After School, Progress and company made their way to the parking lot. There, just like in the cafeteria everyone was centered around Amélie, but this time not for her beauty but for her car.
A black Porche Cayenne SUV. The group of students oohed and ahhed, impressed by the SUV's specs. One of them asked, "How fast can it go?" Amélie grinned mischievously. "Let's just say it's plenty fast. Maybe I'll give you guys a ride sometime and show you what she's got under the hood."
Liam swaggered up to Amélie, a charming smile plastered on his face. "Hey, Amélie, this car is amazing, but I think the real beauty is the one driving it." He winked, trying to come off as suave.
Amélie raised an eyebrow, her expression unimpressed. "Thanks, Liam, but I think I'll stick to admiring the car. It's a lot more reliable than some people's egos."
The group chuckled, and Progress smirked, enjoying the subtle burn. Liam's smile faltered for a moment before he regained his composure. "Oh, Amélie, you're feisty. I like that. Maybe I'll take you for a spin and show you what this car can really do."
Amélie's eyes sparkled with amusement. "I think I'll pass, Liam. I'm not sure I'd want to risk my car or my safety with someone who's more interested in showing off than actually driving."
The group laughed louder this time, and Liam's face reddened slightly. Progress grinned, thinking that Amélie had just put Liam in his place.
Amélie's smile grew wider as she added a final blow to Liam's ego. "To be honest, I'd rather go out with someone who's calm and collected, like Progress here. He's got a sense of style that doesn't need to be flashy to impress."
The group erupted into laughter, and Liam's face turned a deeper shade of red. One of his friends, trying to stifle a grin, chuckled and said, "Dude, that's the second girl in less than a month to turn you down for Progress. You might want to rethink your approach."
Liam's eyes narrowed, his pride wounded. "Shut up, man," he muttered, trying to save face. Liam's anger boiled over as he watched Progress laugh and smile with Amélie. He couldn't take it anymore. With a sudden burst of rage, Liam lunged at Progress, trying to punch him in the chest. But Progress, anticipating the attack, stood his ground.
Liam's fist connected with Progress's chest, but instead of Progress flinching, Liam let out a blood-curdling scream. He clutched his hand in agony, his face contorted in pain.
"Ahh! My hand! Oh God, it hurts!" Liam yelped, hopping on one foot as he cradled his injured hand. Progress, meanwhile, hadn't even flinched. He looked at Liam with a mixture of concern and amusement.
"Hey, Liam, are you okay?" Progress asked, taking a step forward. But Liam was beyond reason. He was too busy nursing his broken hand, his pride wounded even more than his physical pain.
It was clear that Progress's physique was far more formidable than Liam had anticipated, and his punch had ended up being more detrimental to himself than Progress. The group watched in shock, some of them wincing in sympathy with Liam's pain. Amélie, however, looked impressed by Progress's calm and collected demeanor.
Eli, keeping his cool commented. "You know, you could've caught that if you wanted to?" He said at Progress as he smiles.
Eli's comment was laced with a hint of admiration, and Progress smiled in appreciation. He nodded in agreement, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Yeah, I guess I could've," he said, his voice low and even.
The group's attention was still focused on Liam, who was nursing his injured hand, but Eli's comment had added a new layer of depth to the situation. Amélie's eyes lingered on Progress, her expression thoughtful. She seemed to be reevaluating her impression of him, and Eli's comment had only added fuel to the fire. "You're a pretty interesting guy, Progress," she said, her voice softening. "I'm looking forward to getting to know you better."
~~
Later that day, Progress made his way to the library to research the history of Beakon Hill. There, as if by luck or coincidence a book from the top shelf fell down on him. As he was reading through the pages he found something interesting. A article about the founding families of Beacon Hills, but what really caught his eye was that the Dupont family...more mostly Aurélia Dupont was a key figure in the founding of Beacon Hills. According to the article, she was a wealthy patron who had invested heavily in the development of the town. Her vision and leadership had helped shape the community into what it was today.
But what really caught Progress's attention was the portrait of Aurélia Dupont accompanying the article. He couldn't believe his eyes - the woman in the portrait looked exactly like Amélie. The same piercing green eyes, the same raven-black hair, the same porcelain skin. It was as if Amélie had stepped out of the past and into the present.
Progress's mind was racing with questions. Was this just a coincidence, or was there something more to it? He felt a shiver run down his spine as he gazed at the portrait, his eyes locked on Aurélia Dupont's enigmatic smile. He couldn't shake off the feeling that there was a connection between Amélie and the town's history, and he was determined to uncover it.
Progress's eyes scanned the article for more information about Aurélia Dupont's life and legacy. As he read, he discovered that she had been a mysterious figure, shrouded in secrecy and intrigue. Some said she had been a member of a secret society, while others whispered about her alleged supernatural abilities.
The more Progress learned about Aurélia Dupont, the more he became convinced that Amélie's resemblance to her was more than just a coincidence. He felt an inexplicable connection between the two women, as if Amélie was somehow linked to the town's history.
Progress's determination to uncover the truth grew stronger. He decided to dig deeper, to see if he could find any more clues about Aurélia Dupont's life and her connection to Beacon Hills. He began to make a mental list of questions he wanted to ask Amélie, hoping that she might be able to shed some light on the mysterious connection between her and the town's founder.
As Progress walked out of the library, the cool night air enveloped him, a stark contrast to the warm glow of the reading room. The darkness seemed to swallow everything, and the only sound was the soft crunch of gravel beneath his feet. He had lost track of time, immersed in his research on Aurélia Dupont and her connection to Beacon Hills.
As he strolled down the sidewalk, the dim streetlights casting long shadows, Progress noticed a figure lurking in the distance. The figure was shrouded in darkness, making it impossible to discern any features. Progress's instincts kicked in, and he quickened his pace, his eyes darting back and forth, searching for any signs of danger.
The figure kept pace with him, always staying just out of reach of the streetlights. Progress's heart rate increased, and he felt a sense of unease wash over him. Who was this person, and why were they following him?
Progress turned down a side street, the darkness seeming to close in around him. The figure followed, its presence making the hairs on the back of Progress's neck stand on end. He walked faster, his senses on high alert, his mind racing with possibilities.
Progress took a sharp turn, hoping to lose the figure in the darkness. He glanced back over his shoulder, but there was no one in sight. He let out a sigh of relief, thinking he might have shaken off the follower.
As he turned to face the front, he suddenly found himself face to face with a man who seemed to materialize out of nowhere. The man's eyes were pure black, like two voids sucking in all the light around him. His sharp fangs gleamed in the faint moonlight, making Progress's blood run cold.
The man's grip was like a vice as he grabbed Progress by the neck, his fingers digging deep into his skin. "You smell like her," the man growled, his voice low and menacing. "Where is she?"
Progress tried to speak, but the man's grip was too tight, constricting his airway. He struggled to free himself, but the man's hold only tightened. Progress's eyes widened in fear as he stared into the man's black eyes, unsure of what was happening or what this creature wanted. As the man's grip continued to constrict his airway, Progress felt his consciousness begin to slip away. His vision blurred, and his body went limp. But just as all hope seemed lost, a strange sensation coursed through his veins.
His body began to shift and contort, his muscles expanding and his senses heightening. His eyes transformed, taking on a piercing green glow, reminiscent of his Guardian wolf status. His face elongated, his jaw and teeth transforming into those of a wolf. His eyes, now a vibrant green, gleamed with a feral intensity. He let out a low, rumbling growl, and his body tensed, ready to strike.
The man holding him seemed taken aback by the sudden transformation. His grip loosened, and Progress took advantage of the momentary distraction. With a swift motion, he broke free from the man's grasp and stood tall, his wolf-like form towering over his attacker.
The man took a step back, his black eyes fixed on Progress's transformed state. "You're...one of them," he snarled, baring his fangs. "But what are you? I've never seen a pup like you before." The man's words were laced with contempt, and he seemed to be savoring the prospect of a challenge.