My mother always said, “If you ain’t howlin’, you ain’t livin’.”
Did Lou Garou’s mother tell him the same thing? No way to know for sure. If I were to guess, I’d say “yes”.
“Howl, young man, HOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWL,” she’d say with fire in her eyes, and Lou would nod and take a swig of his father’s whiskey. No donuts, though. Not during mother’s lessons. Never during mother’s lessons.
Lou would howl. He’d howl until his howler was sore. “Why, mother?”
She’d turn on him and say, “To know you’re alive!”
And he’d feel alive. At first he was just faking. But, once the howling starts, you can’t help but feel alive. Howl, you crazy, drunken sumbitch. Howl.
The howling is real now. Lou is a worthless drunken cop who lost his father at a young age. He stumbles into work late and into the bar early. The howling was forgotten for a time, but it surfaces again. A late night and a bloody pentagram and there’s no room for a fake howl.
WOLFCOP drinks and shoots and eats donuts with abandon. He bangs hot bartenders against prison bars while the tape rolls. “AaaaaaaaaaaaWOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” It’s slow and seen through a soft-focus lens. It is better than a somewhat similar scene in BloodRayne.
Werewolf prison sex > Vampire prison sex. I can now say that with absolute certainty.
WOLFCOP chops up a police car to make it his own, because WOLFCOP doesn’t give a shit about your rules. He cares only for justice, and for ripping faces off of men and throwing them on windshields. Their skeleton faces may keep coming and biting, but WOLFCOP will not be stopped until the evil is purged and the whiskey is gone.
WOLFCOP is Hobo With a Shotgun in wolf form. He loves hard and kills harder. He’s a cop without a mustache because his entire body is a mustache.
He’s WOLFCOP. You get in his way, you get dead.
Keep howling, Lou Garou.