One down, two to go
Jan. 19th, 2012 06:02 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
shelbyrouTuesday afternoon is cold and wet, the temperature hovering just above freezing and taunting St. Claire's inhabitants with thoughts of black ice and 'wintry mix'. It is, in fact, an absolute rotten time to go trudging through the woods north of I-90, in search of nebulous rumors of 'things gone wrong'. Tacked to an electrical pole at the crossroads of two gravel road is a sign: HAVE YOU SEEN ME? with a middle-aged man featured. Apparently Gary Hoch was walking his dog over the weekend in this area and never came home. Please call the Sheriff's department with any tips.
Rori is an absolutely strange person and is out and about at odd times trudging through the woods. But fidgety full moons can't sit in the warmth and dry all the time. Hearing rumors of people disappearing, Rori heads right out into that area, a hawk feather tucked into her hair. She stops at the electrical pole briefly to look.
The flyer is a bit worse for the wintry mix, even though it's been sheathed in plastic. Gary Hoch, 45, height and weight thus, last seen wearing such and such. He and his dog 'Rugby' left the house Sunday morning and never returned. They were expected back by lunch. The last-seen address isn't too far from here, actually - just a mile or so to the east, where they headed down one of the walking paths into the forest.
Rori grins, pulling her hood further down over her head and she starts to trudge toward the forest, crooked smile likely not a pleasant thing. She does rip the flyer off the pole and takes it with her. Boots squelch in the mud and muck as she heads onto the walking path, inhaling as she goes to see if she picks up any unusual scents.
The air smells of cold and damp and, once the Fianna reaches the path and heads into the forest, faint decay and mold. Nothing out of the ordinary for a winter forest. Red squirrels 'pew pew' their territorial challenge as she walks, and overhead a raven flaps lazily into the sky. After ten or fifteen minutes' walk there's a touch of orange off to one side, perhaps twenty yards from the path. It isn't moving.
Rori's head whips around at the sight of the orange and she heads that direction. Heading off the pathway doesn't scare this one. She's scenting the air almost constantly at the sight of the orange, trying to pick up anything unusual, or to identify the orange before she gets there.
It is, in fact, the corpse of Mr. Hoch - and the corpse of Rugby, too. The bodies and surrounding ground are spattered with blood, with wounds as if they were chewed on by things small and toothy...before death. The squirrels have gone silent as the Garou approaches the site, as if honoring her discovery.
Rori heads into the trees a bit more and looks around, crouching down. If she can't see anyone, she strips and then shifts to a more helpful form. Lupus is the goal, stretching out when she's finally on four feet and heads back to sniff, nudging at the dog, then trying to find the scent in the wounds, to see what caused them.
The forest is quiet and practically unpopulated. It's a great place to let a dog run free, as evidenced by Rugby's lack of leash. Once Danger Magnet has gained four feet the scent of blood is far stronger, though it's beginning to be washed away. The other strongest scent here is that of squirrel. Lots and lots of it, enough to drive any canid near-crazy, now matter how well trained.
Danger Magnet rubs at her nose with a paw at the strong scent of squirrel and tracks the squirrel scent around. She's looking to see if it's one squirrel or a hoard, and tries not to get distracted herself. SQUIRREL!
SO MANY SQUIRRELS. They are /all over/ the area, as if this particular set of trees was New York Squirrel and St. Petersquirrel rolled into one. The bodies reek of the things, over and under and on top of the blood. Even Rugby seems to have gotten into things - there's a bit of squirrel tail in his mouth (which is bloody). The wolf's nose works so furiously, vacuuming up all the smells of Sciuridae that the chomp on her tail comes as quite a shock.
Danger Magnet swings around, buffing up to hispo and chomping teeth into whatever's in her tail. Now, she's looking around. Death by squirrels isn't normal.
The sweet taste of squirrel blossoms in the Hispo's mouth, as the impudent tree rat squeaks and dies. There are more where that came from, though, a cluster of red-furred squirrels gathered silently between her and the nearest tree. They aren't teasing, or taunting, nor do they look particularly quelled by the other's death. In fact, were these carnivores, one might almost say they look... hungry. The squirrels give Danger Magnet just a moment to realize what's going on before they leap, en masse.
Danger Magnet rears up on hind legs and starts batting at squirrels with her huge clawed paws. She sends them flying, hopefully into trees and knocking them out or killing them. A low rumble is the only warning the squirrels get.
Two squirrels go flying from the scrum, one thumping into a tree while the other just goes flying. The rest of the things go for Danger Magnet's face, chest, and forelegs, biting, chewing, and drawing blood. They don't seem to be thinking tactically, but going for whatever target is closest.
Danger Magnet sends more squirrels flying, teeth coming into play, flinging them after crunching down with her teeth. She howls out a challenge, continuing her squirrel smacking, claws fully extended as she dips paws to hook claws into them as she makes contact.
Two more squirrels are batted away by giant Hispo feet, while a tasty, tasty third meets its maker in her jaws. There are fewer than half of the original squirrels left, and in all the fracas, only two are still attached to the Garou and only one of those still has its teeth in her flesh. Broken bodies lay scattered around the area.
Danger Magnet holds onto the two squirrels in each front claw and growls, teeth bared. She grinds the dead ones beneath her hind claws as she goes after more, with her teeth this time.
The Fianna snatches the squirrel from her leg and chomps down, gorily ending its attempt on her metacarpals. The other still on her gnaws deeper into her ruff, but though it growls and drools, its still an inch or so from acquiring skin. The other two eye her, eye a nearby carcass, and eye each other before launching themselves into a hissing, furious knot of enraged squirrel that tumbles haphazardly across the forest floor.
Danger Magnet takes care of the squirrels trying to bite her skill, one by one, crunching them in her teeth, or if unreachable with teeth, one claw.
The squirrel is far too close to her neck for teeth to be useful, but a slap of a paw ends its future (though not without a nip to a sensitive pad). The last two squirrels are easily taken care of in one Hispo-sized bite while they're distracted with trying to rip each others' throats out.
Danger Magnet growls, throwing her head back as the last of the squirrels die and her nose goes to the ground to try and hunt out the source of predatory squirrels. Wiping her paws in the grass, she tries to rid herself of any blood or gore that might interfere with her nose.
There's nothing left in this area but squirrel, and blood, and fury; even the scents of Gary and Rugby are fading away. It's quite clear, as she investigates, that the squirrels were the cause of their death, and equally clear that the squirrels had made this their home. In a hollow of one of the larger trees, about halfway up the trunk, she discovers the well-chewed bones and skulls of other mammals - a cat, perhaps? or a fox? It's probably just Gary's bad luck that he encountered the carnivorous squirrels.
Danger Magnet seems determined to try and hunt down the source of the squirrel's corruption, inspecting the tree at the area around. She even tries to peek across to the other side.
Whether in the Realm or in the Umbra, the source isn't clear. Neither the squirrels nor the area appears to be Wyrm-tainted.
Danger Magnet wuffs in disappointment and then returns to the body of the man and dog. She ponders them a moment and then tugs at clothes, trying not to sink teeth into anything so she can pull Gary toward the path enough to be more easily seen.
After making it easy enough for his family to find him, Danger goes for her clothes, shifts back, dresses and sneaks through the woods away from the path.
-------------- X X X X X X X --------------
Rori wanders to an industrial area of the city that butts up against the more foresty area, poking around in curiosity and following her nose, such as it is in this form.
It's long miles from this rural area to the edge of St. Claire where the industrial sector waits. By the time she gets there the sun is setting and the rain is starting to turn, in spots, to snow. It isn't quite closing time so the parking lots are sporadically packed - very full around doors and tapering off to nearly nothing in between buildings. Streetlights are beginning to flicker on, though they don't do much to illuminate the gloom.
Rori stays mostly in the trees, peeking through to the other side now and then when she can. Her coat is on, hood pulled up over her head to cover her face mostly.
All appears quiet, on both sides of the Gauntlet. There's nothing obviously amiss to eyes or ears. As it gets darker and the moon rises the Umbra landscape brightens, the spirits beginning their day. This close to technology, unsurprisingly, there are spider webs and pattern spiders all over the area. Certainly too many for one lone Garou to take on.
Rori frowns at all the spidey webs and shakes her head, moving further into the buildings, but staying in the physical world and walking around. She peeks her head around buildings, hood pulled low over her face.
Time passes as the Ahroun explores, drawing deeper into the maze of low buildings and parking lots. Five o'clock approaches and leaves, leaving only the vehicles of those who work second shift or are putting in some overtime. A dark SUV sits at the edge of one of the lots, well away from any light. The windows are darkened as well, making it impossible to see within. A man's voice comes from inside, hoarse from the attempt to keep quiet: "Hey - hey girl. You looking for something?"
Rori is alert, eyes up and looking around. She tilts her head at the hail, pulls her hands from her coat pockets and starts to head that direction. "Not really," she says with a friendly smile. "Just exploring the area."
"Nah," the voice claims, and the window buzzes down another inch or two to reveal the top of a head, "you look like you're looking for a good time. I got a good time for you. Fifty for a bag. You interested?"
Rori looks amused, shaking her head. "Not that kind of good time. You get a lot of business sitting out here in a business park?"
"You'd be surprised. But I ain't here to chat, girl. I got a business to run. If you ain't interested in what I'm selling, I ain't talking."
Rori's nostrils flare slightly, trying to catch unusual scents around the SUV, knowing she's not going to pick up anything but the strongest, if that.
It smells like a parking lot - some asphalt, a hint of spilled gasoline, a soupcon of rubber. "You in or out, girl," the voice demands, and as encouragement, the window begins to hum upward.
Rori suddenly smiles and walks closer. "I'm coming. Whatcha selling?" Bright blue eyes scan what she can see of the inside and she tries to approach the window.
The window stops and the courtesy light suddenly flicks on, but little can be seen of the interior, save that there's a man's shape between the light and the window. "Come around, get in," he invites, and the locks click open. "Don't wanna get the wrong sort of attention, you standing there. I got all sorts of things make you feel special."
Rori walks around the car, climbing into the passenger seat, but doesn't close the door right away. Her hood still covers her face. "What did you have in mind?"
"Close the door," the guy urges, shooting a look past her toward the nearest of the buildings. "What I got ain't for retail." Up close he's a fairly nondescript man, perhaps of Latino ancestry. He smells as though he hasn't washed for a few days and stringy hair seconds this, while the inside of the car smells simultaneously musty, metallic, and herbal. "I seen you sniffing - you need some crystals to make you feel better, yeah?"
Rori closes the door, turning slightly to face him. "That all you got?" She sounds disappointed, glancing toward the back.
Mr. SUV claims, "Girl, you can't handle all of what I got. This ain't no CVS, everything ain't on no shelf for you to look at. You gotta tell me what you want."
Rori waves her hand at him, palm up, fingers heading toward her. "Let me see the crystals then." She's sniffing, looking, trying to be subtle about it as she inspects the van and the man.
He snorts, muttering something only half under his breath that sounds both Spanish and not terribly complimentary, and half-twists in his seat to get at the back. He's packing a gun - probably wise, considering his career choice - but doesn't make a move for it. Instead he pulls a smallish metal case into his lap, angling it so it opens away from Rori, and lifts the lid. What can be seen of the interior seems to contain plastic bags rubber banded together, but there are also a few purple topped tubes in one corner.
Rori tries to catch a better glimpse, nostrils flaring again. She gives him an encouraging smile.
There's something dark within those tubes - molasses? Motor oil? - but SUV closes the lid as he pulls out the bag of meth. He waves it temptingly at her. "Fifty bucks. But forty for you, 'cause I like you."
Rori leans over a little, giving him a flirty smile again. "What if I want something stronger than crystal. I think you have something else I want in that little case."
He studies her, expression flat, and not at all disturbed by the high-Rage Garou sitting within arm's reach. "That's only for my special customers, girl." Like a light switch flicking his smile comes back. "Tell you what - you buy two bags of what you need, I'll give you what you want."
Rori reaches into her inside coat pocket and rustles around for a bit and then produces a bill with a Benjamin on it. "I'm good for it." She holds it up just out of his reach.
SUV-guy hands over the first bag, keeps his palm out for the bill. His other continues to rest on the case as if he'll open up and hand over the rest of her purchases as soon as she's paid. Remarkably like a CVS, in fact.
Rori offers the bill finally, taking the one bag. Something seems to have caught her eye.
Once he's been paid, SUV-guy does indeed take out another baggie and one of the slim vials. The money disappears somewhere while she's occupied. "Pop the top," he explains, "down the hatch. Or you can shoot it up, too. It's easy." He shoots her a sidelong glance as he refastens the latches on the case. "Goes down better with some E. You want it?"
Rori pops the top and waves it beneath her nose, trying to identify what's in the vial while smiling at him.
Rori tries to identify what type of blood, closing her eyes as she makes a show of inhaling. "No, don't need E for this."
Rori can't seem to get a handle on what type of blood it is, but gives him a suspicious look. "Your source clean?"
It smells, unsurprisingly, like blood. "Your loss," the man claims, casting a wary glance around for more customers or someone to interrupt his party. Her question draws him back, scornful. "What sorta question's that? I wouldn't sell nothing to nobody I wouldn't sell to my own grandma. Course it's clean. You better clear out my ride, girl."
Rori gets out of the van, looking around as she walks around to the back. She's looking for cameras on this exact spot.
The door locks click as she walks away. She doesn't see any cameras, but then again, the Ahroun isn't well-versed in technology.
Rori sticks a finger into the vial to get a bit on the end of her finger and sticks it in her mouth. The meth is tucked into a pocket and forgotten.
The blood tastes as she would expect blood to taste, especially in this form. It's coppery and cool, but isn't coagulating as she might think. There's a hint of something... spicy? Floral? something decidedly unexpected, and as she unconsciously swallows the lights in the parking lot seem to get a bit brighter, the rain a bit colder.
Rori walks around the side of the van to knock at the window, smiling brightly.
After a second or two the window buzzes down a few inches. The man inside asks, sounding bored, "Yeah?"
Rori leans on the edge of the window, folding her arms. She lets the jacket fall open slightly. "Hey, just wanted to say stuff was great and wondered if you'd open the back for me so I can say thanks properly." She's trying to suggestive, but she's not exactly small and helpless.
He laughs, not unkindly, and doesn't roll the window down any farther. "Sorry, girl, I don't know you. There's supposed to be a rave a couple blocks up - bet a cute piece like you can get plenty of action there."
Rori shrugs it off with a little smile and winks before she seems to wander off. She's hunting for a large dumpster just out of his sight. A gamble perhaps, but.. it's worse to kill someone who doesn't deserve it.
As luck would have it, the Ahroun manages to find a dumpster in shadow about half a block up. There aren't any obvious signs of cameras, and all the doors leading to the back of the building are closed.
Rori checks the dumpster to see how full it is and if it's got room for a crouched 9 ft monster, she tries to climb in.
More luck! This dumpster was probably emptied earlier in the day, and there hasn't been time for more than a few bags to be collected yet.
Rori slides inside, propping open the open vial where it won't get dislodged by her shifting since she won't be able to uncap it with claws. Then a deep breath and a shift through glabro to crinos.
The rusty metal shrieks and complains under the sudden addition of several hundred pounds, but the bottom doesn't fall out. Yet.
Danger Magnet crouches, leaning down to sniff at the vial, shifting garbage until it's on the bottom and then spills it onto the metal bottom that hopefully isn't too gummed up.
Well, /that's/ disgusting. Now it smells overwhelmingly like rotting bananas, coffee grounds, and just a hint of copper. There's no way she'll be able to identify the blood's origin in this miasma.
Rori growls and shifts back to glabro, grabbing the vial carefully and then dumps it on her hand, whatever drops are left that can be coaxed out. A shift back to crinos and she sticks the very tip of her nose out of the container, then a hand, trying to get a fresh take on the scent.
The Fianna sniffs harder, getting some blood actually into her nose, but it's of no use. The other scents are just too strong. There come, faintly, the sound of footsteps. They seem to be approaching the dumpster.
Rori pulls back into the dumpster, shifting back to human and tugging her clothes back on. She wrinkles up her nose with a sigh and peeks out the very top carefully.
The metal sighs and creaks as she shifts back. The plastic lid is nearly as reluctant to move, but she manages to get a view. A woman in a coverall is approaching the dumpster with two large black trashbags in hand. Her nametag declares her name to be 'Patrice'.
Rori tugs her hood back on, tucking the vial back in her coat out of sight and then flips the lid, hops out and calmly walks away, her back to the woman.
There's a startled yell from Patrice, and a 'Hey'! But so long as nothing appears stolen (and she actually does look inside the dumpster, as if checking for that very thing), Patrice doesn't go after Rori.
Rori checks to see if the van is still there, pondering what she should do next. Stripping naked in the middle of a business park and then running around as a wolf isn't considered good form.
It is, in fact, rather frowned upon in Garou society. Even if one has ones clothes Dedicated, it is considered to be A Bad Idea. However, after circling back to the parking lot, one decision has been made for her - the SUV is gone.
Rori keeps the vial just in case. If it turns out to be bad, she can always stake out the area and see if he comes back. Her wandering begins again, threading through the buildings, frustrated at herself, evident in body language.
Rori is an absolutely strange person and is out and about at odd times trudging through the woods. But fidgety full moons can't sit in the warmth and dry all the time. Hearing rumors of people disappearing, Rori heads right out into that area, a hawk feather tucked into her hair. She stops at the electrical pole briefly to look.
The flyer is a bit worse for the wintry mix, even though it's been sheathed in plastic. Gary Hoch, 45, height and weight thus, last seen wearing such and such. He and his dog 'Rugby' left the house Sunday morning and never returned. They were expected back by lunch. The last-seen address isn't too far from here, actually - just a mile or so to the east, where they headed down one of the walking paths into the forest.
Rori grins, pulling her hood further down over her head and she starts to trudge toward the forest, crooked smile likely not a pleasant thing. She does rip the flyer off the pole and takes it with her. Boots squelch in the mud and muck as she heads onto the walking path, inhaling as she goes to see if she picks up any unusual scents.
The air smells of cold and damp and, once the Fianna reaches the path and heads into the forest, faint decay and mold. Nothing out of the ordinary for a winter forest. Red squirrels 'pew pew' their territorial challenge as she walks, and overhead a raven flaps lazily into the sky. After ten or fifteen minutes' walk there's a touch of orange off to one side, perhaps twenty yards from the path. It isn't moving.
Rori's head whips around at the sight of the orange and she heads that direction. Heading off the pathway doesn't scare this one. She's scenting the air almost constantly at the sight of the orange, trying to pick up anything unusual, or to identify the orange before she gets there.
It is, in fact, the corpse of Mr. Hoch - and the corpse of Rugby, too. The bodies and surrounding ground are spattered with blood, with wounds as if they were chewed on by things small and toothy...before death. The squirrels have gone silent as the Garou approaches the site, as if honoring her discovery.
Rori heads into the trees a bit more and looks around, crouching down. If she can't see anyone, she strips and then shifts to a more helpful form. Lupus is the goal, stretching out when she's finally on four feet and heads back to sniff, nudging at the dog, then trying to find the scent in the wounds, to see what caused them.
The forest is quiet and practically unpopulated. It's a great place to let a dog run free, as evidenced by Rugby's lack of leash. Once Danger Magnet has gained four feet the scent of blood is far stronger, though it's beginning to be washed away. The other strongest scent here is that of squirrel. Lots and lots of it, enough to drive any canid near-crazy, now matter how well trained.
Danger Magnet rubs at her nose with a paw at the strong scent of squirrel and tracks the squirrel scent around. She's looking to see if it's one squirrel or a hoard, and tries not to get distracted herself. SQUIRREL!
SO MANY SQUIRRELS. They are /all over/ the area, as if this particular set of trees was New York Squirrel and St. Petersquirrel rolled into one. The bodies reek of the things, over and under and on top of the blood. Even Rugby seems to have gotten into things - there's a bit of squirrel tail in his mouth (which is bloody). The wolf's nose works so furiously, vacuuming up all the smells of Sciuridae that the chomp on her tail comes as quite a shock.
Danger Magnet swings around, buffing up to hispo and chomping teeth into whatever's in her tail. Now, she's looking around. Death by squirrels isn't normal.
The sweet taste of squirrel blossoms in the Hispo's mouth, as the impudent tree rat squeaks and dies. There are more where that came from, though, a cluster of red-furred squirrels gathered silently between her and the nearest tree. They aren't teasing, or taunting, nor do they look particularly quelled by the other's death. In fact, were these carnivores, one might almost say they look... hungry. The squirrels give Danger Magnet just a moment to realize what's going on before they leap, en masse.
Danger Magnet rears up on hind legs and starts batting at squirrels with her huge clawed paws. She sends them flying, hopefully into trees and knocking them out or killing them. A low rumble is the only warning the squirrels get.
Two squirrels go flying from the scrum, one thumping into a tree while the other just goes flying. The rest of the things go for Danger Magnet's face, chest, and forelegs, biting, chewing, and drawing blood. They don't seem to be thinking tactically, but going for whatever target is closest.
Danger Magnet sends more squirrels flying, teeth coming into play, flinging them after crunching down with her teeth. She howls out a challenge, continuing her squirrel smacking, claws fully extended as she dips paws to hook claws into them as she makes contact.
Two more squirrels are batted away by giant Hispo feet, while a tasty, tasty third meets its maker in her jaws. There are fewer than half of the original squirrels left, and in all the fracas, only two are still attached to the Garou and only one of those still has its teeth in her flesh. Broken bodies lay scattered around the area.
Danger Magnet holds onto the two squirrels in each front claw and growls, teeth bared. She grinds the dead ones beneath her hind claws as she goes after more, with her teeth this time.
The Fianna snatches the squirrel from her leg and chomps down, gorily ending its attempt on her metacarpals. The other still on her gnaws deeper into her ruff, but though it growls and drools, its still an inch or so from acquiring skin. The other two eye her, eye a nearby carcass, and eye each other before launching themselves into a hissing, furious knot of enraged squirrel that tumbles haphazardly across the forest floor.
Danger Magnet takes care of the squirrels trying to bite her skill, one by one, crunching them in her teeth, or if unreachable with teeth, one claw.
The squirrel is far too close to her neck for teeth to be useful, but a slap of a paw ends its future (though not without a nip to a sensitive pad). The last two squirrels are easily taken care of in one Hispo-sized bite while they're distracted with trying to rip each others' throats out.
Danger Magnet growls, throwing her head back as the last of the squirrels die and her nose goes to the ground to try and hunt out the source of predatory squirrels. Wiping her paws in the grass, she tries to rid herself of any blood or gore that might interfere with her nose.
There's nothing left in this area but squirrel, and blood, and fury; even the scents of Gary and Rugby are fading away. It's quite clear, as she investigates, that the squirrels were the cause of their death, and equally clear that the squirrels had made this their home. In a hollow of one of the larger trees, about halfway up the trunk, she discovers the well-chewed bones and skulls of other mammals - a cat, perhaps? or a fox? It's probably just Gary's bad luck that he encountered the carnivorous squirrels.
Danger Magnet seems determined to try and hunt down the source of the squirrel's corruption, inspecting the tree at the area around. She even tries to peek across to the other side.
Whether in the Realm or in the Umbra, the source isn't clear. Neither the squirrels nor the area appears to be Wyrm-tainted.
Danger Magnet wuffs in disappointment and then returns to the body of the man and dog. She ponders them a moment and then tugs at clothes, trying not to sink teeth into anything so she can pull Gary toward the path enough to be more easily seen.
After making it easy enough for his family to find him, Danger goes for her clothes, shifts back, dresses and sneaks through the woods away from the path.
-------------- X X X X X X X --------------
Rori wanders to an industrial area of the city that butts up against the more foresty area, poking around in curiosity and following her nose, such as it is in this form.
It's long miles from this rural area to the edge of St. Claire where the industrial sector waits. By the time she gets there the sun is setting and the rain is starting to turn, in spots, to snow. It isn't quite closing time so the parking lots are sporadically packed - very full around doors and tapering off to nearly nothing in between buildings. Streetlights are beginning to flicker on, though they don't do much to illuminate the gloom.
Rori stays mostly in the trees, peeking through to the other side now and then when she can. Her coat is on, hood pulled up over her head to cover her face mostly.
All appears quiet, on both sides of the Gauntlet. There's nothing obviously amiss to eyes or ears. As it gets darker and the moon rises the Umbra landscape brightens, the spirits beginning their day. This close to technology, unsurprisingly, there are spider webs and pattern spiders all over the area. Certainly too many for one lone Garou to take on.
Rori frowns at all the spidey webs and shakes her head, moving further into the buildings, but staying in the physical world and walking around. She peeks her head around buildings, hood pulled low over her face.
Time passes as the Ahroun explores, drawing deeper into the maze of low buildings and parking lots. Five o'clock approaches and leaves, leaving only the vehicles of those who work second shift or are putting in some overtime. A dark SUV sits at the edge of one of the lots, well away from any light. The windows are darkened as well, making it impossible to see within. A man's voice comes from inside, hoarse from the attempt to keep quiet: "Hey - hey girl. You looking for something?"
Rori is alert, eyes up and looking around. She tilts her head at the hail, pulls her hands from her coat pockets and starts to head that direction. "Not really," she says with a friendly smile. "Just exploring the area."
"Nah," the voice claims, and the window buzzes down another inch or two to reveal the top of a head, "you look like you're looking for a good time. I got a good time for you. Fifty for a bag. You interested?"
Rori looks amused, shaking her head. "Not that kind of good time. You get a lot of business sitting out here in a business park?"
"You'd be surprised. But I ain't here to chat, girl. I got a business to run. If you ain't interested in what I'm selling, I ain't talking."
Rori's nostrils flare slightly, trying to catch unusual scents around the SUV, knowing she's not going to pick up anything but the strongest, if that.
It smells like a parking lot - some asphalt, a hint of spilled gasoline, a soupcon of rubber. "You in or out, girl," the voice demands, and as encouragement, the window begins to hum upward.
Rori suddenly smiles and walks closer. "I'm coming. Whatcha selling?" Bright blue eyes scan what she can see of the inside and she tries to approach the window.
The window stops and the courtesy light suddenly flicks on, but little can be seen of the interior, save that there's a man's shape between the light and the window. "Come around, get in," he invites, and the locks click open. "Don't wanna get the wrong sort of attention, you standing there. I got all sorts of things make you feel special."
Rori walks around the car, climbing into the passenger seat, but doesn't close the door right away. Her hood still covers her face. "What did you have in mind?"
"Close the door," the guy urges, shooting a look past her toward the nearest of the buildings. "What I got ain't for retail." Up close he's a fairly nondescript man, perhaps of Latino ancestry. He smells as though he hasn't washed for a few days and stringy hair seconds this, while the inside of the car smells simultaneously musty, metallic, and herbal. "I seen you sniffing - you need some crystals to make you feel better, yeah?"
Rori closes the door, turning slightly to face him. "That all you got?" She sounds disappointed, glancing toward the back.
Mr. SUV claims, "Girl, you can't handle all of what I got. This ain't no CVS, everything ain't on no shelf for you to look at. You gotta tell me what you want."
Rori waves her hand at him, palm up, fingers heading toward her. "Let me see the crystals then." She's sniffing, looking, trying to be subtle about it as she inspects the van and the man.
He snorts, muttering something only half under his breath that sounds both Spanish and not terribly complimentary, and half-twists in his seat to get at the back. He's packing a gun - probably wise, considering his career choice - but doesn't make a move for it. Instead he pulls a smallish metal case into his lap, angling it so it opens away from Rori, and lifts the lid. What can be seen of the interior seems to contain plastic bags rubber banded together, but there are also a few purple topped tubes in one corner.
Rori tries to catch a better glimpse, nostrils flaring again. She gives him an encouraging smile.
There's something dark within those tubes - molasses? Motor oil? - but SUV closes the lid as he pulls out the bag of meth. He waves it temptingly at her. "Fifty bucks. But forty for you, 'cause I like you."
Rori leans over a little, giving him a flirty smile again. "What if I want something stronger than crystal. I think you have something else I want in that little case."
He studies her, expression flat, and not at all disturbed by the high-Rage Garou sitting within arm's reach. "That's only for my special customers, girl." Like a light switch flicking his smile comes back. "Tell you what - you buy two bags of what you need, I'll give you what you want."
Rori reaches into her inside coat pocket and rustles around for a bit and then produces a bill with a Benjamin on it. "I'm good for it." She holds it up just out of his reach.
SUV-guy hands over the first bag, keeps his palm out for the bill. His other continues to rest on the case as if he'll open up and hand over the rest of her purchases as soon as she's paid. Remarkably like a CVS, in fact.
Rori offers the bill finally, taking the one bag. Something seems to have caught her eye.
Once he's been paid, SUV-guy does indeed take out another baggie and one of the slim vials. The money disappears somewhere while she's occupied. "Pop the top," he explains, "down the hatch. Or you can shoot it up, too. It's easy." He shoots her a sidelong glance as he refastens the latches on the case. "Goes down better with some E. You want it?"
Rori pops the top and waves it beneath her nose, trying to identify what's in the vial while smiling at him.
Rori tries to identify what type of blood, closing her eyes as she makes a show of inhaling. "No, don't need E for this."
Rori can't seem to get a handle on what type of blood it is, but gives him a suspicious look. "Your source clean?"
It smells, unsurprisingly, like blood. "Your loss," the man claims, casting a wary glance around for more customers or someone to interrupt his party. Her question draws him back, scornful. "What sorta question's that? I wouldn't sell nothing to nobody I wouldn't sell to my own grandma. Course it's clean. You better clear out my ride, girl."
Rori gets out of the van, looking around as she walks around to the back. She's looking for cameras on this exact spot.
The door locks click as she walks away. She doesn't see any cameras, but then again, the Ahroun isn't well-versed in technology.
Rori sticks a finger into the vial to get a bit on the end of her finger and sticks it in her mouth. The meth is tucked into a pocket and forgotten.
The blood tastes as she would expect blood to taste, especially in this form. It's coppery and cool, but isn't coagulating as she might think. There's a hint of something... spicy? Floral? something decidedly unexpected, and as she unconsciously swallows the lights in the parking lot seem to get a bit brighter, the rain a bit colder.
Rori walks around the side of the van to knock at the window, smiling brightly.
After a second or two the window buzzes down a few inches. The man inside asks, sounding bored, "Yeah?"
Rori leans on the edge of the window, folding her arms. She lets the jacket fall open slightly. "Hey, just wanted to say stuff was great and wondered if you'd open the back for me so I can say thanks properly." She's trying to suggestive, but she's not exactly small and helpless.
He laughs, not unkindly, and doesn't roll the window down any farther. "Sorry, girl, I don't know you. There's supposed to be a rave a couple blocks up - bet a cute piece like you can get plenty of action there."
Rori shrugs it off with a little smile and winks before she seems to wander off. She's hunting for a large dumpster just out of his sight. A gamble perhaps, but.. it's worse to kill someone who doesn't deserve it.
As luck would have it, the Ahroun manages to find a dumpster in shadow about half a block up. There aren't any obvious signs of cameras, and all the doors leading to the back of the building are closed.
Rori checks the dumpster to see how full it is and if it's got room for a crouched 9 ft monster, she tries to climb in.
More luck! This dumpster was probably emptied earlier in the day, and there hasn't been time for more than a few bags to be collected yet.
Rori slides inside, propping open the open vial where it won't get dislodged by her shifting since she won't be able to uncap it with claws. Then a deep breath and a shift through glabro to crinos.
The rusty metal shrieks and complains under the sudden addition of several hundred pounds, but the bottom doesn't fall out. Yet.
Danger Magnet crouches, leaning down to sniff at the vial, shifting garbage until it's on the bottom and then spills it onto the metal bottom that hopefully isn't too gummed up.
Well, /that's/ disgusting. Now it smells overwhelmingly like rotting bananas, coffee grounds, and just a hint of copper. There's no way she'll be able to identify the blood's origin in this miasma.
Rori growls and shifts back to glabro, grabbing the vial carefully and then dumps it on her hand, whatever drops are left that can be coaxed out. A shift back to crinos and she sticks the very tip of her nose out of the container, then a hand, trying to get a fresh take on the scent.
The Fianna sniffs harder, getting some blood actually into her nose, but it's of no use. The other scents are just too strong. There come, faintly, the sound of footsteps. They seem to be approaching the dumpster.
Rori pulls back into the dumpster, shifting back to human and tugging her clothes back on. She wrinkles up her nose with a sigh and peeks out the very top carefully.
The metal sighs and creaks as she shifts back. The plastic lid is nearly as reluctant to move, but she manages to get a view. A woman in a coverall is approaching the dumpster with two large black trashbags in hand. Her nametag declares her name to be 'Patrice'.
Rori tugs her hood back on, tucking the vial back in her coat out of sight and then flips the lid, hops out and calmly walks away, her back to the woman.
There's a startled yell from Patrice, and a 'Hey'! But so long as nothing appears stolen (and she actually does look inside the dumpster, as if checking for that very thing), Patrice doesn't go after Rori.
Rori checks to see if the van is still there, pondering what she should do next. Stripping naked in the middle of a business park and then running around as a wolf isn't considered good form.
It is, in fact, rather frowned upon in Garou society. Even if one has ones clothes Dedicated, it is considered to be A Bad Idea. However, after circling back to the parking lot, one decision has been made for her - the SUV is gone.
Rori keeps the vial just in case. If it turns out to be bad, she can always stake out the area and see if he comes back. Her wandering begins again, threading through the buildings, frustrated at herself, evident in body language.