Hisao and Akira(?!)- Terror in the Night! Conclusion Update!

[Hoitash]

"I survived because the fire inside burned brighter than the fire around me. I fell down into that dark chasm, but the flame burned on and on." –Joshua Graham, AKA The Burned Man

Previous Chapter

Part Five: Resolution


For almost as long as humans have walked on two legs, we have feared the wolf. There’s something about them that frightens us, seeping its way into our bones and chilling our hearts, filling us with a sense of reckless, irrational fear. Long ago humans and wolves became brothers, but, now, they are feared and hunted, sometimes to extinction. Still, we grudgingly respect our fellow predators, if for no other reason than in remembrance of what we once shared.

So you’ll forgive me if I wasn’t playing with a full deck when I stepped into that damned wheat field. The fact that I almost blew my brains out not five minutes ago ought to have been a fair indicator of my mental state. Swaying and rustling as I waded through it, the wheat itself seemed possessed of some supernatural power, but it was probably just my nerves getting to me.

Barely up to my waist, the budding tips of the golden stalks felt like thousands of eyes watching my every move. That, coupled with the thunder, flashes of lightning, the fierce, pounding rain, and the fact that I could barely see anything that wasn’t right in front of my face, made my mind go a little blank as I edged my way toward the sound of Hisao's howl.

The thought of that wolf, on all fours, dragging me down and tearing into my stomach almost made me cry, but I had a job to do, and a pseudo-brother-in-law to find. Hanako and Hisao weren't family by blood, but they might as well be, and the thought of being responsible for his death spurred me forward. If nothing else, I had to find him, dead or alive; preferably the latter. How I'd deal with the werewolf alone wasn't something I even wanted to consider, but I was really more terrified by the prospect of telling Hanako that Hisao had met with a grisly end under the razor-claws and dagger-teeth of a supernatural beast.

Glancing down at the revolver, and willing my hand to stop shaking, I tried to remember how many times I'd fired. Three times sounded right, but I wasn't sure. Turning the dagger to rest along the heel of my other hand, I unlocked the chamber on the revolver; I was right, three shots left. Staring at the cold, shining metal, I wondered for a second if I might need the last one for me, after all.

A rustling sound to my left snapped me back into focus, pushing the dark thoughts aside and bringing more terrifying ones to the forefront. Relocking the chamber and palming the dagger, I strained my eyes against the night and rain, trying to see the source of the movement. Roughly a dozen meters to my left, something was moving towards me in a narrowing circle; I was being hunted. Unsettled by the stalking chevron, I set my jaw and remembered I'm a lawyer; being hunted is something I do not like. It was time I play the predator, dammit!

Watching the parting grain, I saw it move closer to me, while still appearing to move closer to Hisao. It had to know I could see it, so I couldn't fathom what it was doing. Readying the revolver with one hand, I made sure my grip on the dagger was firm as I took a long, slow step toward the rustling.

Immediately, the rustling stopped. Like a flash of yellow-eyed lightning, the massive beast leaped from the wheat, streaking at me with its dagger-filled maw agape and its razor-like claws glinting in the rainy moonlight. This time, there was no hesitation; I aimed and fired. The revolver spat at the monster, and I ducked down just after the bullet grazed its left shoulder. Stumbling weirdly, it gave up its attack and instead dove over me, and I managed to cut a red line in its flank with the dagger as it passed.

Once it had passed by completely, I bolted upright just in time to watch it start loping through the wheat, headed toward Hisao. Its retreating chevron sped away much faster than its approach.

"Great," I lamented sardonically to myself, now it was directly between me and Hisao. Not having a choice, I started moving in the same general direction of the werewolf, tracing along the left side of its broken path.

As fight or flight finally kicked in, my body was wracked with adrenaline. Still terrified and jumping at every alien sound, I was able to push the fear back into the recesses of my mind as I waded through the wheat, but just barely. After a few tense minutes, a flash of lightning made me jump. My eyes widening with the flash, I caught sight of something looming over the wheat in the distance.

“Hisao?” I called.

When lightning flashed again, the figure was gone. Keeping my eyes on the spot intently, after a few moments, sure enough, once again the monster was prowling its way toward me through the wheat. Watching as it slowly stalked closer and closer, I didn’t think it was going to jump this time.

Just as its stalking form became visible through the wheat and rain, I heard Hisao howl again. The creature shifted slightly, following the sound, then spun back in my direction; apparently caught between deciding which of us to kill first. Settling on me after a long moment, it started dashing forward on all fours, growling maliciously.

Holding my ground as it charged, I waited as long as I could before screaming and jumping to the right. Landing and rolling onto one knee, I watched the beast stand on its hind legs barely more than an arm's length away. When it lunged down at me, I rolled again to the right, bringing up the revolver as it clawed toward my new position. Before I could fire, it wrapped the claws of its left paw around my hand, cutting off circulation and preventing me from pulling the trigger. As it tried to crush my fingers, I cried out, and my heart practically skipped a beat.

Snarling, the creature towered over me, its saliva-covered teeth bared as its tongue licked its lips. Its piercing, iridescent eyes burned through the night, bright and boring into me. Grimacing, I thrust the knife at the hand grasping my own, but the beast roared in pain as my dagger imbedded itself in its other palm as it moved to rip at my side. Shoving me away, the beast snapped with its teeth before swiping at me with its good hand; just barely missing my thigh.

Falling into a leftward roll, I shakily levelled the revolver in my pained hand as I came up, letting out a snarl of my own. The wolf lunged and tried to bite, so I pulled back and rolled to the left again as it crashed into the muddy field. Barely looking back, I stood and broke into a run, heading toward where I thought I had heard Hisao.

Feeling the pain shooting up my arm from my hand, I realized there was no way I could beat that thing with physical force. Hearing it shuffling behind me, I turned and roared, "dammit!"

Again the beast charged at me, so I dodged to the left, whipping the dagger at it in desperation. Lodging midway down its back, the silvery projectile brought a roar of pain from its frustrated throat as it turned mid run to face me. Again Hisao howled, and this time the wolf didn’t hesitate to run off after him; evidently deciding I wasn't worth the trouble.

Down to two bullets, I no longer had a dagger, and my wits were starting to fray, but Hisao was somewhere in that vast field. Of course, there was a werewolf between us, but the adrenaline being pumped through my veins by my quickened heartbeat had numbed me to the abject terror I knew I should have been feeling. Making sure my hat was on securely, which seemed silly in retrospect, I started jogging toward the noise, looking desperately for the rustling trail of the creature. Keeping myself focused on finding Hisao, because it was the only thing preventing my mind from locking in terror, I trudged onward, half blind, covered in sweat, mud, and werewolf blood.

The beast was getting slower, though, it seemed. Not quite lethargic, but its last few attacks lacked the voracity and agility of its assault on Hisao's summer home. With the blade wound to one of its paws, and gunshots through its shoulders, it probably hurt for it to run on all fours for long. Deep stab wounds in its back probably had a similar slowing effect, and the red line on its flank probably sent stinging pain every time it twisted around. Keeping those thoughts in mind, I paced along quickly, following its rather obvious trail of broken grain stalks and claw prints in the mud.

Another blast of lightning lit up a hulking figure to my right, and I knew instantly, even through the dark and the rain, it wasn't Hisao. In another flash I saw it wasn’t alone. Hisao stood at arm's length, deflecting claw strikes with his bayonet. The beast lunged constantly at his head with its vicious jaws, and repeatedly yelped as the bayonet struck against its assault.

"Hisao!" I yelled, breaking into a headlong run.

“Took you long enough!” he yelled back, pivoting away from another claw strike.

Swiping at its face as he spun, it recoiled and barked a pained protest. Seeing that moment, I leveled the revolver and fired it at the wolf’s chest. Striking somewhere in its midsection, the bullet sent the creature rocking away, roaring painfully. Raking its claws at Hisao, and missing terribly as it lurched sideways, the monster spun and started running toward me. Favoring one of its legs, the beast still outpaced any man, so I took no time in leveling the revolver once again; preparing to fire at the last possible moment.

Hopefully, if anything bad happened, Hisao had an extra bullet for me.

The wolf was barely a meter away when lightning flashed, and thunder boomed overhead, hiding the crack of Hisao's rifle as it blasted a hole through the creature's chest. Stumbling and yelping as it fell forward, doubling over limply, its momentum sent it down at an awkward angle. Stepping quickly out of the way, I yelped and nearly stumbled, but kept my feet. Watching it crash into the wet, muddy ground, I saw its massive form heave as it groaned; my shaking hand keeping the revolver trained on its head.

Stepping cautiously, I slowly moved closer, ready to fire if the thing so much as twitched. Despite everything, the werewolf was staring at me. Its yellow eyes, dimmed and half-shut, were no longer filled with the hatred they had held. Helpless and defeated, it no longer seemed threatening or malicious. Instead, its eyes were filled with pain or fatigue, and something like remorse.

Listening to it whimpering like a hurt puppy, I almost felt bad for it in that moment. Hearing Hisao moving next to me, his rifle aimed at the creature’s head, I noted his grim look and thought I saw something like pity in his eyes. Looking back as the creature's breathing became more ragged, I watched as its eyes rolled into the back of its head. The whimpering slowly became shallow, laboured breathing, followed by gurgling, and then… nothing. Its glowing eyes went dark as it slipped into oblivion.

The beast was dead.

“It’s… dead,” I half-mumbled, still not quite registering what had just happened. My brain was still pretty foggy at that point.

“Yeah,” Hisao said, sounding no less disturbed.

As the wolf slowly transformed back into its human form, Hisao peeled off his duster and tossed it onto the dead man. He was an ancient, shriveled being, with bits of white hair along the ears and neck. There were no claws or jagged teeth, or even an excessive amount of hair; as though he had never been a werewolf at all. The only remaining evidence that he had ever been the wolf-man were the horrific-looking wounds left by our weapons during his final assault.

“You okay?” Hisao asked.

Turning from the dead man to look Hisao over, I noticed his sweater-vest was torn, his bayonet was bent, and it looked like he had a bloody nose. There didn't appear to be any scratch or bite marks on him, though, so in the long run he was fine, even if he was breathing heavily.

“Yeah," I replied shakily, "how’re you?”

“Okay, considering," he replied with a slight shrug. Screwing his face up, he went on to ask, "do… we wanna talk about what you almost did back there?”

Realizing what he meant, I quickly explained, “it wasn’t cowardice, if that’s what you’re thinking. I had an idea and I wasn’t thinking clearly and I-”

“It's okay," he interjected, holding up a muddy hand, "you were terrified, you were trapped, you weren’t thinking straight. I’m just glad I was able to stop you,” he smiled, “your family needs you, after all. Plus Kenji would freak if he lost his secret scotch supplier.”

“Thanks,” I snorted, smirking dryly, "I guess.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied.

Both standing there numbly, neither of us seemed entirely sure what to do next. After a somewhat long, uncomfortable silence, his eyes scanned over me for a second before he asked, “did you get my hat?”

Raising an eyebrow at the odd question, I shook my head and answered, “my hands were full.” Shrugging, I took my hat off and handed it to him. Looking down at the dead body before us, I inquired, “now what?”

“First,” Hisao said, reaching into his pants pocket, “we let our very worried families know we’re okay.”

Flipping the hat onto his rain-soaked head, he drew out his cellphone, dialed it, and waited. When someone on the other end picked up, he started speaking, “Hey, Hana, sorry for not calling. That stray dog showed up, so Akira and I chased it up the road for a while." Looking at me and nodding, I guessed he didn't plan to ever tell her what really happened.

"We’re fine," he said reassuringly, "and I don’t think it’ll be back." After another glance my way, followed by a look down at our next project, he forced a smile; more like a wince. "Got some bad news, though," he said, then paused. Nodding a response to a question I couldn't hear, he continued, "the storm did some serious damage to the summer house. Front door’s gone, front window’s gone, and there’s a hole in the roof."

More wincing on his part followed, accompanied by a muffled, raised voice that I could hear even over the rain; Hanako sounded irate, and that made me smile weirdly. "Yeah, Akira and I are gonna stick around and patch it up. I think we can still use it; we just need to be careful. I’ll call the contractor in the morning," he explained, not looking particularly content with the half-truths he was relaying.

Pausing, his face turned through a few different expressions, settling on a resigned look that seemed typical of a married man. "Don't worry, we’ll be back in time for breakfast," he said finally, "love you, too. Bye.”

Hanging up the phone and shoving it back in a pocket, he looked to me and motioned toward the body. "Wanna help me with this?” he requested, kneeling down by its torso.

The fast change from loving husband to determined wolf-slayer, or grave-digger, as it were, was rather jarring. The grim apathy written in his expression as he waited for me to respond caused me to wonder if he really was used to dealing with dead bodies; I probably didn't want to know.

Kneeling by its legs, I finally replied, “sure.”

Hefting the corpse by the legs, I lifted it under my arms while Hisao wrapped his elbows under its shoulders. The garish gunshot wounds, stab wounds and the long slice along its flank oozed dark red gore, staining Hisao's duster as we slowly walked back to the house. Keeping my eyes away from the body as we walked, I fought with every instinct in me to just drop it and run, but I couldn't abandon Hisao to do this alone.

The rain was starting to ease, and it was down to a light mist by the time we were actually back to the house. Setting the body down in front of the porch, we stretched and groaned. Hisao turned his gaze to the holes that used to be his front door and window, sighing disdainfully.

“Good thing we keep plenty of plywood in the garage,” Hisao mentioned, staring at the garage absently, “Hanako likes to use it when she works on parts.”

“Good,” I rubbed my neck and tried to shake some water from my hair, “hey, you got an extra shovel?”

Nodding, Hisao asked, “gonna help me dig the grave?”

"Yeah," I replied with a nod, "figured I should help put the poor bastard to rest.” Smirking slightly, my nerves were still in tatters as my body started to crash from the adrenaline. “Besides," I added, "it would suck if after we survived all that, you overexerted yourself digging and died from a heart attack.”

+++
Next Chapter

We wept, when we remembered Zion.

A concluding part will occur on Halloween night. Then we will return to our normal broadcasting schedule, which should feature 20% more noire, 35% fewer corpses, and 42% more former Yamaku students (actual numerical results may very). Feedback and complaints can continue to be directed at both myself and my liquor cabinet.

[Dumanios]

And so he goes down fighting, and Akira as Kenji's scotch supplier.

[Hoitash]

And so he goes down fighting...

Indeed, may his tormented soul finally know peace.

...Akira as Kenji's scotch supplier.

I got the idea from an old fic, and figured it made sense for both their characters, so why not?

[Helbereth]

You should change the 'updated' date to the 27th.

[Hoitash]

You should change the 'updated' date to the 27th.

Emperor's bowels, knew I forgot something.

Fixed, and thanks.

[Hoitash]

“When I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff - they comfort me.” – Psalm 23:4, Russian Synod Version

Previous Chapter

Part Six: Conclusion


By the time we finished patching the summer house, the rain had subsided, the clouds had begun to part and the sun was rising over the distant treetops. Beaming through the dissipating clouds and casting long shadows across the grain fields, shadows that didn't leap at or try to kill me, the warm rays bathed the soaked earth in warmth, and brought a contented smile to my face. After what we had spent the night doing, I was glad to see sunlight. If that sounds campy, so be it; I was alive, I had survived that hellish night, and I don't mind being a cliché one damn bit.

Standing outside the front door with a gardening shovel over my shoulder, I waited for Hisao to take his morning meds and hide the guns and daggers back under the bed. With his own, smaller shovel tied to his belt, he stepped out from the garage, over the dead man and let out a resigned sigh. Without a word, we knelt and rolled the body onto a sheet of plywood we had left over from patching the ceiling; a makeshift gurney to make carrying it -him- easier.

“I called Kenji,” Hisao mentioned as we started walking toward the woods, “he figured out who this guy was.”

Hisao told me his name, but I tried to tune it out. With the adrenaline and panic of last night, I had been able to suppress the fact that the thing trying to kill us was once human. Now, with his broken body suspended on a plank between us, I didn't need his name echoing in my mind. Looking anywhere but at his shape hidden under the sheets Hisao had wrapped him in, I tried to physically shake the realization out of my head. He deserved perdition for what he had done to the poor man from the newspaper, what he had tried to do to Hisao, myself, and our families, and I didn't want to feel sympathy for a murderer; lycanthropy wasn't a good enough excuse.

“Hey,” Hisao prompted in a grating, sympathetic tone, "it's not his fault."

Looking at his back, and sneering at the hat sitting a little crooked on his head, I couldn't help feeling a little betrayed. Trying to justify the murderous rampage this man, this thing, brought down on this sleepy corner of Japan didn't make any sense.

"Not entirely, at least," he continued, "all we can do now is try and remember the man, not the monster.”

Had anyone else been telling me this, I would have snapped back with a biting response. However, he had been there the whole time. Hisao, if anyone else could, understood the potential disaster this man had brought, so I practiced self control and considered his words carefully, even though I thought he was crazy.

Intellectually, I knew it wasn’t really the dead man’s fault, but that didn’t assuage my anger very much. The one thing I did agree with was that he deserved to be laid to rest. If for no other reason than because we had been the ones to put him out of his misery.

Put like that, maybe it was a good idea for us to be the ones to do this. Not that we had much choice, but, being able to differentiate the man from the beast would make it easier to forget about this whole mess. Dropping my head down and sighing with frustration, I hid my face under the brim of my hat and tried not to think.

We couldn’t make a tombstone or marker, so, once Hisao found a nice spot with loose dirt near the forest edge, we just started digging. Hanako probably wouldn't miss the sheets Hisao used to wrap the body, but we couldn't bring them back with those bloody stains anyway. As death shrouds go, it was better than nothing. Once the hole was dug, we used the plywood plank to lower him into the hole, and slipped it out from under him.

Removing our hats, we stood by the unmarked grave for a few moments until Hisao settled an expectant stare on me. It took me a second to realize what he was waiting for. Nodding, I reached into my pocket for that little Bible and sighed. Resigning to the responsibility, I recited the proper psalm passages, trying hard to keep the venom out of my voice.

"Amen," I finished, and closed the book.

Moving to start filling the hole, I stopped when I saw Hisao hold up a hand. Pulling something from a pocket, he climbed down into the hole and frowned; in his hand was a small, silver chain. At the end of the chain, necklace, really, was some kind of small medallion with an embossed figure.

“This was in the box,” he explained, staring down at the dead man, “according to the note Kenji left, it depicts Saint Nicholas the Martyr.”

Laying the necklace across the man's hands, over the sheet, he stayed there for a long moment. Helping him back out of the grave, I was surprised to see his calm visage cracking a little. Turning away from me and back toward the grave, he bowed low and muttered, “both Empires were less for your loss.”

Nodding, I also bowed as a single tear somehow snuck out from the corner of my eye. In that moment, the realization hit me like a truck. He really was just an old man; a damned, tired old man. He was forced to bear an unbearable curse until someone, anyone, could set him free. Realizing I had been part of that allowed me to hate him a little less, and understand the pity Hisao felt a little better.

As the sun continued rising, pushing the cold damp from last night's rain out of the air, the two of us set about shovelling dirt back into the hole. Tired beyond words, we didn't have anything else to say, really, so we just went about the work in detached silence. Once the grave was full and smoothed out, we stood back and stared at the pile silently for a few minutes until Hisao took a deep breath and sighed.

“Well, we better clean up and head off to Lilly’s,” he remarked, tying the shovel back to his belt. Watching as he knelt to grab an end of the plywood sheet, I groaned and took up the other end.

Slinging the shovel over my other shoulder, I followed as he started back toward the house. Aside from having been chasing a werewolf around in the dark, and nearly getting killed in the process, we had spent the entire night boarding up his front door and window, patching holes in his roof and digging a grave; we were only conscious because of necessity.

Walking back in silence for a while, he paused once the house was in view again. Dropping the plywood into the pitch, he turned and raised an eyebrow at me, his tired grimace seemingly held in place by the dirt caked on his cheeks.

“I shouldn't need to tell you," he said, straightening his shoulders as he spoke, "but you probably shouldn't discuss this... experience... with anyone except me and... maybe Kenji."

“No shit," I grunted, smirking through the fatigue, "I think I’m gonna find a closet tonight and drink until I throw up.”

Sighing heavily, he shook his head and shrugged. “I wouldn’t blame you," he replied with a chuckle, "still, Kenji said on the phone he thinks our ordeal would make a wonderful adventure novel.”

“Kenji’s insane,” I snorted.

“No doubt," Hisao agreed, grinning and nodding, "but that doesn’t make him wrong. He and I have started working on some adventure novels ourselves, and a fictionalized version of last night would be an excellent addition.” Glancing sidelong at me, he tilted his head a little and added, “you would have to help, of course. You might even make a good viewpoint character expy.”

Shaking my head vehemently, I protested, “no way in hell!" Seeing his crestfallen expression, I tried to explain myself by saying, "I don’t want to remember tonight, and writing it all down will only make me remember it better.”

“True," he agreed, but I could see the knowing smirk coming back across his features. Nodding, he continued, "however, it would be a nice way to remember that poor soul we just buried. It would allow his tragedy to be told to others, so they too could mourn him. Even if only in fiction.”

Sighing, I shook my head and retorted, “I still don’t think it’s a good idea.”

Shrugging, he lifted the plywood up again and we continued our trek across the wheat field. The thought of intentionally remembering the horror we experienced last night sounded crazy to me, so I thought he had dropped it, but I was wrong.

As we slid the sheet of plywood back against the wall in his garage, he spoke up again. “How about this,” he bargained, his mischievous smile again reminding me of his bespectacled cohort, “you and Kenji have a drinking contest. If Kenji wins, you have to write it down.”

“Are you serious?” I balked.

Watching him nod, I laughed for a minute at the absurdity of what we were discussing. After calming down, I sighed, caught my breath, and grinned back with my own devious look.

“Alright, fine," I replied, pointing a confident thumb at myself, "but there’s no way he’ll beat me!”

+++

Well, all y’all know how that turned out.

Night, Day, let’s not argue about who posted when.

Hope you enjoyed my foray into suspense. Thank you Helbereth for your mad editing and proofreading skillz, hope this sets a good precedent. I also hope those punks don’t find out about the bodies, because I kinda like all that gambling money we stole.

Either way, Happy Halloween, see you next time for Mystery Seven, back on the main thread, hopefully with 85% less angry mob! Wait, what day is tomorrow? Oh crap, I gotta go buy a cake!

[Helbereth]

Wait, what day is tomorrow? Oh crap, I gotta go buy a cake!

With pink frosting?

[Hoitash]

Wait, what day is tomorrow? Oh crap, I gotta go buy a cake!

With pink frosting?

Perhaps. Come to think of it, for what I have planned, I might need two; one for each thread .

[Scissorlips]

Thank you for this piece, it made quite a great Halloween addition, and the action remained gripping right to the bloody end of the second to last chapter. I don't know if absolutely every detail that was included near the end was needed--hauling the body back, hauling it to the woods, burying it, all of that kind of felt like it detracted from the tension, and the release and ensuing relief, of the battle. Still though, I enjoyed this piece quite a lot, and I'm glad I took the time to read it.
Here are a couple small things, I don't want to sound nit-picky but I wanted to mention them in case they might help in the long run.

the thought of being responsible for his death spurned me forward.

This should be spurred - being spurned is quite different.

the prospect of telling Hanako that Hisao had met with a grizzly end

I'm fairly certain there were no werebears in this story (a shame, really), so again, this should be grisly.

Thanks again for the good times, Hoitash.

[Mirage_GSM]

I enjoyed the story as well, but

“both Empires were less for your loss.”

If that was a reference to anything, I didn't get it.

[Hoitash]

I don't know if absolutely every detail that was included near the end was needed...

I was mainly using the events as a backdrop for Akira to mull things over. The amount of time it takes to haul the body and bury it gives her a decent amount of time to do that. One could also argue that it's meant to be clunky to reflect their exhausted minds, but that gives me way too much credit

Here are a couple small things, I don't want to sound nit-picky but I wanted to mention them in case they might help in the long run.

Danke for those, I seem to have an eatmydiction like obession with bears when it comes to grammar.

Thanks again for the good times, Hoitash.

You are quite welcome /bows. I got more words lying around, so don't be a stranger .

I enjoyed the story as well, but

“both Empires were less for your loss.”

If that was a reference to anything, I didn't get it.

Thanks, glad you liked it, too. But now you have stirred my inner dork...

Ahem (puts on historian hat):

The former werewolf was first a subject of the Russian Empire. Following that, he became a subject of the Empire of Japan. Hisao's comment reflects the fact that this man was mourned and missed by people in both entities- reinforcing his status as a man, not a monster.

So its only really a reference to the fact that he lived in two Empires (and outlived them both, hence the past tense.)

[Mirage_GSM]

Ah, okay, I thought you had a specific historical person in mind.

[Hoitash]

Ah, okay, I thought you had a specific historical person in mind.

Eh, I'm not that good.

Though having Rasputin as the werewolf woulda been awesome. It also woulda detracted from the drama and suspense.