He didn't like this club

It was too dark, with the only light being neon harsh enough to give him a migraine. The dancer was fine, but there were barely any good places to get an eyeful of her from where he and his mates had to sit. This music would have been great, if it wasn't for that terrible sound system, with the high pitched whine under the thumping beat. Clientele in here wasn't any better, either drunk, or even reaching up to almost paw at the help. This was hardly the place his friends had advertised; his hackles were up the moment he'd stepped into this place.

And then there were these assholes. Three wolves, dressed to the nines in tailored suits, lounging in their booth with whiskey and cigars right across from him. He could feel them staring him down with their smug little grins, eyes boring into head, vying with the pounding beat and the drink. On either side of him, his mate's didn't seem to mind, but then again they were on their fifth shot. No one notices too much after that. Except for him apparently.

He took another shot, the liquor burning his throat as it slid down.

And like that, they were out. On his right, his friend swore, holding the bottle upside down, trying to coax something from nothing. On his left, the other tried to stack the shot glasses into a little pyramid, a feat of dexterity terribly impaired by the drinking.

A dull mote of anger grew, throbbing in the back of his skull. He pushed it down, smothered it, forced it to a simmer. This club was getting to him. There was something in the air that just spoke to the part of his soul that was just mindlessly angry. In here, every little thing threatened to set him off. But he focused, a deep breath, trying to get himself back. One of the wolves waved over the zebra hostess, her hips swaying as the clack of her hooves against hard flooring came closer.

He caught a glint, a glimmer in one of the wolves' eyes, mischief mixed with malice, those eyes still on him. A foot extended, catching the waitress at the ankle, sending her tumbling, drinks flying in a slow and glittering arc, splashing over him and his friends. The wolves howled in mirth, slapping the table and knees.

He snarled, feeling that anger flare backs up in him, working to the beat of the club, the sound overpowering him as he flipped the table, sending glass flying. All eyes on the club turned to him. Dimly, he was aware of the bouncer at the door stomping towards him, but all he could focus on was the wolves, standing up, moving to face him. His friends were on either side as they faced off, eye to eye.

The lead wolf looked over him, eyes glinting, grinning with immaculate teeth. Muscles flexed under suits, ears flattened back. The wolf in front of him huffed, chewing a cigar for moment, and blowing a thick cloud of acrid smoke out over his face. He hissed, ears flattening, feeling his friend's hackles rise along with him. The club overpowered him, the beat of the club matching the beat of his heart.

His claws came out.

The world went red.