August 04, 2003.08.04.03. - cleanup [tucker][posted on the forums by cody: 'gotta do whatcha gotta do']
8/3 11:46
Posted by james at August 04, 2003 12:00 AM
It's been two days, and he hasn't gotten ahold of Decker. It's not that he doesn't want to kill the kid, he'd love to in fact. But he's been thinking.... really thinking. Not that anyone would believe that one were they told.
He had felt the cold hard stare from Erik when last he had seen him, he knew the Alpha thought he was dragging ass. This is somthing that bothers him, he wants more than anything to be Pack with them, so it comes to this he would kill in their names. Picking up his knife he makes sure then sharpen/polish job is sufficient and slips it into the small anklet that it sits in. Snapping the metal clasp around his leg snugly. Standing up he moves toward the condo door then turns back grabbing the address he'd picked up from that damn private school. (getting in and out without miriam or the goth kid seeing him had been an ordeal in and of itself.) He makes his way out witha pack of smokes in hand, ready to walk through newark into the 'burbs.
8/4 1:31 AM
A car. I need a damn car. This becomes his mantra as he makes his way down the sidewalk toward the kid's house. 7454 Westwood Ave, it was nice little house in the suburbs one of those where the residents maintain that they're 'well off' when they're obviously well entrenched into the upper crust. No car in the drive way but there is a motorcycle that looks very familiar. He makes his way around to the back of the house, praying to gaia that it's.... (click ) unlocked. The door swings open in front of him quickly, creaking only slightly. He moves toward the sound of Vendetta Red blaring from the back room. Stopping short he reads a note on the counter.
Petey-
Gone to the pokonos for the week, take care of yourself. There's waffles in the freezer for breakfast with a few frozen pizzas.
-Mom
Good. The kid was alone, that would make this much easier. He makes his way back toward the music, brandishing his knife. Opening the doors he finds.... nothing.
He spins round looking in the next room, nothing. The bathroom, nothing. The kitchen, nothing. He begins to relax, 'the boy aint even home.' he sets his shoulders down then he hears it the sound of somthing heavy swinging through the air, this is processed in a second which in combat is to much. He has spun only half around and catches the brunt of a metal bat in the head. Stumbling forward he gets his hands up and around seeing the fear in the face of a familiar attacker.
He allows the kid to feel the force of his rage ignoring the paind and moving faster than any normal man could dream. (one) the beat of combat fills tucker as he grabs the baseball bat in one hand. (Two) he punches the kid in the nose breaking it into a million pieces. (Three) pulling the kid with the bat he plants a knee in his groin. Watching him puke on the tile floor. "Aww shit kid, i'm gonna have to clean that up."
"Fuck you," the kid repllies. He has spunk, Tuck gives him that. "I knew you'd come here, and i'm ready." What happened next was mixture of the kids good luck and Tuck's lack of preparedness. The kid produces a large sharp letter opener from a silver office set. He rushes Tucker who get his hands up to catch it but doesn't have a good enough aim on the kid's wrist.
As the silver spike passes through the flesh of his hand through into his shoulder pinning it down awkwardly, Tuck can think only of the spirals who had used silver, killed his father and wounded him. This addsto his rage pushing him to shift up through glabro to his war form. Taking the opener between two massive fingers he tears it away, throwing it into the wall leaving an oblong crack in the panel. Pressing back frenzy by only the skin of his teeth, he strares down at the kid who now is on his knees sitting in his own vomit and creating a steady stream of urine that was pooling around him. He draws his fist back and then forward again crushing the kid's face and sending chunks of the front of his skull through the back. Slowly he comes down from the Rage high and shifts back to his homid form, making his way out the back door and back to the condo on the motor bike, of course.
8/4 - the penumbra outside the kid's home - 11 AM
The umbral trip had been the short end and the more difficult as well James had kept things light hearted which was nice because Tuck had a feeling his reaction to the mounds of forensic evidence was going to be less than amused. He had been able to come through with a HUGE amount of methamphetamine in a very short time though and that was a big plus. Crossing over to the physical world, James inspects the damage.
"You're beginning to work like Decker, Fang." The Gnawer's face contorts with a grin. "And you are cleaning that up. Not me." The Urrah moves about the room, stopping to pick up the opener and the crack it left in the wall. "S'small can fix this with some toothpaste. I'll work on that and planting the er... contraband with the kid. You get some peroxide and start cleaning that floor. Make sure you get everything. No slip ups, we don't want anyone coming down on you do we?" He asks the question like a joke, much to Tucker's chagrin.
"What about the body? Leave it on the other side?"
"Won't work, why not go drop him off a building?" chuckle, beat. "We'll bring him down and bury him in the barrens."
8/4 - 6pm - kids house
Spotless. Time to go home.
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