January 06, 2004
.01.06.04. - hunt's revenge [erik-decker-kemp] *me conclusion

[chicago general]

(st)
Two Kinfolk sit at the wheel of the boosted van, large enough to accommodate the Eagles Pack, sitting in the back. Following the directions giving by Erik, Lexi slows the van down to a halt, pulling up along the curb on some desolate side street somewhere, in the grittier district of town. The surrounding neighborhood; littered with vacant and broken down houses, seemed an unlikely place for the Red Talon to be hiding. Far as Erik can tell the scent seems to be the strongest around in this area, the One-eyed Talon was nearby, if not within sight upon the street.

Across the way, sitting on intersecting street corner, resides a brick building, three-story in height with a protruding fire escape running up the side. You face the backside of this brick building, it also seems to afford some minor activity.


(erik)
"He's 'ere." Erik scans out the windshield of the van quickly before going for the door, if someone else hasn't opened it yet. "James, with me. We're going cross. Deck, take Kemp and hole up somewhere down there." He points down the street, in the direction he can feel his quarry.

(decker)
Is that it? Somehow, Decker expected something a little more impressive, the way everyone was running around like headless chickens about this thing. Like a little blood on the steps, human skins hanging from the windows. Something like that. Something...wyrmier, he supposed, than just a few Garou who had an unfortunate taste for human flesh. Well, shit, a mission was a mission. Had they merely been maneaters, Decker might not have been so consenting to this hunt. But the minute kinfolk came into the question, his qualms became irrelevant.

The Alpha's angry, and it's not as though Decker hasn't killed over slights and insults before.

"Hole up?" Decker's brow furrows. "Ya spookin' 'im out 'r what?"

(kemp)
Crammed in the back trying not to squirm around and cause a ruckus. Straining up to try and get a look at the view when the van comes to a halt. Far as he was concerned, they could of at least of had peanuts on this flight. Hungry and thirsty at the sametime and he wouldn't turn down a bathroom cause it would sure beat pissing his pants when he ran into Captain Fuckface the Pirate again. Immediately covering his ass with both hands with the words hole up.

(erik)
"don' know. jus' gonna take a look, fer now. I'll find ya when I'm done." He turns to gaze into the rear view mirror.

(decker)
"Yeah okay." The van's double side-doors (cuz this is a REAL van, not one of those minis) pop open and the baggy-jeaned southern Modi thumps out. "C'mon, kid."

(james)
some desolate sidestreet in the gritter section of town
there is, perhaps, the passing thought and wonder of how one can sometimes tell the difference
seems just like any other shithole in Chicago to James
only difference is this one purportedly contains their target

..... just. fuckin'. peachy.

the Ahroun's back curves long lines against the make-do seat
dark eyes flicking towards their Alpha as he speaks
there's a storm churning behind deep umber
Erik may be mad - but James is downright bloodthirsty
this waste of flesh attacked HIS kin
(his. Family)
and he's done well to keep his cool so far

orders out, the Gnawer stretches to follow
acrossin' they will go

(kemp)
Jumping out of the van like some smaller shadow behind Decker. "I'm here"

(decker)
The Modi takes a minute to shed his outermost layer - the bulky swishy Raiders jacket - which he tosses into the back. Hissing with the sudden cold, the Modi pops his neck with a sudden jerk of his head and then heads down the street. "See a good hidin' place, you speak up," he says, low. God knew Kemp was good at hiding.

(kemp)
He'd been fortunate and Cliona had dedicated his entire outfit to him. Course he'd likely outgrow it all before next winter, but for now he could stay somewhat warm. Nodding, tugging the stocking cap lower on his head while hunkering down like some miniture commando to start skittering from pole to junk car to garbage can to discarded sofa like an overgrown rat.

(james)
rolling to cross over: to -Sphinx-: 5D10 Dice Roll: 9; 5; 9; 10; 6

next to exit is the lanky Gnawer
just not in the same way as the other two Fenrir
reflective objects at a premium in the van
he camps in on Erik's choice of the rear view mirror
hand lays across his Alpha's shoulder
and James leads the way across
feeling the pressure increase to thin and squeeeze through spirit side

with flying colors

(decker)
He's still got a zip-up hooded sweatshirt and two t-shirts on under the jacket. Not to mention the sagging jeans, which he hikes casually up en route, buckling the belt a little tighter to hold it up. Last thing he needed was to be tripping over his cuffs while running the offensive.

While Kemp skitters around, Decker just follows grimly, stalking straight down the center of the sidewalk. Not like this was Bel Air or anything. A thug walking down the street, in his opinion, was less obvious than a thug who couldn't go stealth worth shit trying to skitter around like his younger (youngest) packmate.

When he gets to the discarded sofa, though, he drops down behind it. It was large enough that even his lack of Mohican Stealth Technique didn't matter much. A sniff, his nose running already from the frigid air.

(kemp)
He was cold and each exhale left a puff of white for a second before another followed like some weird steam engine. Playing ghetto commado took a lot of work in the cold. Had to watch for patches of ice cause it wouldn't be too cool to land on your ass in front of the pack. Dark cap peeking up over the edge of the sofa to take a quick look towards the building.

(kemp)
Hissing towards Decker. "Psst, we the decoys?" If you needed someone to get attention there was no better choice than himself. Obnoxious was his middle name.

(erik)
Erik lets himself be dragged across the guantlet by his more spiritually attuned packmate. Once he senses that he is fully across he gets low to the ground and surveys the scene.

(decker)
Another sniff. A messy wipe of his nose on his sleeve. A smirk. "Maybe. The Blood Eagle'll let us know." He taps the side of his head. "Totemphone."

(kemp)
Taps the side of his head. "Disconnected. Guess I didn't pay the bill."

(st)
Imogen and Lexi sit tight in the van, as order, they were the getaway drivers. Rifles ready just in case for any signs of trouble.

Decker and Kemp begin to take point behind an old sofa, sitting out for the garbage man to pick up. The advantage point it affords the two Fenrir a nice view into the brick building. A large bay door sits open with a van inside, the back doors open, as a three men scuttle back and forth from inside the building to the van, moving what looks to be like some minor equipment and loading it up. A fourth man, dressed like some punk Thrasher in loose denim and leather stops outside to survey the neighborhood, a neon-green Mohawk spiked up. Tattooed glyph like markings run along the sides of his shaved scalp, depicting certain symbols knowledgeable to any Gaian that could read them [GlassWalker, Ahroun, Weaver, Crow]. He seems on edge, as if searching around for someone or something.


:::Umbral Side:::

James and Eric cross the thick Gauntlet with ease, thanks to the Bone Gnawer, the gray outlines of buildings and streets loom over head, webs strewn about as the scurry forms of pattern spiders seem to continue about their business. Many of them concentrated across the street at the brick building, outlines of movement can be scene. Two tall Crinos like figures stand at the outer wall of the brick building, one form of the One-eyed Red Talon with the crisscross of scars over his chest. The other individual was a bluish-grey Crinos with a circuit board pattern running along his chest and shoulders. Red eyes glowing softly, as he is the first garou to step sideways out of the Gauntlet.

(erik)
Erik hugs the ground, neglecting to change forms lest the painful crackling give them away. He then opens up the totem phone, something he uses rarely outside of situations like this. "The talon is with us here. One is crossing to you, back of building, now. Find it and report." For now, they stay hidden.

(decker)
"Shh--" as the scuttling footsteps reach his ears.

Cautiously, the Modi takes a peek over the top of the sofa. Slinks back down. Taps Kemp and jerks his thumb over his shoulder, indicating that the Rotagar should take a peek too.

'Least one more Garou realmside 'round front. Looks like a Walker Full-Moon. Three others, ain't sure what they are. We move, they see us fer sure.

(erik)
'Can you come to me?'

(james)
funny - PR guy and seemingly most spiritually attuned of the present pack
the Ahroun is earning quite an interesting place amongst the Eagles
maybe on another day he'd find it amusing

right now he's looking in the direction Erik isn't
the instinctive move to cover his packmate's back
ignorant of the cold biting its way through his tattered trench
deliberately ignoring its effects to chill his hands and face
(as if he could feel anything other than his burning Rage)
nothing more than a precise collection of wary movements
and the ephemeral liquid drip of blade-tipped rebar into his hands

fists wrap around rebar shafts hard enough to turn his knuckles white
momentarily neglecting his outward survey and glancing towards the Talon ahead
it's everything he can do to remain still and hidden

(decker)
A glance at the empty street. Only if I go Umbral. Leave the kid alone with one 'r more hostiles.


(kemp)
Popping his head up to take a quick look before ducking back down. One hand over his mouth to keep from blurting out some smartass comment.

(erik)
'Bring 'im or send 'im to watch the kin.' Keep up, kid, or be left behind.

(kemp)
And through his head a song was running, one that just made him grin in the frigid cold. Oh I wish I was a little talon wiener, that is what I'd truly like to beEee, cause if I had a little talon wiener, everyone could come and laugh at me. Hoping he got the chance to shout/sing that one out to Captain Fuckface the Pirate.

(james)
If the Talon's here and a Full Moon GeeDub out front.... one crossing's probably the Theurge
mainly a bit of change added to the current conversation
it gives him something to concentrate on

(decker)
Guys out front look like they're gearin' up to split. You really want me Umbral with ya, 'm leavin' the kid behind to keep an eye on 'em.

Shift of focus. To James: How many ya know of?

(erik)
'Don' want this goin public. We'll draw 'em 'ere and finish it. Let the kid watch from there. Come.'

(james)
If this is the true pack? Three. GeeDub Theurge, the Talon, and another I got nothing on.... may be your Ahroun.

(st)
A loud whistle pitches through the garage; the three men finish packing and shut the back door to the van. The Thrasher continues to keep point, nervously pacing outside the building, looking around to the side and then back over across the street, near the couch.

There isn’t much actively going on in the van, Lexi and Imogen are waiting, whether impatiently or not, catching most of what was going on.

::Umbral::

The Red Talon seems to pause for a moment, looking around the general area of the buildings out line. He looks about ready to cross over the Gauntlet, to follow the first garou.

(decker)
Decker shifts, scowling. The totemphone clicks dead and then he turns to Kemp.

"Erik wants me Umbral 'n round back. You stay here, keep an eye on 'em. They start movin'," he thumbs at the four men, "you git the kin outta here, then come find us. Don't try 'n take 'em all by yerself. Git?"

(kemp)
Ok, so Decker was shifting and leaving him with orders to get the kin out of here? "Wait, just leave you here?" A little confused, did that mean now?

(decker)
"No. If they haul ass, you do two things. One, tell the kin to split. Two, come 'n find us in the Umbra. In that order."

(kemp)
"Ok." Getting confused with Decker's orders. And in the meantime he was starting to freeze to the sidewalk.


(decker)
The Modi could see the kid's confusion. But fuckit. Keep up or be left behind, and he was outta time.

Just a hard grey stare held a second, and then the Modi crosses the Gauntlet.

(kemp)
Frowns watching him vanish. Seemed kinda worthless to run and tell the women to get out of there if the guys in the van started to leave. Made more sense to try and stop them, but he was low man, what did he know.

(erik)
We'll 'it 'im 'ard and fast. Deck on point. Rip 'im good. Ready?

(st)
::Umbral::
The Talon seems to be having some sort of difficulty with cross the thickness of the Gauntlet. He keeps smacking into it, twice now he has tried to cross over. A snarl rises up in the base of his throat suddenly, ears lying flat against his lupine head. He steps back from the outline building, watching as pattern spiders starts scurrying over the recent tear made by the first Garou that crossed over.


::Outside::

The three men turn to head inside the garage, as the Thrasher walks into the garage. His body posture stiffens up suddenly, looking around in a paranoid manner. He stops by the side view mirror of the driver’s side on the van, grabs it and looks into it. Just like that the Thrasher crosses over into the Gauntlet to join the Talon.

(decker)
Well, the time for stealth was over. Not that he was any good at it. By the time he gets to his packmates he's huge, bristling, grey, Crinos.

Glowing with Luna's light, too, and billowing with Helios' flame. He was a fuckin tank now, leaving Eagle's Might for his packmates. In this ballgame tonight, his main duty seemed to be the shock absorber.

The fetish axe makes its appearance, ink to liquid to solid black steel slapping into his palm. A wordless, soundless snarl is all the confirmation Erik gets, and then the Modi turns to face the enemy.

(james)
there's a huffed snort in answer to Erik's question
followed by the slow tick and scratch of Chrinos (Razor.) talons on the ground behind
even in this form, the dreadlocks never seem to fully melt away
still apparent in the raggedy outline created by hulking mass

fast and hard
just tell him when to go

(erik)
Focus on the Talon. I will take the other. Erik surges into Crinos form, his deadly fetishgun shimmering into existence in his right hand.

Decker is faster, so Erik lets him get ahead, while he concentrates on invoking a gift of his tribe and cowing the eater of flesh, breaker of the litany, into submission.

(st)
::Umbral::

It isn't long as Decker joins Erik and James that all three of them see the Thrasher cross over the Gauntlet with ease. Massive body shifting instantly, into a giant Crinos with neon-green streaks sliced through the fur like stripes.

(kemp)
There he was suddenly alone with those guys up ahead with their van and somewhere behind, the women with the stolen van. Seemed to him if those guys in the van tried to run, he should try to stop them. He could throw sofa cushions at them. Oh that would impress them.

(st)
::Outside::

Kemp sits put keeping eyes on the garage and that van. He see two of the men exit the building. A blond man that he didn't see before and one of the three men that had loaded up the truck. The Blond man heads over to the driver's side of the van, climbing inside, soon joined by the second. The van rumbles to life quickly.

(imogen)
It's nothing but a waiting game, and it's perhaps something every kinfolk is familiar with. Most, in fact, even speak it as one of the worst things. Inability, impotence, and the damned damned waiting. They aren't likely to fill it with talk, either, neither much for small talk, and somehow 'some cold snap we're having, eh?' seems like a terribly trivial conversation just the now.

The engine is turned off, and cool and within, it's no where near warm anymore. Imogen can see her breath as she shifts slightly, her hand on the rifle, gaze flicking toward Kemp by himself (... shadow of a smirk), before her attention flicks back toward what had been the interest of her attention. In time to see the thrasher seemingly disappear into a mix of fog, unreality and a bending warping gauntlet.

As the van comes alive, Lexi's lips move, saying something to the redhead beside her. Imogen's shoulders lift in a brief shrug, her reply muted by the steel and window that closes them in.
(decker)
And a fifth joins the Umbral battlescape.

For a moment the two sides size each other up. Two on three. Garou on Garou. No fuckin' BSDs here. Wonder if this'll hurt his renown more than it'll help it. Wonder if he even cares.

A stray breeze. Rustling trees. This landscape almost barren of humanity and its traceries is bleak with the taint of despair. He feels his packmates at his side. He feels Erik activating a gift, the energy of spirits gathering around the Alpha, and on that instant, without warning, the Modi springs forward, leaps the first ten feet, hits the ground running, the axe backswinging in an arc of matte black like night and gleaming white edge like lightning.

Not a single sound erupts from his snarling black lips, but his grey eyes, pale and flashing in this form, promise murder.

Let's see whose Fear is stronger.

(erik)
No sound from Silence, but the Blood Eagle makes up for it. From deep within him, from a place only great fenris knows, comes a thunderous, powerful snarl. He directs it at the newly arrived Garou as he rushes straight in.

(kemp)
Looking around quickly on his way back towards the van with the kinfolk. Snagging up anything he can throw in the way of the other van if it came this way. Like, a garbage can or two.

(st)
Umbra:

It's like freight trains colliding. Two fronts rushing at each other. Gifts of intimidation tossed back and forth between. The Modi's quelling the Talon. The Rotagar's cowing the Walker. The Talon's...

...rebuffed, neatly, by the invisible armor of willpower. Fearless.

And then the fronts meet and the real fun starts.

--

Outside:

Kemp is quick, but the van, once it's running, is faster. It veers off the driveway and onto the street, coming Kemp's way. Inside he can see a blond man riding shotgun to one of the three that had been moving equipment. He's shouting at him and gesturing for him to go faster. The driver has both hands clamped on the wheel, harassed and white-knuckled.

The back door lolls open, spilling some of that equipment onto the asphalt. None of them seem to give a shit.

(Maneater Pack Init: 1, Eagle Pack Init: 9, )

(kemp)
And he was yelling at the women back in their van, hoping they could hear or see him. Waving for them to get the hell of there and dodging around anything he could put between him and the oncoming van cause getting run over will so suck.

(imogen)
You always know that when a Garou starts waving for you to haul ass, it's possibly a good idea to do so.

Guess the Garou are walking home in the cold, unless the kin take the initiative and either move to somewhere where they can see, or simply return when they assume it might be safe.

It's rather likely. Giving in is not in wolf blood, and kinfolk sometimes have that in spades.

The stolen van takes off.

(st)
Thrasher falls with one shell from Erik's fearsome silver-loaded shotgun. Seeing this, the Talon gets the idea that maybe he should keep away from the maniac with the gun. A soaring leap backwards takes him far out of James' reach.

Decker and James surge after him while the Alpha finishes off the incapacitated Glass Walker. Then the Alpha's gift halts the coward's flight, and the leaping is that much slower.

After that, it's easy enough to catch up.

--

The stolen van takes off, realmside. The other van doesn't seem too bent on pursuit, instead swerving AROUND Kemp. Unbalanced, it nearly falls over before righting itself. There are garbage cans around, all right, as well as debris that falls out of the back of the van.

(kemp)
Well he didn't know how good he was at this, but he did try to toss and kick cans in the way of the van. If nothing else, he could be a pain in the ass. "Fuckers!"

(st)
Garbage cans bang and boom off the retreating van, but it's a large vehicle and a few aluminum cans weren't going to stop it. Soon enough, one of the men inside grab the yawing back doors and slam them shut, and then the van veers out of sight.

Left behind, Kemp might feel rather left out of the whole thing. There's a lot of equipment debris on the ground, though.

(kemp)
Get the kinfolk out of there and then go Umbral. Right, that was easily said. Now he was fishing around in his coat for that little cheap Mabeline compact with the cracked mirror he'd scrounged up so he could try and go find the others.

(james)
it's easy enough to catch up
distance closing on the ragged breaths of a rampaging bull
sheer determination (Rage) pushing him past his packmate
bristling snarl pouring past curled lips when the Talon tries to dodge again
James. will. not. let him escape razor sharp grip a second time
(he owes Tristan this much....)
talons slash diamond hard brilliance in the Umbra's ever-changing light
a flurry of four quick strikes that cuts the defiler to the ground

Maneaters are simply fallen Garou
it makes no difference whether or not they have danced the Wyrm's unholy spiral
at the first taste of human meat across their tongues they betrayed the Mother
there is no quarter of hazy grey definition to the Ahroun
there is no absolution offered in redemption's second chance
there is only the necessity of succinctly ending their very existance
destroying the beings that no longer have the right to call themselves Gaia's Chosen
(just as he destroyed his own pack when they lost their way)

most would consider this unfair - two battle hardened Fosterns bearing down on the single Talon, Garou attacking each other - but James is not one of them, the creature that attacked his kinfolk deserves no such semblance of honor or mercy

that is why, when the one-eyed maneater lays unconscious on the ground
and the Modi ceases his attack, resigned to stand and watch
a cold fury continues to flow volcanic within the once mellow-Gnawer
(I promised to make you pay)
he does not stop until the beast lays in swiftly cooling pieces at his feet

(decker)
By the time Kemp finds them, there's little enough left of the Talon. James stands bathed in blood. Decker is splattered with it, but most of it looks incidental. It's unclear whether the Modi even lifted a finger in this whole business.

It's equally unclear whether he even wanted to, much.

He lived by a different code than James. Amongst the Get, flesheating was frowned upon as weak, but not as tainted. It was a flaw, but not quite a sin, and all too many Fenrir had fallen prey to it in the throes of a bloodlusting frenzy.

Had kinfolk died, it would have been different. And had it been Imogen, it would have been different, because his codes and his morals always bent to his intolerances and his demons.

But it hadn't been so. And so the grey Modi looks down impassively at the slaughter, neither condoning nor condemning his packmate. And when the smaller Rotagar comes up, he turns to face him, tautening.

Garouspeech, startlingly unaccented and strong: "The kin?"

(kemp)
"They left, I shooed them off like you said to do." Now this was totally gross looking and sorta made him feel sick and his previous thoughts of pissing on one eye were gone cause he wasn't sure it was one eye in parts and pieces and throwing up was sounding pretty good.

(decker)
Relaxation. A nod of approval. The axe is gone; the black tattoo coils on his right arm again. Absently the Modi shakes off his right handpaw - a splatter of blood and tissue lands on the Penumbral ground. He settles pale grey eyes on Truth-in-Frenzy for a moment and tried to remember if there was even a time when he was sickened by the sight of blood. It seemed like all his life he'd been surrounded by violence. Enmired in death. Immersed in ugliness and pain and rot.

"Get used to it." It's the bloodied handpaw that grips the boy's narrow shoulder briefly, its massive size the same proportion a man's hand would be on a newborn infant. The bloodstain left behind is enormous. "Shit and blood is all you've got to look forward to until you die."

The handpaw leaves the shoulder; the Modi reverts to breed form and looks to James to lead them back across the gauntlet.

(kemp)
Trying to think about anything other than the way the bloody remains reminded him of what he could remember of that night with Carmen. Swallowing cause it wasn't working so good. "Um, Carmen said hello Booger face. And she said to tell you, she misses you." Looking to James, then Decker. "And she's nearby, watching over us."

(james)
James doesn't expect anything more than impassive observation from Decker
they may be pack, but they come from two completely different worlds
each has their own reasons which rationalize and inspire their actions
and until a line is crossed, the pack leaves each to their own
they all have their inner demons to deal with

it's a lesson Kemp has already, unfortunately, learned

the one-eyed monster isn't given another thought aside from wiping the gore from his eyes
shaking it from his tangled mane as fur lengthens to breedform dreads

the kin safely away, the mission done, the hunt successful: Drums on Skulls defines a path which takes them back across the gauntlet, and for him, concludes in a seriously hot shower

Posted by james at January 06, 2004 12:00 AM
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