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September 28, 2003

.09.28.03. - sequengics [imogen]

[sequengics lab]

what james knows:

Okay, what Imogen would have told James?
Would be that she would call him before entering the building, but would be in the building for about half an hour to an hour before getting anywhere near the shafts. But she had no idea where she was getting into the shafts, though she was going to the fourth floor.

----

(seq)
Rutgers frowns at her for a long time. Then he looks up at the nearest vent. Back at her.

"Would it be absolutely necessary? It's not company policy to let non-personnel wander around the compound, much less in the ventilation shafts. They aren't designed to support human weight. They aren't safe. If you were to fall out of them, we'd be potentially looking at an enormous lawsuit. On top of all this." A nod to the dead body. "Isn't there some sort of assay you could run that doesn't involve your physically getting into a vent shaft?"

(imogen)
She nods her head slightly, "It would be necessary, unfortunately. I'd need air samples as best as I can, and preferrably swabs of the vents." She exhales, lips thinning briefly, as she stares half pensively at the vents (wondering mildly if they would hold her weight, or James's, and why in the bloody hell did she not think of that before?), the pensiveness ends, and she shakes her head again, "No, it would 'ave t'be the vents. 'ave any idea 'ow much they can hold?" A deprecating smirk, "It's not as if I'm that 'eavy."

In fact, the doctor was positively childlike in some respects. Most children outgrow her height by about grade six or seven.

(seq)
The self-deprecating smirk and comment draws Rutger's attention down. He sizes her up (checks her out) and then shrugs. "Stay on the braces as much as you can. You'll see them at the edge of the shaft sections. They're reinforced steel and bolted into the framework of the building. They'll probably support a few hundred pounds. Do you want a ladder?"

(imogen)
Crouched as she is, there isn't much to see. The hooded sweater was deliberately loose fitted, and the vest beneath the fabric would do more to disguise what might be considered appealing. Pity for him, perhaps.

She nods, acknowledging the advice, and glances upward again toward the shafts, "Yes, I guess I'd better have one."

(seq)
Rutger clicks his comlink on - "Sam, can we get a ladder up there? Yeah, 8-foot's fine." Pause, glance at Imogen. "Make it a 10-foot. And make it quick."

In a matter of minutes, an aluminum ladder is set up and a vent shaft grille is pulled down. "Shout if you need help," Rutgers reminds her as she disappears up the ventilation.

The vertical shaft is very narrow, a square of about 18"x18". It empties up into the hall shafts, which are about three feet across, two feet high. Because the vertical shafts empty into one side of the floor of the hall shafts, there's room beside the opening to crawl around it with little difficulty. The pipes branching into the rooms are about two feet across, one high, and would be a tight squeeze even for Imogen. There's no lighting in the shafts themselves, though light does seep up from below.

It's also freezing cold and drafty in here as air conditioned air continually circulates. She'll soon find that as long as she stays on the braces, she can move with relative silence as long as she doesn't try to move too quickly. If she steps between braces, however, the metal buckles down and pops back up again in her wake with a hollow thump.

(james)
she said she'd call when she got into the building
which was just fine and dandy
but it's the first phone call that had him up and moving

just the fact she, y'know, called

close to fourty five minutes after that no-call call
four toes spread on the slabs of metal that make up the shaft
calloused pads give just that smidgen more grip
not to mention, it's a lot easier and quieter to creep in lupus than it is to shimmy down a shaft in homid
weight distributes with each stretched step that places a foot precisely on the braces
(nah, he hasn't done this before... honest.... though my god that breeze)
somewhere, in the maze of drafts (!) and tunenls
there's a scent there
one redhead kin
that's what he's following

hopefully she'll see the dreads that never fully go away and not freak.....

(imogen)
While she waits for the ladder, she prepares to go up, snapping off her gloves and placing them in a plastic bag, and then opening up the aluminium brief case to take what she needs up with her, since obviously the case would be in appropriate. There is, however, a cloth bag which would be slightly more appropriate (OCME emblazoned in yellow across black), within which she places various pieces of equipement, including a piece of equipment that looks like it may be a suction cup attached to some sort of electronic reader. Swabs encased in plastic, a thermometre and a few other things make their way in. most of this is done behind the screen of the raised lid of her brief case, simply by design. She was facing Rutgers, and when lifting the brief case, of course, the lid had faced him, too.

She's ready by the time the ladder shows up, and shuts the lid of the brief case as the elevator doors whoosh open in the distance.

"Leave this down here, shall I?" she inquires non commitally, as she straightens, the movement somewhat arrested by a stiffness to her back, and toes the brief case to indicate what she means. She does not sling the cloth bag over her shoulder, instead carrying it in one hand. Even from here, it looks like a tight squeeze, and a bag over her shoulder might take a bit.

"Don't worry if I'm a bit. It takes a while t'get what I need. I'll be as fast as possible." That, at least, was the truth.

She acknowledges that yes, she'll shout if she needs anything, and begins up the ladder, the bag preceding her into the ventilation, tugging shoulders and hips through the tight fit and into the frigid ventilation shaft. It's tight, but she manages; the metal is cold beneath her hands and that is almost comforting. The darkness and close space, however, is not. Breath deeply, and this too, shall pass.

She doesn't give herself a chance to discover what would happen if she stepped between the bracers. One can guess it would make sound at best, and at worst, buckle and collapse beneath her weight.

James is a dark bulk in the shadows and she freezes as she catches sight of him, and the stillness is near animalistic, before she exhales, and unseen in the darkness her eyebrow arches. Well. If this wasn't James, this would be a problem all of its own, and she'd worry about that later.

First she had to go up a floor. And make a phone call, provided her cell phone worked; her foolishness for forgetting until the ladder was already there, and then not being able to come up with an excuse for a phone call in the seconds that followed, she had abandoned the idea.

Parallel to the elevator shaft. Right. Goddamn it was cold. She moved in the appropriate direction without a word.

Not that it was likely she could say anything without being overheard, just at the moment.
(seq)
Like the hall below, the vent shaft curves. Since she is headed toward the elevator, the curve is to her left, and while it seems slight enough not to cause any problems of fit and size at first, the added strain of always crawling toward the left soon begins to wear on Imogen and James. Their right sides tire before their lefts. It's a relief when an opening appears on their right, a single straight tube leading across toward the east. Through it, they can dimly glimpse the vent shaft feeding the east ring, and between there and here, the gaping holes, at least five windy feet across, in the ceiling and floor of the shaft.

The main vertical shaft.

It's even darker there. The only light comes from the halls outside and below the shafts; here, there are no halls nearby. Between floors is almost total darkness. Imogen's eyes, sharper than James' wolven ones, can make out rungs in the shaft, though - a very crude ladder built into the vertical wall for maintenance crews. Thank god for the small things.

Between the crawling and the waiting for the ladder, it's now 2:20. The guards on the fourth floor are in the south of the east ring, circling clockwise toward the Perseus lab.

(james)
dark furry bulk cuts out most of the light that would reflect off the surface of the shaft
not the most heartening of things to come across in a shaft, that's for sure
but as the good doctor freezes animalistically - he answers in kind
weight sinks ever so slightly into a crouch
shoulders shifting until whiskers on his chin brush the floor
the light silhouetting him brightens
he's not about to roll belly up at this exact moment
it's the closest "I'm not going to eat you" move that's possible in such a cramped space in near total darkness

but what.... did she expect him not to show up?
please.

she pulls ahead by about a yard before he follows
(that breeze. is....... refreshing)
but at least the crawling position is a little more natural for his current frame than the kin's
though since he's in the dark - in more ways than one at this point - he just follows
more by scent and sound than sight
hopefully she knows where she's going
(what he'd give for a totem phone with the kin about now....)
(imogen)
At least there's a ladder. That was something.

This was as good a place to stop as any. She is acutely aware of passing time, as if each passing second were a heart beat, and certainly she could hear her heart right now, pumping blood through veins and doing all such things required for life.

Her cell phone light flicks on illuminating the shaft in an unnatural glow, and she glances toward the wolf behind her. Chances are, if it had occured to her, the kinfolk would give much to have a totem connection to the lupus formed gnawer, as well.

She's checking for a signal on her cell phone. That she might be able to make the phone call now, as she slides the bag over her shoulder to get on the ladder that the Garou cannot quite see.
(seq)
Well...let there be light, at least. The cell phone isn't a halogen bulb, but it's a bit more light than they had before.

Unfortunately, there's no signal this deep in the building, surrounded by metal, and next to the elevator shaft. Maybe if she tried again in one of the rings.
(james)
it's not much, but that's a little light
it's enough to vaguely make out the shadows cast by the rungs on the wall as she moves the phone around
(this should be fun)
and yet again, he gives her the time it takes to pull a short distance ahead before he's following
it would probably be easier in homid, true, but he keeps up with Imogen
(just call him Rin-Tin-Tin)
carefully navigating his way upwards
occasionally grabbing onto a run with his teeth for support

[pause, rl shit]

Posted by james at 12:00 AM

September 23, 2003

.09.23.03. - four star food [tristan]

[warehouse]

(tristan)
(....ow....)
At some point this morning he woke, and early, sleepy conversation was had, last minute goodbyes, affectionate touches between the pauper and his king before the latter took his leave and the former fell into a deep sleep once more, knowing that he has hours yet before he will be disturbed.

This time, he doesn't take full advantage of that. A couple more hours sleep (recovery time) and aching muscles are forced into movement again after the grumbling of empty belly gathers attention of always hungry kin. It took some time, but he managed to get lanky form into the shower, muscles complaining in umpteen million different little ways, muscles that he forgets he has between evenings with the King, muscles that haven't been so delightfully, thoroughly abused since Diego left, and perhaps not since he last saw his Georgia boy..... maybe even further back then that - if he could remember that far.

The scalding spill of hot water did wonders to loosen up some of the ache, but he's still walking carefully as he gathers his clothing, and slips them on while waiting for room service. Enough for 4, with to-go cartons as well. He knows that the King won't mind, as he's put the kin up for days before, and seems to have no bottom to those ever full moneybags of his. Half of breakfast is scarfed down when it arrives, eating like there's no tomorrow - eggs, bacon, sausage, biscuits and gravy, fruit, juice and milk - and the other half is carefully boxed up and added to a bag for easy carrying.

Somehow, slowly, again.... he makes his way from the room - one more check to be sure he has everything (himself, the clothes on his back, violin and food. Yup. Got it all..) and he leaves the key at the desk, and knowing full well he won't survive the walk just yet, he hails a cab, and spends hard earned cash to get him home. The cab waits while he goes inside, grabbing battered backpack and shoving a couple changes of clothes inside, before he's making his way (oh yes, still slowly) to the cab again, and address near the warehouse is given.

Dropped off a couple blocks away, cab paid for, pack slung over shoulder, violin case in hand, and rapidly cooling breakfast in the other, and he finally makes his way back to the warehouse to face the wrath of 'daddy' for being out all night. But at least he called! Right? The thought brings a soft chuckle to his lips as he leans a shoulder against the (never. ever. oiled) door and raps knuckles against the aged wood, hoping James is awake enough to hear him and let him in.

(james)
he had... just... resituated himself beneath the heavy comforter
somehow finding his way back into the dream that had her home instead of her scent lingering on his sheets
the cellphone and disturbing phone call forgotten
something else chirps up
it's not the knocking
that's not loud enough to really carry all the way to his room in the warehouse
it's all the little alarms and whatnottery that Erik had Livingston install
those are the things that whisper and itch and tug and pull and outright scream at the Gnawer to wake up

bare feet stumble across the living room upstairs
they find their way downstairs and through the maze of traps
and soon enough the door swings open on a squeal of hinges

revealing: one bed-tusseled Bone Gnawer
seems he did not take the time to freshen up as the kin had
hands scrub across his face, dark eyes squinting at the offensive glare of the sun
beneath it all is a lopsided, half-awake grin
he'd insert a comment about alleycats or cats dragging in about... here
but fingers rake through dreads
and that's about it for his commentary
simply turning to head back inside and towards the building within a building
BDUs hanging low and wrinkled on his hips
dark scars crisscrossed by the zebra shadows coming in the unboarded windows

answering the door at the condo is far less effort

(tristan)
The door squeels open and reveals one bed-tussled Bone Gnawer, and the kin grins sheepishly. "Mornin sunshine. I brought breakfast." Something of an apology, perhaps for waking him up just to open the door, but at the condo - well, it would have been far less effort, far less dangerous, and since as far as the Kin knows the only way into the warehouse is by waking the Gnawer... Well.

James turns, and its a slow concentration of muscles flexing and stretching that manage to pull the kin upright again, moan bit back before it is fully realized, the wince hidden by duck of head as he follows through the maxe toward the building within the building.

oh. fucking. hell.
Stairs.

bag with breakfast slipped into other hand along with violin to allow arm to help pull himself up the stairs with help of fortunately secured railing. The boys been put through the (oh so delightful) ringer in the past few hours, that much is more then obvious... but not so much that those low-slung bdu's don't get an appreciative glance as he follows his friend.

(james)
"S' who fucked you six way' fr'm Sunday?"

the good-natured tease offered as a good morning just before one Ahroun hits the mattress
oh yeh, right past the living room, right past the chairs and couch - right back to freakin' bed
unlike Tristan who was simply worn out, James drove himself to exhaustion so he'd quit thinking and sleep
lanky Ahroun rolls onto his side, curling around pillows, glancing up at the kin through a tangle of dreads he doesn't bother to brush away
(so he's hiding the twinge of jealousy in deep umber)
his bed's big enough for two, so there's plenty of room for Tris to have a seat
(not to mention, it's a lot more forgiving than the damned seats outside)

(tristan)
Violin finds way to some safe corner where stumbling won't find it and do any damage, pack dropped without ceremony next to it, and he near collapses on the bed next to James. A bed big enough for two - and far more forgiving. (thank gaia for small favors)..

The comment gets a boyish (sheepish) grin and brow cocked slightly as he reaches to brush dreds from those eyes in lingering caress, verifying what's heard and hopfully hidden before admitting as he places the bag with to-go cartens in it in front of the kin and attempts to cordinate muscles into unlacing his boots.

he's on his friends bed, by invitation - damn straight (HA!) he's not gonna do somethin stupid like (ahem) mess the sheets. "Would you believe me if I told you I'm not exactly sure?" chuckled, sheepishly. nothing to be jealous of there. Just a random guy, right? "Don't even know his name - but it was the third time he's picked me up. I usually hide out in the hotel where he spoils me for a couple days afterwards..." but he didn't want to worry his friend. unsaid, but there...

(james)
a brow lifts, accompanied by a low chuckle

"Sounds too good to be true...."

not to downplay the situation - Gnawers are simply realists
eyes had closed when dreads were brushed away
excuse found in burying himself in the pillow's embrace
(it's Rune's... her bed next door lays naked without it)
there shouldn't be any jealousy, for any reason
but he couldn't help it's breif appearence
just to have that comfort, that release... that disconnection for a little while
Tris did, after all, leave the supposed luxury just to check-in
an appearence made, instead of simply calling
he appreciates that
it's writ in the partial smile etched on hard features

"Should've stay' 'n soak it up 'gain...."

(tristan)
"and deprive you of 4-star hotel food? not on your life." Winked as boots are kicked off, and lean form all but collapses back into the softness of the bed, the moan falling unchecked this time before he reaches to ruffle dreds playfully. He knows who's pillow it must be, and the jealousy that's there... and he just. knows. He's family.

He shakes his head and stretches in a careful exploration to find some comfortable position, finally does, and grabs a spare pillow (James, never Runes) to shove under his head. "Sides, he always leaves in the morning after I wake the first time. Figure I could recouperate here just as easily." A wink, then a softly admitted.. "Sides, I felt guilty"

(james)
a brow certainly lifts at the mention of the food
(now, to actually have to point. it. out. to the Ahroun)
one eye slowly cracks open
and he finally reaches over to drag the bag a little closer
four stars? he's gotta see this to believe it
first whif outta the unrolled top of the bag....

.... fuck reheating.

the Garou all but straps the bag on like a feeder
pausing only long enough to twist to sit up
his back leaning against the wall
even if he's sure Tristan stuffed himself before leaving
the offers during the time he takes to actually chew are habitual
seems it took a bit to sink in

"... guil'y?"

after muscles negotiate a swallow
the Ahroun seems rather confused

(tristan)
He chuckles, softly. He didn't miss the need to point it out, but that's gone with the obvious enjoyment of the food brought home. The Gnawer sits up against the back, and hand falls to rest along his friends leg, shaking head for the food. "M'stuffed. only brought you half."

the grin returns, and he chuckles slightly... "Course. Promised to stick close to you as long as you needed then off I run into 4-star hotel spoiling for hours in some self-indulgent fantasy oh my god, James the way he moves....." a long low whistle, before a sheepish grin, and a clearing of his throat... "Anyway. not very fair of me to lounge around with people waiting on me hand and foot with you left here to the horrors of your own cooking...."

(james)
the Ahroun grunts, scoffing a mocking smile

"Cookin' is'n' horrible...." smirked "'m perfec'ly able t' order'a pizza." stated in matter-of-fact tease "Jaw fuck' up, not 'ands."

though... he's actually a better cook than expected
given the few and far between occasions he's cooked for those other than himself
the food's gone, already, and the Garou settles back against the wall once more
casting a less than playful look at his kin
it's more one of.... studying

"Really like'im, don'cha?"

(tristan)
"Yeah, long as there's nuff alcohol, you're a damn fine cook..." Slight flinch, chuckled, as the empty remnants of the meal - that being just all but licked clean containers - is tossed aside. "Tween the two of us we do allright - one to order the pizza, the other to order desert, no problems." grinned...

before he flushes under that studying look, and eyes close (and he's right there, just behind his lids, with his silken words and his confident touch and his overpowering presense that brings a slow grin... the rage... something so pure....) for a moment before nodding, slightly. "Yeah."

that's all, for a moment, before the smile fades, and the crease of his brow returns, furrowed in confusion, in mixed up emotion... "He's garou... Fianna... and so. fucking. pure.... and he wants me... even if it's to warm his bed.. it's me he wants there. He doesn't ask my name, so I don't ask his... he tells me to forget what he is... and he forgets the same, and we're just... it's just the two of us in blankets and sheets that are softer then anything I've ever known and while I'm there... with him... it doesn't..."

a pause.
then barely audible.

"...it doesn't hurt so fucking bad...."

(james)
there is a breif amusement at another purebred Fianna
(that is also tucked away knowing their last issues with said Tribe)
but.... it fades. quickly.
it's not judgement that causes his gaze to drop away
for lashes to fall and tangle and hide deep umber
the smile is soft, fond, and heartbreakingly sad
because it's knowing
the Ahroun, the Warrior, is silent for a long time
fingers twist in the scent-retaining down beside his hip
it's pulled into his lap, fists burrowing into the folds of the black case
dark eyes just gaze at restless extremeties finding something to do
before he simply sighs

"She c'n make all th' hur' stop. C'mple'ely" murmured, before eyes finally lift in glance "Know what it like. Don' blame yeh bein' late." the laughter is softly wry, teasing even in the sadness "Jus'..... be caref'l, uh?"

the last encompasses so very much
he knows Tristan is careful
he just couldn't bear to lose what the Fenrir so recently did

(tristan)
He knows. god how he knows. Diego did that for him, too... but then to disappear, and knowing what he knows about the former pack, his brothers, the things they'd done and vowed to do again if he were ever found...
James as the benefit of a totem that even though she's gone - he knows she is alive.
The kin has no such thing.
Fortunately, he has James, and it's clear that the Gnawer, the warrior Ahroun who gave him the first feeling of friendship in years is the only reason he stayed, the only reason he came back

the one reason he came home.

His smile is heartbreakingly sad, and it wrenches deeply within the kin, and crunch of abs punctuated by a "holychrist" and sheepish grin he avoids soiling the scents lingering in that pillow, but his head finds room on James' thigh, curling close with a softly teased "yes, pa." in return.

he knows why, he aches with the same loss and he's doing his best to be careful... "I... god. I loose all my sense when he's around it seems. I need someone to meet him at some point, and make sure that... well. that I'm not completely senseless and stupid...." he trails off, but it's clear that he wants no repeat of carmen, and he doesn't want to hurt James in any, any way.... he couldn't bare that... he cuoldn't bare to see betrayal in his family's eyes...

(james)
there's..... a soft laugh at the informal title
fingers brush through Tristan's unrly curls
most would read something into the absent touches
(and maybe, months ago, there would have been)
but between the two Gnawers it's nothing more than familial bonding

they don't know exactly what happened to Carmen
just that she was stolen away because nobody was aware enough
this mystery guy of Tristan's could be the Wrym itself - or just what he seems
it wouldn't be the first time Garou have put aside rank and tribe for attraction
.... or even love
look at him and the serpentwolf Beta
it's just that, though, he's a Gnawer
and such things are always too good to be true or last

"Don' wan'a see yeh heart broken, 'gain, eith'r...."

(tristan)
Months ago, when they first met, there may have been more read into the touches, but ever since then it's been nothing but affection, bonding, just... connecting. Eyes close under the slide of fingers through curls, and his mind meanders down the same paths that his friends' do... the not knowing is the worst, whether it be a lover missing, or what happened to a helpless little girl.

He's aware enough to know that he could so easily throw everything away for something, unknowingly hurting those he loves because the happiness shared in the few hours spent lost in each others arms is just. that. good. So he askes for help... because he is a Gnawer, and it's far too good to be true. "....and I'd rather suffer a broken heart, then a shattered friendship." simple, really. Someone finds something on the fianna and it's clear whose side he'll remain on - no matter how much it hurts... Family first. (...please don't let there be anything wrong...)

(james)
the nod is willing.... and resigned
he knows what it's like to hope for something and find elsewise
but this may just be the resultant paranoia haunting them

"'ll see what c'n be foun'..." there's a pause, and a soft chuckle, the Ahroun twisting to lay back down in some strange glyph formed by their ragtag styles on the dark sheets and comforter by contortion of body for comfort "Thou'...." another pause, a soft tug on a lock of curling hair ".... gun' need more'n that 'e's good'n bed."

(tristan)
The Ahroun twists and lays down and he can't help but chuckle softly after the tug on curls, blushing brightly even as he nudges the thigh under his head... "that's really. fucking. good. in bed." grinned, though the blush is spreading till he's near burning with the memory of touch over skin... a few moments pass as he tries to put it all into some cohesive description without sounding like a lovesick teenager...

even if that's just about exactly what he is....

A clearing of his throat, slight, to push back memory into a cohesive whole... "Fianna.. high ranking, but not sure how high exactly? Purebred... by the way his rage feels and the way he talks I'd guess Ragabash, but might be a songster instead...." a pause, again, fingers sliding over battered bdu's in lingering absent caress... "dark hair, spills just over his shoulders... shorter then me, 5'11" maybe? maybe 6 foot even... though he's worse then decker when it comes to never, ever looking up at someone - he holds himself as if he's king of the world, know what I mean? Dark dark eyes.. almost black, enough to drown in, only seen him in bed without sunglasses... expensive tastes, clothes are silk or equally expensive, imported cigarettes, nothing les then 4 or 5 star hotels, spends money like it's going out of style, I called from his cell phone, which he couldn't find when he left, but said he'd just pick up another one, no problem..."

He trails off, chuckling softly... "He is the King, and I am the pauper... he loves music, I play for him between rounds until I can no longer lift my arms, and then he'd hold the Violin for me if he could I think... and I sound like a stupid teenaged idiot I know...." grinned with a glance...

[pause]

Posted by james at 12:00 AM

.09.23.03. - wake up call [imogen]

[sometime.someplace.
right in the middle of Damon's damned storyline which has NO concept of time connected to the rest of us....]

(imogen)
It's nine am, and it's hot and damp as she leans her elbows against the cheap stone balcony of the motel, tapping the plastic of the small cell phone against the edge, thoughtfully, her head turned away from the interior, whether there was activity or not.

The door had been slid shut purposefully, and now there would be a moment perhaps of her own silence and solitude. She exhales into the early morning, and ends her solitude of her own accord as she dials the cell phone number. Lord knows how she has a memory for this, having heard Rune's cell phone number once, and able to call it later in a time of emergency, and now, to pull James's number from the recesses of her memory to dial.

It rings. Until he picks it up. Or, it rings until a voice mail picks up, and she hangs up and redials.

"Mornin'." She says drily, and there is very few with such a memorable voice as hers, low and soft, with that particular accent. "Did I wake you?"

Amusement perhaps. It is, after all, nine am, so Dr. Imogen Slaughter has likely been up for hours, if she'd gone to bed at all, and was now at work.

Which certainly makes the phone call an oddity, not that it wouldn't be at any other time. Imogen is not particularly the 'reach out and touch somebody' kind of person. She calls when it's necessary, and does not go beyond that. It's a miracle she keeps even casual acquaintences.

(james)
it's 9 a.m.
while most of the world has already begun it's daily trials and tribulations
and should, by all means, already be at, if not close to arriving at, work
the members of the Eagle pack enjoy no such semblance of a schedule
or at least any semblance of normalcy in the schedule they keep
it's 9 a.m. for the majority of the world - translating to about 3a.m. equivalent for the Gnawer

somewhere, beneath the tangle of sheets only beginning to move as if the ocean affected by a deep underground earthquake, is an Ahroun

at some point after the sun had risen
he'd finished what it was he was working on
and simply collapsed into the bed
sleep came within moments: a warrior's sleep, instant and deep cause Gaia knows when he'll sleep again
within a few hours, he'd have drug himself back into the world of the living
looking probably no worse for wear
hard to get "bed head" out of dreads, anyway

"Nev'r!" mumbled proclamation into the phone.... after a voice mail and the incurrent rings it took him to figure out how to open the damned thing so early in the day (it fought back!) and the pause to double check the number showing up on the blurry screen (yes, it is Imogen)..... on a rogue, if groggy, grin "Alway wait f'r yer call in the mornin'."

probably because nobody else would call anyone in the pack this early
which makes him realize that it's not a random chat that brings the good Doctor the role of the alarm clock
sheets pull and slide and whisper discontently in the background as he coordinates to sit up
fingers scratch through heavy dreads to help prod his mind towards conscious

"S'goin' on?"

(imogen)
Want an admission? It's nice to have a familiar voice, and a fairly decent (if groggy) banter of someone she's known for more than two days. She grins briefly.

"S'an exchange fer all the times I've 'ad one o' yeh blokes knockin' on my door at all hours." Decker, normally, but James, too, once, maybe twice.

The grin was, as mentioned, brief and it fades, her hand tugging through her hair, snarling amongst the curls where they were still trapped by an elastic. "Question f'r you."

Pause, consideration, and she's framing her words. "If yeh needed t'get int' a buildin' wit' heavy security... int' the ventilation shafts, wit'out bein' seen, mind..." A pause. The pauses are mostly caution. Police officers would never speak of things such as a case over the phone, but her choices are small. She doubts anyone in the condo could find the home phone if it rang (even if he was there, and provided she could remember it), and her options were a cell phone or a motel phone.

Right. Cell phone. "... would yeh be able to?" she completes the question.

(james)
her smile is breif
he can't see it, and probably wouldn't ever imagine it to be there
though there's a flavoring of warmth in the tease that could give it away if he were awake enough to catch it
his reactive laughter, however soft and slippery and sleepy it is, takes much less to ascertain
she's not the only one glad for a moment's reprieve

Question f'r you.

Oooh.
means he may have time for a shower before jumping into the truck to dash off to go fight crime
there's a Modi-esque grunt which signals her to continue
just to say he's still paying attention
in the background, there's a blind slap of hand to a bedside table to search for a pack and lighter
no smoking in the condo - he must be at the warehouse
glad she tried the cell

"Depen' on details..... but more'n likely."

(imogen)
A brief sound low in her throat, which is not laughter, stripped of amusement. "Well, I'm rather missing on the details at the moment, but why don't I give you a ring when I have 'em. Prob'ly sometime tomorrow."

(james)
why... does the sound that's breif in his own throat.... not make him sound surprised?
he, however, does bear a small degree of amusement
if she already had them it would be easy
convenient, even
and that's just not the way they fight crime

"Keep me pos'ed." normally smooth (if slurred) tones still gravelly from sleep "I'll fig're sum'thin' out."

that's what Bone Gnawers do isn't it?
work with meager resources and from the background?

(imogen)
A sound that indicates she's heard him. It would be almost considered a grunt like the packs, except even in wordlessness, Imogen has the ability to be eloquent. Mostly in wordlessness, in fact.

"Yeah." she'll keep him posted, or he'll figure something out, or just a place holder. "Sleep well."

(james)
"Will 'ntil t'morra' 'less yeh keep callin' me."

most would think that phrasing would be rather caustic
a blunt-force trauma meant to get someone to back the fuck off
though, given her eloquence in (flesh flaying) silence and his showmanship
that works just as well as any concerned warning or dramatic demand that she will call him tomorrow because what the hell is this all about anyway cause something sure doesn't smell right and it's not me....

cause, well, there's really only so much he can do right now
regardless of any skills he may have in sneakiness and tunnel navigation
the Ahroun realizes the ball's in her court no matter how much Garou are supposed to protect kin
there's a pause before the cell clips off
the closest he'll venture towards showing he cares (again)
the closest she'll acknowledge of his saying to be careful

Dr. Slaughter never calls unless it's of the utmost necessity

(imogen)
A soft scoff, her only response, as she clicks off herself, and turns to dial first her half-sister, and then her work.

Then back inside to whatever it was she'd gotten herself into.

Posted by james at 12:00 AM

September 15, 2003

.09.15.03. - not alone [tristan]

[port newark]

(tristan)
Time passes, as it is known to do, after the good doctor takes her leave and heads off to home or work or both, and after a good amount of dinner has been inhaled, he steps back out onto the street, and judges a good many things. The time. The weather. The need to go back home to the lonely room and lumpy couch after being spoiled the past few days.

There’s still time to play, though it is not for the coinage at this hour, but more for personal enjoyment. So exploring it is.

‘His’ corner forsaken this time, for ground eating strides to take him in a different direction. To Port this time, as there is always something going on at all hours of the night. Long steps carry him through the concrete jungle until another place is found in the rain, where people mill around and hurry too and fro to get where they need to be, do what they need to do. He settles under an open air awning, though the doors of the building behind him are closed and locked, the gates shuttering it all closed nice and tight. There may be a hurricane coming, and better safe then sorry.

Under the overhang, he sinks to a crouch, opening his case and wrapping strong fingers around the neck of beloved instrument with a gentleness that speaks of a lover’s touch and long, comfortable conversations deep into the night, where nothing but darkness surrounds and secrets abound.... Standing again, he leans back against the brick, and rest finds home under strong chin, tickle of mismanaged curls spilling along jaw, tickling along cheekbones, while fingers pluck and check tune, adjusting as needed before a breath is taken.

Only then does the bow move across the strings, low melodic sounds traveling in time with the lull of raindrops splattering along cement, melancholy notes shimmering in iridescent harmony with splash of growing puddles under streetlamps glow…

(james)
they say that water carries sound
and even as it is falling from the sky above to puddles below
it seems to continue to hold that certain appeal
or, at the very least, it holds the notes of a familiar violin

musicians have the certain ability to hone in on the particular style inherant within a song
the personal flourishes and lingering trademarks each player imparts on their audial creation
long before he came to the corner from behind the building - James knew who played
there's a partial grin considering curving his lips
and even though the violist is his family, the Ahroun doesn't make an appearence

instead - he settles along the wall just around the corner
broad shoulders supporting lanky frame
soaked to the bone dreads pillowing his head
eyes with darker circles than normal slide slowly closed
scuffed Cochran's settle a comfortable distance apart
triangulating and leveraging his weight back against the wall
arms, bare for the wifebeater, dangle until twisting to let palms flatten against the bricks

he knows Tristan will be able to feel his presence soon enough
even though Luna slims in the sky above
he's more than aware how tightly and fiercly his Rage twists
(to round the corner now would drive away the few brave enough to pause and listen with the coming storm)
and that, above all other reasons, is why he simply stops to listen for awhile

(tristan)
Every musician can pinpoint another’s style, and the way the melody is pulled from strings and bow has the definitive flare of ‘polished street-rat’ that marks him as James’ family. He would know his friend by the familiar tribal rhythm and rebar striking against anything nearby that will settle between thighs – plastic, metal, otherwise – just as easily.

The few that brave the rain long enough to step under the awning (but never into the personal space of the musician, never hindering the fall of softly sad song) are generous for the hour and the place, and each tinkle of coin is noted with a smile, a thank you, and the continuation of moisture sodden song…

Soon, however, he feels the coiled (..rage..) form nearby, and dark eyes search for him, before pinpointing where it must be coming from to be felt so easily. Rage bleeds from around the corner, and music swells in some form of welcome before falling again into lingering silence that begs to be broken once again…

But it isn’t.

Instead, boyish grin washes over features and he thanks those that linger, shaking the hand offered by one, accepting a sodden dollar of unknown amount from another, tucking it away without looking at it. The few coins that were dropped are scooped only after the small wet crowd disperses, and voice carries around the way while he remains crouched by open case… “You can come out now…” softly chuckled… though the consideration of his waiting further warms the tones…

(james)
maybe it's a form of masochistic torture
listening to such sadness when it wells up enough it's own within the Ahroun's warrior heart
the violin seems to cry much as the sky above
yet the storm that's rising on the horizon can only be the Garou waiting just off to the side
which aches more the remaining mystery
but then the mourning notes gives way to the solitary sound of the heavy rain
though for moments more, deep umber does not show itself beneath his brows

rather, the tall Garou stands in the near downpour
face tilted to the thunderous sky
hoping maybe what replenishes Gaia would also cleanse her guard

"What.... n' in'erupt?"

cast between them like craps die on the soft huff of laughter
it's the only part of the Gnawer that moves towards the kin

(tristan)
There’s a soft laughter that falls on confirmation of who waits around the way, the smile that lingers one tinged with delight in seeing his friend again (it’s been a long time…to long) even if it’s tinged with a bit of worry to hear the sadness that weaves under two simple words… or rather, what sounds like two words with the way it’s slurred.

Violin is placed in case, well covered before tucked away and locked into its waterproofed cocoon, hefted easily in strong fingers that can wring such delicate beauty from slender strings as the kin stands and braves the downpour to make his way around the corner, stopping to study James, his family.

There’s a moment’s contemplation, taking in the beg of darkness’ tears to cleanse the wounded soul, the glance sliding over him gathering the differences, as well as the similarities, compared with the lanky Gnawer of fond recollection. Steps slide into movement again, and soon enough his shoulder finds rest against the brick near the Ahroun, his gaze direct, steady (and filled with a lingering sadness of his own, as well as moments of stolen joy found in the midst of an exotic opulence that was quite unexpected, and cherished, tangled mass in dark, dark eyes…) before voice is offered again to rain soaked space between them. “S’been a while – and here I find both Imogen and you in the same evening…”

(james)
it's only when the footsteps round the corner that those eyes slowly open
there's the warmth of recognition - of a certain joy to see family again
strong enough to bring even a partial smile lopsided across his lips
the expression serves to momentarily cover the true mood of the Ahroun
but even if he can hide it from his packmates and their bond
he doesn't do as well a job with his kinsman
not that... he's particularly trying

it shows in the dark circles beneath the Gnawer's eyes
it shows in the way shoulders, still so strong, bear some heavy weight
it shows in the lack of bodyfat that had been put on under the Beta's generous care
there are some things that can make even a Garou look haggard in two week's time

maybe there's a reason he stayed out of sight a few moments longer
maybe all the moisture on his face isn't the rain

"Las' I drop' by y'r place.... weren't there." chuckled softly "Been spen'in more time Por'side since."

the slur seems worse in the white noise of the rain
maybe it could be blamed on having dropped into a dockside bar on his way through
but with the clarity in the slits of sad umber showing - he's stone sober
if... soaking wet, but pneumonia is the least of his worries

(tristan)
He isn’t trying, and the kin doesn’t miss it at all, the changes are stark, noticeable, as is the resultant worry that slides through his gaze and finds a home there. When he arrived in jersey he didn’t expect to stay, he didn’t expect to find someone who instantly would become as close as family, sometimes in spite of the (lack of) breeding shared. He didn’t expect to find home, he didn’t even know he needed a reason to stay.

Until he found it all in the man standing next to him.

Wry grin dances over lips as chin ducks and gaze falls. Almost sheepish, but there’s too much lingering pain for that. “Been… gone… a lot. Hard t’be there knowin Diego ain’t.” And perhaps in that admission, there is something that recognizes the lack of Beta’s care in the Gnawer’s thin frame, and the only possible reasoning for it, and the shared pain of missing mates.

The sigh that follows is soft, lingering, aching for what he had and lost, before he lifts his gaze again and studies his friend. “So what all have I missed…” a stepping stone to begin conversation.. the things he knows lingers in the pain of sad umber, maybe in hopes that sharing the burden will alleviate some of which weights down the shoulders of his friend…

(james)
the smile that finds his face at the explanation.... it isn't the fond one that greeted the kin
instead, it's an expression of a heavy knowing
the agony of catharsis

"Rune's been...." he's never been able to say this before, not in the way that Tristan will understand it ".... gone coupl'a month. Fam'ly."

the way he says it.... he doesn't know when she's coming back
the way he says it.... that she might is the only reason he hangs on

his chest fills with another breath
the gathering army for the campaign of admission
but whatever words he strung together.... dissipate in a sigh
head shakes, weighted by the drape of soaked dreads
gesture traded for the words of what may not be the right time or place

"C'mon..... 'house 's nearby."

weight shifts to lead his friend through the maze of Portside alleyways and warehouses
the find someplace warm and out of the rain
he took the walk on a break of storing up the pack's hideout for the coming storm
now seems a good a time as any to return to that sweat-built shelter

(tristan)
There’s a nod, slight. Single words that are instantly understood, and known not to have been spoke aloud for the same reasons he doesn’t mention Diego’s absence. Difference being, James knows his mate might come back, whereas the kin doesn’t even have that slim hope. As far as he knows, Diego is gone, his brothers found him and he is dead.

Or worse.
(there can be many, many things worse then death, and a multitude of those possibilities can, and have run through his mind more often then not…)

There’s a soft sigh, and he answers in kind, even as shoulder pulls from the wall, pulling tall frame upright as he falls into step with James. Free hand clasps briefly on the Gnawer’s shoulder, lingering just a moment (shared pain) with a slight squeeze (silent understanding) before simply falling, while the kin follows his lead.

(james)
the walk isn't long
he hand that reached up and lay over the one on muscular shoulder
that seemed to linger longer
the Ahroun knows the shortcuts through Eagle's territory
soon enough the heavy lock is pried from the door
the iron gate swinging open on a grinding squeal of hinges
(never. ever. oiled.)
the kinsman warned to walk where he does
and the path set towards the building within a building
the two story housing that serves as their space within the warehouse

upstairs, the living area is comfortable enough
track lighting, table, couple couches and chairs
quick check serves to prove none of the other Garou are around
Tristan's waved to sit, and the Ahroun returns with a six pack and several large towels
there's a change of clothes for the kin in the stack, too
the way is pointed out to nearest bathroom

by the time Tristan returns
James is in a dry pair of sweats in which the bottom elastic was gone long ago
he's on the couch, head over knees to work one of the towels through thick dreads
long curve of his back making the ashed scars stand out like peltmark stripes on tanned skin

(tristan)
The touch lingers, and there are volumes unsaid in the simple rest of rage-warmed hands against his rain-chilled own… He follows carefully, noting the way to walk, chuckling with a soft.. “Bluntling?” in question of the rather meandering path, having been introduced to the Theurge and (his really goooood sheeeeeeet) heard the stories, but that’s all that’s said until things are gathered, violin set aside out of the way and he disappears into the bathroom with a soft “thanks…”

Changing doesn’t take long, and soon enough bare feet herald his return, his towels hung up but for the one draped around bare shoulders and tangled in hands that rubs through curls vigorously, resulting in even more tangles then the normal disarray of curls. He can’t help the soft chuckle seeing dreds submitted to a more careful drying then his own hair as he settles to sit next to his friend and reach for a beer, opening one and touching it to James’s thigh, waiting till it’s grabbed before grabbing his own and tossing back more then half of it.

“well. Aren’t we a couple of drowned rats.” Wryly grinned.

(james)
that.... actually gets the methodical drying of dreads to stop
his head twists, and deep umber peeks out from beneath a fold of the towel
in fact, there may also be a rather amused grin just beneath it
it's held as he takes the offered beer
(ya don't say....)
but only after a long pull and a long shot of tossing the towel onto a side chair, does he speak

"Don' 'no' were'ven to begin."

(tristan)
Which, of course, was the desired reaction. There’s a wink, before lanky form is settling back into the couch, close enough for his shoulder to brush against his friends, the little seconds of touch, of reconnection, that assures that he is there, and isn’t going anywhere – from both directions. Sometimes, it’s simple needed – those few brushes, the affirmation. James holds the very soul of beast beneath his skin, a pack animal who’s been lone too long, and Tristan grew up with the same, and revels in any and all touch. The brushes are natural, intentional, tender, affectionate.

He nods, slightly, and there’s a slow smirk. “th’beginnin?” even as he cringes away in mock fear of deserved swipe. A moment, and fingers lift to trace over badly healed jaw, arching a brow. “bout with this, and meander on from there anywhere the words take ya…”

(james)
there's no swipe aimed at the taller kin
though there is a low growl which would be terrifying in any other world
but between them, now, it's more playful than anything
a Gnawer packed up with a bunch of Get...

James needs this

the easy physical interaction that means nothing more than it is
being able to let his guard down enough to simply be himself without threat
they say that Bone Gnawers are nothing more than mutts roaming the streets
but there is still the primal lupine in them that survives solely on pack
and to the Ahroun - Tristan is as much pack as those that share his totem

dark scars press into the backing pillows as the Garou leans back with a sigh
badly healed jaw lifts until those eyes gaze as the track-lit ceiling
it takes a minute to draw the words together again, but he starts at the beginning

Rune, Johanna, the bane, Barny, Tucker, Kemp.... and Carmen

by the end his voice is all but inaudible
behind closed eyes he can see the scene replaying itself
(which face does he see.... which little girl)
and the memories that have resurfaced with it are tearing the full moon apart

(Tristan)
James needs this. So does Tristan.
A friend in need – a Gnawer provides.
The one who usually is the provider needs tonight, and Tristan wouldn’t be anywhere else – in fact, there’s nowhere else he’d rather be, no matter the painful stories that now fall from the Ahroun’s lips. He doesn’t interrupt through the entire painful tale, though gaze snaps up at the last, and he studies James as Carmen’s story is told and there is no mistake should he look that tears fill the dark gaze, before hiding behind lids as chin falls to chest, fingers picking at the label of his beer while he gets emotion back into control.

He was awfully fond of the little girl, and hated when their lessons together were cut short when he left. His swallow is thick, and for a few moments feels like he will not manage to get the lump from his throat. It’s not helped any knowing James’ story as well, and knowing how the thought of loosing the little girl is further tearing him apart…

Instead of words, there is only silence, until arm lifts from between them, and settles around the Ahroun’s shoulders, fingers sliding into dreds and tipping head to his shoulder where his own falls to rest. Sometimes, there simply are no words, try as one might to find them, desperately wanting to put this all into some kind of perspective. But there is no possible way to justify the loss suffered, the little girls in James’ life that have gone, the Mate that has been away and left him to deal with it all on his own…. A gnawer in a pack of get.

“I’m sorry…. N’I’m so sorry I wasn’t here.”

Even if he couldn’t have done a thing but be here… he’s upset that he was unable to offer what support he could – but it is all offered now, as easily as breath.

(james)
guilt
at times, there is no more powerful an enemy
he couldn't save his own little girl
he couldn't save Carmen, either
he could only provide the weapons to do what had to be done

others need, a Hood provides..... but not like this

there are things a Garou will never be proud of doing
regardless of whether or not it is in the name of Gaia
beer's forgotten as there's no resistance to the pull
dreads fall cool and wet across Tristan's shoulder
he didn't have to look to see the tears that had formed
when he's been alone at night, without the Get or Fang to witness the probable weakness
he's shed enough sorrow for the both of them

he had been so close to getting past the loss of his own daughter
but this..... this brings those carefully built walls crashing down again

"I miss'er..."

there's no clarity of whom he's speaking
at this point, it probably doesn't matter

".... n I'm sorry too...."

(tristan)
There’s no clarity, but no, it doesn’t matter. The ache is open and oozing and red and raw and it’s enough to weaken the strongest man.

There are times he hates what he is, and knowing what he knows, and fighting the fight of the one left behind to pick up the pieces, the ones left behind to worry, the ones in danger of being taken as little Carmen was taken. How he aches with the pain of his friend, his own pang of loss falling in crystalline drops to tangle with the cool wetness of tangled dreds against skin. The breath taken is slow, shuddering through his chest, as he says the only thing he can…

“I know.”

And he does – more then is ever said, he understands, and the ache is raw and tight, harsh and real… so very. Fucking. Real. No one should have to do this, no one should have to go through what his friend suffers, has suffered over and over again. No. one. But they do, over and over, making sense of it the only way they can, and doing their best to carry on and fight another day.

Face hides in the damp dreds breath taken again, a little (…less…) steadier then the last. He doesn’t have anything he can truly add to any of it, wishing for all the world he could take all the pain away, fix it all.. he’d been so close to coming to terms with his past only to have it thrust into his face again, Wyrm determined to crush him in it’s destroying grasp – but not if the kin can help it… if there’s anyway to stop the downward spiral – he will.

His voice softer then before, though it doesn’t take much to make it through as close as they are “…but I’m here now… know I don’t quite have the curves your used too – but I got strong nuff shoulders to take whatever ya need t’let out. N’I ain’t goin nowhere. Some’ow, we’ll make it through together.” He’s full aware that the words may mean nothing, or everything, or something in between – it’s not so much them, but the feelin behind’em he wants t’convey.

James is not alone.

Posted by james at 12:00 AM

September 10, 2003

.09.10.03. - aftereffects [erik-kemp-tucker]

[forums, warehouse, carmen hunt aftermath]

(erik)
You've all been called to assemble at the wearhouse. James, Kemp, and even Tucker get the
call from Erik after a day of rest and reflection on the terrible price paid the day before. Erik is no
galliard, but he must have something to say.

The wearhouse, squating between two other such buildings down on the docks where the big
oceanliners come in, looks abandoned and abused. Though all ground floor windows are boarded up, as well as all the doors but one, acces is easily gained if one can climb. Still, desperate as the homeless down here are, not a one will brave the interior for a night out of the weather. The one door not boarded up is a heavy, iron affair, rusted over the years and padlocked with a five pound lock. James has the only key, other than Erik (and Decker and Rune), so he waits outside for the other two to arrive. The hinges make a horrible squealing when the door is finally opened. Erik forbids the use of oil to quiet it.

Inside the wearhouse is empty but for a few spare crates containing old, moldy stuffed animals
and a few fifty gallon drums, empty. At the far end a room has been built right in the middle of
the floor. It is two stories tall with plenty of clearance under the high ceilings of the main
building. A metal walkway runs up the side all the way to its roof. A fire is burning up there, and
the lanky, unmistakable form of Erik waits by it.

(kemp)
He got the message alright and it made his gut tighten even more than it already was and his heart sink.

Now what this time?

His eyes sunken and haunted looking. Cheeks hollowed from having next to no appetite since the blood bathe that he had done. Feeling like he was going out of his mind since he had murdered the kid. And that's what it was, murder. He could barely remember most of it; memories came in nightmare flashes. You killed Carmen. Killed a helpless little girl. Killed the only person that accepted you for what you were. Murdered the little girl that had befriended and trusted you. MURDER!
Covering his ears with both hands to try and close out the voice of guilt in his mind.

And now here he was again, being hauled out to do what? Maybe he'd have to eat an infant this time, or beat some old woman with her walker?

One thing was for certain, he had to hitch a ride cause he not only lacked a car, he lacked a license.

Quiet, very quiet and withdrawn once he manages to make it to the warehouse. Sinking further down inside with the sight of the others. Those haunted eyes on his feet, shoulders hunched.

(james)
after giving the rides he needed to
the Gnawer took the still passed out kid back to Rune's condo
his condition begged a bath, but James just dumped him back in Luc's bed
the boy wasn't a cub anymore so he'd have to start taking initiative
and waking up covered in the dried gore will help the reality sink in

not that it will ever make it any easier to accept

Drums on Skulls knows too well there are some things a Garou does he'll never accept
the next twenty-four hours are amazingly quiet at the condo
the young Fenrir isn't the only one doing a lot of reflection or reliving nightmares
James only checks on him to make sure.... well... he's not sure what
he can't prevent the depression or nightmares
there's little he can say to make it any better
not that either of them are in a talkative mood

by the time the call goes out and Kemp's herded towards the Tacoma
James isn't looking much better than the cub
the several empty packs on the balcony state he was parked there the entire night
he didn't see it happen - but he felt it, he saw the umbral reflection of the aftermath
that was enough for him, thank you
somewhere in the night, fortunately, he found the shower

the black truck's parked in a garage out back of the warehouse
the shortcut within passed by in favor of lingering by the metal door to gather Tucker
the sea breeze should be refreshing, but the exhaust from the liners and memory stain the effect
they aren't waiting long before James leads the two younger Garou inside

"Walk where I do...."

it sounds unmistakably like a warning as they enter the dark structure
there's a reason that the big door is never oiled, and the relocked pad so damn heavy
and there are things a far sight more unpleasent between it and the two story room
(Livingston has gotten entirely too creative under the influences of the bluntling!)
on the outside, it just seems nothing more than part of the warehouse
it's just as dirty and abused as the rest of the place
inside, however, Rune's made it rather comfortable in taking out her aggressions of everyone being at her place
right now - they're not getting a tour, the Fostern makes a beeline for the stairwell and the roof

nod up to his Alpha on the slow stroll to join him
sling with the rebar (clean and rewrapped) is set quietly off to the side
the flickering lights of the fire cast even stranger shadows on his face
deepening the darkness beneath his eyes
spidering the loose dreads heavy vines over his cheekbones
hardening the set of jaw
staining the scars on his back a darker shade of black
easy going and reserved as he's been these past months
now, unforgettably, James reshouldered the primal mantle of a predator
primitive (dangerous, frightening) beast in the structural trees of this urban jungle

(erik)
"Hmph." Erik is tired of waiting for Tucker. Maybe the Fang thinks Erik acts too much like an ahroun, so he picks up Erik's Dark-Moon slack. Either way he's gonna miss a story.

There's no where to sit up on the roof of the inner building, other than the roof itself. Erik stands, though. Smoke from the fire pours up and up, out the vents in the blacked-out skylight above. He turns from checking the door one more time.

"Ok. So I got a story to tell. Its about how I first learned the same lesson the kid did night 'fore last..."

(Kemp)
And so here he was, on top of a building, within a building? Talk about odd set-ups. Though at this time he wasn't thinking so much about weird set-ups. He'd followed and walked where James walked like a robot.

Now here he was, wondering why he had been hauled to this place to listen to some story. Most important, was this Learning story going to lead up to making him eat a baby or something?

Standing there with hunched shoulders, looking more like a beat dog than anything else.

(james)
luckily for Kemp, there being nothing to sit on alleviated towards nothing to store waiting baby-snacks in
badly worn Cochran II's settle about shoulder's width apart
the lanky Ahroun's just as comfortable standing as sitting
Zippo flaring to spark up the Camel casting another lightsource to throw the shadows on his face into temporary chaos
the offer of the pack and lighter to his Alpha is automatic
acceptance or refusal or theft of the joint within the box taken in stride - and silence

short of the Modi's grunts, Blood Eagle is about the least wordy of them all
if he's going to tell a story... one better shut up and listen

he can't help but feel an aching sorrow for the kid
(too nice for your own good, Jamey-boy)
he's.... stood in the young Fenrir's place before
deep, sighing, smoke-filled inhale and exhale just shrugs it all away
gotta keep moving or get sucked under
(sometimes, by whatever means necessary to survive another day)
he knows that as well as anyone gathered on the inner rooftop

(erik)
"Alright. I's born up in Detroit. White kid in darkey town. Had a mom. She died. Mugged t' death two blocks fr'm home. When I's ten. Had a dad. Went littl' psycho. When I's ten."

He looks over to the door, the only door, again. Nothing but door there, though, so he picks up the story again with a shrug.

"Some preacher came by, give me dad a bible. Life, death, went on. Some years later I had my change. Life, death went on. Kinda fucked it up, tho, so dad 'n me lit out fer St Louey. Took nuthin but our guns an' dad's bible."

"'cept Dad's bible wasn't no bible. Not 'o God. Not 'o Jesus Christ on no stick neither. No. Dad's bible was a bible o' th' wyrm. I was too young to know't. Too green. Too stupid to do what needed doin. So, dad kept readin his bible. Taught me somewhat outta it too..."

He leaves off the story to glare at the pair of them, daring, asking, demanding they call him on his lessons. Can they speak under that fanatic, blue glare? Do they dare? He leaves off of James and focuses on Kemp. Truth-Through-Frenzy. Ha!

"So, 'ventualy dad came possessed. Fomor. That's right. My. Own. Dad. Stupid still I kept 'im locked in da basement. He got out... Tha' was 'fore I learned me the knack o trackin', so t'was a long hunt. Months. All Her faces watched me 'fore I found 'im. Took me a while to kill 'im too. He w's strong with wyrm's power. He was my dad. He taught me everythin' I knew. Everythin' I know. I killt 'im. Clawed out 'is heart and mashed it to pulp..."

"So I don' wanna 'ere no more whinin! No more waitin'! No more fuckin questionin neither! We's Garou. We kill th' wyrm. Wyrm takes one o yer own, you kill't all the faster. You blame yerself, if blame ya must..."

He pauses, maybe done, then tosses something silvery right at Kemp. It is a necklace, carved with a tiny Fenrir glyph. "T'was 'ers. Ye' done well o'nuff to earn it, Truth-through-Frenzy of the Fenrir."

(Tucker)
Tuck has been watining across the street for James to let him in for ohhhh a good hour and a half, when he finally decides to make th two mile walk to the convenience store to grab some smokes. He returrns, not forty minutes later to see kemps form sliding through the large metal door. Running to catch it before it closes he nearly sprains his ankle. But he's got it. "Fuckin' Wonderfull" he thinks. He watches James' mazy path from the door and marks it perfectly, walking it impossibly slowly so as not to get knocked the fuck out by one the Alpha's traps. He reaches the group just as Erik begins his story, deciding not to speak until spoken to.

(Kemp)
Silence wasn't something he normally did well, infact, his mouth generally ran like water through a sieve, but this time he was silent. Not a word through the entire story. The bad part was, he was being told something about this man that he didn't know, but he really wasn't getting where it was going. Even in the end with the basically, eye for an eye conclusion, he still was uncertain. Maybe he was sunk too far in guilt, or maybe something inside had died.

He did however grab the thing tossed at him. That flash of silvery metal coming at him through the air, like the flash of a silver knife just before pain beyond thought had gone through his leg and entire body from there. And just like that silver knife, Erik's words cut him to the core.
"T'was 'ers. Ye' done well o'nuff to earn it, Truth-through-Frenzy of the Fenrir."
Inwardly cringing with those words. He killed Carmen. He's said before that he was a monster and now he was sure of it. Just barely refraining from holding the charm out as far as he could like it was posioned or might turn on him to bite him.

Managing a bare nod to Erik, though not saying anything cause he got the impression he wasn't suppose to ask or say anything. And the way it sounded, like a monster, he wasn't suppose to feel anything either for killing the little girl.

(james)
((thought we decided on Truth IN Frenzy? *blinks*))

"S'not easy."

James picks up as Blood Eagle finishes
he didn't buckle under that fanatic glare
(I won't back down. Not even from you)
but he knows better than to interrupt
and it's not the first time Eric's knowledge of the Wyrm has come up
by now he's dropped to a crouch near the fire
the dreadlocked savage ready to pounce
butt's flicked into the roaring flames
arm swings back to rest elbows over knees
hands mirroring each other in the dangle between
there's an acknowledgement (finally) of Tucker's arrival
but his attention focuses mainly on the young Fenrir

"Y'think y'r a monster f'r killin' som'ne you loved."

the Alpha's Detroit slang
the Beta's California coy
the Modi's 'bama drawl
the Theurge's rastafarian ramble
the Gnawer's Yankee slur
it's really a wonder if anyone in the pack speaks normally
or at least, reasonably clearly

"Ev'ry one've us has a story like that. Ev'ry Garou y'meet will. 'Member how I tol' you I got these scars? Nev'r mention' th' Spiral tha' gave'm to me used t'be my Alpha, n' the rest of'm use t'be my pack. Th' Wyrm took my pack, 'n my mate..... my fuckin' family.... 'n I was too green t'see it 'til it was too late... I was jus' determined it would'n' take me. Think Carmen's th'first loved one those sticks've beat down?"

there's a breif silence, next, just a beat
long enough to allow for a wry, lopsided smile that's just as scarred as his back
just because he almost never speaks of the irony that's in his deed name....
..... doesn't mean it doesn't cut everytime he speaks it

"Her daddy gave't to'er." chin lifts up in a nod towards the pendant, soon as the angle changes so that he can see it clearly "Give'r a sense of fam'ly 'n that a li'le orphan belonged some'ere. 'Member that instead'a that thing y'killed. That wa'n't Carmen anymore. Y'killed a fomor. Jus' like I killed th' fomor tha' took Jenna 'n our baby." muscular shoulders roll in a shrug "Think've it how you have to, blame who y'have to, hate how y'have to. We all make th' mistakes, 'n half've us don' survive 'em to learn. Keep fightin' f'r faith, rev'nge, 'r that you know no oth'r way anymore.... jus' keep fightin' - fast'r, long'r, 'n hard'r. S'what we were all born t' do no matter how much we hurt f'r some've it."

(kemp)
Listening in silence to James' story. Plenty of things were going through his head. Plenty of things not given voice cause he figured he wasn't suppose to say anything and Erik always looked like he might rip his head off just to shit down his neck. So, he stood there with hunched shoulders, listening.

Wanting to curl up and die like he felt he was inside. Wanting to toss the necklace somewhere else so he didn't have to see it winking at him like some accussing finger. You killed her. You're a monster. They are monsters. We are all monsters and we are suppose to revel in fighting and killing people. That's what he was getting from this. Everyone could be one of those worm things, heck even he probably was one, look at what he did. But if you were the survivor you could say the other one was the worm? Really confused about it all. Everyone's family was a worm sooner or later. When would it be his turn? How was he suppose to know who was and who wasn't, or was it just a matter of deciding?

He never would of killed Carmen if there wasn't that horrble sound in his head, splitting it open. If it weren't for the girl smacking the shit out of him with that bat. If she hadn't gone nuts and stabbed him with that knife. God that knife had hurt. That was really all he remembered. He still hurt, not just in his soul but bone deep the pain like a punishment for what he had done. But all he remembered was the pain and the need to stop it. The need to make it all stop anyway he could. He couldn't even remember what he had done. Everything from the moment the knife had hit him was a red blur of pain.

And now he had that damned necklace of her's. Some twisted reminder or trophy, given to the kid by a father that from the little bit he had heard about him, was twisted too, or maybe a little retarded.

So many questions and it was all bottled up inside him.
(erik)
A baleful (like always) glare at Tucker reminds the Silver Fang that he is the next order of buisness. For now he will have to wait, and add what he will.

Then he turns back to Kemp, who he doesn't think is at all getting the point here. "So, Yer thinkin thatcha just made to kill. Yer wonderin what makes ya all speacial. Why you get ta be a murderer. Am I right?"

It seems the alpha expects an answer, and is a good bit shrewder than he looks. There is no menace in his tone though, which is a much better measure of his mood than any expression he might have.
(kemp)
"No." Frowning with a mixture of confusion and sulliness. "No, I don't think I'm special, at all. And I don't think I get to be a murderer, I already am a murderer and believe you me, i don't reveal in it or feel special about it. I feel fuckin sick about it."

All the pain and hurt rising up at once now that he'd been nudged with the questions.

"How the hell am I suppose to know who's got worms and who doesn't? How do I know I did the right thing and that I don't have worms too?" Throwing his arms into the air, his voice cracking like when it first started to change. "How do I know I'm not fuckin crazy!?" Chest rising and falling with his quick, agitated breathing.

(erik)
"Oh. That's fuckin easy. To the rest of the world now, you are fuckin crazy. How do you know you aint a monster... Cause that's whatch yer thinkin... Cause you feel sick about it."

Oddly enough, Erik is not working up into a fevered preeching about the wyrm. He has kept his voice calm, if still a desert rasp. His eyes soften as he remembers some of his earlier days. But fuck, this kid aint got that kind of time.

"And I'm sorry, kid, but you won't always be able to tell the difference. Won't always be able to know yer prey, and, sometimes, it won't matter. There aint but a few hunnert humans on this rock aint tryin to kill 'Er. That's too many fer us to git, so we try an' stick to the one's as gone too far down an' turned into monsters worse n' us. Them, an' the ones close t' us as turn too. That's a point a' pride, a point o honor."

Again he breaks off, but something about the set of his shoulders speaks to you all, telling you to remain quiet.

He continues. "Shit, I didin' wanna start ye off like that. Had my way, I'd'a showed ya what ya'd be fightin for. Such beauty. Such natural peace and rightness. What?! think I don' know it? Think I'm just some psychopath with a taste fer blood? Well... Fuck that!

"Look, kid, the wyrm... an' it's WYRM, not worm... got 'er. Made 'er bad, evil, whatever. Did it cause it knew she was one a' ours. What th' fuck were we s'posed t' do?"

(cody)
He reurns Erik's glare with eyecontact of his own, not menacing but not pleasant. Deciding it's time, he speaks.

"Look kid, you're not a fucking murderer. You're a soldier. You get to fight a war for the fucking world. Now, you can do two things: One, you can shut the fuck up, quit whining and be a damned hero; or two you can keep questioning everything your -rhyas tell you and get killed or taken by the fucking Wyrm."

A bit long winded especially for Tucker whose massive form is poised over the kid aggressivly so as t intimidate him into listening with his Rage.

(kemp)
He might not look like it, but he was listening to Erik and he still had a million questions. He'd been tossed in head first into a nightmare and none of it was making sense yet. Everything was still clouded with blood in his mind.

And then Tucker opened his mouth and something just snapped inside. This guy had opened his mouth, talking the tough guy shit everytime he saw him and so far, all he had seen was nothing but flapping lips and hot air streaming out of his pie hole.

Bristling, feeling like the hairs on the back of his neck were standing on end. "Ah, the sage opens his mouth and spews forth all the many years of his great experiance and personal first hand knowledge. Lo and beyold, the sun has risen." Pausing a moment before continuing. " Listen, far as I can tell, no one was talking to you and I certainly didn't ask for a God, country and glory speach from you. Especially one strewn with fuck this and fuck that to make it seem as if what's coming out is truly the end all, be all, holy bible of experiance and knowledge. . Now I know you think you're all that and a bag of chips, and for all I know, someone else thinks that too. But if you don't mind, I think I'll listen to those with a bit more experiance and something to say other than threats and fucks and words I never heard of before. I sure ain't gonna listen to someone talking about my rye-breada this and that. And threats? well they don't impress me much. Those that can, do. The others use threats." Tapping the side of his temple with one finger.

Frankly he didn't care if Tucker beat the shit out of him or killed him on the spot. It was more a case of put up or shut up. And he hadn't seen any putting up yet. It wasn't Tucker in there slaughtering that little girl. All he'd seen from Tucker was threats and cussing, just like all the bullies he had ever been stuck living with from one foster home to the next since he could remember.

"Now you're spouting Hero's and wars at me like some B movie. Only problem is, you forgot the subtitles cause I don't speaka da language." He was getting about one word in twenty being said, unfortunately. He had absolutely nothing to connect those few words to. Breathing quick while waiting for the expected blows to come. Only this time, he wasn't going to let the bully win, not without totally and completely flipping and he was so close to that now with the threatening posture and rage being thrust in his face.

(james)
"Monst'rs don' feel guilt." said slowly as the Fostern Ahroun stretches to stand "Monst'rs don' feel remorse."

cool, calm, collected James
that's right, the PR guy for the Eagle pack
backlit by the crackling fire - he looks more the dangerous animal than the easy going drummer
the shadows cast in twisting ropes from heavy dreads drape his face
the hard muscle coiled and cut by grief's weight loss and neglect flexing in slow shrug
the deep scars creeping over his shoulders from beneath wifebeater seeming to writhe and squirm through heat's flicker
which probably means he got up and ready to move for a reason

"Jus' 'cause we got th' wolf in us don' mean w'r inhuman. You've ev'ry right t' feel sick to y'r stomach 'bout what'cha did. Ev'ry one've us got a mem'ry that kills us each time it comes up ag'in." there's a breif pause filled with a half-sigh "Tuck's gotta point..."

a step forward
his chin slightly lifts
deep umber eyes locked on the Fang
the color of Gaia's rich, moist soil suddenly hard. as. steel.
(Back. The fuck. Off. Cliath.)
they were called here for more important things than pissing contests
and James knows well enough force isn't the way to get through to Kemp
then the gaze swings back to the young Fenrir

when the totem joined the pack together that night nearly a year ago, maybe the most surprising thing they all heard was that the Gnawer, the born and bred Hood - easily the kindest and most selflessly giving of all that had gathered - would be granted compassion by the great, firey raptor in order to guide his purpose and temper his intolerance

sometimes, he can still feel that glyphed brand burning against his breastbone
the mark that will never let him forget he's Eagle's Chosen no matter how vague the distant night's memories are
the tones that shade slurred speech are nowhere near as harsh as they could, or should, be in reprimand
within compassion, there is a bitter agony behind the Ahroun's mellow and controlled thesad
but it doesn't mean he won't put the bristling kid back in his place, either
even if there's a hint of amusement in those dark eyes at the young Garou standing his ground to the other Ahroun's threat

".... y'r one've Gaia's soldiers, like it'r not. We were all born th's way, none'v's had a choice. Save this: you c'n accept it'n start livin' 'gain 'n fight th' War.... 'r you c'n let it kill you fast'r slow as i' pleases." it's no surprise this is overwhelming the kid, James was raised around the Albany Sept and a lot of his lessons were still hard to swallow, so it's a safe bet he's making this explanation slow and simple "S'm days'll be full'a glory, others'll be full'a pain..... won' know which it'll be 'til th' day's done. Jus' cause all y' know so far' 's pain 'n confusion doesn' mean that's all it'll ev'r be. Erik's right..... one day y' will see what'cher fightin' for. Y'll re'lize th' thing that inspires 's all, what we 'ere all born t' protect."

there's another pause
it's filled with the sound of the fire (their Rage) snapping in the darkness
it's filled with the sound of flexed jaw grinding to pop and work out the ache because he hasn't spoken this much in months

"But 'til ya do? Th' Wyrm won' stop. It'll keep takin' anyone 't can an' drag 'em down, make'm in'a true monsters. Erik's da'..... my pack'n mate.... the Spirals tha' killed Tuck's fath'r..... 'n Carm'n, too. It'll pollute 'n twist'm 'n torture'm in ways we can' even imagine. We c'n only do what 't is we feel 's right..... so you c'n keep thinkin' you murder' a little girl, 'r you c'n know y' save 'er fr'm what worse thing she'd've been t'morrow. Y' freed'r fr'm tha' torture'n fate, Kemp, 'n the only way she could be."

"Clear 'nuff?" a brow lifts towards the frame of dreads, of course another one of those at the tainted site could have gone in and done the deed instead, easily and without batting an eye, but maybe it's a little less oblique now that perhaps there was another reason the youngest was sent in - it may have been a horrible trial by fire, but that little girl was his friend who needed to be released from the dagger clutches of the most foul beast.... honor and pride, baby, honor and pride.... if only Kemp could see the beloved savior within the hated sinner, then the Gnawer's grin twists a little lopsided "'n -rhya's th' suffix you addr'ess y'r elders with."

(kemp)
Not so much deflating as instantly withdrawing inwards. As soon as James agreed with Tucker and said he was everything Tucker had said he was. That was the moment everything clammed up and hatches were batten down. He'd been through these kind of storms before and had learned to shut down, take the beating and not let it inside. Only one thing had gotten past his wards into that hiding place inside him since he'd learned to clam up and that was the little girl he had killed. Now he was swiftly retreating to that inner place.

First Tucker with. " You're a soldier. You get to fight a war for the fucking world. Now, you can do two things: One, you can shut the fuck up, quit whining and be a damned hero; or two you can keep questioning everything your -rhyas tell you and get killed or taken by the fucking Wyrm."

Then James backed him up. "y'r one've Gaia's soldiers, like it'r not. "

That's what got through like a blow to his gut. So he was suppose to say fuck to the entire world and go being some soldier for something he still didn't understand and only had fragments of information on. Something he was getting glowing examples of how to be from those around him. Decker first, then Tucker with his fuck you, fuck them, fuckin kill and stop being a fucking baby.

It was no wonder he was getting overload and with the way tempers were starting to rise, history had taught him to withdraw, shut his mouth and pretend life couldn't be better. Best to withdraw, take the beating. His head lowering, eyes glazing over in the retreat. Mumbling those magic words in a flat dead tone. Those magic words that sometimes kept someone from breaking your arm or leg, or busting your nose or lip.

"You're right, I'm sorry."
(erik)
Oh no, Erik may not look it, but Kemp, and Tucker will come to realize that he is smarter than that. He sees Kemp withdraw and while he is no mind reader, he has been here before. He's been student and teacher in this instance already. So maybe its time for a lesson in specifics.

"A'right, lets drop that fer now. Kid's havin a tough enuff time with it without you two harpin on. So, lets talk about Gore Hounds. Who knows what they are? No one? Well, lissen up then...

"Sometimes, the wyrm will corrupt a spirit. Hell, sometimes corrupt spirits just are born all on their own. Spirits of murder, rape, whatever. No reason to get into that. Well, these spirits, Banes we call 'em, can possess people. When this happens we call that person a Fomor. This twists those possessed. I seen 'em turn into some nasty shit. fought one once that'd vomit up poisons on ya. fought another had 'bout 12 arms, all jellyfish like.

"Ok, so a Gore Hound is a specialized Fomor. Wyrm makes 'em outta people in a special way. Wyrm first makes these videos, or even video games. Taint them subtle like. Then it forces ya to watch 'em, though sometimes forcin' aint necessary. These Videos call out to the special type o bane that'll then come and turn 'em into a Gore Hound.

"So, thena Gore Hound is born. Every one I seen, and I seena few, is super strong, and usually fights like they got our Rage inside 'em. And none suffers the delierium..."

He pauses, letting this sink in, so much useless (realy) knowledge. Why would a garou care? Don't need to know how their made to kill them, do ya?

"That's what they did to Carmen. It wasn't 'er no more, Kid. Believe me. It was a Gore Hound only usin 'er body to cause US dis emotional pain. You see?"

(james)
"'m not harpin' on 'im." interjected in a moment Blood Eagle pauses for breath before launching into the lesson "Jus' tryin' a tellim th' truth. Di'n't mean t' come down so hard..."

whether that last was meant for his Alpha or the young Fenrir....that's up to them to decide
the breif downward flick of his gaze an affirmation easily directed towards Erik
one of those subtle messages in body language, backing down before higher station
maybe it's the element of sorrow in his voice that lends the apology towards Kemp
muscular shoulders heave in a slow shrug to physically shake it off

the boy isn't the only one that's devastated by what happened

but Fosterns aren't allowed to draw within themselves anymore
with rank comes a responsibility of example and some sense of leadership
.... at least.... theoretically.....
James is still getting used to this whole being more than a guttermutt in the background thing
the Rotagar isn't the only one that noticed Kemp's emotional and mental retreat
seeing it made the Ahroun inwardly cringe
he's a Hood.... he's supposed to help others, not hurt them
(but the truth can hurt more than any lie, you know that Jamey-boy)
any frustration there may be at feeling more than a little useless shows in little more than a small sigh

lesson at hand, right-o, Boss
the smooth segue into the specifics to turn attentions elsewhere probably the best idea
that would be why Blood Eagle is the Alpha
James has people skills, not leading skills
so he settles cross-legged on a comfortable slab of roofing and lights up another Camel

he's well aware of how powerful banes and fomor can be
he wouldn't speak the way he does now if it wasn't for a bane
(and that fucking traitorous Fang bitch that turned on him when he was only trying to protect her)
one night he almost didn't make it back to the condo because of a fomor with an assault rifle
(those bullet wounds itched something insane while they healed)
and while it may not be necessary for a Garou to know how his foe was created
(but isn't it a good way to destroy something in unraveling the threads that made it?)
his Frankenweiler mentors would be proud at how the Ahroun files the information away
(he was warned, such knowledge could be dangerous....)

"So...." ventured on the exhale of smooth smoke that will never blacken his lungs, half-ashed Camel pinned between calloused index and middle fingers used to gesture vaguely at the Fang before the log is flicked backwards towards the fire "Tha' vid'eo'n the VCR Tuck smashed.... was one've'm." seemed clear and simple enough with the girl being trapped in the room and what became of the situation, his voice is softer now, thoughtful, dark eyes first move to the younger, then older Cliath.... he's not leaving Kemp out, just understands that his attention was otherwise occupied (and... frenzied...) so doesn't expect an answer "Get'a look't what was on i'? R' the label af'er it broke 'n popped outta th' machine??"

glance strafes to his Alpha, a moment, then back
not meaning to interrupt or digress or step out of line again
he's just curious, now, about what was used to steal their little friend in exchange for so much pain
Blockbuster sure as hell won't be the same anymore....

(tucker)
He listens to the verbal tirade from the kid and....

chuckles.

In fact it almost turns into full laugh before he catches himself and looks back at the Kemp, smiling. "Anytime Kid, Anytime." Being a Fenrir was the only thing saving this kid, a little balls is to be expected from a cub with Decker and Erik for teachers.

He slouches back and listens to Erik and James, almost jumping when addressed by the Gnawer.

Tucker nods slowly, "Yeah it was called Vengance IV: Blood of the Wolf, some fucked up shit, though man the only thing I saw was a fucking Hispo wolf mauling a group school kids. I mean YOUNG FUCKING KIDS man." A visible cringe comes over Tuck as he explains this. "But I didn't get anything else, should be enough to find the production company or somthing."

He looks to the Alpha and the Ganwer, paying almost no attention to the cub, whatsoever.

(erik)
"Fuck it. Won't do no good anyhow..." He sighs. "There's too many of 'em to do anyways. No..." He pauses, thinking, considering, one final time beofre he drops the bomb.

"Yeah. Way I figure it was Endron did it to 'er. We know they're wyrm, we know they know we're 'round, and I know they run da show 'round here. So, yeah, we're goin back in. ALL of us." He spears a look towards Kemp, looks like he is included.

"Don't expect Deck or Rune back in time, so glory's ours. Now, listen up, cause this is da plan... See..."

His eyes, cold, blue, light from within with a fevered, fanatic glow. He's really getting into it now. "We'll be sneakin a bomb into the main complex. Gonna use Billy and his boys fer a decoy while we do that. Kemp, Truth Through Frenzy, whatever, you in? You wanna show 'em what did it to 'er not to fuck with us Eagle's? Cause... We'll need ya. You too, Tuck. 'Cept first I need ya, the both of ya, introduced to the totem. Tuck, that's yer 'sponsibility, fer the both of ya. Got it? Good. Questions? Ask 'em now cause you know what heppens to them what asks too late..." An ominous glare might remind them that Erik has no qualms about a serious ripping for those who question in time of war.
(kemp)
Most everything was Greek to him. There was nothing like listening to another language when you only understood a word or two and this was very much like that. Now he was getting something about watching T.V. or playing video games being bad for you and turning you into something else. Ok, so like in school they always said T.V. rotted your brain. Somewhere in this there must be a teacher somewhere going, "I told you so."

All the conversation was flying over his head, swirling around with the confusion in his mind until that laughter started. A braying like a Jackass that went right through his head to hit that last nerve and strum it. There was some smartassed comment that hit like an additional bray. It was all mixing with the roar in his head. Somewhere in there, there was mention of bombing some gas station or something and him having to go somewhere with Tucker, whom he had renamed something else in his mind.

Confusion mixing with rage, all going around and around in his head like the flushng of a toilet in one big swirl.

Nodding and shaking his head all at once. Really past the point of clear thought. He just needed to stop the pain in his head and soul. Needed to make it all stop before he popped.

(james)
the look on the Gnawer's face is less than impressed at Tucker's recollection
that's just.... just....

breath huffs out
lip curls more down than up
shoulders roll their discontent

moving on...

now there's something to be said about that fanatic glow in Blood Eagle's eyes
most would probably begin to back away from the zealous madman
wondering how much sense leads the devotion
but the one thing the Ahroun doesn't do is question
at least during a time like this

ignoring, of course, the reiteration nobody knows when the others are coming back, not even their all-knowing Alpha
(pack is everything to James)

dark gaze swings towards the two younger Garou
one has a reputation for questioning authority
the other looks about a shift of weight away from a meltdown
may be opening a floodgate, here
but chin lifts in that invitation to speak signal
floor's open, they better take the chance while they can

(kemp)
Only bits and pieces were getting in, and even that was swirling round and round in his head, all looking for a way out before he just popped. Barely noticing the looks from Eirk and James.

Right now the thing chasing round in his head was the little bit Tucker said that sunk in. Sunk in like an accusation.
" The only thing I saw was a fucking Hispo wolf mauling a group school kids. I mean YOUNG FUCKING KIDS man."
That was him, that's what he did and the kid was Carmen. Tucker was talking about him. He did it, no matter how they tried to put it, he did it. One minute one of them was telling him it had to be done. The next, someone was telling him it was a good thing. Then the next it was like a curse spilling out of Tucker's mouth.
Too confused and bombarded to sort any of it out. Input both positive and negative were coming in too fast and from too many angles. And it was getting all screwed up and twisted around in his head, which was throbbing to the point that he was sure everyone could hear the roaring in his ears.

Shoulders hunched, curling in on his misery and pain. He couldn't say anything, if he did the laughter and ridicule would come again. If he opened his mouth to speak he might not get anything out but the scream clawing at the inside of his skull. Breathing short and quick. A sheen of sweat coating his face and neck even though he seemed to be trembling from the cold.

(erik)
Well, thats about as far as he figures they're gonna get tonight. Erik thinks about going over his plan right now, but in the back of his soul he feels a growing presence. A warrior is returning to the fold, he feels. Best to wait. Best to wait.

"Ok. We're through here. Couple days we meet with Fog pack. Ya all expected to be there."

Well, that's that.

(kemp)
That was it? He could go and end the confusing grilling? Carmen was dead. What he got from it was it wasn't Carmen, but if it wasn't Carmen in there, then how come it looked like her? And if it was like some movie (the only thing he really had to go by) then was it like an evil spirit in her? But if he had to murder Carmen to release her, then by the same reasoning, wouldn't that mean that Carmen had to be in her body?

Clinching his head in both fists. Crap, most of this shit just didn't make sense to him. There were excuses given as reasons around and around and around, hitting from all sides. Or maybe he was just suppose to cuss his head off and revel in killing everything he saw? That seemed to be one of the examples (twisted or otherwise) that was getting through to him. Mixed in all of it was the derisive laughter that just made him want to make it stop forever, even if it meant he had to freak out and tear the source apart like he had with Carmen. He was on the edge of that freaking anyway.

Somewhere in all this there was a hint of revenge. Oh he was in on that, for sure because it might make the some of the guilt go away. And what was this stuff about totem introductions? Something about Tucker suppose to carve a totem pole or something? Well maybe if he was introducing himself to some totem, he'd shut the fuck up. Though he was still confused, that part about fog and stuff. What did the weather have to do with anything? And how the hell did you meet fog, if you waved, wouldn't it disapate?

One thing was for sure, he wasn't wasting any time in heading for the door. Just vaguely remembering something about walking exactly where I walk.

Posted by james at 12:00 AM

September 07, 2003

.09.07.03. - truth-in-frenzy [erik-tucker-cori-billy-kemp] *e

[outside Newark]

aka: Hunting Carmen
aka: Happy 1 Year Anniversary James!

(james)
two cars pull up to a bend in the road hidden by trees 20 miles outside of Newark city limits
lights grow dim then shut off before either comes to a complete stop
one's the Monte warwagon, Blood Eagle at the wheel and Tucker pulling shotgun
close behind is the black Tacoma driven by one Bone Gnawer
(yea, he'll be washing this thing before the Modi gets back, that's for sure)
Cori's in the passenger seat and Kemp's tucked nice and neat in the back

sure, they'd all've fit into a single car....
but both the Eagles are too paranoid to be caught like that
never hurts to have a little legroom, anyway

there's a low hum of machinery that's carried on the wind from a few miles away
but that's not what they're concentrating on
it's the glitter of lights through the band of trees ahead
through the trees and a few hundred yards into a clearing - there's another building in question
non-descript, nothing particularly out of the ordinary except for the familiar tug of Erik's gift
that chainlink and nastily wired fence may also mean some business, come to think of it

once unfolding from the seat and closing the door mutely behind him
the lanky Gnawer leans back against the still-warm hood of the truck
dark eyes glancing towards his Alpha from beneath the bandana that's holding dreads under control

(erik)
Signs. Humans seem to need to mark every little piece of their accomplishments with a sign and a name. this place must have a name, and a sign, somewhere. He looks for this as he parks the car, swings open the door and walks back to the trunk.

(kemp)
Wiggling out of the backseat as soon as he could get out. A million and one questions in his head and all clammoring to spill out at once. "So? I don't see the kid anywhere." Some might find it odd that he called anyone a kid, but Carmen was younger than him and that made her the kid.

(cori)
the trip made in silence after a message passed through totemphone told her she’s on her own packwise for this little rescue mission. Cowboy hat replaced by simple bandanna that holds braided hair back out of the way, though the rest of the outfit is deceptively simple, and exactly what James had seen her in before. Tanktop, jeans, cowboy boots.
She opens her door, and steps out, stretching 5’11” height a bit before closing the door silently behind her. The rope glimpsed before is now hanging coiled at her hip, other things tucked here and there about her person. She knows her hand to hand limits (more clearly after last nights spanking by her alpha) but also knows her prowess with seemingly innocent toys.
Dark brow hikes upwards at Kemp, and head shakes slightly. Least the kid aint looking at her ass at the moment. She moves around to the Drivers side of the truck, leaning against the hood a bit away from James, and waits.

(tucker)
Following Erik back to the trunk, looking about almost.... nervously? No. That wasn't the kid, he's to damn arrogant to be nervous. Apprehensive, yes. Battle ready, of course. But not nervous. He addresses the Blood-Eagle at the War-Wagon's posterior.

"Erik." He looks the scarred Alpha in the eye as he turns to give him a vicious look as if to say 'rhya, Erik-rhya you fucking moron'. Tuck in his usual fashion pays no attention to such details. "I've been thinkin', I know you don't think I can hold my own with you and James and Decker and the rest of the pack." A blank look just the reaction he hoped for. "Make this my chance to prove it, I wanna pack up. I'm ready to be a fucking Eagle." He raises his eyebrows and waits for a response from his would-be Alpha wolf.

(james)
"What'd I tell'ye 'bout bein' quiet?"

shot back over his shoulder as the young Fenrir all but falls out of the cab
last thing they need is a motormouth drawing more attention
he made that clear already
by the time he reaches back in through the open window to pull out a pair of binoculars
Erik can make out the meager numbers set on reflective stickers on a post up the road
just at a fairly non-descript sideroad that must be a driveway
(if, of course, you knew where you were going behind the trees)

16475

and that's about when Tucker starts off
the raggedy Ahroun just shakes his head, quirking a bit of a lopsided grin
Alpha's call, not his, he's just making his way up to the treeline ahead
peering through those damned awkward (focus goddammit!) tools at the building

Nobody outside totemphone, please pick up your party's extension.... thankyew Two sets of fences, both with wire at the top.... couple'a..... searchlights? hidden by the a/c units on the roof, bars on the windows.... name by the door looks like "Edison Corp." there's a pause in the freeflow of impressions that form mental speech, which in contrast from the Gnawer is clear as a bell compared to his verbal slur

Isn't that one of the names in the file?

((yes, Edison Corp is contained in the file recognizable by both name an address. Bonus that one of the autopsies contained therein used to be employed at the small industrial warehouse type company before the "car accident" that killed him. Imogen did not put WHY she included the reports, just that she did - the accidents were obviously something more than car wrecks, likely garou or fomor attack))

(erik)
Edison Corp. Now what the hell did that file say about it, and why is Carmen inside there somewhere. Already this whole situation is setting off warning bells in his head. This is NOT where he expected to fine her, and that does not please.

"Shut up." Who he spoke that to, over his shoulder while he opens a blue duffle in his trunk and extracts three shotguns and a revolver. "James, pass these out and make sure they know how to use 'em. Tucker and me is going in for a look. Make sure the cars is as out of sight as you can manage, and stay alert."

(kemp)
The only one he felt truly somewhat comfortable with here, was James. So far James hadn't tried to kill him, beat the shit out of him, or scare the shit out of him. Cori he didn't know from Adam, or Eve depending on your view. And as curious as he was, he still didn't miss a chance to look at her ass. Why give up a freebie when you could look and drool? His clothes bagging off him, feet bare and right now he was moving to lean up against the hood of the car so his lower front was covered just in case little Kemp got a mind of his own with looking at Cori's ass and decided to stand up and take notice. He was so engrossed in trying to catch everything and the view that he barely heard James. And he was still trying to figure out who Cori was.

Just giving James a nod and wave like sure boss. Erik's shut up though made him cringe. He had lumped Erik with Decker in his head.

(cori)
Dark eyes watch James take the nocs and fight with them to focus, flickering to Tucker and his sudden comments that probably should have been discussed before getting out of the car, back to Kemp and his motormouth being spanked by James. And the Mist Walkers were said to be an eclectic pack….
It brings a bit of a fond smile curving across her lips though. Truthfully? Reminds her of home. Being the baby of a large family, this kinda bickering just feels alright.
Hell, she even shakes her head and offers Kemp a little smirk – that could be an amused smile in a former life. Lean form pulls up from the side of the truck, to see what kind of goodies are being handed out.

(tucker)
A nod. Fine, i'll shut the fuck up for now he thinks and shoves away the mental note. He looks over at the girl and over to james giving a 'who the fuck?' look with his eyebrows.

He grabs a shotgun from James pumping the action once slowly to make sure it's loaded with out making noise. It is, he replaces the shell in the chamber and closes the gun down again. Looking now to the Alpha waiting to go 'have a look'.

(billy bedlam)
Damned cops That was the only thing Cori could hear across the totem Link as a car Came careening rather inexpertly towards those gahtered outside of town. headlights off, truth be told..this was the first time Billy had ever Even considered driving a car...nd itshows as the engine dies and it careens into a tree just off the highway not 3 miles from the group. Stepping out of the wreckage, he heads off into the darkness headed towards his pack mate

(james)
in reputed Eagle fashion - chin goes up in that nod rather than down
he's put the binocs away in order to fill his hands with the duffel
one scattergun to Tucker
one scattergun to Cori
the last shotgun and the .45 are still in the back on the Tahoma's hood
...... something about kids with guns .... just.... not yet.
a brow lifts at the Coggie to doublecheck she knows how to use the gun
but his attention's mostly on the cub

"Kemp.... driver's seat, stick't'n nuetral and pull th' brake.... set't 'gain after we roll't back b'tween those trees. Keep watch."

the last shot to Cori
there's a reason he parked the truck like he did
easy push on the hood's gonna rock it downhill back into those trees
meaning it's just as easy to jump in and floor it the hell outta there if need be
can't say the Gnawer didn't think ahead

though his head snaps up mid-push at the collision echoing from down the road
that's..... not good
shit like that brings EMS with lights and attention....

(erik)
Erik grabs the binocs out of James' hands. "Look up this place in that file. Its in the front seat." Another job for James to do while Erik heads off into the trees, typically not waiting for Tucker. He'll have to keep up if he wants in.

First they'll check out the physical site. "Lupus." Erik orders Tuck, but keeps to homid himself as they creep closer. His eyes are wired for cameras, but the darkness makes spotting anything even remotley concealed almost impossible.

(kemp)
Guns? They were going to give him a gun? He sure hoped no one stood in front of him anywhere cause he had just as good of chance of hitting them as he did the broadside of a barn. He'd likely shoot his own damned self too, maybe all three things at once. And he still didn't get how Carmen and the stupid Kin had ended up way out here. How come they weren't calling the freakin cops or the state troopers or at least the A-team?

And speaking of motor mouths. Glancing towards Tucker a moment. At least himself had a motor mouth and not a motor outhouse mouth. Well, most of the time.

(cori)
Brow arches as totemphone rings and there’s a soft huff of laughter. ~bout time you made it, Si…Billy. Brought yur toy just in case.~ A nod to James as takes the gun, expertly checks the load and winks good naturedly – not only does she know how to use it, she’s not too bad a shot either.
After grabbing Bane Breaker from the truck, she steps away as they start to push, looking up the road as the crash comes and murmur carries to James.. “s’Billy. Had to ditch the cops, and apparently attempt to drive.” Here’s hoping he wasn’t followed and managed to ditch the cops completely.

(billy)
IT takes a bit but he comes out or the trees. not making a direct line...he wasn't followed. he made sure of that. ~You're a good girl Cori...who's running the Circus tonight?~

(tucker)
Under his breath he whisper-yells at Erik, "what fuck up would'ja!?" He takes a momentto concentrate and go to wolf form. 'Fuckin awkward ass four legged ass bullshit.' S'okay though his only dedicated clothes have gotten a bit smaller in fit since his last use of them and the relief is welcome. He looks once at the gun left now on the hood of the monte and then is of on a carefull run behind the alpha.

(james)
"Brake....now."

growled at the cub that was paying more attention to things outside the truck
he has a feeling there's gonna be a new dent in the left rear wheelwell
he'll think about that as readily as he's going to think about handing Kemp that .45
the Gnawer hasn't been much for conversation in the past few weeks
not much is really changing right now
Alpha's orders gets little more than a grunted
(something to think about other than the Modi's truck.... thank GAIA he didn't bring the Beemer)
Cori's remark gets more of an expression though
oh, the huge crash a few miles down happened to be their reinforcements
.... peachy

there is the odd, breif, and highly amusing (only to a Garou) thought of whether or not the Wendigo was going to show up with a steering wheel sticking out of his chest to add to the nasty collection of scars that rivaled his own Alpha's

"Kemp."

called to the cub as he all but falls out of the Tacoma's cab a second time that night
there's a nod up to Billy's arrival, but he'll let Cori catch him up to speed
he's got the file in hand, hip pitched against the door of the Monte as he begins flipping through

"'member those nasties I talk'd 'bout?" soft, just murmured, so the slur's less harsh "Think you're g'nna get a first hand look t'night." dark eyes flick from the paper work to the cub, he can smell the tension on him, and the rising anticipation "'Know how t'use a gun?" wouldn't be the first teenager James came across that -did-

It's here. that instead on the packphone Small warehouse looks like, industrial.... it drifts off as Erik can almost hear the pages continuing to turn, but that's just him pulling out the appropriate pages to first point to the warehouse then hand to Cori in further catching up

Meanwhile, behind the quiet thesad of the scouting team
Tucker can smell a lot more blood (old, old blood) than should be around a meager little warehouse
there's the apprehension in the air that's more than his own
something like prey's fear that begins to set his hackles on rise
the sound of the far-off machinery gets louder the closer they get to the building
and the smell of..... it's noxious, a chemical cast off of refined..... something begins sticking rather unpleasently to the insides of his nasal cavities

Erik, though, doesn't get quite as much from the finer details in vision the binocs provide
there's a few cars in the parking lot on the far side of the building
but other than a few dim lights shining through office windows
the place seems deserted on the outside

(erik)
Erik takes his eyes from the binocs to lok down at Tucker, catching onto his posture and mood. Again his eyes go to the binocs, but this time he concentrates, reaches into his spirit side, and focuses in the way the spirits taught him. Might as well find out right away if the wyrm walks here. (Sense Wyrm)

(kemp)
By now he was in the driver's seat and far from the Tony Stewart or Earnhart he dreamed he was in his imagination. Infact, he was jiggling the gear shift and pressing all the pedals, even farting around with the emergency brake in trying to figure out what was what. He was fourteen, no driver's license and no driver's training either. This was his crash course and there was a big shit eating grin on his face right now. Just the car rolling made him feel like he was a God at that moment. THEY let HIM behind the wheel! Hot damn, life was good. Now he was hoping he had to do one of those big car scenes where they sped off, going on two wheels around trees and stuff. He didn't need a gun, he had a CAR! Anything that got in his way was going to get run over. Hopefully it wasn't someone he knew cause he wasn't so sure about that brake part. "Broooommmm, brooommmm, errrrrrk." He kept it quiet, but he couldn't resist making car sounds at least once. Squirming and wiggling around in the seat to reach pedals. He hadn't figured out how to move the seat yet, if it moved and he wasn't all that tall yet.

"Brake? Oh Brake!" A sudden lurking and rocking of the vehicle when he finally mashes down the correct pedal, nearly banging his head on the wheel. Scrambling out with a wide shit eating grin that quickly falls away with mention of nasties.

"Crap."

That's all he got out cause he had a bad feeling crawling up his ass to make his bowels tighten.

(cori)
~So you keep telling me.~ grin flashed to her Alpha as he joins, Bane Breaker tossed his way even though she still keeps watch., eyes sliding over the road, toward the building, toward those stowing the cars, and back again. ~Eagle Alpha. James’ actin second. Gotta kid wantin in, and a cub who ain’t quite believing this shit who’s more interested in my ass. Course, he seems fond of the little one we’re tryin to get back, but ain’t admittin that. You n me closing out the group.~

A step or three brings her to James’ side, papers taken and brow lifting as she scans the information gathered on the little file. She turns and hands the information to Billy, while shooting Kemp a glance. Ten bucks says that if someone’s gotta babysit the cub it’s gonna be her. But she just continues to watch the road, listening for anything else – and the return of Erik and Tucker.

(tucker)
Tucker sniffs the air around him and even, in fact especially in wolf form it's enough to make him give a long open mouthed gag. He puts his nose to the ground trying to stiffle the smell reaching out with his spirit trick to find any traces of wyrm taint here.

He yaps once at Erik moves in a small circle and points his nose to the air sniffing, as if to say 'You fucking smell that shit?'

(billy)
Looking at the papers, he frowns as he takes them and looks them over...upside down. Damned things didn't have no pictures. bane Breaker held easily in his hand, the crinos sized Mohican War club rests on the ground, the handle at his shoulder. Handing the papers back to cori, he looks off towarsd the building. "gimme the jist of it all...I can't read human." Lookign down the hill to James he nbods in reply to the man's greeting and switches to Totem Phone. ~Cori...when it comes time to skin out...we take the back and cover them...they'll have a lot to take care of if they got kin and kids in there and we can give 'em the advantage.

(james)
okay
he was REALLY amused at Kemp's little mini-Daytona getaway going on there for a minute
and that shows in the lopsided smile that gets tossed at the suddenly crestfallen kid
James, of anyone, knows how much the few and farbetween little things mean
and hated to take away that little daydream
but this was reality
this was the introduction of Kemp to his true future
if he didn't believe it now, he simply wouldn't survive
like it or not, he's just been drafted into the War

"Gun?"

prompted once again
he wasn't handing a weapon to someone just as likely to shoot him in the back with it
he's already been through that, thank you, and his jaw still fucking aches from that betrayal
though attention switches to Billy's prompt, instead

"Th't's Edison Corp, warehouse, seems Endr'n owned." files hefted up in indication of the relationship of papers to discovery "S'where Carm'n seems t'be, dunno 'bout the kin. 'n.... this guy....." an autopsy report is pulled out, computer printout with a few pixelized and fuzzy pictures "..... use'd t' work here, died'n a car wreck few week 'go. Helluva wreck...."

when the image is flipped around - those aren't wounds caused by a car wreck
it looks like the guy was attacked by his car, instead of crushed in it
the impression of that is sent to his Alpha along with the continued explanation
though, Erik and Tucker are probably concentrating more on the sudden discordant creeps raised by a definite presence of Wyrmstench
the Wyrm doesn't seem to walk here - it seems as if the vile creature has been happily camping out
it's thick in the air, especially from the direction of the smell invading sensitive lupus senses
and it seems to get heavier towards the building

(erik)
Wyrmstench. A hatefilled glance to tucker reveals that, yes, he smells it. Then there comes the stretching, popping, shift to Crinos. I shall cross over. Wait 2 minutes before following. Erik then invokes another gift, this one works to keep him impossible to see as long as he stands still, and then reaches for the umbra.
(kemp)
He was strung tight as a piano wire right now and likely to get worse. And the appearance of Billy sure didn't help matters. Holy crap, were all of them doomed to look like they got chewed up and regurgitated? He sure was going to have a hard time getting any if he ended up looking like some discarded chew toy.

Forcing his attention back to James before he got smacked in the head or his driving privalges taken away. "Gun, yeah gun. Sure, point and boom. I gotcha." Wiping his hands on his pants. He'd actually handled a gun before. Didn't make him a good shot or anything and he might still shoot his damned fool self. Handling and using were two different things.
(cori)
She arches a brow, but takes the papers back and gives him a quick rundown over the totemphone. Before the papers go back to James to tuck away and he continues with his own explanation.

A nod at the instructions from her Alpha – bout what she figured, and is a damn sight more confident having that tingle of packmate around. Not that she don’t trust the others, but she ain’t got reason to go either way on them, only Billy’s comments on them as a whole. ~Makes sense. I let James know we can lead them through the fog if needed. ~

Of course – she is far from the discarded chewtoy. Maybe she just ducks better – or hasn’t had to be run through the gauntlet as much as the others. Gun hefted comfortingly, Yannow. Waiting is the worst part.

(tucker)
His lupus eyes go to slits as the Wyrm-Stench enters his palatte. The rage builds up in him. Forcing his simple lupus thought into a cohesive whole. Wyrm. Destroying Gaia. Killing Planet. Spirals. Killed My Father...

And. even through the haze he remembers somthing connected, when he was exiled, going toward chicago on I-94. Gary Indiana.... the smell... that godawfull smell of stelll mills and... that's it! The fucking place is an oil refinery!

He waits for the time to pass so he can bring the news to the now Umbral Blood-Eagle.

(billy)
((LOL...should throw in Billy's desc in.))

Dressed in Leggings and a Loin cloth tonight, he pulls off the hooded sweatshirt he was wearing thourgh town. Bowie knife suspended upside down on his back within easy reach. his hair is done in 3 braids. a pouch taken off his belt, he sits on the ground and starts to remove small containers from the pouch. each one filled with Black, White, red or Blue paint. he begins to paint his face and chest. as he paint he speaks with Cori ver the totem phone. ~If we run into some realy hot water cori...you lead the Eagles out...I'll follow as soon as I can.

(james)
that.... didn't particularly answer his question
so the Gnawer lifts a chin back towards the Tacoma

"Grab th' rebar outta th' back.... n' bring th' duffel ov'r here."

he'd rather have to replace his own weapons that are lost in the woods than have the kid shoot something he didn't mean to
they may be Garou - but .45 slugs HURT
and one in the head's enough to keep any of 'em down for awhile

there's something strange in the spirit world
given the stench of the wyrm and the ooze of refined oil smelting the landscape from nearby
one would expect a huge goo-monster to be waiting just on the other side
but there's nothing more than a few lingering shadowspirits hanging around the building
they seem to be focused on the building itself, rather than watching what may approach
as if they were listening to the high-pitched whine (the keening wail of a child) that was coming from within

(kemp)
Tense, tense, tense. Too tense to even look at Cori's ass now. Hell, even little Kemp hidden in his pants and shrunk up to the point he wasn't sure he was still there and had to adjust just to make sure. Shifting from one foot to the other, back and forth like a monkey on crack.

"Rebar? Rebar? What's a rebar?" Mumbling while going to the trunk to root around. What was a rebar, wasn't that some sort of stuff used in cement or something? No, maybe it was something you ate like a power bar? He was hungry. The duffle was easy enough to figure out. Starting to itch along with his jitters.

(erik)
Erik waits, invisible and motionless, for Tucker to cross over. Once he sees the Ahroun he becomes visible, crinos face set into a scowl as the wailing assults his ears. Does he rush ahead? No. And he does not let Tucker do so either. He just turns around and heads back to the cars. Through the totem link his presence is announced... Comming back. Wyrm. We're goin in.

(cori)
A glance for her Alpha as he readies himself for war, and a slight nod at the last bit of instructions. Not that she’d like it much, leaving her Alpha in there – but an order is an order, and she goes so far as tipping him a wink and good-natured grin. “yessir” knowing that gives him reason to get out – if only to turn her over his knee for cursin at him so.

A roll of her shoulders, stretching lightly, attempting to keep loose as the continued wait creeps up over her, a light hum slides through – barely heard, as something is composed on the spot just to keep her from crawling outa her damn skin.

(tucker)
He pushes four legged through the veil to find his Alpha there waiting. Watching. Scowling though Tucker could never fucking tell what that meant. Shifting to Crinos slowly he beomes the monster inside Eight feet foot ten inches tall and five hundred- fifteen pounds of pure musclue. His silver fur is accented oddly by small tufts of brown at the shoulders and thetop of his head.

He lets a lowl grumble to Erik. "Goooo Innnn?"

(billy)
Finally he's finished. His face...normally half handsome is a terrifyying picure of Black, Red white and Blue. Bane Breaker in his hand once more, he cracks his neck and liiks off towards the Warehouse, then Back at cori. reaching over, e swats her in the back of the head, a little less then gently but not enough to rattle her brain at the Sir comment

(james)
"Long sticks...."

offered to help the boy in his search
should be easy enough to find, yes it's the stuff they use to reinforce cement
James has turned two shanks into very effective weapons
three feet long each with a bunch of lined wrapped to pad one end
and the other, cloth already removed, proves to be filed to a razor sharp point

"Dun' put y'r eye out..... 'n dun' lose'm either."

but that's a far sight safer than handing the nervous kid a gun
you can't misfire a piece of hardened steel
there's a low huff of a grunt to the announced presence
he's grabbed the shotgun out of the duffel for himself
and the .45 is tossed towards the preparing Wendigo
..... after he's looking back from the swat upside Cori's head

"Wyrm." the Monte is mostly out of sight already, and any notice can be worked with, but the Tacoma, on double check, is clearly out of sight "'rik's on 'is way back, we're goin' in.... kid, you gotta story if some'n stops by?"

meaning no, he's not sure if Erik's gonna leave him here or drag him with them

(billy)
Catching the gun he looks at it for a long moment...Lesee...you disengage the safety like to...the hollow end goes towards the bad guy...then you pull the trigger....yeah...no thanks...this all goes through his head before he tosses it back with a shake of his head. even as he does it a bow and quiver of arrows appears slung across his shoulder

(erik)
Erik rips through the umbra just then, back in homid just in case. No reason to tip their hand before the last call is in the pot. "Kid's goin in too. Bill..." He spots billy right away and walks over. "Got one building. Stinks (wyrm). Carmen's inside. Somewhere. Not too thick in the umbra. We go in that way. Too open in the realm."

(kemp)
"Huh, what?" Frowning while turning from the trunk with the rebar. That frown turning to a slow grin. "Oh wicked." Visions of Jet Li and Bruce Lee going through his head now that he had this cool looking weapon.

"Story? Who me, I never make up stories. Why, wouldn't know how if I had to. Can I help it if I was out here with my coon dog and it done ran off on me and shit, where the hell is that dog anyway? It's about this big." Lowering his hand towards the ground. "Got some blue tick in it. You'd know her if you saw her. Prettiest little bitch ever was. Hey, you know anything about cars, cause mine is broke down." He had instantly dove into a spiel like born to it. The words spilling off his tongue faster than thought. Breaking off with the sudden appearance of Erik. "Shit, where did you come from?"

(billy)
He nods as he Looks at Erik. "You lead the Way. cori and i are following your show until it's time to skin out...if it's hot Cori will elad you all out, I'll be the cover party. sound Good?"

(cori)
The thump gets near silent laughter and an unrepentant grin flashed her Alpha. Before she looks up to James as he speaks, and the gun is checked again – a far cry more expertly then does Billy before he decides to toss it back to James. A glance at Kemp to be sure he’s found the Rebar, chuckling at the instant story. Kid’s got moxie. She listens in as the Eagle Alpha talks to her own, and just remains quiet.

(tucker)
Tuck pushes, Crinos through the Gauntlet with Obvious difficulty nearly stumbling two step once he gets through the barrier between worlds. Looking around he sees all of the wolf people in Homid form. He takes only a moment and switches himself back once again the foul mouthed 17 (almost 18 motherfucker) year old Silver Fang.

He picks up the shotgun he left when he went on his little scouting adventure with Erik. Turning to the blathering kid he says, not meanly but more like someone would say take it down a notch' "Hey... kid, shut the fuck up." Making a lowering motion with his hand.

Noticing the new arrival to the scene, he grins "Heya, Redblood." he chuckles. So we goin in or are we gonna sit out here like a buncha fuckin' pussies. The rage and battle eagerness pours off the kid ass he talks bleeding from the edges of his figure and filling the air.

(james)
a brow lifts at the prattling kid, grins forming lopsided across his face
right, like they'd believe that's his car
he's probably not strong enough to push down the pedals in the old warwagon
but Blood Eagle's appearence makes short work of that, thankfully

"Swing't like a bat.... 'n dun' fuck around."

glance swung to his own Alpha
but just like the others, he keeps quiet
even if something has changed in him
in the tone of his voice, in the way that he stands, even in the warmth of deep umber eyes
something about the James they all (fairly) know has disappeared at the mention of the kid inside the tainted building

(erik)
Erik has long ceased to wonder why Tucker does not pal around with his own tribe. He doesn't wait for anybody when he shifts back into the spirit world and sets off.

(kemp)
He'd shut up before Tucker had appeared behind Erik. But he figured Tucker being young just had to puff his chest up by stomping on him. And for once in his life, he resisted grabbing his crotch or flipping Tucker off and telling him to blow him. Instead his attention was on James cause he had better things to think about. If someone hurt Carmen, he was going to shove this big stick up his ass and out his nose for starters. Then he was going to follow it up with a long pack of condoms that were tucked in his pocket.

(cori)
She nods as she watches and listens, and as Erik slips to the other side, there’s a glance at the kid, and she moves over toward Kemp and James.. “Need me to help bring him over?”

(billy)
Looking at the group, he slips across with Erik quietly

(tucker)
Set's the gun down, it finally being left there, since he can't exactly bring it throuh the Umbra. He closes his eye and passes between worlds, this time a little easier. On the other side he waits to follow Erik onto the battlefield.

(james)
jaw twitches in a nod
it'd be easier for her moon to help the kid across

without his usual weapons
the discarded .45 is picked up as the Gnawer passes the Monte
that, along with the shotgun, are tossed back inside
wouldn't do him any good on the other side, either
his rebar's the only thing he's been able to bring over
and since the kid's got that....

he follows his pack across the gauntlet
instantly recoiling with a physical wince at the rising keen that's screaming across his nerves

(erik)
Erik feels James wince, and probably sees others do the same. "Ignore it." Then he turns to Kemp, towering over nine feet in crinos but lankier than most in that form. He speaks loud enough for everyone to hear, but stares right into Kemp's eyes. If kinfolk is wyrm-touched, we kill it and get out. Did not come for ought but that." Then he reaches up and a double barrled shotgun materializes in his hand, painted with silvery glyphs. His fetish-gun, the boomstick. Reaching into his jacket he withdraws a Desert Eagle. Aint his fault if no one else has a gun dedicated. then the alpha leads the way, moving swiftly to take point, bluring into the umbral landscape, letting the others find their place in th fanout instinctually.

(cori)
She nods, looks at the gun, as everyone else discards them, and hers soon follows – gonna have her hands full with the kid, anyway. Everything else remains in easy reach on her person as she looks to kemp and chuckle. “Ready for this? Listen to me close, allright? We’re going across to the Umbra, it’s the spirit world. We’ve a better chance of getting to Carmen without incident in there. You ain’t been across yet, and we ain’t got time t’teach you – so I’m gonna pull you across with me. Sorta like piggy back, but all I’m gonna do is hold on to your shoulder, ok? Don’t worry – Ain’t gonna letcha go until ya get yur bearings on the other side. All I want you to do is focus the fact that we’re going to get Carmen … Alright?”
Another moment, and she squeezes his shoulder, and they slide across into the Umbra – little more difficulty then usual as She’s dragging a green kid, but get through they do without incidence, and she does as she said she would, remain by his side, her hand on his shoulder, until he gets his bearings.
Then Erik growls, and she nods. A pat for Kemp to get him moving, and she waits for them all to head off before her – bringing up the rear with her Alpha.

(billy)
There's the muted hiss of metal on leather as billy draws the Bowie knife, already moving, he reaches forward and taps James on the shoulder with the Large Cavalry style Hack and slash special. James was unarmed...he'd need a weapon. Bane Breaker in his other hand swirls Black Red and Blue almost hypnotically and it seems to be watching everyone quietly. ready to bie.

(kemp)
Crap, they were all disappearing like some warped magic trick. Shifting around like he was going to chase his tail any minute as he grows more nervous. Right now he'd take Decker chasing him around over this weird shit that no one was exactly being clear about.

"Bring him over, bring who over? Bring him over where?" Breaking off with Cori's words. And he wasn't letting go of that bar if he died, it would still be in his hands, at least it seemed that way now.

Next thing he knew he was somewhere freakin weird and his panic level went soaring through the clouds, if there were clouds. Even Erik's growling words had little effect on him cause he was just too freaked. How the hell would he know if some wory touched someone?

(tucker)
Ready to die is the last thing from Tuck's mind right now. He's thinking of only making other things die. Enemies of his mother Gaia and the enemy that killed his father. His Rage is on edge ready to erupt. One look back to the women and children in the group and he's following the Alpha.

He makes the umbral travel easily, traveling in leaps and bounds. Making it a step behind the Blood-Eagle. "How.... weeee... geettttinngggg innnnnn?"

(james)
ignore it, Erik says
it's not easy... especially for Kemp
the childish rail-thin wail seems to slice right through him
though James isn't doing that well either
(he's heard this before, more than once)
something in the Gnawer goes completely cold at Blood Eagle's warning
(he's done that before, more than once)
for the rest, even if they try to ignore it, it keeps getting worse
like little needling claws latching monkey on their back
grating against each nerve
Cori could swear she's getting a headache from it

and the closer they get to the building, the worse it gets
James accepts the hefty blade from Billy
the lopsided grin growing vicious as it melts into Chrinos

Erik said that there were spirits ahead
as carefully as the Garou were moving
they'd still expect to be noticed
but they aren't.... the spirits that were there before have drifted away
the last to linger seems to faintly howl at them before speeding away

that doesn't seem good

but it's at the nod from their leader they they press on
wary, on edge, ready to go apeshit at the slightest provocation
all the way through the spidery shadowy field to the building nothing seems to happen
it's only the growing tension of waiting and anticipating
the door to the compound is locked
and breaking it down now probably wouldn't gather much attention
but to play it safe the Gnawer produces a large keyring
the keys jangle until one is chosen and the door creaks (even in this world) open

and inside..... the hallways are empty
ghostly lights seem to flicker and wane in the long corridors
but they are empty as if the building itself were dead
all the way to a single door
on the other side is a small form crouched before a flickering television

(erik)
Erik grunts, calling Kemp forward. He can smell the kid's fear, see it surrounding him almost like an aura. Well, here's where they put paid to instinct. When thrown into a fucked up situation, can the kid do what he has to. "Take the kid over. Kid, you're goin in that room. That's Carmen there. Listen up!" His voice cracks like a whip. "She may be alright, but she may be tainted. Mean's she might try an kill ya. Might be able to. Trust me. Figure which she is an either kill er or bring her out that door. We'll be waitin."

(kemp)
Hunching his shoulders and clamping his one free hand over his ear. Damned near wacking himself in the head with the bar while trying to cover his other ear. "What the fuck is that!?" His voice changing with the sudden popping, horrible sounding change of his body. Shooting up to Chrinos so fast he wasn't even aware of it yet. Growling out. "Make it stop!" And he was behind them so close he might run over them. Hoping moving would make the noise stop tormenting him. Seeing the figure ahead and not so sure about all this. Doing what he would do, heading right for the figure before the tv. He just wanted to grab the kid and leave. "Carmen?" And he was heading straight for the small figure like he owned the place. "Come on, let's go!" He couldn't imagine Carmen trying to kill him, just wasn't the little girl he knew.

(cori)
She sticks close to the kid, the tension and freakout quite evident. She don’t even shift further then to glabro on the move. Thicker, stronger, but still the same Cori so he doesn’t quite go off the deep end just yet. Nothing like trial by fire, hm? The rope slides from hip into grasp with practiced ease, set into motion as se moves, twirling at her hip in small circles… won’t take but split second to twirl big and let fly.

What good’s a rope in battle? Just ask her Alpha – who was so recently hogtied in goodnatured scuffle.

Totemphone open. Senses open. That keening wail screaming across mind- and they were told to ignore it. Not that she much can as it’s tightening in her mind along her spin and her head begins to pound.. Orders given, she follows without hesitation, making sure Kemp keeps on the move. A glance see’s Billy arm James, and the very fact that they’re all virtually ignored all the way through the door is not helping the tension levels at all. She taps Kemp on the shoulder (keep movin, buddy… ya gotta keep moving…)

Erik gives his orders and her eyes snap toward him, but far be it from her to question an Alpha – even if it ain’t her own. Kemp reacts, and shifts and he’s screaming. She growls and shoots to Billy over the phone ~I’ll take him over~ And the hand that falls on Kemps massive shoulder is stronger then thought, and instantly pulling him over to the other side so he don’t bash right on into the door – or into Carmen. Her voice snaps out over him. “Letter know who ya are, man – you look different. She’s a child – you figure this shit out now”

(carmen)
the room. Bare but for the bed and chair and tv that’s flickering and the little hunched figure watching the pictures slashed across the screen again and again and again…. She’s crouched there, skinny dirty arms wrapped tight around equally dirty knees, clothing shredded and filthy. They at least fed her. Sometimes.
the bed isn’t that far away, and doesn’t seem to be in too good a shape really. Lining shredded into long strands as if some childish reasoning slashed it in order to make a rope to escape with. Or something. The chair has seen better days too.
Then suddenly there’s a giant something snarlin at her and knows her by name and she’s scooting backwards toward the bed, the wall, something and fingers slide over the bat there under shredded mattress and she stands and hefts it with a growling cry.. “LEMME ALONE! YOU SAID YOU”D LEMME ALONE!!! I DID WHAT YOU ASKED LEMME ALONE!!!!!” she doesn’t recognize him in crinos – she ain’t seen him anything other then homid… and that’s when the bat takes the first swing…

(kemp)
Let her know who he was? What? He was him, and he wasn't even thinking about the change in him. Too freaked already when Carmen freaks too and is rushing at him to swing at him with the bat. The first thing to come to mind was, she's gonna crush my fuckin nuts! "HEY!" Growling, not sure he made any sense at all and having the sudden urge to backhand the kid through the door. "It's me! Kemp! FUCK!" Chew her in half? Smack the hell out her with the bar? No, right now it was growl and duck the bat. "Shit, it's me KEMP!"

(james)
shaggy ears are pinned flat against his skull
there's not question the keening is coming from that room right there
before he turns away to keep an eye on the flank there's a look shot at Kemp
Welcome to the War, kid...
something says the Ahroun's been in that same situation before

Kemp walks so boldly ahead, like he owns the place, like he's confident Carmen wouldn't hurt him
and, indeed, he slams into the door that's a bit more solid than it looks before Cori can pull him over
(the Umbra can be tricky that way...)
the hollow sound seems to make something in the room move that was so deathly still before
within the little figure, something turns and twists
as if the sound caught it's attention
but it's gone as soon as it appears

and as soon as they're across
and as soon as the bat swings
there's something smiling jagged teeth behind Carmen's plaintive screams
but Kemp can't see it - all he can see is a little terrified girl trying so very desperately to defend herself

(now that Carmen has attacked, the possessing spirit is visable to those in the Umbra)

(billy)
Billy Keeps watch with Bane breaker across his shoulders ready to act.
(erik)
Erik watches, realizing exactly what is going on. This is Kemp's show still, but maybe not for long. The way he steps forward it should be clear that if they are going in, he is going in first.
(tucker)
The fang has watched in Rage filled silence. The kid wasn't the only one in a trial by fire tonight. The girls life rests on theese first few minutes, seconds even perhaps. When the Alpha moves so does he, but not exaclty sure why. Not that it mattered with all the Rage flowing through him. He crouches behind Erik ready to act.

(cori)
She moves back, and lets him deal, though she’s also ready to save his ass if he need is. Fuck. Welcome to the war, indeed. “Carmen – listen to him – we’re here to help… Erik and James and all of us…” May as well try to help a little…

(carmen)
She’s terrified, she ain’t got no one and no one comed to see her and save her and all she’s got is the bat and she’s swinging and he ducks and that’s a scream of pure terror (rageing GLEE) as she spins only to swing again… “YOU AIN’T! YOU AIN’T MY KEMP! YOU CAN”T FOOL ME THIS TIME! GO’WAY! MY KEMP’S NOT FURRY!!” And the bat swings again! Though she looses her grip this time and is diving for her mattress and something silvered stuck out of the stuffing in the corner…

(james)
James' shaggy head swings around
watching across the dividie
moving a bit closer to follow if need be
Tucker's rage bristling up his own spine
but he didn't even have to see the posture to know Erik was still in the lead

Carmen keeps swinging and that something (GLEE!) seems to grow
it's throbbing like a leech and feeding off of the terror and adrenaline coursing through the little girl
and above everything, it's driving her towards the little silver thing
wrapping her tiny fist around it with steely strength

a small webcam type device on top of the television whirs to refocus

(erik)
Silver (fire). Erik sees the glint, yet makes no move. Kid needs to learn the garou meaning of the words 'serious shit'.

(kemp)
He was stuck like he was cause he went there on instinct and pain and didn't have the slightest idea how to get back to a not hairy form. Infact, he wasn't even thinking hairy, not hairy. What the kid said wasn't all getting through with that noise in his head. He was about ready to rip off his own head just to make it all stop.

Freaking would be putting it lightly. When she swings again and he finds himself doing a jig to try and outdance the flying bat, something inside snaps and he is after her like a starving dog for a bone. Snarling with a gut rending howl of pure rage. Teeth snapping as he loses it and goes for the kid with the bar coming up and around like he was going to make a home run. And that is just exactly what he was going for, a connection between the little head and that big ole sharp piece of rebar.

(tucker)
Silver. Death. Tucker watches the scene play out, watching the kid swing back. Hearing an almost audible sound in his head over the rushing of blood and Rage.

'Do it, Do it...."

(billy)
Watching emotionlessly, he speaks to cori over the Totemlink. "See that he makes it clean cori...it's the best he can do for her."

(cori)
A step back as he goes for the kid and there’s a shout back over the totem link demanding to know if the kid is clean, just about the time it opens and she’s told otherwise. She shakes her head. “Fuck.” Muttered, but she steps back. By order of his alpha, this is Kemps kill. The rope twirls around at her hip, and she waits.

(carmen)
She SCREAMS as he’s after her and she’s scrambling for the piece of silver and fingers tighten around it and she pulls the blade free, jerking it hard and spinning to meant the snarling raging crinos.. “I KNOWED YOU HATED ME!!! And she’d dodging under that swing (ever try n catch a kid who’s got other plans?) and launching herself at him with the silver blade striking as fast as (stronger then ever before) she can swing it into furry form… (…while inside her the thing cackles it’s twisting glee, whispering into her ear not to stop, don’t ever stop killkillkillkill…)

(erik)
Erik places a hand of Tuckers shoulder, holding him back. the ahroun has inched forward until he is just about even with Erik. Then the silver flashes down into red, and still he watches.

(kemp)
And now added to the sins of lying, stealing and lying again was the sin of killing his only friend. He'd never admit that about the girl to himself, especially right now cause everything had this weird red haze to it and seemed to be flashing past faster than his brain could process. Survival pushing him to smack it's damned head off and make the pain inside his own head stop. Smack it, stomp on it, beat it with the rebar, do a jig on it, whatever it took to make it stop.

Snarling. What started out as the word FUCK, with the sudden rush, turned into a howl that almost hurt as bad as the sudden burn in his thigh. His mind screaming, his own enraged howl mixing with it and then everything was a blur. He was stabbing down with the rebar over and over and over into that little body. Just like a woman freakin out cause a spider landed on her, only this was kill it, kill it, kill it now!

That burn in his leg went straight through his head and out every pore of his body. Just wanting to make the cause of it to go away for ever. No thought to it, just instinct to kill and make the hurt go away.

(tucker)
Not so much inching forward as leaning into the Alphas grip. Unconsciously of course, and not enough to pull away from him. He growls as the silver flashes into fur ripping the kids leg.

'Do it, Do it...' Still the Rage speaks

(james)
his ears pin tighter hearing Tucker's little chant
he knows there's a little girl dying in there
James makes a point to look away from the shadowfilm door
mangled jaw grating and popping with how hard he's clenching it

Erik watches the silver blade go red
Kemp's thrown past freaking out straight into absolutely losing it at the burn of silver SLAMMING into his thigh
this is his little buddy of water bombs suddenly trying to. kill. him.
(just like Decker did)
the pain is too much for a Garou inexperienced with his own Rage
Cori can feel the Get instincts welling like lava in the cub
just as the deep red overflows onto the ground as the small body is destroyed

the introduction to the Great War is always the worst

all the while, the little camera keeps filming the agony filling the room
filthy walls stained a darkening crimson
the animal out of dreams and nightmares howling at the ceiling
the woman standing there instead of running

(billy)
Billy watches quietly still and speaks oiver the totem link. ~Cori...He's hgonna pop...get some distance in case he loses it.~

(erik)
Erik is ready, a satisfied grin on his face. He revels in the rightness of what Kemp has done. It is the only way he can deal. Up swings the Stormcrow-Gun, pointing right at the bane as it is released from the body. Thunder erupts as two scatter shells bonded with spirits of war smal into it. Two shots delivered at the same time by an expert shot.

(cori)
She winces as that first strike finds home in the girls body, and she turns her head just a little, teeth gritting (it will be a long ass night tonight) but she doesn’t stop him, back ramrod straight as he strikes true, again and again….
Her alpha speaks, but she shakes her head – stepping back, yes, but remaining in range, and he knows why…. If he can’t stop – that rope is gonna fly…

(carmen)
And maybe, someday, when he looks back and thinks about the redhazed moment, he will remember.
The rebar strikes (little hand swings) and strikes true into little body of the only one who befriended him in his mixed up crazy life… and maybe, when he can think clearly, and remember, he will find the little instances frozen in time filled with something more then just rage and red and pain and agony and sin….
Maybe… Maybe he’ll remember that her eyes cleared at the last as what was within screamed away in fury that his toy was broken so soon, and there was no anger or fear or pain…. Maybe he’ll remember the blood covered little face looking up at him as the silver fell from her fingers and clattered to the floor, and maybe he’ll see the relief painted in her gaze, and maybe he’ll remember the last whispered breath that sounds suspiciously like…. Thank you.
Maybe he’ll remember that in the end – he is the one who set his friend free.

(kemp)
And the bar just kept moving along with the howls ripping from his very soul. Blood flowing down his leg, mingling with fur, matting it. That same blood mixing with Carmen's as he suddenly swings back that leg and kicks the body against the wall like a soccer ball. Instantly limping for it. Snarling, spit flying from his maul. He was going to wipe the walls with the thing that hurt him.

(tucker)
tucker inches closer noticing movment in the rrom his head snapping to the small camera inside the room. He quickly points at it for the benift of those he does not yet have totem phone to.

"Whhaaaats Thaaat?"

(cori)
She’s gone, and he’s still in full on rage, and she’s had enough. Fetish spirit claimed rope swings up overhead, and is let go – settling over his head and shoulders and arms and cinching down tight. (unbreakable, struggle only seems to tighten it farther.) She moves forward, tightening the rope and putting her foot in the middle of his back and kicking him face forward on the floor, and straddling massive back, hissing.. “ENOUGH. She’s GONE Kemp. GONE.” A flick of glance up at the camera, and she reaches down to grab something in the midst of the sea of red before she’s dragging Kemp back across umby side… single word answering Tucker’s unheard question, and informing the others of the threat. “Camera.”

(james)
Erik's shotgun puts sudden thunder in the Umbralscape
it's only then that the Gnawer turns to the scene instead of keeping watch on their backs
(why is it so goddamned empty??)
watching the spirit get hit by the expert shot and rip to shreds beneath the fetish's power

it sends fucking CHILLS down his spine
right beneath the deep scars that make haphazard parts in the fur across his back

ears flicker at Tuck's question and Cori's answer
there's a glance at Blood Eagle before the Gnawer is on orders again

Destroy it

spat gutteral on Garou tongue at the Fang
his own Rage is riding high and strong
the fact of what may have just been filmed NOT helping

Get the tape, too

Cori has the struggling and frenzied cub on her hands
Billy's still keeping watch
(too. damn. quiet.)
a nod to send Tucker ahead
Erik preparing the molotov to cross over and raze the room with
James turns his attention to the heavily bleeding Chrinos and the Theurge

You healer?

(cori)
Fucker is strong, and even more so in the grips of red rage, she’s got her hands full for sure. Rope continues to cinch down as he struggles and she wraps the end around her hand tightly to keep that tension, her legs hooked around his lower arms, the rope tightening around his chest and arms just above his elbows, riding the raging writhing beast as one would a bucking bull.
Kinda makes one think she’s done just that.
James snarls a question, and there’s a jerked nod in reply – but can’t do much while trying to control the injured one in question. Muscles bulge with the strain of her grip, lips pulled back in low sounding snarl….

(kemp)
He hurt, he hurt and he hurt bad and it was a physical burning pain that made him want to rip his own leg off and a soul deep pain he wasn't even able to comprehend in his current state. All the pain funneled into pure fury and now something was wrong with his arms and lungs. He couldn't move arms and it was getting hard to breath. Worse of all, he couldn't get hold of the thing on his back. Words not meaning anything to him, it was more noise, more noise in his pain. If he had been in homid, he would of been turning purple about now and likely had a stroke. Saliva was flying from his maul, dripping on the floor and sticking to his fur with each dribble. Snarling teeth snapping at the air like he had rabies.

(billy)
Billy Watches as huis pack mate drags Kemp back across. tapping his fingers on the handle of the war club, he looks at Tucker quietly before walking over and helping cori. placing a foot across the crinos' neck, he lets the club rest on his temple quietly. Looking aroundm, he speaks quietly. "Plug your ears while I calm him down."

(tucker)
Crosses over in a rush couging and spitting at the muffling, choking webs of the gauntlet.

In an instant he's to the camera raising a fist to smash it. Wait. Tape. He wills himself to hold off for a moment and follow the cord up the wall to the ceiling. He climbs on top of the television set hoping to get a look at where it's going. Suddenly he's feeling the weight give under him crushing the vcr and tv set into splinters and ripping the cord into two pieces one on the eyeball end he holds in his hand the other hanging from the ceiling.

Turning he nods to billy and covers his ears, ducking on the floor.

(james)
an ear flickers at Billy's soft words
poor kid - first kill and first frenzy in the same day
but isn't that always the way it happens?
a low sigh rolls out of barrel chest
not much you can do other than ride it out
(what was that incredible gift Eliza had....)
or simply knock the fucker out
heavy and calloused hands close over his own ears

the set and vcr crush easily under Tucker's massive weight
the broken tape within laying in wrinkled ribbons about his feet
the camera wire seeming to spark a few times before completely giving up the ghost
they can only wonder what was watching on the other end of the feed cord

deed done, Erik crosses the gauntlet and grumbles at the Fang to get out

(cori)
She looks up at Billy, her expression carefully masked (…he can feel the tension….) though she simply nods, gives the rope enough slack to lift her hands to her ears and press tight.

(kemp)
He was stuck on the floor with the body on his back like some overgrown dog tick that had latched on. Having trouble breathing and don't think he wasn't snapping at anything that got close to his head.

(billy)
((Assuming everyone has their ears covered)) any element of surprise gone with the boomstick's report, he rubs his hands together and then claps them together...nothing spectacular. But the sound is Like thunder going off directly in front of Billy. The sound rips through the umbral scape like quick silver threatening to make everyone's ehad explode..and Still Billy stands there in his dath face. (Clap of Thunder))

(kemp)
Insult to injury? Damned monkey on his back, nothing to bite and suddenly something slams into his head hard enough to make him see stars. Going slack, his hearing blocked, gone numb by the shock wave. The only thing moving on him now was his chest heaving. Somewhere in his mind he might wonder if he got hit by lightning or something, if he could think.

(tucker)
When the vibrations stop Tuck closes his eyes and crosses over, slowly. Not fighting as hard now out of haste. He looks to the Alpha, shrugging to the broken things. "Couldn't bring the evidence with us anyway." His chest heaves still in exasperation. He feels the rage rise again but not so powerfully now, and he stands up from his still crouched position looking up into Eriks eyes for some sort of recognition.

(james)
there's a bit of a smirk
he can feel the thunder even if he doesn't directly hear it
it's enough to almost shove him completely off his feet
toes spreading as claws dig into the filthy shadowground for purchase
he knows the gift, he weilds it himself

his head shakes to clear
Tucker's back on this side and Erik's set the room ablaze
James catches the rebar sticks tossed at him by his Alpha
there's a look between the Fenrir and the Fang
but as always, with the horrible scars it's completely unreadable

now would be a good time to exit
first: boomstick
second: thunder
sounds like a doorbell to him

(but.... why..... haven't they been attacked yet?)

"Knock'm out or get him to shift. Let's move."
barked by Blood Eagle as he's already leading the way

(cori)
even with ears covered it’s still enough to rattle her very bones – especially being so close to the percussion of the clap of Thunder. It ends, and Kemp lays prone beneath her, and she waits only a moment before she reaches down and loosens the ropes hold on him, pulling it over his head as she pulls the rope free, rolling him over and starts to look for his injuries. Fingers coil the bloodstained rope and hook it into place at her hip.
The one on his thigh is nasty - -struck bone and ripped clean down through the muscle of his thigh. Strong fingers grab the remains of his jeans, and rip a long strip off of it, a moment spent to press palm down hard on the wound, slide of warmth easing the pain and healing the wound partially as she before she stands and shakes her head. “he needs to stay shifted until I can heal that fucker properly.” And with a grunt, she shifts to crinos, then heaves the massive body up into fireman’s carry and sets off after the Blood Eagle.

(kemp)
He could bleed and that's what he was doing. And pretty soon that pain was going to come back. All that was left of his clothing really was a waistband and some shreds of material. He still couldn't hear anything just a ringing, or was that his head? Now he was drooling for a whole other reason. Lucky for them he didn't need to piss or something. Even too dazed to puke when the world shifts with being lifted.

(billy)
Watching the others leave Billy...Waits.

(tucker)
Turns from the emotionally ambiguous Alpha wolf, tucker lloks back at Billy, the nto his packmate. "Is he comin'?"

(james)
Blood Eagle leads the way
Cori is following close behind with the cub cargo
James is hauling Tucker to keep up with them
the two Ahrouns run flank to the Theurge
making sure she has as little to deal with as possible other than carrying her charge
there's a grunt of affirmation from the Gnawer
they get out, Billy brings up the rear
that was the plan

soon enough they're back at the trees
the scarred Ragabash crosses over to check if it's safe
a nod from the Gnawer sends Tuck out after him
the road's still empty
no parking tickets on their cars
no excess footprints around them

raggedyman puts the rebar sticks together three times
the sharp sound echoing back towards the compound
signal they're out
his attention turns to the Theurge
what's her plan with the cub to get him out and not bleed out.....

(cori)
They run, making it a quick trip to the vehicles, and she’s stops and unloads her charge to the umbral wasteland, sinking to her knees by the still bleeding cub. She doesn’t look up at James, knowing the Fostern’s eyes are on her and his would be packmate. Instead, her hands go to work as she presses them tihtly against the wound, the fresh squirt of blood doing nothing to deter her as she spends gnosis to send the healing warmth tingling into the near unconscious boy. Pain ebbs, and still she works until skin is healed to new, and she moves on to the other cuts that were too deep to heal right away, but far less dangerous.
Less then 3 minutes, and she stops to catch her breath, before with a glance at kemp – near unconscious as it is, she just raps him up side the head with crinos hand to knock him unconscious so that he slides to homid form. Only then does she shift herself, hoist him up again, and with a (fairly exhausted) look toward james, steps across, stumbling into the truck once she arrives, but holding on to her cargo until she can roll him into the bed of the truck.

(kemp)
He was pretty much drooling before the whack on the head. After the whack all went nice and dark and peaceful for now, until the dreams might find him. Slowly sliding back to his birth form. Bloody and nude. Bones all sharp angles at shoulders, hips and back. There wasn't a whole lot to him in homid. Just around 5'6" or so and about 100 or so pounds. He had a lot of growing to do still.

(billy)
Hearing the sign that they're out, Billy makes his way out quietly. The waiting never bothered him...he'd die when it was time. but he isn't wreckless as he moves out soon..he makes his way to the group and stands in silence.
(tucker)
Tucker goes about picking up the aasorted weapons left around the monte. He in homid again though not as naked as the kid over yonder, in fact not at all he's back in dedicated jeans and a t-shirt that's about a size too small. When he's finished he throw the guns in the trunk and gets in the car to wait for the blood eagle.

(james)
the Fostern watches the Cliath carefully
there's a cold, hard element in those normally soft umber eyes
something shoved away and hidden since the moment they first went Umbral
but there's still a concern for the wellbeing of the cub
an empathy for knowing exactly what it's like to be in that position
Billy returns and he thus returns the big blade with a genuine nod of thanks

but there's something else
as she had begun working, he quickly crossed over, downsized, and went to the truck
the ashtray was pulled out of the container in the dash
it... may not be the most elegent of ceremonies
properly, they should have a fire
but considering the last conversation he had with the cub
there's something appropriate about it
and he's doing what he can in the situation
they can't let those wounds go unhealed much longer

by the time he's returned, Erik is with him, Tucker, too
there was a breif exchange which ended in a grunt that..... should have translated into approval
Cori's got her hands on the wound
but he reaches out to catch her wrist and pulls it away for but a moment

contents of the tray are dumped into his hand
the butts picked out and tossed back in
and, rather uncerimoniously, he dumps the ashes into the largest wound along Kemp's thigh
there's an apologetic glance toward

Posted by james at 12:00 AM

September 01, 2003

.09.01.03. - two hours [imogen] *e

[port newark - cont'd from previous scene]

(james)
he.... can't help but laugh

"Gotta Cli'th I jus' met, 'nother that's packless, a kin, a cub..... 'n what'ver th' hell Grania is."

that's more mused out loud than actually expecting an answer from his Alpha
this should become rather interesting, at the very least
especially because he STILL doesn't know who this Barny guy is
though that thought's finished off with the last of his beer
empty bottles are gathered and tossed in the trash
(bachelor pad yes, absolute horror no)
as Erik moves off to get stuff gathered, he might as well begin, too

the heavy doors rattle on the chains and suddenly it's exit: one raggedy Bone Gnawer
tired as he is from being out and about for the majority of the day
(gotta do something to keep from going out of your fucking skull)
there's a bit of a smile on him
the reaffirmation of pack means something infinite to the Ahroun
the fact they may be walking into the apartment and thus falling into a WyrmPit or Wonderland or any other number of things really doesn't seem to dampen that one bit
it's the little things that seem to count

so, off he goes
everyone he can think of is on a path between the docks and the ForestHill condo
but he's still trying to think of any others....

(imogen)
Everyone he can think of is between the paths of the warehouse and the condos. And so is she, though not where expected at the condos (not that she's ever there, really), but on one of the streets, walking down one of the darker streets to where she would have parked her car.

Two blocks down, one block over is a crime scene. If James were to inhale the air, he could smell the coppery hint of blood in the air, the sharper smell of gunpowder. A fire fight, perhaps. Some street war. Some sad day for someone. Nice end to the long weekend this: blood and brains and gun powder.

Despite the hour, the day, she dressed in a pant suit, charcoal and without colour, greyer now in the dim night, barely broken by the helterskelter street lamps. Some are working. Some aren't.

One hand is sliding into a pocket, seeking out keys as she walks in the cool night, or seeking out cigarettes, perhaps, as dark eyes, near black in the bleak, flick across the street before her. Her car is still a block or two away. Lord knows why she parks so far from crime scenes. Perhaps she needs the exercise.

(james)
blood, brains, and gunpowder
for some people that's a sad end to the holiday weekend
for some people that's a success....
to the Ahroun - it's nothing all that surprising
they set up claim on the busiest port of the coast for a reason
a nice and quiet retirement was not one of them
not that he's particularly concerned about what human does this or that to another
it's always nice to keep up on the local news

by the time Imogen rounds the last corner to come within a block of her car
it seems someone has taken residence on the side fender
the alarm on this car isn't quite as sensitive as the one on the zippy, purple Beemer
so he figures, with that knowledge, he can get away with this comfortable lean without hell breaking loose
boots are spread wide on the sidewalk, triangulating the balance of tailbone on fender
hands have shoved themselves into the pockets of faded cargos
dreads hang long and loose tonight, dangling towards the hood's plane
the way his torso is leaned back to look at the sky to pass the time
it'd almost seem like a picture save the way thick ropes occasionally swing in the light breeze wandering in off the distant water

(imogen)
The car isn't the mercedes, as considering the area it was never a good idea to bring such a fine piece of german equipement out. Instead it is the black blocky state issued car, and it probably has no alarm to speak of. It is a car, however, that Imogen has brought home on particular nights, and is recognizeable for the Gnawer.

One hand pushes back strands of hair from her eyes as the other one finds the keyring of her keys and pulls them free, with a soft clatter of metal.

She draws up beside the Ahroun with a brief glance upward; even slouched, she is smaller than he is, and she has to tilt up her head for that automatic glance to his face. Eyes, because it's her habit and instinct.

"Enjoyin' th'night are yeh?" she inquires conversationally.

(james)
one would think he's just passing the time star-gazing
but given the massive shipyard lights on top of the city's pollution.....
.... well.... he's doing well to study the clouds
(he still remembers the first time a night was clear and dark enough to actually see stars)
so whatever it is that he's gazing so contently at
the blocky state vehicle seems a good enough support
he recognized the plates, figured she'd be heading to it soon enough

"Better'n las' night."

murmured, just loud enough for her to hear
there is an element of serenity that wasn't there last night
but it's only a step towards what's needed to heal these invisable wounds
from her angle beside him, she can see the swelled curve of cheek that would symbolize a partial grin
it's affirmed when he finally looks down
(her habit and instinct, his, too)
the darkness of the night on the streets brought by the haphazard lights makes the extremeties of their eyes seem to almost match in some unknown shade of near-black

"Lookin' f'r you, hones'ly."

(imogen)
It had rained lightly for much of the day, and now the air spoke of more rain to come. Certainly, it is almost impossible to imagine the State of New Jersey suffering from a drought.

"That's good, at least," she comments, toward the fact that this night was better than the last. It might actually be surprising, that she meant it.

An eyebrow lifts slightly, a coppery arch of movement. She does not lean against the car herself, instead standing slightly away. The distance between them is slight, so quiet tones are easily passed. Should someone walk by, they would perhaps hear nothing more than a quiet murmer of voices.

Or even less. The arch of her eyebrow is the substitute for the question: why was he looking for her?

(james)
it.... did surprise him to realize that she meant it
it shouldn't, after all she is a human being and fully capable of emotions or sympathy or...
whatever that comment is categorized beneath
rare and miniscule, of course, as these emotions may be, as much as they're internalized
but apparently the lanky Ahroun still stings from where the flesh was so abruptly peeled away one day
and so the show of concern, even as cordial as it may be, does catch his attention

her gesture substituted question is answered in a substituting gesture of his own, chin dipping in a nod
the quirky grin may be because of the additional surprise this wasn't, for once, a chance encounter
it may also be because of the wry knowledge that whenever they do plan to meet - it's never for a walk in the park

"Yeh. Blood Eagle wan's t' find out why Carmen an' her watchdog dis'peared to, 'r went wi'hout calling. Tol' me t' gath'r who I could" he doesn't explain that, she knows as well as he does the reason why backup is being sought outside their particular totem-phone family plan, shoulders hitch and roll in a slow shrug "Di'n'no if you were int'rested."

(imogen)
The previously arched eyebrow arches higher as he speaks. The longer James speaks, the more accustomed to the slur Imogen becomes and her untrained ear grows to associate the words slowly with the words to which she's used. That's not why the eyebrow lifts. "Carmen an' ..." she has no idea the name of Carmen's guardian, and what's more, she refuses to refer to her as a 'watchdog', so instead, the sentence shifts, subtly, "they've disappeared?"

And then the question as to whether or not she is interested sparks surprise in dark eyes and the second eyebrow arches to join it's fellow. She is, after all, capable of emotion, and is capable of being shocked. She takes great pains, however, to keep such knowledge minor and disassociate herself from the normal view that emotions are felt by everyone (but not her) and everyone needs somebody else (but not her).

She'd mentioned during the flaying that she'd been psycho analyzed, recently, and by a professional. That would certainly be a report to be read.

The surprise, of course, fitting to anything that breaks through Imogen's detached surface, fades after a moment, and her shoulders lift in a slight shrug, "All I c'n do, really, is check the morgues, open cases, unless y'have a suggestion."

(james)
when listened to long enough, one can discover the pattern to his speech impediment
there are simply some sounds he hasn't yet, or may never, relearned to form
and so he simply leaves that part of the word out
it's a game of filling in the blanks, rather than the gymnastics of linguistic deciphering

"'bout two weeks 'go." he noticed her surprise allright, but far be it from him to point it out "fr'm what Kemp tol' me the oth'r day, wa'n't worried 'bout it 'til Erik said he knew nothin'. Would.... 'preciate your checking things b'fore I search out th' others t' help."

now, perhaps, the reason for his particular choice of phrases may become clear
among the things he's simply not sure of around her anymore
asking for help is one of them
not often he has to ask, to begin with
normally they're thrown together and each pull their own weight
but a quick check of casefiles may save a lot of things having to be covered up later
and that's why he stopped and hung out at her car instead of pressing on to find others

(imogen)
A pause and she glances away, the wheels turning within her mind exactly the best way she can go about this. It's not that she must consider that she will do this (because she will), but how, and the best way to proceed. She works this out in her mind before she answers.

He may not have been sure about asking her for help, but her answer does not hold to the same lack of confidence. "Yeah, I can check int'it. Any latest jane does in tha surrounding counties, et cetera. We've databases for that." She speaks thoughtfully, before she adds, as well, "And if yeh give me the address where they live, I can try an' process the house or apartment, or whatever as a crime scene as best I can, see if anything shows up."

(james)
"Fourt'n thirty, Mt. Prosp'ct, fourt'n A." after a pause in which he distanced a bit in that particular way which tells Imogen it's a private call, he most definitely didn't know the guardian kin's name, and he was about as aware of the exact address "'bout how long y' think it'll take?" brow raised to relay back the information before deciding what to do in the interim

(imogen)
A pause, and she exhales, glancing down to her hip, at the pager that is clipped there, briefly thumbing the LCD to check the time. "Tonight an' tomorrow night, provided I don't get called out fer anythin' important." A slight shrug, but it's not apologetic so much as explanatory. "I need ta get the equipement, get over there and work it room by room. An' it's not usually a job fer one person."

(james)
another nod, seemed reasonable enough to him
even if he looks at her, those dark eyes seem to focus elsewhere for a moment

"We'll prob'ly check anyway... cause if they show'p t' you, we'll wanna know why." finally, his weight pulls from the hard fender, a slow and easy rock of weight forward to his feet "I'll've Rune's cell."

one of them, anyway
some little confusing apparatus of digits and metal he seems to have inherited along the way
but it's far easier for the good doctor to get a hold of him than having to track him in the Port
or even anywhere else in the city, for that matter
he had looked away in the rise to stand
the casual, instinctive, search of the street
but finally the gaze swings back around to the firey kinfolk

"Thanks Im'gen."

it may be her duty by blood and tradition
but he appreciates the effort anyway
(that... is... what he's thanking her for, right?)
and with another of those soft little lopsided ghosting grins
the lanky Gnawer continues on his mission

(imogen)
A brief shrug dismisses the thanks. "Wouldn't 'appen t'have keys, would you?"
"T'get in."

(james)
there's a pause and the Gnawer half-turns back
chin draws towards his chest in a nod

"I c'n get in, if needed."

(imogen)
"It's me that I'm thinkin' of," a brief smirk, "Breakin' 'nd enterin' looks 'orrible on a medical examiner."

(james)
there's a quirk in his grin
it says "well that takes all the fun out of it" when his words don't

"S'a toy, I'd've t' get you in."

(imogen)
A pause, before she shrugs slightly, and there's a faint smirk. Irony, "If y'meet me there in about two hours, I'll be ready t'go in by then."

Time to drive to the morgue. Time to get the equipment and drive back. "Fourteen thirty, Mount Prospect, fourteen-a, yeah?"

And she's already heading toward the driver's side, get this over with.

(james)
there's a nod and another flash of a grin
(the crime fighting duo has returned!)

"Yeh.... two hours."

time enough to do what he needs to and get uptown
the plan is passed on to his Alpha
and then he's on his way once again

Posted by james at 12:00 AM