Chapter 11: Gerard's Game
The Dread Doctors, a trio of silent, surgical nightmares, had left a residue of pure, unadulterated terror in the air. We were all huddled in Stiles's room, the corkboard a chaotic tapestry of red string and panicked conspiracy theories. The room, which was usually a safe haven of nerd culture and sarcastic banter, now felt like a war room. The shadows in the corners seemed deeper, more malevolent. I felt a chill that had nothing to do with the night air seeping through the window. It was the icy touch of genuine fear, a feeling I hadn't experienced since I woke up in this chaotic town.
"Okay," Stiles said, running a hand through his hair, a gesture that was rapidly becoming his nervous tic. "So we have them. The Dread Doctors. They're a thing. They're surgical. They're silent. They're... terrifyingly fashionable in a retro-futuristic kind of way. And they're experimenting on teenagers. What's the protocol for dealing with creepy doctors who think they're god?"
"First, we don't go into a dark, abandoned lab to confront them," I said, leaning back in my chair. "I've seen enough horror movies to know that's a one-way ticket to a sequel nobody asked for. Second, we figure out their motive. What are they trying to do? What's the end game here?"
Scott, ever the optimist, looked at me with a frown. "I don't know, Adam. They seem like... like they're just evil. Like they want to cause chaos."
"No one just wants to cause chaos, Scott," I said. "Chaos is a tool. It's a means to an end. These guys are surgeons, they're precise. They're not just throwing darts at a map. They have a plan. The real question is, what's their plan, and who's pulling the strings?"
The conversation was interrupted by a knock on the door. It was Stiles's dad, Sheriff Stilinski, a man who, in a town of supernatural chaos, was a beacon of mundane, beleaguered sanity. But he wasn't alone. Standing next to him, with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, was Gerard Argent. The man was a walking, talking, perfectly tailored red flag.
My internal monologue went into overdrive. Oh, great. The Emperor Palpatine of Beacon Hills. He's here to offer his "help" and subtly manipulate everyone into a war. I've read this book. I've watched this movie. I've played this video game. And I know exactly how this ends.
"Boys," Gerard said, his voice a smooth, charming rumble. "I heard about what happened at the school. Dreadful business. I've offered to lend my expertise. My family has been dealing with supernatural threats for generations. We can help you with this... Dread Doctor problem."
Stiles, ever suspicious, narrowed his eyes. "Right. And what's in it for you? A shiny new collection of werewolf heads for your trophy room?"
Gerard's smile tightened, a flicker of something dark in his eyes before it was replaced with a mask of avuncular concern. "I'm a man who believes in order. In a world of chaos, I believe in control. And these Dread Doctors, they are a threat to that order. They are a threat to everyone. Even to humans. We're on the same side here, Stiles."
Scott, with his earnest, idealistic heart, looked at him, hope in his eyes. "He's right. He knows more about this than we do. Maybe we should work with him."
I felt my stomach churn. This was it. The classic "unreliable ally" trope, a trap I knew the pack was about to walk right into. I had to do something. I had to say something.
"I don't know, Scott," I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "I feel like I'm playing chess against a supervillain who thinks he's a good guy. He's offering us a pawn to win the queen. Or, in this case, he's offering to help us with the Dread Doctors so he can manipulate us into fighting his war for him. It's the oldest trick in the book."
Gerard's eyes, which had been ignoring me, finally landed on me. He looked at me with a kind of calculating curiosity, as if he was trying to figure out what kind of threat I posed. "And who is this, Scott? A new member of your... pack?"
"He's a friend," Scott said, a hint of defiance in his voice. "His name is Adam."
"Adam," Gerard said, rolling the name around on his tongue like a bad piece of candy. "You have a very... colorful imagination. This is not a game, young man. This is life and death."
"Yeah, and in life and death situations, you never trust the guy who's wearing a suit and smiling while the world is burning," I shot back. "It's rule number one. Rule number two is to never split the party. Rule number three is to always check under the bed for monsters. You know, the basics."
Gerard just smiled, a thin, humourless thing. He knew what I was doing. He knew I was a problem. And I knew he was going to try and deal with me. The air in the room, which had been thick with tension, now felt like a battlefield.
[ SYSTEM SUB-MISSION ISSUED: EXPOSE THE DECEPTION. UNCOVER GERARD'S TRUE MOTIVES. ]
[ PHEROMONE UNLOCKED: FEAR. ]
A wave of something cold and sharp washed over me, a new ability slot opening up in my mind. I could now, with a thought, activate a pheromone that could instill fear. It was a tool of dominance, a weapon I knew I would have to use carefully. The system, in its own chaotic way, was giving me the tools I needed to fight a war I didn't want to be in.
The conversation went on, with Scott and Derek buying into Gerard's manipulation and Stiles and me remaining skeptical. The pack was split, a fracture that Gerard was already exploiting.
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