It has long been known that Witches have been associated with Werewolves since ancient times. Whether it was a Witch turning a man into a wolf, the presence of Werewolves when Witches reportedly made their pact with the Devil, or a Witch healing a Werewolf, the two were nearly synonymous with each other.

Simply put; where Witches tread, Werewolves roam and where Werewolves tread, Witches roam.

The Hunters knew this, so when they had heard whispers and rumours of 'Witch Circles' – strips of bark tied into a circle – they sent preliminary scouts to the rural town of Hopeful in order to investigate. What they had reported back was a female Werewolf that the scouts marked as an 'Alpha' that the locals referred to as 'Gwen Lovelace'.

Despite what modern story tropes said, Werewolves did not actually have any known weaknesses, which was why any smart Hunter poisoned them first. Using specifically wolfsbane was, he had been told, just a superstitious tradition that Hunters followed 'for good luck'. Any poison, in truth, would do the trick as long as it was strong enough. Silver seemed to be the only exception for that the rumours were right about.

Maybe.

No one was entirely sure, but it was all they had to go on as a possible cure for Lycanthropy and was the heart of his research. Based on the pre-movie stories Lycanthropy was, as near as anyone could tell, some kind of magical infection transmitted via a scratch, or bite. Silver is both antibacterial and one of the magical metals, so it was plausible. Of course the right kind of silver had to be used in order for it to be effective against bacteria. Conveniently, the bacteria can also carry those deadly silver ions to yet other bacteria, thereby killing those ones as well.

It's very useful for dealing with an infection.

How an infection could ever cause a person to transform into a Werewolf was believed to be possible through magical enhancement.

It was about the only reasonable explanation, but not enough of one, so he had began doing independent research, which had gotten him the attention of the Hunter's Association.

Now, he lugged a heavy can of gasoline over to the light blue house. Behind him his colleague followed with a second can.

The entire rural town of Hopeful had already been lethally poisoned with the wolfsbane, something that he reminded himself was a lot more peaceful than gunning them all down, or knifing them.

Are you stupid? A voice in the back of his mind asked him, a little louder than normal, Poison is one of the worst ways to go-

And, as usual, he crushed that voice with his own, louder, assertion that putting down an entire town to prevent the spread of lycanthropy was necessary.

“God, I'll be glad once these monsters are all gone.” His colleague grouched behind him.

“'Creatures'.” He corrected over his shoulder, “These creatures were once Human; have a little respect for that.”

His colleague snorted and said, “Whatever man. You can take your false morals somewhere else as long as you keep killing them. One of these little shits killed two of our guys just a couple of hours ago and that was just a pup. Don't get too soft-hearted on them.”

He pursed his lips for a moment in response to his colleagues' comment before he started praying that the gods that they would show mercy for the town of once-Humans when their souls reached the other side. Death, afterall, was the only known way to release the creatures from their cursed plight, but their souls were still those of a Human, the precious creations of the gods themselves.

As he splashed gasoline on bushes and the exterior of the house he sang a hymn.

Five thousand people dead... We have got to find an alternative, a cure, for this curse.

It was a forced thought, to make himself feel better that he was actually just annoyed at the tediousness of the task and the heavy weight of the jug. Due to the fact that they could only carry in so much of the gasoline at a time he and the other Hunters had to parse it out strategically to make certain that all of Hopeful would burn.

Half an hour later and he watched, standing just outside of town on the main road leading to Hopeful, next to a car with a faded, gray paint job, as the first bottle with a burning rag and fuel was thrown and-

A plain blade, six centimetres wide and runneled protruded out of his chest from behind. His first thought on registering that it was there was that the blade must be very sharp to be going straight through his breastbone like that.

“And you call us the monsters.” A woman's ragged voice said from behind him.

Oh Hell... He thought, finally realizing what was happening.

He fell to the ground dead and stared down at his own corpse while blood rapidly pooled around it. He watched as the woman who had just killed him ran past. She was wearing darkly bronze-coloured and articulated armour with an antlered helmet and a raised dome to accommodate her chest. Over the armour she wore a periwinkle coat that shifted to gentle pink as the light caught on it. The coat, he noticed, was chased around the edges with gold embroidery.

The embroidery looked strangely familiar.

He wondered who she was.

“That was one of the Werewolves you were just trying to kill.” A male voice said above him, “But that's not for you to concern yourself with anymore.”

The next thing he knew there was a rush as things blurred past and then he was on a train, with someone who felt so immensely powerful sitting next to him that he was certain they were a god.

He was wrong, like he was about everything else he though that he knew. The divine hierarchy went as thus:

The Universe itself, which is self-explanatory.

Upper Deities; spat into existence by the Universe and in charge of massive Sectors of intergalactic space such as everything encompassed by the Virgo constellation (as an example).

Greater Deities; in-charge of multiple galactic clusters.

Lower Deities; in charge of a single galactic cluster.

Lesser Deities; in charge of a single galaxy.

God-like beings that are not Deities; in charge of planets.

Not realizing that the being sitting next to him wasn't even a god-like being he, confused and certain that a god would know the answer, asked them, “Where are we going?”

“You are going to hell.” The stranger replied, “And am escorting you there.”

“Wha-why am I going to Hell?!”

“Because you kept killing the hereditary super soldiers meant to keep evil at bay and the life on your planet safe.”

“Wha... No I wasn't... I was killing Werewolves.”

“Yes. That's what I just said.” The stranger replied irritatedly, “What you would consider Higher Powers created them.”

“I... I... I was...” He stuttered.

“The villain, the bad guy, the persecutor of innocents... I believe is what you are trying to say.”

“I-I-I-I didn't know-!”

“I-I-I-I- Yes you did. I told you repeatedly. Over and over again. You just ignored me. This is the price you pay. Douche bag asshole sack of-”

The chewing out went on for a while and involved an impressive degree of swearing.