July 28, 2005
.07.28.05. - i'm ok. [eagles] *ul

[eagles old abandoned packhouse - cont'd from chatters]

(st)
Smaller explosions are erupting, as the flames start to carry down, two more metal catwalks come crashing down.

Jukebox can feel a sudden roar of flame shoot out, the heat skidding along his back as it just singes the tip of his fur and dreadlocked mane. Everyone was outside that needed to be. All Eagles accounted for...

...and the old factory burns.

Silence grabs a hold of the bum, dragging him out of the burning factory. Eddie manages to find his footing, before he is shoved hard, propelled into the hood of the Tacoma. He splatters across it, rolling over onto his stomach. Eddie wheezes and coughs, clawing at the hood to gain his balance. He remains hunched over, one hand tearing off the beanie cap on his forehead.

(....beware the cyclops...)

The only answer that Decker receives is Eddie's raspy laughter. The Eagles can see his clothes writhing, the body mass starts to bulk up, growing bigger, taller. Clothes stretch and rip away under the bulging mass of rippling muscle tissue that begins to reveal itself as Eddie transforms...

He stands up, now a naked giant of rippling muscles tissue built on muscles, in the center of Eddie's forehead was a large, bulbous eyeball that ejects outward.

(decker)
The old factory collapses like a house of cards behind him with an enormous crashing WHOOMPH. A fireball vomits up into the dusk air. For a moment, everything's lit in hellish red and orange, like the sun had decided to supernova the instant it set. The shockwave blasts Silence's fur forward, flattens his ears, but he doesn't relent off the bum.

Especially not when the bum turns into a motherfucking cyclops.

Ain't I said ta not trust him. Didn' I say that?! This brief, searing thought flashes across their minds; he's pissed off, rightly so, but not really at them. Whatever. The cards were down. It was time to play. The axe is swarming off his arm; even before it's in his hand he's swinging it. It's not until the splitsecond before impact that the fetish snaps into its dread black solidity, every edge hardened, the blade a razor in white.

(am)
Oh, isn't THAT lovely. Kemp - get Roxanne to get the kid out of here!

And stands at the ready, to aid the Adrens should they call the ball.

(kemp)
"What the hell?" ~What the hell?! I knew it! I fucking knew it! Fuckingsumbitchcocksuckingassmunchingmotherfucker!~It was all coming out in a rush. Trying to shove Roxy ahead of him and shield both women with his body. "Fuckme, fuckme, fuuuuuckme!"


(james)
just..... peachy
this is all they really need, bums turning into sideshow attactions
When did we ever seem like we trusted the fuck?!
James is rightly pissed, too, at least he can live up to his foremost promise

though he highly doubts this is a human they're killing one more of

he already had the murderously spiked pipe in hand
all too easy to follow-up Silence's attack like a shadow

(st)
Roxanne isn't going to fight Kemp. It takes one look of the transforming vagrant to transform into a motherfucking cyclops to have her moving fast. She helps Kemp with Andrea, who is screaming and pointing at Eddie, going into hysterics.

--

The Eagles prepare to make a stance for battle. Eddie the Cyclops watches through the bulbous eye. His grotesque height brought him eye to eye with the tallest crinos in the pack, built bigger than two Fenrir thrown together in muscle mass.

The first thing the Cyclops goes for is the Tacoma, reaching to grab for the truck and use it like a boulder to throw at the Eagles.

(kemp)
"Take her, take her, take her!" He was practically screaming it himself, shoving the girl at Roxy so he could shift and dive in with his pack.

(st)
Roxy takes Andrea and keeps moving so Kemp can go join the fight.

(st)
The battle royal begins... like ancient warriors combating a mythical monster. Silence makes three massive slashes with his axe, cutting deep rivets across the chest and torso of the Cyclops, muscle fibers tearing up and spurting out a green, acidic blood.

Jukebox, wielding his... *cough*pipe*cough* beats a tickle into the monster's side. This seems only to ire the Cyclops, as he is still managing to move. In retaliation, the Decker's precious Tacoma, Imogen's Deathwish, is wielding like a bat and slammed down up the 'Gnawer's head, with titanic force, driving him into the pavement. Luckily, Jukebox is robust enough to survive a little scathed. The Tacoma, however, dents inward as the axle splits in half.

Next actions...

(kemp)
Shifting as soon as he got cleared, spending rage so he didn't fuck up in the middle of shifting. And he was turning back to run full out. Aiming for the back end of the thing if it was still up. Intending fully to launch himself on it's back.

(st)
...Decker continues on with the attack as his packmate lies underneath the wrecked Tacoma. The Cyclops collapses in several pieces, which falls on parts of the street and the head rolling into the bed of the truck.

(am)
It's Fast, it's furious, it's... whack a james? And you think she's gonna stand close enough to get in the way? She steps back a few feet, glancing around to see who's in the area, who may be coming into the area, and listening for any sirens what with the burning building behind them. Fortunately, this is not a wonderful area of town, and response times are slow.

(kemp_)
~Awfuckme. Dude, ya still alive under there?A look back for the departing Roxy and the girl, still not trusting that something wouldn't turn up again and then bending to look under the truck.
"Oh, yoohoo. Hey! You alive under there?" Giving the truck a little shake to see if there was any sound from beneath it. Damn he didn't want to push it over and find a squished James. How do you explain that to mom? Um, he was squished like a bug and um, I didn't want to scrap him off the bottom of the truck?

(james)
you know... there's something to be said about humility
for all the ground he thought to have gained in snarling at Eddie
a phrase about chickens and hatching and counting comes to mind
right as his oh-so-fearsome spiked pipe does little more than biff the now cyclops

this is gonna suck
oh. and does it.
ever feel like one of those whack-a-moles at the arcade?

the Gnawer does

the pack's main mode of transportation will never be quite the same
skidplate becoming all too familiar as it pretty much overtakes the span of James' vision
cement sidewalk slabs suddenly presenting themselves as a form of lunch
worste of all - Decker's gonna maul him for breaking the axl with his skull
Kemp's question thus going unanswered for the span of several all-too-long seconds

I'm ok.

another silence spans as the Gnawer eats. his. pride.
(easily done, as it's been pancaked)
finally grumbling across the TotemPhone some unintelligable James-speak
and heaving the bent and broken truck off

(decker)
The Cyclops collapses and Decker's still swinging his axe, not even fighting now, just chopping, hacking away the way you do a stubborn piece of firewood. Flesh and bits of bone go flying. Then chunks of organs, viscera, tissue, goo, hamburger meat, while the Modi slowly... slowly shifts down, and the axe crawls its way up his arm.

There are three things you just don't mess with.

Decker's woman.
Decker's pack.
Decker's TRUCK.

In the end it's just the Fenrir standing head down in a puddle of gore, his arms red to the biceps, his legs red to the knees. Breathing hard and harsh, he turns and grabs the head off the bed of his destroyed truck in one hand, pivots, drop-kicks it and sends it sailing out of sight. Fuck destroying the evidence and all that shit; let the fucking ravens have it.

"Mother!fucker!" Under his breath, vehement, and then finally he turns to his dead truck. Glares at it like it was Imogen's Deathwish's fault that it was now dead. Then, putting his back to the truck, bracing his feet, he starts pushing like he really expected to push it aside. In Homid. Good thing Jukebox gives it his own shove at that point, sending the used-to-be-a-Tacoma tumbling aside to the sweet music of more shredding metal, more busting glass.

"Motherfucker," Decker reiterates. He almost wishes Cyclops had two heads; he felt like kicking another one.

(kemp)
He did what any good packmate would do. Went, got the head, brought it back. Silently dropping it with a splat in from of Decker and gave James a hand up. Dusting him off before going to round up Roxy and the girl.

(st)
The fire is still roasting the old factory, casting the red-orangish glow across the street turned battle arena. Roxanne had dragged Andrea away, tucking the girl into the back seat of her dual-cab truck. All the excitement proves to be too much for the young kinfolk as she passed out to sleep.

Kemp goes to retrieve the kinfolk, only to find Roxy driving back in her vehicle, just in time to see them rolling the Tacoma off of James. Her mouth drops open, thrusting the driver's door open and jumps out. "What tha fuck happened?!"

(decker)
Totemphone's an incoherent seethe of indignity right now. Occasionally bits can be picked out of the flow-of-consciousness: my fuckin' truck! and he killt my fuckin' truck! and fucker killt my truck! and... you get the point. Kemp brings the head back and Decker goes at it at a full tilt, kicking it from a running start to send it sailing out of sight -- again. This time it crashes into the eaves of the neighboring abandoned factory, sending a roost of frightened pigeons squabbling into the air.

He felt a little better now.

"It killt my fuckin' truck," he grunts, one more time, just in case any of them missed that he was upset about it. Or maybe he was telling Roxy.

(am)
His woman. His pack. His truck.

But it was Kemp bringing back 'his' head for another kick that finally gets the Modi to almost, almost crack a smile. A shake of her head, and she looks around for their gunmen prisoners, again. Watching their back, as they curse and groan. The run of Totem'd curses serving as enough notice that everyone's alright. except for the Truck, of course.


(kemp)
He'd go get the head again if it wasn't such a pain in the ass to do it now. Turning to watch the factory burn. "We better get going. Someone's gonna see the smoke and call the fire department."

(james)
truck heaves off... and something goes terribly wrong
ribcages just don't do that sorta thing all by themselves
and while Mighty Garou can survive all sorts of Minions of the Wyrm
throw a king cab Tacoma at them.... and it's sure to leave a mark

probably several

by the time Kemp helps the raggedyman to his feet
weight's slumping homid shoulders against the nearest wa....
(... there's no wall right there, Jamey-boy....)
weight's taking the Gnawer several stumbling steps backwards until he finds the nearest wall
dark eyes blinking the multiple versions of his packmates back into their singular entities
(.... the world wouldn't survive more than one version of any Eagle....)
crooked grin half-marking the inner amusement at his own accomplishment just then

Decker butchered the baddie
James killed his packmate's truck
..... whee lookit the severed head fa-LYYYYYYY

the novelty wears off quickly at the mental tirade finally filtering through
Ahroun trying to shake the remaining pieces back into focus


(decker)
Kemp brings up going places and Decker snorts. Get going. How? Sneaker express again, that's how. Disgruntled as all hell, the Modi rips the plates off the Tacoma, plus any and all other identifying characteristics including the Confederate Flag window tint (what wasn't ripped and shredded, anyway), the fuzzy dice, and one of Imogen's thongs in the ba--

--er, well, that might not actually exist. Nevertheless, after he's reasonably sure the truck is as unidentifiable as possible (though any of the sept would readily recognize even the gooshed version), the Modi backs up from it.

"Y'alrigh', James?" low, not looking at the Gnawer -- some modicum of control regained, and he was scrubbing red goo off his hands onto his shirt.

(kemp)
"Whatcha wanna bet stink ass brought all them folks together in one place for his own jollies? Bet he set it all up and that's why he was laying there enjoying the show." Shaking his head with a look in Roxy's car to make sure Tristan's sister was ok. "I can give someone a lift on the bike."

(decker)
"Don't think stinkass controlled screamin' chick though," Decker contributes. "Think she more powerful'n he ever woulda been. Maybe he lured 'er in. But he ain't controlled her."

(kemp)
"Maybe he was her finger puppet?"

(am)
Sneaker express - or in her case, nice stylish heels. Either way, she's game. Still need our captives here - or get enough from Mr. One-Eyed Whack-a-Garou? If yes, she'll toss them in the back of Roxy's truck. If no, it's snap of the neck, and tossed into the flames still burning. Clean up time, and all.

Adding Both times she came -she came screaming too. No nice calm entrance. Pause. Shut up, Kemp. Before he even has a chance. But it's said with as close to affection as the Modi gets.

(james)
I've had better days.

the Gnawer still hasn't moved from this rather comfortable spot against the anonymous wall
(.. good wall.)
dark eyes slipping half closed as head leans back, making spagetti-esque pillow out of dreads against bricks
rough palms smoothing over forehead to physically try and quell the lingering pain
(..... never headbutt a truck again, James)
blindly searching through his pockets for that pack of goddamned smokes

Rat spirits maybe a clue, they gathered each time before she came.

(decker)
But it's the Modi, not the Rotagar, that says it. A snort of a laugh -- Well hell, when I make 'em come, they tend ta do it loud.

Then, sobering, Keep 'em around. We still don't know what tha shooters had ta do with nothin'.

Too many different parties involved in this little ball game.

(kemp)
That was it. A blink and then he was cracking up. "He said cum!" Going over to help James up from the wall, bracing him. "Come on old man, we gotta move."

(st)
Roxy's truck was still running, she looks into the back seat, a glance to the girl, thinking she'll be okay for now. Quickly and unconsciously, she is walking straight over to James, breathing out a heavy sigh of relief that he was still alive.

The Glas Walker drops to a crouch next to the 'Gnawer, "Here, James." helping him to find his half crumbled pack of smokes, even those almost didn't survive. She looks over her shoulder at the wreckage and then towards Decker.

"Decker, take mah truck. I can find another way back ta tha garage. Won't be nothin' a phone call can't do to get mah cousin ta pick me up."
(am)
Shakes her head, but doesn't comment. Strike that. She does comment. Jukebox made her come, I believe. You are too secure in your manhood, Modi.

And, Dump One, two. The Pows get tossed into the back.

(decker)
"Drive it yerself," Decker says, tossing the keys back to Roxy. One hand on the sidewall and he vaults into the bed of the truck, landing lightly in a crouch. "'m in fuckin' mournin', ain't gonna drive no other truck fer a while."

(kemp)
That made him snicker more. A good outlet after all that crazy shit. "Ya know, if the bitch is still around somewhere, she might come for the girl. Girl was there both times. Better watch her."

(am)
A slim brow lifts toward Kemp. Wasn't she scratchin and freakin right before?"

(decker)
Decker gives Kemp an odd look. The kid may have been joking. Decker's look isn't.

"Hnh," he grunts, whatever that might mean. But he'll keep what the kid said in mind. "James, where ya takin' Tris' sis?"

(kemp)
"Yup like one of those weather things that know when a storm is coming. Watch her, you'll know when the bitch is coming when she starts to scratching and shit."
"Both times, girl was moved and bitch did her flame thing and was gone. Like ya moved the lightning rod or something."

(st)
"La Llorona..." Roxanne says, seeming thoughtful, she stays with James. Truck keys caught up, helping the Gnawer stand up. "Ah'm gonna make a phone call when we get back," walking him to her truck.

(kemp)
He wouldn't forget the name. Well, he wouldn't forget his version of it. My Sharona.

(james)
finally, the Gnawer shifts his weight off the wall
sidewalk sufficiently calmed enough so that he's not trying to walk on waves
Kemp and Roxy are welcome help in that respect
especially with figuring out the dire state of his pack of Camels

there is one. ONE. surviving smoke.

only after that is lit and drug and exhaled and the world centers again
does he work towards a reply pieced together though somewhat elusive thoughts
he didn't miss the other common connecting threads either, earlier

The hell away from Tris, for now. don't even need to think about how upset that's going to make his brother, but the prettyboi will simply have to deal for now, one Blood labeled as target bad enough for now Keep her safe enough until we put the puzzle pieces together. Few things the bum said pre-cyclops are worth checking into if I can get to the information sources.

translation: he has no clue but suggestions are welcome


(am)
She looks back toward James, and then. I've some cash - can hole up with her in a random hotel. keep her moving. I'll take first watch if you like. He, after all, will have to deal with Tristan.

(decker)
"Fuckin' l'il bane Hyde 'n me caught was babblin' bout her comin' fer tha children too," he chips in.

Then he straightens up a little, sitting on the edge of Roxy's truck-bed. "Naw, no hotels, no outsiders. We'll keep 'er at tha old Eagles warehouse. Want James 'n Kemp ta question these fuckers," he toes one of the passed-out gunmen, "when they wake tha fuck up. Figger out what they have ta do with all this shit. Why they was there, what they wanted, how they related ta Cyclops man 'n l'il cyclops bane." A pause. "Both'a 'em only had one eye." Shrug. "Don't know if that means nothin'.

"Rest'a us is gonna take turns watchin' tha girl in case La Llorona makes another house-call. Tell Tris he kin come see her, but he cain't take 'er home. Annemarie, you got first shift."

(st)
Roxanne looks up at everyone, waiting to see who all piles into the front and back seats of her truck. She was driving. Decker was apparently riding in the bed. "What about this second child... Andrea said something about a Molly? A third girl. The boy is dead."

(kemp)
"Thought she said Molly was dead?"

(st)
"Is Molly dead? How can Andrea know for certain... There was a van driving away from the scene when you all showed up."

(kemp)
"Didn't she say something about she got Molly or something like that?" Frowning, trying to recall. Hell he had been trying to comfort her and stuff.
"Awshit, I forgot about the fuckin van. Fuck, that means more of them involved in this shit. More finger puppets."

(james)
Works for me.

James isn't picky about where finds a spot in the truck
however the whole issue of once more being in a truck has some hesitations

"Yeh. Said she w'z dead.... 'r gone. Van drivin' 'way only had th' driv'r."


(st)
"I think we need to question Andrea when she wakes up. Maybe Tristan can talk to her." Roxy suggests, climbing into the driver's seat and shuts the door.
(kemp)
Heading for his bike with a call back over his shoulder. "Anyone wants a ride, last call. I'll meetcha there."

(am)
A nod. That's all. She offered to take first watch and that's what she'll do. She feels it necessary, after all, for that missed swipe. Perhaps she could have gotten to the kid faster otherwise. Either way - her duty is clear.

She climbs into the bed of the truck, and rides there, relying on running commentary for the rest of the conversations.

(decker)
He listens a moment to Kemp and Roxy's exchange. "'ll git Hyde 'n see if we kin track tha van down." Then he slouches down in the bed of the truck; the spontaneous planning seems over.

(st)
Once everyone was settled into the truck, Roxanne takes one last look at Decker's Tacoma. All that hard work... gone. She lets out a sigh, keeping her mouth shut and drives to wherever the Eagles wish her to go.

[end]

Posted by james at July 28, 2005 12:00 AM