not human.

[Shadows of the Night] It was a gorgeous day today, the sky opened up and sunny and bleeding down on its followers, clouds sparse and dry. The evening has continued in this tradition, albeit without the sun, which is starting to dip towards the western horizon. The instructions had been to meet here at sundown, but that was only given to one man. One Glabro, angry man who had seen one of the two beings claiming to be cops be run down by a pickup truck after gunning down a seemingly innocent human being.

That wasn't an innocent human being, and the body had not been properly disposed of.

It was in the news, although with the missing cop in Grant Park there was very little else that the media was interested in covering. The burnt-out shell of a 1981 Ford pickup truck with no title or registration in the remains--and how would there be, if it was burnt all to Hell anyway?--was found in the Near North Side, was found between two buildings that only served as dens for sex and drug abuse, and no one gave a shit who was inside, either.

Well... that's not entirely true.

The ones who give a shit, or the one who gives a shit, had warned Gael Sandoval, Blood Runs Without Tears, the Uktena who had trapped his partner, that he would not be pleased if that body wasn't properly disposed of. And that was all the warning he got.


[Alright, my pretties, same deal as last time. I would like the following from you before we get started:
1. I would like any Merits/Flaws that might come up during the course of play.
2. I would like you to stick to 10 minutes during posting and 3 minutes during declares/rolls unless you are asking me a question.
3. I would like you to IM me questions rather than asking them in the chat so that I actually get them. Also, if I make a mistake, I want you to vote someone to tell me when I've made a mistake so I don't get five IMs going "JAMIE YOU DAH DAH DAH." I don't care if you correct me... I actually appreciate having someone politely inform me when I've forgotten to split dice or I've forgotten a specific Gift is active or something. Just don't be a douche about it.
4. I would like... A HUG! And for you to have fun. Let's have intros.]

[Blood Runs Like Tears] The body hadn't been properly disposed of, but then... he'd never had a chance to get to it himself, so Gael, at present, was not aware that the task had been royally bungled. Likely, when he found out, someone's head was going to get bitten off. (Figuratively, of course.)

He was new. He didn't know many of the others in the Brotherhood, but he had attempted to pass the word along of what had occurred on Friday night, and of the meeting that was scheduled now. He didn't know what the hell the cops were... he just knew they weren't human, and that they knew way too much about things that they shouldn't.

Now he was approaching the aforementioned meeting place, looking around suspiciously for some sign of the two men. They didn't seem to be in the lot, so he moved toward the entrance to the stadium. Naturally, it was locked.

[Buried Hatchet] He has absolutely no idea what is going on. The barest of accounts has been given to him: so there's these two guys, and there was a body, or something. All Gael really had to do was say Spiral and Hatchet was up, lacing up his boots and following the other Philodox out the door. He keeps to the left of the Uktena, and he doesn't talk much.

They just met, and all.

[Mjollnir's Heart] He's been inside The Brotherhood of Thieves a total of once this week.

Long enough to have a short chat with a Bone Gnawer kinfolk who'd appended a short note up on the bulletin board. Ear to the ground and eyes to the sky he'd once filled with his own presence, There had gotten word to him during a patrol that an Uktena and not Guiterrez was putting together some type of offensive at soldier field and needed backup.

Of course Sam shows.
Any chance to get back on the field, right?

Said Uktena and a Fianna Philodox who of late seems more on edge thaneven Sam's been the few times he's seen him in the halls or passing through the kitchen. It's nice to see him out, really. The Modi fiegns a smile on incredibly worn features. Sam does not look good. No, correction. Sam looks like shit.

Insomnia.
Day Three.

"Hey." It's all the two get to announce his being there. The Fenrir stay a couple of steps back, every few seconds turning to watch ther exposed side.

[Wahya] There was a note in the commons of the Brotherhood about an incident in the Lake View area on Friday left by that Nessa woman. Gael had attempted to spread word around about what had occurred that night, obviously involved. Wahya had picked up on the snippets, after seeing the note and hung around long enough to get someone to tell him what it said.

Curiosity killed the cat they say… Cops, Spirals, and bodies, oh my!

The short man had tagged along, most likely following on the heels of the others. They’ve seen him around, bumming showers and never staying in one place.

[Wyrmbreaker] And another tagalong -- Lukas Wyrmbreaker, who frowns briefly when he sees Sam, but saying nothing.

[Shadows of the Night] They're standing at the edge of the field, near the sidelines, lobbing a baseball, not a football, back and forth. They got in here the same way the rest of them are going to have to: they broke in through a utility door. It's the off-season, and there's no real reason to be here unless a body's looking for a secluded place where the guards are likely to be lazy or lax. Or otherwise indisposed. There are none outside, just as there are few cars outside, and the lake is rough today.

They're still dressed in plainclothes attire, although they have changed since Friday: the older of them is wearing jeans and a white polo shirt with motorcycle boots and a black leather jacket concealing his arms, while the younger has on khaki slacks, a blue button-up shirt and a tie, his badge more prominent than the older man's and no weaponry visible.

"How are you this old and you don't know how to throw a fuckin' football?" the younger of them asks, loudly to cover the distance. His tenor practically fills the space.
"Y'ever think it's because I'm this old, you meathead?"
"I seen you do enough other things without using 'old' as an excuse. You just can't throw."

[Blood Runs Like Tears] So here they all were: a bunch of rather intimidating men ready and willing to bust some heads, but none of them really having much idea what heads they'll be busting, or even if that course of action will be required. Frankly, the main reason that Gael was here was that he couldn't shake the sense that something... fishy... was going on. He nodded to Sam, Wahya and Lukas as the three joined him and Hatchet, but didn't offer much in the way of words. He wasn't the talkative type.

Having poked around the main entrance for a moment, the muscular Texan began looking for an alternate way into the stadium. Eventually, he found the same busted utility door that Whelan and Boyle had probably used, and he slipped inside cautiously. When they reached the field (assuming that the others followed)... he spotted the two supposed cops and began heading towards them.

[Buried Hatchet] The moon overhead is Hatchet's moon, sliced neatly in half and about to turn darker. His pale eyes are almost metallic, cold and hard-edged as his name. There's no sort of night under Luna that has him as much of a Judge as he is on nights like this, when things do become black and white, right and wrong, good and evil. He has done things, under a waning half moon, punished wrongdoings, and he has made the Uktena Ahroun he runs with look at him askance for it.

He follows Gael through the utility door, with utterly no qualms about following the guidance of a Cliath or allowing two Ahrouns, once brothers, to bring up the rear. That's the way of things. He looks over at Whelan and Boyle and cocks his head to the side as they head that direction.

[Mjollnir's Heart] Sam strides in behind Hatchet but only after stopping fro just a moment to run his hand up and along the steel door. There's no damage there. However walking away there's a clink and drag of metal under scuffed foot. The chain and the padlock, now cut quick and efficently but not cleanly. "Bolt cutters." Back to Lukas before the Modi lengthens his stride to again fall in behind the two Philodoxes.

Every one of them will note when he's close or when they step in near him the discomfort, the almost inhuman galre of his Rage is not so well kept as normal. Sam is a man who can hold himself, keep from being baited almost forever if the moon goes below half. Normally anyway.

Tonight the fury of the world's mad aunt ripples and tries to free itself with every single moment.

He doesn't do any more speaking as the stride, merely breathing deep and doing his best to keep his thoughts clear.

[Wahya] Wahya’s eyes swung back and forth, sliding over the details of the buildings as they entered the stadium. He has never been inside one of these, knew little of the sport. He walked with familiar faces, werewolves that he knew by name, all except for Gael. This was not his pack, but he held one little connection to one of them at least—tribe.

Matted braids slid along his shoulders and back from the constant head turns, his eyes finally fall on the field, watching the men tossing a ball. Eyebrows begin to narrow just slightly; he keeps his hands in his pockets, wrinkling up his nose.

[Wyrmbreaker] No one's speaking. No one's telling each other what's going on, possibly because no one actually knows. Gael called for backup; this mismatched, unpacked group of Garou is what he got.

And there are two men tossing a baseball back and forth. And they're the ones they came here to meet.

When the baseball comes back across, Wyrmbreaker reaches up from his rather prodigious height and snatches it out of the air. He flips it once in his hands, then tosses it on to Boyle, who it had been tossed toward in the first place.

"Hi. I'm Lukáš. Gael mentioned you wanted to meet here, and he wanted a little backup. We don't know what the hell's going on, so maybe you can start by telling us. If we have a common enemy, we're willing to form a temporary alliance."

[Shadows of the Night] The utility door's creaking open can be heard from where the two blond men are standing, lobbing the ball with unhurried, unconcerned movements back and forth. Neither of them look over, at least not overtly: Boyle is facing the corridor through which the home team typically emerges, the one through which the Garou walk now, and they are too far at first to tell if his eyes flick that way.

They have to. The tall, dark and handsome full-blood is walking in between him and Whelan now, snatching the baseball out of the air and lobbing it to an annoyed-looking Boyle. He catches it without taking his eyes off of Lukas, who introduces himself a moment later.

Boyle isn't the one who speaks, though. Whelan paces the considerable distance between himself and his silent partner, whose alloy badge reads "POLICE" across the top, "PHOENIX" across the bottom and "DETECTIVE" across the middle, then turns to face Lukas.

"Sergeant Whelan," he says, the first time anyone of the Nation has heard an introduction from this man in this city. His badge says "SERGEANT" instead of "DETECTIVE," and his accent is a watered-down Bostonian. He's in his early 50s and wears it well enough. Lukas is close enough to see twin, huge scars running from both elbows to both wrists, and it's hard to ignore what they are. They aren't battle scars like Hatchet's: they're suicide scars. "This is Detective Boyle. How temporary you talking?"

[Blood Runs Like Tears] The Shadow Lord took initiative, and for his part, the Uktena philodox seemed content to let him do so. He glanced between Whelan and Lukas for a moment before shifting his gaze to Boyle.

It was possible that he was remembering getting smashed in the face with the blond man's titanium skull. It was possible that he did not care for Boyle. It was also possible that the feeling was mutual.

Glancing back at Whelan, the imposing Texan crossed his arms over his chest and listened to what the other man had to say.

[Buried Hatchet] At first, Hatchet just scans the field they're in, his pale eyes wandering the other doors, checking out the stands. That doesn't mean he's not listening. And when Whelan asks how temporary such an alliance would be, Hatchet muses aloud:

"Well that probably depends on the common enemy. If we have one."

He turns his head to look at Whelan. "Like the man said, maybe you can start by telling us what's going on."

[Mjollnir's Heart] This? Is an opportunity missed.

It doesn't strike Sam yet, thankfully in his state of mind but if he'd never changed, if the portents that surround a Garou's birth had been wrong about him he may've played here. These seats not deserted but packed in like a sea of bodies in blue and fiery orange.

That itself isn't a great portent and this does come to mind. Doesn't matter if those are simply human men, that they're outnumbered four to one. They're obviously canny or incredibly lucky getting through more than one scrape with Garou, or is it just one, or none? The details surrounding their time in Chicago aren't clear.

They say it doesn't matter if you're outsized and outnumbered.
Any given Sunday somebody's going to play harder and that's the team that wins.

The men and wolves speak of an alliance and Sam bristes up some, face going hard and pointed at each of them in turn nodding after Hatchet but beyond that simply keeping his muscled arms across a dedicated black cotton tee.

[Wahya] Wahya focused his attention on the two detectives. He keeps his mouth shut, ears trained to listen, but his eyes begin to wander. His head tilts up, casting his eyes to the perimeter of the area, skimming for any signs of movement than the eight men that stood here now.

Let the others talk and dictate, he is watching their backs. Perhaps he was being overly cautious, but one never knows.

[Wyrmbreaker] Lukas is silent -- waiting for the reply.

[Shadows of the Night] The corner of Whelan's mouth twists into something akin to a smirk, an amused one, as the youngest of the three blonds opens his mouth to clarify that an alliance is likely hinging on what said common enemy is. Either he didn't get the memo that the two of them were hunting the fuck out of a Black Spiral Dancer up until Friday night, or he's being cautious.

Boyle stands in a stance not all that dissimilar to the man who had had him in a grappling hold the other night, with his strong arms over his chest and his gaze focused. He doesn't look all over the place like the Fiann does, but he does somehow seem to be aware of all of the men before him.

For his part, Whelan has his hands pushed into the pockets of his jeans. The motion conceals his scars for the moment. They're not all that old, still pink against his flesh.

"Well," Whelan starts out, "I don't know if you've been following the news or not, but a body turned up in a burnt out truck last night. That body belonged to a Dancer from Phoenix. Now, we've been tracking that body since it was still alive, and that body was taken out of our hands Friday night by this fine gentleman--" A head tilt towards Gael. "--and a small band of merry men and woman, one of whom stole our ride and another one who was under arrest for the assault of a police officer."

"She threw a fuckin' knife at me," Boyle mutters.

"Anyway, I was assured that the body would be properly disposed of. Now," a laugh sneaks out, "I don't know about you, but where I come from, 'proper disposal' does not consist of lighting a truck on fire and leaving it in the ghetto. We following so far?"

[I think this is as good a time as any for a Primal Urge+Perception diff 9 roll! Public or PM'd, does matter to me.]

[Wyrmbreaker]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 8, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 1 at target 9)

[Blood Runs Like Tears] [Primal Urge+Perception]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 5, 8, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 2 at target 9)

[Buried Hatchet] [Perception + Primal Urge]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 3, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 3 at target 9)

[Wahya] [Primal Urge+Perception]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 4, 4, 8, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 2 at target 9)

[Mjollnir's Heart] [pe+pu//diff 9 (+1 love not sleepin')]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 3, 9 (Failure at target 10)

[Shadows of the Night] These guys seem normal enough, if you ignore the fact that one of them's from Boston.
to Mjollnir's Heart, Wyrmbreaker

[Wyrmbreaker] "Is he telling the truth?"

He asks this of Hatchet and Gael, his eyes not leaving Whelan's face. There's no real suspicion there; he isn't narrowing his eyes at their faces. He doesn't mutter it in an undertone to the philodoxes.

Lukas simply makes it plainly and openly known: there is no free trust here.

Provided there have been no glaring lies that the Philodoxes have picked up on, Lukas nods: he follows so far.

[Blood Runs Like Tears] ((Truth of Gaia...maybe?))
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 9 (Failure at target 9)

[Blood Runs Like Tears] Point in fact, he couldn't actually tell whether or not Whelan was being honest, but given past experience, it was possible that he was.

"Honestly? Not sure. Girls took off with the body before I could get to them."

He...was going... to kill... those girls.

For a moment, Gael looked extremely irritated, though whether or not it was with himself or Whelan or someone else entirely... was up to the imagination.

He didn't say I'm sorry, I couldn't find them. He wasn't going to apologize to men who seemed so... not-quite-right. Instead, he just frowned, and grit his teeth angrily.

"If it is true, then they've got some fucking explaining to do."

[Buried Hatchet] [Truth of Gaia]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 4, 5, 5, 6, 7 (Failure at target 8)

[Buried Hatchet] The hairs on the back of his neck are standing on end. Every time he looks around the stadium, his eyes slowly track back to Whelan and Boyle. More and more, he is looking solely at them. After awhile he's just looking at Whelan, his head cocked slightly to the left side, his arms still crossed over his chest. He has scars there, too. They aren't on the insides of his forearms, though. Those, and the more vicious one on his neck, were both given to him by Spirals.

There are two Half-Moons here. One of them should be able to see through Whelan, especially with a Gift.

Neither of them can. Hatchet's eyes narrow slightly, and then he turns to Lukas and gives a one-shouldered shrug. "No clue," he says mildly, then turns back to Whelan and cocks a half grin at him. "Okay, what the hell are you?" he asks cheerfully, as though this is a joke. "I've been all over the place and I ain't never run into something what gives me the willies like you two."

Only a couple of the Garou with him will hear the way he talks, without accent but with a completely shifted grammar, and think of a dead man.

[Mjollnir's Heart] "Luke."


She.
Throwing knives.
Not bright enough not to throw things at the police.

"That's your Russian friend. Bet anything." There are three flicks of Sam Modine's wrist to imitate tossing knives.

The new Uktena and then Buried Hatchet go about trying to discern truth from fiction. Both seem to come up empty. Aint Never. Then Hatchet makes a query that has Sam growing pained at the chain of memories it brings about. Other than his first addition to the conversation he's not doing much else but hanging on against the urge to just hit that man with the stupid accent for reminding him of a dead teenage warrior for the cause.

[Wahya] (1 gnosis to activate heighten senses)

Is he telling the truth?

Lukas asks the question, Wahya’s head immediately turns to stare at the two Philodox. His eyebrows knit together in a permanent frown, looking back and forth between Gael and Hatchet. He shifts in his stance, shorter than most and likely unnoticed for the moment, his hands slid from his pockets, curling and uncurling into small fists to deal with the uneasiness he begins to feel. The tiny hairs on his arms and nape rise. His arms remain at his sides, but the tension grows.

Wahya waits for an answer, looking at Whelan and Boyle now; he begins to open himself up more to his surroundings: sight, smell, tastes, hearing, heightening. Wahya is watching the men, reading their body language as they speak.

[Shadows of the Night] There's nothing that can be scented or seen on these two men that is out of the ordinary, no breeding or coloration or anything that would give them an indication of what it is that they're dealing with, exactly. They look and sound like ordinary guys, even if one of them seems a bit jaded--he's old, after all--and the other one seems ready to snap. The bags under Sam's eyes will never be as bad as the bags under Detective Boyle's eyes if he lives to see a hundred and never sleep another wink.

Hatchet is flip. Hatchet doesn't know what's going on, and he says so, and he says that he wants to know what these two are. Unlike the typical movie villain, the knowledge that he has perplexed the heroes doesn't seem to bring Whelan much joy. Boyle stands glowering and immovable while his partner and superior reaches up to scratch the side of his nose while the younger man's grammar slowly lapses into that more akin to that which is used where Boyle comes from.

"And by god you'd better hope to Gaia that you don't again," Whelan says. "Anyone else would have killed the lot of you by now."

Eyes flick over to Gael now.

"Now, we're not here to cause trouble, or see who's got the biggest gun or the biggest dick or--"

Boyle inexplicably snorts.

"--or any of that. I want to know what we're going to do about the fact that there is a Dancer corpse in the Cook County morgue that ought to be on its fucking way back to Phoenix but isn't because whoever you've got getting rid of bodies has a fucking rock garden in place of a brain."

[Wyrmbreaker] "You called us here to help you break a body out of a morgue?" Lukas is, perhaps, justifiably skeptical. "Why don't we cut to the chase? Why don't the two of you -- whatever you are -- tell us what you want us to do, and why we should do it for you?"

[Shadows of the Night] "Oh, I didn't call for this little pow wow," he says, eyebrows lifting, as though what he's just heard is ludicrous. "Your buddy Sanchez over here did. Sanchez, why don't you tell them what our arrangement was, since you seem to have left that out when you dragged them all out here with you?"

[Blood Runs Like Tears] A retort came to mind, but he didn't say it, which was probably for the best. Good ole half-moon wisdom.

Instead, he glanced at Whelan with brows furrowed and cocked his head to the side.

"I didn' call shit, buddy. I asked what the hell you an McLovin over there were, an you suggested we discuss it at a later date."

He took a breath.

"An my name's Gai-el."

[Buried Hatchet] That's the difference between Half-Moons like Gael and ones like Hatchet.

Hatchet almost always says the shit that comes to his mind.

He unfolds his arms, looking at the inside of his bare left wrist. "Oh my god, I had no idea it was already a hair past a freckle." His hands drop to his sides. He looks apologetically at Whelan and Boyle. "I'm terribly sorry, but I don't know what the fuck you are, the Spiral's dead, and I could give a fuck if its body is in the wrong morgue. Now you don't just strike me as all slimy and slippery with Wyrm-taint, so really...I could give a fuck about the two of you, as well.

"Now on the upside," he continues, lifting one finger, "I'm not going to suggest the five of us descend on you in a flurry of doom, either. I am, however, going to point you back to Mister Lukas's excellent question, and if you do not answer it straightforwardly, it was fantastic meeting you, have-a-nice-life-see-you-at-the-reunion."

Hatchet lifts his eyebrows, dropping both hands. "What do you want, if anything, and why should we bother?"

[Mjollnir's Heart] Arms still back intertwined across his chest the lone Fenrir in the party has little to add immediately. The two aren't giving him the willies, so trusting Hatchet on this mans probably keeping quiet for now.

He bristles some when the man mentions anyone else might kill them all, as though it's still a possibility on the table. But still he keeps quiet.

Ready though.

[Wahya] Arrangement? Wahya turns on Gael, eying the Half-Moon Uktena with a quizzical expression. His head keeps moving like an observer at a tennis match, bouncing back and forth between each speaker. All the monkey-babble was giving him a headache.

A gargled sound erupts in his throat, clearing it. The gravelly-bass of his voice irritated, “Fuck it in ear. Not give body if you keep putting foot in pussy or pussyfooting—“ throwing his hands up in the air, “Answer damn questions before he—“ waves a hand at Sam, “Rapes your face.”

[Shadows of the Night] Boyle looks patently amused by the proceedings, making very little effort to stop from sneering when Gael refers to him as 'McLovin' and corrects the oldest of the gathered what his name is but not speaking. It seems as though he's going to keep deferring to Whelan for the duration.

Hatchet speaks next, going off on a tear after consulting with his naked left wrist, and through it and Sam and Wahya's silences Whelan stands patiently, waiting for the time to come for him to open his mouth. He doesn't interrupt, or snap, or otherwise break rank.

Not even when Wahya throws his little verbal tantrum.

"We all done flapping our gums?" Whelan sighs. "Allow me to explain something: Gai-el here had questions about the nature of my partner here and I, and he held onto them until sirens came screaming our way the other night. It's just a matter of fucking coincidence that whoever you had getting rid of the corpse decided to half-ass it, so now that we're here, here is what I would like you to do: I would like you to get your asses into that morgue, retrieve the body, and get it to me preferably someplace out of the way and dark before whatever Hive around here finds out that a bunch of assholes from Arizona took down one of their native sons and descends upon your sacred place like a swarm of angry wasps."

He laughs again, then shakes his head and explains, "I mean, if Gai-el and his carrot top buddy had just left well enough the fuck alone we'd be on the road by now. I'm not the child who thought setting a fucking two-ton truck on fire with a body inside was going to turn the lot of it into fairy dust and carry it safely away on the fucking wind, so I'm laying this one on you."

[Wyrmbreaker] "What's your interest in the body, really? Forgive my bluntness, but," Lukas shrugs, "the two of you hardly seem like the altruistic type."

And again, as Whelan speaks: "Is he telling the truth?"

[Blood Runs Like Tears] ((Let's try this again...))
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 3, 9, 10 (Success x 1 at target 8)

[Blood Runs Like Tears] The other night, Gai-el here had been seriously considering dragging Boyle back to the brotherhood and questioning him until he got some answers. Some real answers. Which Whelan still wasn't giving them, in spite of mounting irritation and impatience from those present.

To Lukas, he responded, "He ain't lyin', least not actively. But I doubt they're givin' us the whole truth."

He seriously, seriously doubted it, in fact. To Whelan, he now said, "We got that part. Crazy woman burned the body. You want it back. What we don't get is what y'all are, why ya'll care so much, and why you want our help."

(That's right. He said ya'll.)

[Wyrmbreaker] (clarification: Lukas would like a truth-check on whatever Whelan says to the question of why they want the body so much.)

[Mjollnir's Heart] [Visage of Fenris//No PB boost, diff +1]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 6, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 7)

[Mjollnir's Heart] "Alright."

Edgy, a primitive fire loosed a trickle like a leaking spot finally from the Modi. If one looked away even for a moment they might do a double take coming back. Sam is losing patience as the moon hangs overhead like half a death mark on the sky. "You're cops. If you want a body, and they guy's a fugitive of some sort? I'm sure you can go get it. You seem like smart boys." This isn't polite and gentle Sam so much as it's a loose civil war cannon with the fuse lit.

It's dangerous.
It's armed.
And it's not giving a whole lot of space to argue down the barrel.

"Now i'm not gonna.....'R' anyone's mouth. But I'm not that willing to walk away either, like my honored companion over here." One hand untucks from beneath his arm and the index finger juts at each of them in turn.

"Get real straight, real fast."

[Shadows of the Night] What's their interest in the body.

Whelan is on the verge of responding when Lukas calls for another check of the veracity of their statements, has a breath drawn and ready to supply words when he finds himself cut off, and he laughs it out with an expression of mild annoyance on his face for the first time this evening. His partner keeps standing with his arms crossed, and perhaps the fact that they are outnumbered by two is the only reason he hasn't already attacked somebody yet.

That's how he had been Friday night, after all, how nobody had seen him on Monday: he's like a tightly wound spring ready to beat the ever-loving shit out of somebody if they look at him funny.

Were not for the fact that his jacket is lying several yards away from the empty team bench, the lot of them wouldn't be able to see that Whelan has a loaded leather shoulder holster around his upper body, that he is the only one of the two who has a weapon on his person. Boyle has dropped the baseball between his feet.

The question is repeated in more numerous and threatening capacity, and while Boyle looks irked, Whelan regains his façade after Gael speaks.

"What makes you think altruism has anything to do with it?" Whelan finally asks. "We didn't track that guy down out of the goodness of our hearts; we were hired. And unfortunately, smart ass, once the body's been picked up by the coroner, detectives got no right to anything but the paperwork. I don't need the paperwork or I'd be fucking looking at it right now."

[Buried Hatchet] [ToG]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 4, 4, 7, 9 (Failure at target 8)

[Blood Runs Like Tears] ((Oo oo, me too))
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 3, 4, 5, 10 (Success x 1 at target 8)

[Blood Runs Like Tears] Gael nodded to Lukas in affirmative. Yes, Whelan was telling the truth.

[Wyrmbreaker] A faint exhale; like a suppressed sigh. Then he turns to the others.

"We should probably turn this over to the relatives. We've got at least two who might have access to the morgue."

To Whelan: "When and how do you want to pick up the body?"

[Buried Hatchet] Hatchet's not the most patient, understanding of fellows even on a good day. There's no such thing as a good day for him, lately, and that has less to do with recent losses and recent changes in the power structure at the sept as it has to do with the fact that he can barely keep his Rage in check lately.

He looks at Whelan. He looks at Boyle. He looks at Lukas. He glances at Gael. He looks at Whelan again.

"Who hired you to track down a Black Spiral to Chicago?"

[Evan McCollach] "I suggest we work with them on gathering up that body. I am sure that the fallen one's will want to recover their own as well. But they won't be so.... calm in the matter."

He moved from the shadows of the alleyway towards the field. His eyes falling on the gathering about the sidelines. Tossing a stone on a string up in the air before catching it, continuing to walk to the rest of them. Moving down the sidelines towards the rest of them.

"But leaving it to our cousins may not be the best option. I doubt they have the potential to get a body out of the morgue, but to make it go missing and the paperwork behind it will take a great deal of time. By then the body will be discovered by the rest of Wyrm's spoiled children and who here wants the wyrm recovering their own?"

He moved along the side of the rest of the garou present, looking at both Whelan and Boyle, tempted to give Boyle a wink after the incident the other night. But thinking better of it.

[Shadows of the Night] [Don't mind me.]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 6

[Evan McCollach] (Craft skill roll 4. (Lessa witness the other 3 so far): Create staff from scratch and carve gylphs)
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 1, 1, 5 (Botch x 2 at target 7)
to Wyrmbreaker

[Mjollnir's Heart] Sam for his part calms considerably, still radiating the gift he calls in passing his 'game face'. The visage, a marker for his whole tribe, glory and wonder chained and waiting for the apocalypse to let loose and tear the enemy apart.

Even hatchet and Evan can feel it.
But that nagging sensation that he's knee deep in the Rage and not coming out for awhile continues.

"Maybe he's right. Kinfolk can get in and out unnoticed but we've got skills they don't."

[Wahya] Wahya as calmed down a bit, or rather he has gone quiet again. His tongue pokes into his left cheek, forcing it to bubble out as he listens. "How soon you need body?"

[Shadows of the Night] "Wasn't supposed to get to Chicago."

That's when Evan slips out of the shadows, offering up suggestions and attempting to guide his brethren in making a decision. Whelan watches this with some detachment, but Boyle is glowering daggers at the guy who had punched him in the stomach the other night, and when Evan looks back at him, suppressing a wink, he speaks for the first time since indicting Agnessa Malikoff in the knife-throwing incident.

"Fuck you lookin' at, asshole?" he drawls in a Southern accent that shares a border with a certain deceased Bone Gnawer's home state.

"The sooner the better," Whelan says before his partner can really get going. "No family claims the body in seventy-two hours they're gonna drop it off at a local funeral home or something and then you're gonna have a problem."

[Buried Hatchet] Hatchet leans forward and literally snaps his fingers in Whelan's face. "Who. Hired you to track the Spiral here?"

[Evan McCollach] He does not say anything in retort to Boyle. There was no need. But there was something in his eyes that made him wonder if that boy was even stable. But something here didn't add up afterall.

Boyle had a southern drawl, Whelan a Boston accent. They had Phoenix badges and it also seemed that the truck was from Illinois. This situation seemed to be ping-ponging all across the country and now it was just strange.

"I think you should answer the question."

[Mjollnir's Heart] The finger snapping has Sam's head flick up toward the source of the sound. While it wasn't Taggart's intention he's now looking right across the Fianna's hand and into the face of their frenemy. Like it's instinct. Urge.

"Answer the man."

Evan's call is seconded.

[Shadows of the Night] The approximation that Boyle is not stable seems to be an accurate one on the part of the young Silver Fang-turned-Child of Gaia: he's just barely holding himself back with his arms crossed over his chest, but when Hatchet gets in Whelan's face and snaps his fingers as if to bring the older man's attention back to the missed question, he reacts.

Boyle lets his chest go and hurls a left hook at Hatchet before Whelan has a chance to answer.

[Inits! Boyle and Whelan are at -1 inits due to VoF from Sam.]

[Buried Hatchet] [Init +6]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 5

[Mjollnir's Heart] 7+
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 8

[Shadows of the Night] [Boyle, +5]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 10

[Blood Runs Like Tears] [+5]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 6

[Evan McCollach] (6+)
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 5

[Wahya] (7+)
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 6

[Shadows of the Night] [Whelan, +7]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 8

[Shadows of the Night] [Wyrmbreaker, +8]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 3

[Shadows of the Night] [ROUND ONE--FIGHT!


Mjollnir's Heart: 15
Detective Boyle: 15
Sergeant Whelan: 15
Wahya: 13
Buried Hatchet: 11
Blood Runs Like Tears: 11
Evan: 11
Wyrmbreaker: 11

Declare in reverse order, I want 3-minute declares and rolls unless you have a question. Go!]

[Wyrmbreaker] (1 rage. holding all actions.)

[Evan McCollach] (Eagle Might reflexive. Grab Boyle)

[Blood Runs Like Tears] [You saw this coming... Grapple Boyle]

[Buried Hatchet] [a: Block, b: Punch (WP)]

[Wahya] [Holding actions for now.]

[Shadows of the Night] [Whelan
Action: Step out of grabbing range.]

[Shadows of the Night] [Boyle
Split Action:
a) Punch Hatchet [WP].
b) Counter Grapple.
c) Counter Grapple.

Will roll counters after Gael and Evan.]

[Mjollnir's Heart] One might expect Sam to silently jump in. Maybe to say something short and tough before stepping toward the officers and letting lose.

This is a man slightly unhinged though.

And he's laughing. A full on belly laugh like a madperson when he steps quickly between the Fostern garou and the man trying to hit him.

Wrong move, Boyle.

[1 Rage to Autoshift to Glabro 2 Rage for extra actions, 1 spit action

1a. Step between, Block.
1b. Clinch Boyle's Punching Arm

1R. Targeted strike with other hand, break/dislocate Boyle's arm
2R. Knee Boyle in the Groin]

[Mjollnir's Heart] [Block: Boyle//Brawl -2 (split), diff 6 +1 (no sleep till Brooklyn)]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 4, 5, 5, 6, 6 (Failure at target 7)

[Mjollnir's Heart] [Clinch//Str+Brawl-3 (split), also diff7]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 4, 4, 5, 6, 9 (Success x 1 at target 7)

[Shadows of the Night] [Boyle
Switching First Split to Reverse Clinch. Threshold Sam's suxx +2.

Brawl+Strength.]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 2, 3, 5, 5, 7, 8, 9, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Shadows of the Night] [I am an idiot. Re-roll.]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 5, 6, 6, 8, 8 (Success x 2 at target 7)

[Buried Hatchet] [Block: Dex + Brawl, -2 (split)]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 6, 6, 6, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Buried Hatchet] [Punch: Dex + Brawl -3 (split)]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 2, 3, 7 (Success x 2 at target 6) [WP]

[Buried Hatchet] [Damage. Str + Suxx -1]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 5, 6, 7, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Shadows of the Night] [Boyle
Soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 3, 5, 6, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Blood Runs Like Tears] ((Punching Boyle - Dex+Brawl))
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 5, 8, 9, 9, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Blood Runs Like Tears] ((Str+2))
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 4, 6, 7, 7, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Shadows of the Night] [Boyle
Soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 6, 7, 7, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Evan McCollach] (Withhold action now)

[Shadows of the Night] Sam shifts up to Glabro, becoming a hulking beast one and a half times his opponent's size. Although he doesn't manage to get between Boyle and Hatchet as the former moves forward, he does manage to clinch Boyle, which makes him shout, "OW!" but does manage to immobilize him so that Hatchet and Gael can both take swings at him: the former catches him in the ribs, which absorb the blow, and Gael's shot bounces right off of him as he flexes his abdominal muscles to deflect.

Whelan watches this as if he is watching his son play on the playground, then turns to those who aren't engaged in a brawl.

"You--" He points at Lukas.
"And you--" At Hatchet.
"And you--" At Evan.
"And you--" At Wahya.
"C'mere."

He apparently intends to keep talking to those three while Gael, Sam and Wahya beat the shit out of his partner. He starts walking backwards away from the dust-up, apparently not about to turn his holstered back to the four of them as they walk, and if they balk, he says, "Look, I got shit to do and you want answers. I ain't getting hit in the face while I'm trying to talk. Come on."

[Shadows of the Night] Sam shifts up to Glabro, becoming a hulking beast one and a half times his opponent's size. Although he doesn't manage to get between Boyle and Hatchet as the former moves forward, he does manage to clinch Boyle, which makes him shout, "OW!" but does manage to immobilize him so that Hatchet and Gael can both take swings at him: the former catches him in the ribs, which absorb the blow, and Gael's shot bounces right off of him as he flexes his abdominal muscles to deflect.

Whelan watches this as if he is watching his son play on the playground, then turns to those who aren't engaged in a brawl.

"You--" He points at Lukas.
"And you--" At Hatchet.
"And you--" At Evan.
"And you--" At Wahya.
"C'mere."

He apparently intends to keep talking to those three while Gael, Sam and Wahya beat the shit out of his partner. He starts walking backwards away from the dust-up, apparently not about to turn his holstered back to the four of them as they walk, and if they balk, he says, "Look, I got shit to do and you want answers. I ain't getting hit in the face while I'm trying to talk. Come on."

[Mjollnir's Heart] [Targeted strike: Break//diff 6 +1 (on everything, still) -1 (immobilized) +2 (called shot), brawl specialty applies (targeted strikes)]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 4, 6, 6, 8, 8, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 8) Re-rolls: 3

[Mjollnir's Heart] [Damage//Str+1+4 (b)]
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 3, 4, 7, 9, 9, 10, 10, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 8 at target 6)

[Shadows of the Night] [Boyle
Soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 3, 3, 7, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Blood Runs Like Tears] Sam clearly didn't need any help dealing with Boyle, and Gael relaxed and took a step back, but not before shooting the Ahroun a look that suggested he wasn't entirely approving of the veracity with which he'd taken the smaller man down. He glanced over to the others, then, and jogged over to listen to what was being discussed.

[Buried Hatchet] He asked a question - twice. It remains unanswered, because Boyle takes a swing at him. Hatchet is not terribly impressed. Sam...well. Sam kinda flips his shit. Hatchet just punches Boyle in the face, a love tap of sorts, as though to say Sit down, bitch, you don't have this, and then steps back, shaking his head.

Whelan points, and points, and points, and points, and Gael starts to follow him. Hatchet stays where he is, glances up at the moon, and does exactly what Sam said he wasn't willing to do, what might be seen as dishonorable, cowardly, disgraceful, without a word of explanation:

Hatchet turns around, and walks back the way he came with the others, out the door and back to the street. Gaia knows where he goes from there.

Probably not the morgue.

[Wyrmbreaker] The ground doesn't open up. Fire and brimstone doesn't rain down.

It's just a brawl between two guys. So Wyrmbreaker, after a moment's indecision, also approaches Whelan.

[Evan McCollach] He was going to subdue Boyle once again, or at least try to. The man had a fire in him that would impress many an ahroun and assured he was born under the full moon for he was driven to fight so quickly.

But unlike the last time when there humans about, this time he was laid flat. No sirens to sing to save him last minute from being laid out cold. This time they were alone and he was taking on a warrior among warriors, a full moon of the Get. It wouldn't be long before he was face down.

However Evan's attention was focused on the other officer. The question still lingering.

"Now I believe you still need to answer the open question. Who hired you?"

[Mjollnir's Heart] The fuzzy, dopey feeling behind his eyes he has to fight not to become completely useless seems to get the better of Sam momentarily. He steps in to block the hook thrown at the Fianna and misses. Completely. It seems to drive him harder though. Sam's long arm reaches in to grasp at once twisting over Detective Boyle's extending punch and twisting his hand beneath the younger cop's underarm to pin it to his side. As the Modi flexes his own the muscles shoot pain through the offender.

He's not laughing anymore when Gael and Hatchet both get their own in, which the mortal-thing seems to simply let glance off his form so easily as though they aren't even there.

The Get though will not be ignored so easily.

Free fist pummels down into the other's upper arm in snap of Rage that has him moving faster than a blink. Sam feels the bone pop under the blow and shatter to cinder. Sam's foot gets halfway off the ground when the other cries out and goes limp. Accepting the bodily submission he pulls his Rage back and ventilating heavily through his nose he scowls and lets the other drop to the ground.

"You done?" Chest heaving he slowly turns and walks toward the others. Still doped from the lack of sleep but carrying much less an edge than before. Still his gift radiates but now the one carrying it is calmed considerably. When Hatchet walks, as he saidhe would previously Sam nods silently to himself and goes to join the others.

Quietly listening.

[Wahya] Wahya had warned them about what Sam would do. He watched Boyle get taken down, his nostrils flaring out as he snorts softly. His head turning as Whelan points to a few of them to come away and chitchat.

He grunts, casting a look back to Boyle, the others will go talk to Whelan about what needed to be done. Wahya, on the other hand, walks over to where Boyle lies crumpled on the ground, drops down to crouch near him to assess the damage that they did, quietly clucking his tongue against the roof of his mouth and shaking his head.

[Shadows of the Night] A sick, wet krak! sounds out behind the Garou who have decided to follow Whelan out of swinging distance. The thin blond doesn't register surprise or disgust or anger that his partner was just brutalized the way he was; he just comes to a halt by the player benches, where he reaches out to pick up his leather jacket and starts to put it on.

Boyle crumples to the ground like 205 pounds of dead weight, the pain and trauma of his injury robbing him of his consciousness so quickly he doesn't make a sound. He just thumps, and he still has a pulse when Wahya checks. His elbow, however, isn't supposed to bend that way.

The flood lights snap on right at sundown, one by one. They are automatic: no one does it manually anymore.

The question remains: who hired them.

"There's a small desert Sept outside of Phoenix," he says. "One of their number danced the spiral and destroyed most of their property and killed many of their people. One of their Kinfolk was a member of the police department, so they came to us to help track him down. You don't need to know the specifics of the arrangement other than this: we were asked to bring him back, dead or alive, and the only reason I didn't fight for the body Friday night was because if it was properly disposed of I could say that it wasn't safe to cart the corpse across ten or fifteen state lines on the way back home."

Whelan sniffs, looking back over at his partner, and then looks back, addressing Lukas and Evan. They seem to be the ones running things.

"Help us out or don't. But the war's going to affect you far worse than it does us if you don't get that body back."

[Evan McCollach] (Truth of Gaia. Diff unknown)
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 4, 6, 6, 8, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Evan McCollach] He licked at the canines, his lips only slightly opening when he does it. His eyes softly closing as Whelan speaks, just focusing on the words, no longer the man behind them. And in his mind he can feel them dance about, slowly, vibrating around in his head.

He opens then and looks directly at Whelan, knowing that he feels the words to be true, his voice giving away more than he hoped as well. A nod in return.

"Where do you want to meet afterwards?"

[Wyrmbreaker] Lukas waits to see if the stranger's word is vetted by the Philodoxes. When Evan gives the figurative nod -- more in action than in words -- Lukas looks over the gathered Garou for a moment. "None of us have bonds stronger than passing friendship. None of us owe one another anything. If you want to leave, there's no dishonor in it.

"But I'll go with Evan-rhya."

[Mjollnir's Heart] "And let Dancers crawl over the city?" Much more reasoned now, his will enough to hold him at bay from the fine line he'd been walking when they arrived.

"No thank you. I'm in if you'd have me."

That isn't to say there isn't a part of that that has him recoil on the inside like Lukas just snapped his arm in half.

[Wahya] Wahya can hear the conversation behind him, his senses still honed beyond human sensibility, a blessing with drawbacks. He can smell the stink coming off of Boyle as he checks him over. Two fingers pressed to his throat, he still has a pulse. Good.

Another grunt chuffs from his nose and mouth, his head bowed down causing the multitude of matted braids to curtain his bronzed features. He can hear the story going on behind him, the flash of the flood lights as they come on, when daylight gives way to dusk. He shuts his eyes against the lights, blinking away the dots that sparkle from the sudden shift in lighting.

He extends out his hands, touching some part of Boyle. His chest expands to breathe in slowly and then out again, tapping into the inner spiritual energies to fuel a healing gift. Stupid the two-leg was for his quick actions, but the Uktena wasn’t about to just let him die.

[Mother’s Touch Intell 3 + Medicine 2, diff 6]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 4, 5, 9, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Shadows of the Night] Whelan nods, the gathered around him apparently deciding to humor him, and answers Evan's question after Lukas has spoken and Sam has made his decision.

"Take 41-North all the way to the end and hang a right. There's a Berger Park up on the lake, map makes it look pretty secluded."

Reaching into the ass pocket of his jeans, Whelan pulls out his billfold and shucks loose a business card. He hovers it between Evan and Lukas waiting to see which of them will take it: it has his name, a mailing address in Phoenix, Arizona and several phone numbers, two of which have been blacked out, leaving a cellphone and a pager number, both with (602) area codes.

"Call once you've got the body so we know when to meet you. Unless you got anymore questions I'm going to haul his--" He gestures towards the mauled Boyle, who is groaning and pushing Wahya away from him so he can slowly get to his feet. "--useless carcass back to the hotel."

[Blood Runs Like Tears] He looked at Lukas and raised his eyebrows slightly, as if to say: Do I look like I'm about to walk off? No, he was involved. In part, his lack of concern for what the kin were going to do with the Spiral's body had gotten them into this situation, and he felt obligated, though he may not have admitted such.

"Not gonna leave ya 'till it's done with."

Simple enough answer. May as well have been Gael's motto, frankly. Then he stepped closer and listened to what Whelan had to say.

[Evan McCollach] He listened to the directions of where and when they would drop off the body. Pondering it and then moves to take the card that was offered to them. Later he would see if Lukas wanted the card, but for now it was better they showed a single leadership. Being the highest rank left assumed it to be him.

"We will bring the body when we have it. I will call you."

He looked over at Lukas and nodded. It seemed they had a job to do.

[Wyrmbreaker] Lukas allows Evan to take the card when the Philodox reaches for it, though he glances at it as it passes between the men.

"No questions from me," he replies.

[Wahya] Wahya shakes his head at Boyle, grunting loudly, “Wasi’chu,” and stretches up to his full—outstanding!—height of six inches over five feet. He gives him a glance over not turning his back on this one and steps away several feet. He waits for the others to finish the conversation to find out what the plan of action was.

"Will go if needed."

He looks up at the sky as if it will tell him something, he lets out a sigh bringing his head back down to watch them once again. Wahya takes a few more steps that will bring him near the entrance way, ready to leave.

[Mjollnir's Heart] He hasn't seen Evan since showing him throat about a week ago and leaving The Brotherhood of Thieves as a member in good standing of a pack. He's only met him a handful of times before that even. In their society though it doesn't particularly matter how well you know someone of doubly higher station, you assent and follow except in the gravest circumstances.

And that's what Sam does.

Evan takes the lead and he listens quietly, adding to the others. "You can call me, I'll get you the number if you need it."

[Shadows of the Night] "Gentlemen," Whalen says, nodding his head once as he pushes his billfold back into his ass pocket and finally gives the Garou his back, taking long grass-eating strides back towards the crippled form of his partner.

Boyle glares up at Whalen with bruised eyes, then shudders all over as something courses through him and his arm makes a snap! noise as he covers it with his hand. He doesn't even bother trying to hide it from the gathered: maybe Wahya's Touch hadn't hit him right away, or it was just a dislocation.

"Come on," Whelan says, grabbing Boyle under his good arm and helping rather than hauling him to his feet.
"He fucking started it, man," Boyle mutters as Whelan steers him towards the home team's corridor.
"You're just trigger happy. I think you need a milkshake."

[1 Faith spent: all of Boyle's Bashing damage has been healed. Thanks for the Mother's Touch, Wahya, and thanks for playing, guys! That's it for me.]

[Wyrmbreaker] (thanks for the RP!)

[Mjollnir's Heart] ((amazing week!))

[Shadows of the Night] [*poof!*]

[Evan McCollach] He turns to Lukas after the pair leave and nods, handing the card over to him.

"Once we get the body, we bring it to him, but destroy it. I don't know him enough or trust him to let him have it. If it doesn't matter if the creature's body is gone, he will not react. And I don't want to leave it alone so that it can be claimed by the Wyrm once more."

[Mjollnir's Heart] ((Sam gives Evan his phone number, Lukas already has it!))

[Wyrmbreaker] "Fair enough." Pause. "Hatchet-rhya said something earlier: he'd never seen anyone that creeped him out so much as those two.

"It's worth bearing in mind. Because whatever they are, they aren't human. Or kin."

If there's nothing else, the four of them -- not a pack, but together nonetheless -- leave the stadium for the morgue.