Teen Wolf: Void Stiles

"Back in black!!~

I hit the sack!!~

I've been too long, I'm glad to be back!!~

Yes, I'm let loose!!~

From the noose!!~."

I liked my music loud and my web browser lagging. 

If I didn't have at least twenty tabs open at any given time, it meant a wasted afternoon.

Today, I had seven Wikipedia sites alone and not to mention Tumblr, WoW forums, Reddit and so on while Ac/dc thumped its way through the computer's speakers as I tapped my foot erratically to the beat. 

My focus was scattered on a good day but tonight I had plenty of Adderall.

Weirdly enough the music helped me, it gave the idle part of my brain something to hone in.

I wonder if other people with ADHD had several different tracks their brains chugged away on.

With my meds, I could get my focus down to two things and without them, I get sleepy and fussy and hyper all at once.

No wonder my teachers despaired of ever getting me on topic, I couldn't help it, my brain was a wild, bucking stallion with no chance of ever being tamed. 

Boredom for me wasn't just dull, it was dangerous.

One part of my attention was always keyed to my dad's presence, here or at the station, I always tried to keep tabs on his whereabouts.

I had a police radio in my room and sure, it was no big deal that I had a ham radio in the official dispatch frequency attached to my Jeep.

I was the son of the sheriff, it was practically my God-given right to spy on the man. I only had his well-being in mind, after all! 

Fine, it was totally and thoroughly illegal and could get my father suspended or worse but that would only happen if I got caught and I rarely got caught.

If I did get caught, it was only for minor things, a little bit of misdirection from the big stuff. 

I had learned to lie with a straight face nearly eight years ago and I had no intention of stopping now. 

Two simple words - "I'm fine," - had become the foundation for my entire life of calumny.

I might be a bit of an adrenaline junkie, so what? At least I wasn't out speeding on motorcycles or doing drugs or something.

I got my adrenaline rush from snooping in my dad's department. There were worse things in the world.

So as I worked on my paper for Coach Finstock, I listened with half an ear to the scanner. It was always kept on when my dad was at the station and turned off when he was at home. 

There was nothing special about today. A few speeding tickets, one minor drunken brawl at the town's only dive bar and a lost cat. Boooooooring.

Nothing ever happens in this town and it was no wonder my paper veered off onto the mythical foundation for male circumcision. 

I was bored and this seemed like a good way to get a rise out of Coach. There was something incredibly satisfying about making that man go a little crazier than usual.

I was elbow deep in Jewish lore when I heard the front door slam and then I was up and moving. 

The music was down, the scanner was turned off and my Tumblr tab was closed just in time because my dad poked his head through my open bedroom door a second later.

"Hey, kid. I'm home for the night."

"Hey, dad."

I put on a distracted tone and trailed off, my fingers still flying over my keyboard, acting for all the world like I was indifferent to my father's arrival and departure.

That was how we operated, a wall up in between us, keeping the real emotions at arm's length.

It worked fine for the both of us. my dad wasn't exactly the most emotionally available guy, after all a cop had to be able to compartmentalise and I had learned that trick at my knee.

"What do you wanna do for dinner tonight?"

"No pizza," He snapped, finally swivelling around to give me a look. "You promised."

"Yeah, I know. No salad, either, though."

We faced off for a moment before I shrugged and gave in.

"There's a veggie lasagna in the freezer. I got it on the way home from school. Just turn the oven to 375 and follow the directions."

"...I can live with veggie lasagna," The sheriff conceded after a moment and I relaxed as the man stepped out again. 

I loved my dad, loved him so much there were no words for it sometimes. 

So when his cholesterol test came back high a few months ago, I had brought the hammer down. I had expected a lot more whining from him but frankly my old man seemed to buckle under the new healthy regime. Maybe we are finally getting somewhere.

Filling the hours of our evening off, we ate a quiet meal and watched a basketball game that I had zero interest in.

I brought my laptop down to work on my essay some more, long fingers tapping relentlessly over the keyboard. 

Did the noise annoy my dad like it should have? No ideas as the man gave no sign of it.

Around eight though, the phone rang. It was a landline call, which meant official station business. 

I filled myself up on the sofa, almost dropping my laptop in haste to get to the phone first. 

Of course, my dear father was counting on that and carefully and deliberately tripped me back onto the couch with a deft foot. 

As I whooped back onto the cushions, the sheriff quickly plucked up the receiver.

"Hello? Yeah. Uh huh. ...Oh, god."

And with that, he picked up the entire telephone and moved into his soundproofed office, closing the door with a click.

I wasn't thwarted by it in the least, I simply moved into the kitchen and very carefully picked up the receiver in there.

Really my dad should know better than this by now. Shame on him. 

With my palm muffling the receiver, I listened in to the whole conversation and then I wasn't sure if I should be sick or bouncing with excitement. 

Because two joggers had found a body in the preserve. Half a body. Only half. A girl, maybe mid-twenties. It was the most brutal death to happen in Beacon Hills in six years.

I had a morbid fascination with this sort of thing, a sort of a 'can't look away' feeling, like standing at the top of a tall cliff and looking straight down. 

Most people would just see the drop, I saw the drop and heard a little voice in the back of my head that told me exactly what would happen if I jumped.

Well I was like a moth to a flame, drawn to the permanent finality of death, nothing bad. Just...fascinated. 

I knew that made me a Grade-A weirdo sometimes as my best friend loved to remind me.

Oh, shit. Scott. Scott needed to know this right away. 

It would be their Stand By Me moment, Scott could be Jerry O'Connell and I would be River Phoenix! If they found the rest of the body, they'd be heroes. 

They might even be able to figure out who did it to the poor girl. Solving a brutal murder? God, everybody would be so impressed and that made up my mind, as far as I was concerned.

Slowly I dropped the receiver back into the cradle, finger pressing down on the button to hang up the call without a 'click' to make my old man aware that I had been listening in. 

I was back on the sofa with the laptop perched on my thighs, well before he re-emerged. 

Now this… this would take a very careful act.

I immediately looked up, my eyes lit up in interest and already begging my father to spill.

"What happened dad? Are you going back to the station? Did you get a big call? Is this another animal attack or something?"

"You know I can't tell you that, kid," He said, with a tired shake to his head. "But yeah, I'm going in. It's...not good." 

He moved into his study, unlocking his service weapon and going to put his uniform jacket on over his civvies while I followed behind.

"You gotta let me come with you!" I exclaimed, running a hand over my buzz cut. 

"I'm good at seeing all the little things. Is it a robbery? A car accident? Is it a murder? Is it an international diamond smuggling cartel? C'mon, gimme something to work with here!"

"No!" He snapped, his face pulling into a scowl. "I am not bringing my teenage son to an active crime scene!"

"So it is a crime scene!" He groaned in dismay and pointed a stern forefinger at me.

"You are outta line and you know it." He sighed, rubbing his temples.

"Now you're staying home tonight and you're not coming with me and you're not going to sit in your Jeep and listen to the dispatch radio, you understand? Go upstairs, finish your homework, I'll be home later, you get me?"

I slumped, seemingly defeated. 

"Yeah, I get ya, fine but you're seriously passing up a great opportunity, here. I'm like...Sherlock Holmes, you're keeping me from my true potential."

"Your true potential wouldn't be getting a C in chemistry."

That was an effective defence, damage 100.

"That's only because Harris is a total A-hole," I muttered, standing easily aside as my father left his study. 

He had learned to not even attempt to correct my language because all it did was encourage me to find better synonyms and Anglo-Saxon syllables.

"Don't stay up too late," He reminded wearily, beyond the end of my tether. "It's a school night."

With that he was out of the front door. I immediately straightened up, grabbed my laptop and flew up the stairs two at a time, my long legs pumping and stumbling against them. 

I only tripped once, which was a record for me. my laptop was tossed onto my bed and I  started getting dressed. 

Jacket over my flannel, my hiking boots pulled on and laced up. It took me about five minutes to root around in my messy closet for my flashlight, a big metal Mag-light that had been my fifteenth birthday present. Its weight was very comforting in my hand because I knew full well what was out there. 

An animal at best, a vicious murderer at the bad and a vicious murderer who had the capability of vivisecting people down at the very bottom of the definition of bad scale.

I repressed a shudder as I slided down the tree next to my room's window. 

I had learned a long time ago not to go out the front door, the neighbours were snoopy old people who needed to mind their own business. Which was richly ironic coming from me.

As I reached my Jeep, I slid into the driver's seat, hoping my nosy neighbours were all busy watching Leverage or something.

Snapping the flashlight on and off to make sure the batteries were good, I popped the car into neutral, coasted backwards down the driveway and didn't start the engine until I was straight along the road, away from the house. 

That way, if anybody was looking, they'd just see me having car trouble or something.

I might have been a little paranoid but just because I'm paranoid doesn't mean I'm wrong.

The drive to Scott's house was surprisingly slow and sedate because the last thing I needed was to get pulled over or even noticed in my Jeep. 

I froze a bit as a black and white screamed past me on Fourth Street with sirens and lights blaring but the deputy behind the wheel thankfully didn't notice the good ole me.

It would be no surprise if he was on his way to the murder investigation. 

When I was finally in Scott's block, I found what parking I could and strolled up to my best friend's house.

I crawled up the drainpipe on the side of the house, landing lightly on the eave above the porch, crab-crawling my way toward Scott's window. I saw him just out of the shower, pulling on a t-shirt and then freezing at the slightest creak.

Oh, good, Scott was having one of his paranoid episodes too, smirking to myself, I scooted my way down to the edge of the roof and hooked my ankles to the drain pipe. When Scott came out the front door, I was gonna swing down and scare the crap outta him.

That's what best friends are for, right? I waited, suppressing the laughter bubbling up in my chest and waited until I heard the door open. One step. Two.

"HAH!"

I swung down, arms out, blood rushing to my head. In the dim light of the porch, I saw Scott start to swing something big and bat-shaped towards my head. 

My triumphant cackle quickly turned into a screech of terror, shielding myself from the impending blow to the skull. 

Scott was screaming too, backing off and dropping his weapon.

"Stiles! What the hell are you doing?!"

"What am I-...? Why do you have a bat?!"

"I thought you were a predator!"

"A preda-...oh my god."

We laughed it off while I was still dangling from my feet. I am getting quite the headrush from this and honestly I'm enjoying it.

"Okay, look, I know it's late, but you gotta hear this. I saw my dad leave twenty minutes ago. Dispatch called, they're bringing in every officer from the Beacon Hills department and even state police."

"For what?"

"Two joggers found a body in the woods."

I hauled myself up by grabbing the edge of the roof and unhooked my ankles, dropping down with a light thump and only a slight crackle of breaking branches. 

Scott bleached leaning over the porch railing and looked faintly ill. 

Scott never had the same fascination with this sort of thing like I did, which was probably a good thing in the long run. 

He was sweet, naive to a fault.

"Wait, a dead body?" Like that.

"No, a body of water," I sighed, rolling my eyes. 

"Yes, dumbass! A dead body!" I slowly climbed up over the railing to get on the same level as Scott, a self-satisfied smirk on my face.

"You mean, like, murdered?"

"Nobody knows yet." I absolutely loved this, lived for it even, being the one to come up with their daring schemes. 

Scott would follow me like a puppy wherever I led him, which was why we were such good friends. 

Teenage guys like us didn't really do emotions but there was an unspoken agreement between us. 

Brothers from another mother, that's all they were and always had been. So when I suggested this sort of wacky shenanigan. Scott would follow. 

"They said it was a girl, probably in her twenties and possibly naked."

"Hold on," Scott said, gulping and looking confused. "If they found a body then what are they looking for?"

"That's the best part." I rocked back and forward on my feet, heel to toes, stuffing my hands in the pockets with a big smirk plastered over my face. "They only found half."

Scott's jaw dropped and his eyes popped wide, I nodded satisfied by his reaction. I knew I could count on Scott to back me up here.

"We're going."