laugh.

"He'll get used to it, soon," Aurora said, walking me out. "In the meantime, your job is to take care of this house. There are nine rooms in total, that's including the sitting room and dining, and you'll make sure the floors of all are clean - don't worry about the beds. Aquila is here to do that."

I saw a woman in dark clothes wave at me from the kitchen. I waved back.

"You'll be dusting the walls every once a week, and you'll keep an inventory of all the cleaning supplies we have. As the ad mentioned, you'll be sleeping here.'

"Yeah, it did," I whispered.

'I don't need to mention that this house is our prized possession and must be kept clean at all times. It must be well-tended to, do you understand?"

"Sure, and your making a fuss over the house, don't you think? What's so special about it anyway?"

"You're going to find out tonight," Lucille winked.

******

That night was a full moon. As I held on to my bedpost for dear life, I thought about the amount of wordplay involved in naming this place a 'werehouse'.

Not only was it a house full of pseudo-werewolves, but it was also a house that transformed into a werewolf and jumped around every full moon.

******

@Leo_kitti @Hanzell whaddaya think?