Vincent woke up with a large towel draped over him, Mr. B clasping a firm hand upon his shoulder.

“You did it, son,” he said, shaking him. “You did it.”

Alacard looked angry, and was that envy in his eyes?

“Sure did,” Vincent said with a sleepy smile. “I think I’m gonna go back to sleep now.” And without worrying about the next steps, the next set of instructions or if he was supposed to do anything else at this point, he shut heavy eyes and blacked out again.

Alacard spun on his heel and walked up to the entrance, knocking his knuckles against it with a sneering snarl. “Let me back in there, teach. I wanna go another round.”

Mr. B gave Vincent a slight nod and smile, thinking, well done, Vincent. Well done indeed.

“Mr. B,” Alacard said with the urgent insistence of a son to his father. “Let me in already.”

Mr. B moved to the screen and did what he needed to do to let Alacard back in, worried for the boy as he wondered if he could even master it. But if anything drove Alacard to master the Transformation at Will at this point, it was Vincent mastering it before him. It had seemed to light a fire under Alacard’s ass and began a true rivalry between them.

Alacard tried three more times and wasn’t able to get it. He hollered and fell to his knees, slamming his fists against the ground. He lifted bloodshot eyes to the screen, a mixture of pleading and defeat in them. “Why can I get it? Why must you curse me?”

Mr. B wasn’t sure whom Alacard was cursing, but felt a sense of guilt at the thought of letting his student down. He clenched his fist as he wasn’t just about to give up on Alacard. And while proud at what Vincent had accomplished, he really had to figure out how to get Alacard to master the Transformation at Will.

Was it too late for the boy? Would he be found in his dream by his Beast Mind? What would happen then? Mr. B knew what would happen.

No. He mustn’t think those thoughts or allow that to happen. He’d do everything he could. He’d drag the boy through the mud before letting that happen. He’d beat it out of him if he had to.

Mr. B entered the room, his eyes dark and distant and heavy as they fell upon Alacard. “You can’t just force it. This isn’t some fantasy story where you cry out and it just comes to you. Even so, you can get this, you just have to –”

“I just have to what, teach?” Alacard spat with animosity. “Do what Vincent did? Well apparently, I can’t.”

Mr. B felt shame at the sight of Alacard seeming to lose his steam. At admitting that Vincent did something he couldn’t for the first time. And while it was probably a good taste of reality for the boy, Mr. B had a feeling that Alacard had experienced many let downs in his upbringing and with his family. At least he had a strong sense of a lack of familial support at home. Mr. B felt his own sense of neglect when dealing with the boy, so he lowered himself to Alacard and tried to speak with an understanding and empathetic tone.

“You can, and you will, son.” He placed a reassuring hand against Alacard’s shoulder, gripping it tight like a formidable handshake to let Alacard know he could do it, that his teacher believed in him.

Alacard pulled from his grip with a frustrated growl.

If that wouldn’t work, then… Mr. B stood and stepped back, his voice low and intent.

“Try again,” he said, and then turned and left with the full intention of pushing Alacard again.

Alacard wasn’t able to get it, and for the first time, Mr. B began to worry about his student, which brought to his mind things in the past. Dark and desperate things that led to desirous behaviors that had caused him, and those around him, a lot of pain, even if it was for pure pleasure at that time. Another regret in his past. Another thing he never wanted anyone to know. And yet, it had happened. He wouldn’t let it happen to Alacard. Yet how was he to help the boy if he couldn’t help himself? Alacard was clearly drawn to the Beast Mind, to his impulsiveness, to his dark desires and animalistic nature?

“Dammit.” Mr. B slammed his fist against the table, sending a shockwave though the room that woke Vincent from his slumber.

“T-teacher?” Vincent said, rubbing a hand over his face and sitting up with a dazed and tired look. “What is it?”

“Nothing, son,” Mr. B said, trying to calm himself from the frustration.

Vincent stepped to Mr. B’s side and leaned toward the screen. “H-has Alacard mastered the Transformation at Will?”

Mr. B bowed his head. “No.”

The mist rose in the room, revealing a curled up Alacard that had shapeshifted back to his human form. He shivered and let out a shaky growl as he pushed his hand against the ground, doing everything he could to stand and hold himself steady.

“I…want…to…” He swallowed, blinking tears of pain from his eyes. “Go again.” Then he fell flat on his face.

When Mr. B moved into the room, he carried a small vial of glass that had some sort of purple, luminescent liquid in it. He lightly slapped Alacard on the cheek to wake him up.

“Time to get up, son,” he said, holding the vial out to him.

Alacard blinked at it and leaned back, his face screwed up. “What is it?”

“Something that will help you heal up faster than a night’s rest.”

Alacard slapped it away. “I don’t want it.” He sounded like he was fighting back tears, his body wet with all the perspiration.

“You’ll want to drink it, son,” Mr. B said, sternly pushing it toward him again. “And also get yourself hydrated.” Mr. B handed him a large water bottle.

“Fine,” Alacard said with a snarl, snatching up both.

He popped the top of the vial, sniffing it, and jerking back with a disgusted look. “Ugh, it smells awful.” It was like an intense purple soda that was overly sweetened with sugar to the point of making one’s stomach turn.

“What’s the saying some people say?” Mr. B said with a playful smile. “No pain, no gain.”

Alacard glared from Mr. B, to Vincent, and back to the liquid. He shrugged and downed it, looking like he was about to throw it up while forcing it down. He then opened the water bottle, leaned back, and poured a ton into his mouth, swishing it around and downing it in large gulps, then coughing and holding his throat.

“Yuck.” He blinked after a few moments and looked at his arm, flexing his hand into a fist with a perplexed stare. “What in the wolf is this stuff?” he said with a chuckle and a surprised smile. “It’s awful.” And yet, he looked happy and fully restored.

Mr. B shrugged. “Just be happy it helped you. You may experience a mild headache and an upset stomach later. Other than that, you’ll be just fine.” He slapped Alacard on the back.

While Alacard seemed surprised at his newly-healed state, he looked away from Mr. B, his shoulders slumping. “I failed.” There was a cracking defeat in his voice as if he was going to cry. “Curses, I failed.” He slammed a hand against the ground.

Mr. B placed a hand upon Alacard’s shoulder, his voice dropping to an empathetic one. “You didn’t fail, son. You just­ –”

Alacard slapped his hand away again and pushed himself to his feet. The push turned into a jump as he didn’t realize he was truly at full strength.

“Whoa.” He wobbled there for a minute, blinking again, then let out a little grumble before stumbling toward the door. He glared at Vincent.

Vincent frowned. “Don’t be angry at me because it tasted bad.”

He was trying to joke around, even though the tension seemed to build. He was also trying to laugh off the taste and feeling of that purple liquid that reminded him of rotten grapes and bad cough medicine with copious amounts of sugar.

Alacard chuckled, taking another swig of his water bottle. “Think you’re better than me now, eh, chump? I don’t care if you can transform at will. I’ll still take you down.”

They were facing each other, and Alacard had pushed a finger against Vincent’s chest. While Vincent had been beaten by him, that was before the present situation. He had a feeling he could take Alacard now, so he didn’t like that Alacard was pushing a finger against his chest, and, so, he growled and stood his ground.

“Are you gonna get out of my way, or make me do something you’ll regret?” Alacard said.

“Let him go,” Mr. B said, his voice low and sad.

Vincent moved, and Alacard shoved by him, taking another swig of his water.

“I’ll see you later, chump,” he said, sauntering away.

Vincent watched him go, then turned back to Mr. B. “What was that you gave us?”

“You know wolfsbane, right?” Mr. B said. “Think of that as wolfsboon, in that it does the opposite of hurting or destroying, and it does it quickly. Granted, the side effects can be fun, but only last for a night or so.” He chuckled, his voice back to normal, but Vincent could sense a lingering sadness. “I want to show you something, so come with me.”

Vincent blinked and nodded, wondering what his teacher was going to show him. He glanced back in the direction Alacard had gone, feeling a bit of sadness mixed with some relief. He had finally surpassed him. He had mastered the Transformation at Will. He could transform into a werewolf now.

What else was possible from here?

While he felt bad for Alacard, he knew things were going to be up from here on out.

The night sky was like a dark ocean that covered the horizon in blackness. Mr. B and Vincent stood facing each other, a soft wind blowing about. Why had Mr. B brought him out here, and what was he going to show him?

“I want you to transform and come at me.”

“Um, what?” Vincent said, blinking.

Mr. B didn’t give him time to react, and had transformed himself, his feet clawing at the ground as he made aggressive posturing.

He snarled. “Transform to your werewolf form now!” His voice was bestial and had a powerful command and urgency to it.

Vincent nodded, licking his lips and looking down at his hands. “Okay.”

He had just done it. Had mastered the Transformation at Will, so how was he to do it now? And was it wise for him to do it out in the open? What if he lost control? What if he –

“Stop thinking and just do!” Mr. B snapped, which got Vincent to focus.

Vincent leaned forward, his body tensing, his hands clenching, and he drew on the thought of the werewolf. A moment later he was transforming, quicker and smoother and less painful. Then he was, once again, there as the mighty werewolf. His sense of smell, sight, and sound hit hard, intense and stunning. His ears jerked to the sounds of cars. To the sound of swaying trees and leaves rustling. To two students giggling and whispering to each other on the other side of the building.

“Whoa,” he said, feeling the intensity of it all. But it wasn’t as bad or invasive, just clear and present. Weird.

He stepped back, letting out a little snarl of surprise, but then gathered himself and leaned forward with a low growl as he flexed his arm, his tail swishing. Confusion hit him, as he wasn’t sure where to focus as his ears took in many different noises. They snapped to attention from an echoing clap that Mr. B had made as he slapped his hands together.

“I’m over here, Vincent.”

Vincent shook his head, then narrowed his eyes, a low growl emitting from his snout. He smirked and leaned forward, one hand placed on the ground, ready to pounce and bound forward. “This is cool.”

“Show me what you can do,” Mr. B said, beckoning him forward.

Vincent was happy to oblige. He nodded and kicked off from the ground. It felt amazing to move in this form. Like gliding on a cloud, swift and strong. He was wild and fierce and so many things. This was true freedom.

He felt pain as Mr. B moved on him and uppercut him in the chin with such quickness and ferocity that it dazed him. He stumbled backward and fell on his back with a hard thud, little werewolves floating about his vision.

Mr. B slid to a stop, hovering over him, his eyes controlled and focused yet hungry and wild.

“Is that it?” He snarled with a relished smile as he must have been enjoying this wild freedom as well. He extended a hand and helped Vincent up, then knocked him back with a mighty shove, making Vincent slide backward. Vincent kicked off the ground and landed in a crouch not far away.

“Again,” Mr. B growled. “Come at me.”

Vincent nodded, this time calculating his moves, wondering how he would defend against Mr. B’s onslaught.

He darted forward, Mr. B also moving from his spot, and they met in the middle, hands clasping together in a match of will and raw power, pushing against one another.

Mr. B smiled and let out a little snarl. “How does it feel to be in your werewolf form? To engage in the raw power that is the beast within you?”

Vincent squeezed his fingers down, clawing his feet in the dirt as he felt Mr. B’s strength overcome him and push him back surely and steadily.

He gave a toothy grin and dug in harder, stopping his backward slide. “It feels great.”

He let out a snarl of his own and grunted, pushing with all he had. As Mr. B advanced on him, Vincent’s smile widened as he leaned back and eased his pressure, making Mr. B stumble forward, his eyes showing that he didn’t expect this move. Vincent palmed him in the chest with all he had, sending Mr. B tumbling backward, head over heel, kicking up grass and dirt into a cloud of debris.

“Whoa,” Vincent said, his eyes wide with amazement, not realizing that he had such power. He looked over at the dissipating cloud, concern crossing his face as he dashed over to his teacher who was sprawled on the ground and looked like he had blacked out. “Teacher, I’m sorry.”

As Vincent came upon him, Mr. B lifted his head in a quick motion, a sly smile on his face.

“Never let your guard down,” he said while quickly uppercutting Vincent into oblivion. Pain shot through Vincent’s jaw and body as he was flung backward, flopping onto the ground with a heavy thud, the wind knocked out of him as he grunted.

As Vincent’s vision moved from blurry to clear, he felt something come over him. He realized that while the blurry vision was most likely from the strike, there was something more going on, and he couldn’t really continue onward. His body felt weak, and while his mind screamed for him to move, he had no energy to do it. And by the time Mr. B had moved on him, it was too late, and the shadow of a shape of his teacher came down upon him, a dark silhouette of terrible and terrifying energy and power.

“Time to finish this,” Mr. B yelled as he punched forward with all he had, and when the strike hit Vincent, everything went dark.

                                         .           .           .