MV: Unsafe House

In life, Andy had been fairly strong. In death, he was considerably stronger; picking up a batch of duffel bags in both hands turned out to be relatively easy. Between them, he and Steve got the van loaded up in a single trip. Better still, a set of Steve's spare clothes hung loose on him, so all he really had to worry about was whether all those bystanders had gotten his naked ass on camera, or whether whatever Veronica had been doing had blurred them out.

He shoved that thought aside. He was dressed now, and that would have to be good enough. 

"What's it like to be a werewolf?" Andy asked, as they loaded the last of the bags into place. The van was a customized old Ford, its blue paint faded but still intact. The side door slid back, revealing a sort of couch or bed that covered the far side of the van and then turned in an L to stretch across the back. There were drawers and cabinets under it, but Steve ignored them; the werewolf simply piled all the duffel bags in the floor space, then shut the door. 

"If you're serious about that beast in the back of your head, then you're about fifty percent of the way there," Steve said, after a moment's thought. "You came back as a wight, but if you'd come back as a were then the beast would be able to emerge physically, changing your body into whatever it thought it should be. That's almost always a wolf, but there are exceptions."

"Huh." I think I missed out. Andy would have been much happier as a werewolf than a wight. Changing shape and ripping things apart sounded awesome. Talking to the dead or raising temporary zombies sounded, well... Not so fun. "Are there stats on how many monsters are disappointed with the powers they're reborn with?"

Steve huffed a laugh. "There are remarkably few mortal sociologists who're willing to study people like us," he said. "But I like that you're not so enthused about being a wight."

Andy shook his head. "Our prisoner was right about one thing," he said, scowling. "I'd have made a much better fit as a werewolf than a fucking wight." He hesitated, then added: "I do like the really big claws, though. The rest of it can go directly to hell."

Steve laughed. "You don't have to develop the rest of it. Undead, strong and fast, big claws... you can lean in on that, and ignore the necromantic side of it. A wight would tell you that you're turning down powers that are right there for you, but the choice is still yours."

Andy shook his head. "I'll make choices later," he decided. "For now, I just want to get rid of That Fucking Guy, or at least get clear of him. Titus... the werewolf said his name was Titus. The wight's name, I mean."

Steve stopped, nodded, and then extended a hand. "Climb in," he said. "Get some rest. We're gone the moment Veronica comes back. And Kid? Andrew? You're doing good."