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Darkmoon Lonewolf stood outside Grauman's Chinese Theatre in the cool winter sunshine . The superheroes were out in force like always. Superman, Batman, Thor, Spiderman, and The Hulk were all here giving the tourists an opportunity to snap pictures with their favorite comic book hero, for a price.

Darkmoon grinned as he mused that just about everything had some kind of price in Hollywood. It also amused him that the only real super hero present didn't have anyone asking to take his picture. Well there was the occasional tourist from Nebraska who had never seen a Lycanthrope before. When approached nicely he always obliged, a few times even posing with one of the fake heroes. Unlike the fake heroes he never charged on those rare occasions, but a scritch behind the ear from a good looking female tourist was always welcome. Darkmoon's black and silver tail wagged as he thought about it. Of course there was the argument that calling himself a hero was a bit charitable, but he didn't trouble himself about that.

He decided his lunch break was over and shoved off from the wall he'd been leaning against. His sub - shoulder length black hair blew in the breeze, fortunately his head band kept it out of his eyes. Even as the human tourists were running around in coats, Darkmoon wore only a black buckskin loincloth and a pair of black studded bracers. His fur was his real clothing, black with silver chevrons on the arms and tail. Even his face was furred, though his features were human. Unlike many lycans, his feet were plantigrade with sharp claws and paw pads on his soles. His hands were much the same, and in fact his claws and martial arts skills were his primary weapon in physical combat.

His golden eyes scanned the street as he crossed Hollywood Boulevard to the El Capitan. All the traffic stopped as he crossed for once. His memory was still fresh of a Mercedes air car that almost hit him at head level a week ago. He felt sorry for the insurance company as the huge rents he tore in that car with his claws would cost a small fortune to fix. So far it was a cool and quiet day. This suited Darkmoon just fine.

He turned the corner into the small alley that ran behind the famous theatre. Sure enough, Tommy was there hanging out, as usual.

"Darkmoon my friend, how's my favorite wolf?" Tommie's smile was genuine. The wolf and the human exchanged a high five.

"Good dude, how's business?" Darkmoon grinned showing his pearly white canines.

Tommy frowned, "Slow as hell, it's the cold man. People don't want to get stoned when they are freezing their asses off."

"I keep telling you humans you should all grow fur. I'm nice and warm." Darkmoon grinned at his friend who now wore a pained expression. Darkmoon laughed, "Just messing with you. I'm sorry to hear things are slow."

"You should be, it's eating into your percentage. Sales are down, and it's more than the cold. The damned cartel is trying to move back in again."

Darkmoon frowned. The sale of green smokeable substances occupied a unique gray area thanks to federal law and some conflicting voter passed state laws. It was legal to own the stuff, you could walk down the street smoking it without a care in the world, but it was still a crime to buy and sell it. Mind you it was a crime that the LAPD didn't really care about, unless organized crime got involved. Darkmoon was more a champion of disorganized crime. He was contracted by the independent smokeable merchants of Hollywood to insure that none of the larger groups could move them out. This was in addition to hanging out at the music clubs on Sunset providing extra security, and giving people harassing the public fits with his own unique brand of street justice.

"You know Izzy up on Gower, right?" Tommie's voice grew quiet.

"Yeah, I met him a few times, why?" Darkmoon cocked his head.

"The cops found him in an alley up there with his head smashed in. He's in a bed over at Queen of Angels. Word on the street is that the cartel was up and running within an hour."

Darkmoon growled. "That is just disrespectful. I'll have to send Izzy some flowers and a card."

"Check the alley between Carlos and Yucca. Anybody there is a poacher." Tommy whipped a dime bag our of his pocket and slipped it to the wolf.

Darkmoon inhaled deeply, he loved the smell of the plant, burning or not. "I hate poachers", was all he said as he walked out of the alley and turned right on Highland.

-*-

Darkmoon left "The Cave" about 5 o'clock, right after sunset. "The Cave" was a unique residence as it was unit 0 of the old apartment building at El Cerito and Selma. It used to be the basement utility room of the 1920's era building. Darkmoon and his brother Folix had purchased the building and done some magical remodeling. The former basement had been turned into what looked like a natural cave in living rock. Only the kitchen looked like a normal room. It wasn't exactly a secret lair, but Darkmoon and his friends enjoyed it. It was the scene of many after parties that went on late into the following day. Rock made excellent soundproofing.

Darkmoon rode his black old school Harley hog down Gower across Hollywood Boulevard. He parked his bike on Gower just past Carlos.

Once Darkmoon had the bike secured, he focused his mind and instantly disappeared from sight. Darkmoon might not be one of the more famous super-powered people in LA, but his powers made him one of the more dangerous ones.

He prowled across Gower down Carlos. It was a quiet, if somewhat seedy residential street like so many in Hollywood. Tourists never made it here, and if they did they left quickly. This was Darkmoon's Hollywood, his forest full of predators and prey, just the way he liked it.

Darkmoon set himself up on Carlos across from the mouth of the alley. The alley looked deserted except for a guy hanging out in a carport. The wolf watched and waited. Sure enough an old chevy ground car pulled up and Mr. Carport jumped out to greet it. After a couple of minutes a cred stick and a large baggy changed hands. The car quickly pulled away towards the other end of the alley and sped off. "A drug drive-thru", the wolf mused.

After crossing the street Darkmoon prowled down the alley right up to the carport guy. A well placed fist to the back of the head knocked him out cold, and caused Darkmoon to immediately become visible. That's when the dealer's security opened fire with an automatic rifle. The bullets knocked Darkmoon off his feet and onto his back in the alley. He snarled in rage and pain even as slugs kept impacting him.

Darkmoon forced himself to be calm and play dead. While the bullets hurt like hell they did no permanent damage due to his lycanthropic immunity. His body literally ejected the slugs as it repaired it's self. Not all lycans had this trait, Darkmoon was one of the lucky ones.

The wolf lay in the alley in a pool of his own blood not moving. He used his martial arts training to temporarily stop his breathing to appear dead. It worked. The gunman approached to deliver the coup de grace, walking right up to Darkmoon and pointing the rifle at his face.

Darkmoon grabbed the weapon and ripped it from the man's hands, breaking some fingers in the process. The man screamed, but was quickly silenced as Darkmoon launched himself off the ground and smashed his head with the rifle butt. He dropped like a limp rag.

Thinking quickly Darkmoon dropped both unconscious bodies into a steel trash dumpster. Once it was unloaded the rifle followed making a satisfying clang as it hit bottom. Thanks to all the shooting stealth was out the window at this point.

Darkmoon dropped to the ground to catch the scent of the dealer. He used it to track back to an apartment. The door splintered easily with a super-powered kick. Inside Darkmoon found 9 kilos of marijuana, along with several pounds of substances whose legal status was much less questionable.

Darkmoon grabbed all the illegal substances, along with most of the marijuana and dropped them in with the dealer and his security.

Sirens announced that his time was almost up. Darkmoon crimped the dumpster closed with his bare hands and super strength. He then punched some air holes with his claws.

Darkmoon turned non-detectable and ran for it just as the LAPD sealed the alley. A brisk walk through one of the apartment complexes brought him back out to Gower and his bike. The wolf dropped his green finder's fee in his saddlebag, became visible, and rode back home without incident. Mission accomplished.

-*-

It was two days later and Darkmoon was back at Grauman's Chinese watching the fake heroes when a commotion arose in the crowd. Officer Snow Wolf was there and headed straight for him.

Swolf as the family and pack called him was a duly sworn member of the LA County Sherriff's Department. He was also a famous TV personality who preached safety and awareness in all manner of public service announcements. He was Darkmoon's eldest half-brother.

"Hey bro, how's tricks??" Darkmoon asked innocently.

Swolf gave his half-brother a short growl and then turned his attention to his adoring public. After posing for pictures and signing autographs the snow white wolf finally got free of his adoring fans. Like his half-brother he wore a loincloth, but also sported a real sheriff's badge on a lanyard around his neck.

"I should be the one asking you about tricks", Swolf growled. "I heard about that unique incident up on Gower."

"I really don't know what you're talking about officer", Darkmoon smirked. "Besides, I heard on the news those guys are up on dealing and attempted murder charges. "

"That's true enough, and is the main reason you aren't being hunted from here to Orange County. Why the hell do you do it? You don't need the money. You're risking serious time in the super-max doing this crap. Why?" Swolf's tail was thrashing and it was obvious there were veins throbbing under his fur.

Darkmoon thought about it for a few minutes. "The dealers are my friends bro, and besides it's fun."