Much like what happened to Daren with the female werewolf. Fenrir opens a rift in space and carries Daren through it. It's dark.
Fenrir brought him to one of the forests surrounding New York City. A place where no one will bother them.
Fenrir lays him down next to a tree. "I'll be right back." He says as he walks away, leaving Daren alone in the woods. All Daren can hear is the occasional car passing by on a road not too far from him. Other than that, the forest is silent.
Daren looks up through the tress and sees a full moon overhead. His heart jumps up in excitement. 'This is it! This is the night I become a werewolf!' All of his suffering has finally paid off. It won't be too long now. Soon, he'll have all the power he could ever dream of.
But what should he do first? His mind thinks of an endless array of ideas. All the things he could he couldn't do when he was a human. No one could stop him if he had magical powers. 'Unless someone stronger shows up to stop me. Does New York City have a hero living here, and not one that's made up?'
He supposes that the police might be able to kill him. Although it's unlikely. 'Why hasn't the world found put about magic yet? Unless? That's it! The portal they were using must have led to a parallel dimension where magic is common practice. That might mean that I have free reign here.'
Fenrir comes back holding a dismembered leg. He sets it down next to Daren. "You're going to get hungry after you turn. It's important that you control your bloodlust for now. I've seen far too many newborns get carried away. They end up getting themselves killed in the first couple of days."
Daren takes note of his warning, but all he can think about is the power he's going to have. He's going to make this city his personal playground of death. All will tremble before him. They will all fear the name, Daren. 'No, I need a better name than that.'
Fenrir bites Daren on the arm. Daren's body instinctively tries to push him off as he feels Fenrir's teeth scrape against the bone. As Fenrir unclenches his jaw freeing his arm, Daren feels a rush like he just took a drug. He feels light-headed, and the world around him starts spinning. Fenrir takes the bandages off Daren's hands and feet before leaving Daren alone.
Daren starts seeing visions of his life flashing before his eyes. The long rides on the subway. 'Kill them all.' Spending time with his family. 'Inferior.' Taking exams at the college. 'Pointless.'
Daren finds himself standing in the middle of Times Square. The busy streets where everyone is minding their own business. 'Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill.' No one seems to notice him or his bloodlust. 'Death. I am death.'
The whole city stops moving. All the cars, all the people, and the wind. Every person on the streets starts to talk in unison. "Daren is death. Daren is superior. All hail Daren. All hail Daren. All hail Daren."
Daren watches the scene with a menacing smile. This world is his to control. "It's mine, all mine. The world shall tremble before its new God."
"This world only needs one leader. Me! I shall become the perfect being! I shall rain chaos upon the world. Everything is mine to control. Most importantly, I can have all the women I want."
Daren snaps back to reality. His muscles tense up, his body contorts, and his amputated body parts start growing back. It's a painful process, but he's felt much worse.
His body starts growing fur, and his head starts to change shape. His mouth and nose extend outward to form a canine muzzle. His ears become elongated, and his eyes change color. His regrown fingers grow sharp claws that rival the strongest and sharpest of blades.
At last, he has the power he's always dreamed about. He tilts his head up to the sky and lets out a howl that echoes throughout the neighborhood.
On this day, a monster was born.
Daren stands up and checks out his new body. He's glad werewolves don't look like the Wolfman. They always seemed more human than wolf. In fact, they just looked like humans with that rare hair disease.
Daren stares down at the amputated limb Fenrir had brought him. 'He doesn't know what he's talking about.' Daren fresh meat. He feels good enough to take on an entire army. 'What's a peasent with a gun going to do against me?'
....
Bzzzzzz...bzzzzzz...bzzz... "Hello? McCoy speaking." It's late at night. McCoy gets these calls far too often. After all, he is a homicide detective. "Hello?" He asks again when there is no answer.
"We have a quadruple homicide."
McCoy sighs. If he had known checking out crime scenes this late at night would happen this often, he would have chosen a different career path. But he's passionate about his job. That's why he never had any kids or got married.
"I'll be right there." He says after they give him the address. He hangs up the phone and rubs his eyes. "Fuck."
McCoy pulls up to the crime scene that's already been taped off. He gets out of the car with a cup of coffee in his hand. He takes a sip before ducking underneath the yellow tape.
A female cop approaches him. "The Smith family. Two adults, two children. James Smith, age 36. Louis Smith, age 38. Their two children, Alex and Mary. Ages 12 and 14."
"The parents occupation?"
"Oh, right." The female cops flips through some of her notes. "James worked for an advertising firm. Louis was an amateur writer."
"We need to interrogate the family members first. Then, we can follow up on their coworkers." McCoy stops just outside the house enternace. "Was there a break-in?"
"The main door was broken in."
"I'm guessing that nothing was stolen?"
"None of the jewelry was?"
'Is this the work of a serial killer? Even if they stole something, it would have been obvious that they tried to make it look like a robbery gone wrong.' McCoy is done asking her the textbook questions. What was he thinking by asking her if anything was stolen? Is he starting to lose his touch?
"Before you head inside. I must warn you that the scene is...." The female cop pauses to find the right words to describe what she saw. She distracts herself by looking at what McCoy is wearing. He's lazily dressed, sporting civilian clothing. Wearing blue jeans and a black shirt that is covered up with a light jacket. He has an unkempt five o'clock shadow that bodes well with his dark skin.
"I'll take a look for myself." McCoy isn't expecting anything that he hasn't seen before. This is New York City after all. He's seen hundreds of murders.
McCoy steps into the open doorway and looks around the house. Everything is where it should be. The living room is completely untouched. It's time to see where the bodies are.
Down the hallway leading to the bedrooms, he's sees the first victim. He can immediately tell that this isn't normal. It's the body of one of the parents. Dismembered.
He takes a closer look as the police take pictures of the crime scene. 'Male, most likely James Smith. His arms and legs are torn off, not cut. Multiple serrations on his face, and the killer disembowled him. Is that?' McCoy notices teeth marks on his body. Too large for a human to make. The serrations look like claw marks. He's definitely curious what the DNA analysis will show.
It's a similar sight with Louis Smith. However, the two children don't have any bite marks. Their throats have been slit. 'The killer was eating the victims? Looks more like an animal attack. While the kids' deaths are nothing out of the ordinary.'
McCoy doest know what to think of the situation. He's never seen anything like this before. 'They used unorthodox weapons to inflict these wounds. Most likely after they killed them.' He'll have to wait for the coroner's report.