Maija | Shadows of the Night [Oneshot – Jamie ST]

It’s well past the rush hour, the hour when everyone is attempting to scurry from their little offices and their little cubicles and get back to their little houses with their little families. The only people who dare go out on the streets, whether they be in the tranquil North Side metropolitan Near North Side or the desolate South Side of Chicago, are those who have a damn good reason to be out there.

A drug score, for example; or a date; or insanity. Maybe all three.

For whatever reason, the weather or simple sound judgment, the good people of Chicago are off the streets tonight, and the employees who are stuck inside the candle shops and the cheese and wine stores and the salons of Lakeview are considering shutting down early.

[I would like the following from each of you before we do anything else:
1. I would like a PM of your Strength, Stamina and Purebreed traits, plz.
2. I would like you to adhere to a 10-minute limit during posting (less than six sentences sounds about right) and a 3-minute limit during declares and rolls. There are eight of you tonight and I am taking my nighttime medication at 11:30 EDT come hell or high water; if we don’t finish by midnight something awful will happen to your characters’ families and loved ones, and maybe even their neighbors and coworkers. If you have any questions IM me directly, don’t ask in the chat; I won’t see it.
3. I would like you to wait for me to prompt you in the chat to post declares and inits. You’re all smart people but I want to double check your mechanics and math so that we don’t have a pile-up if someone makes a mistake. And if someone does make a mistake and I don’t catch it, just let it go. Don’t correct the person in the chat room for me or something awful…
4. I would like… A HUG! No, j/k. Have fun, let’s do intros.]

The answer is: you can’t. There was no amount of kindness or gratitude which could make up for a gift like that. But that didn’t mean that Aidan wasn’t going to try, and so he’d spent the better part of the day at Lilly Pembroke’s home on Lakeview, hanging around like an over-zealous puppy and telling her a thousand and one times how completely and utterly undeserving of such a gift he was. For her part, she’d just smiled and told him to shut up and stop pretending like he really wanted to spend his day with a woman in her seventies.

Now he was on his way back to where he’d parked his car around the block, blinking as the light rain scattered droplets on his clothes and his eyelashes. He was wearing one of his nicer outfits: black tailored pants and a dark green buttoned shirt with the cuffs rolled to the elbows. The bruises on his face were gone. One never would have guessed that only a few days ago, he’d been in the hospital. Well… other than the fact that he still tended to favor the left side of his ribcage a little.

Someone’s going to school this fall.

Danicka is not, however, toting a desk out of Pottery Barn. She’s leaving the store after putting some papers in her purse, elegantly extending her umbrella as she exits. It’s the same one as before, black with the cloudy-blue-sky pattern underneath. She’s wearing ankle boots, a knee-length black skirt, and a sleeveless lavender shirt with a lovely lace embellishment at the neckline. Her hair is down. And curled at the ends. It’s damn near bouncy. So is her step.

It’s not a beautiful day.

His greyinsh slacks and white silk open-buttoned shirt aregetting wet and his hair already soaked from the walking. It hadn’t been doing this when he’d left the house obviously and he’d decided not to drive but to take trains or hoof it to make pick ups and take meetings all over the city today. He’s still some five blocks or more from home, and it’s getting truly infuriating. At least even if he’s not wearing a jacket since he’d forgone the tie today he is carrying a briefcase. Otherwise the mostly paper in paper packages within might’ve gotten completely ruined.

And that in his line of work is enough to make some very tetchy people very angry.

So Giacomo, Jack or Jackie as far as most are concerned strides as close to the innermost part of the sidewalk he can, trying to avoid the rain with the occasional awning.

She sloshes though a puddle and curses inwardly as her canvas shoes provide no protection from the wet.

She was out preparing for a wedding shower. She was trying to find something and someone and somewhere that would please Bridezilla. As that Lonna and Nessa had not found a virgin sacrifice, a box of expensive candles and a giftcard to somewhere expensive and kitchen related.

Nessa had heard the whole spiel of it while they were walking. The tall blonde lamented- she met this girl at work. They were friends. She invited her to her wedding shower. And then? Then demanded satisfaction. And nice kitchen supplies.

Attire was simple- light colored capris. Blue tanktop. Sandals.

That’s one constant about her. It’s her stress relief, it makes her feel better, it keeps her from killing that little prick who decided that DRUMS were a good idea in a dorm room setting. So she walks – and eventually comes to Lake View, not because of any particular need to actually be in this area, or any real decision at all.

It’s random.
And it’s raining.
And it’s muggy hot.

Nevertheless, she has her tattered gray sweatshirt on, despite the heat, and that hood pulled low over her eyes, her waif-thin frame drowning in acres of fleece, her hands shoved deep into the -roo pocket as her beat to hell boots splash through puddles, uncaring if she gets (more) wet. She doesn’t seem to be, but she is watching and aware of those around her, even as she skirts the shadows, keeping out of sight, doing her best to remain invisible.

It never works, but that doesn’t mean she don’t try.

She has 24 umbrellas now. A few of them, she even paid for. Today’s umbrella du jour is printed with a small army of wildly colorful, fluttering butterflies. The one she had gifted Lonna with before they had left the Brotherhood is also fitting; a sky of rainbows seems to have been sacrificed , just to print allll over the fabric. It’s just a little girly, and quite colorful.

Her face is solemn enough to clash with the cheery rain toys, and just maybe, all that black she is wearing makes Nessa look rather like she had been to a funeral today, or maybe she’s one of those persons who wears Urban Black everywhere, or maybe, she’s a Shadowlord. Black except for the silly giant flower. Summery fashion black. Black play clothes. Black wrap top and dress and a jacket to keep her shoulders dry and her weaponry hidden.
Nessa tries to soothe Lonna, for pretty kitchen thigns were fine and concealed the fact that the woman woudl mostly order out anyways. What is not to like? Much female chattering occurs.

There are more half-bloods out here than you can shake a stick at, and most of them are in his fucking way.

The man, in his early 20s and his clothing filthy and blood-stained and tattered, comes hurtling around the corner with his arms pumping and his feet eating up concrete and his eyes wide. If he is watching where he is going he isn’t doing a very good job of it: he looks over his shoulder to see if he is still being pursued, and in the process, runs right into Lonna, knocking her to the ground before barreling into Danicka.

[DANICKA, I would like an Athletics+Dexterity roll diff 7, threshold whatever I roll +2. I will post results.
EVERYONE ELSE, I would like two separate Intuition+Perception rolls, both diff 10. Yes, two. I will PM results.]

[Man: Athletics+Dexterity.]

sorry the first one is a fail, i forgot to set diff

Percep/Alert +1)

Well, fate could go fuck itself, because Aidan wasn’t playing its little game tonight. And when Alexander Vaughn gave him that little smirk, Aidan’s response wasn’t to freeze up and run, or even to get angry and attempt retribution. After all, if Aidan got himself all riled up every time someone physically injured him… he’d probably have given himself a heart attack by now. Alex was, after all, something like person 26 to beat him up. Step in line, buddy. Everyone hates the pretty boy.

(Kind of amazing that he was still pretty, come to think of it. But that was the joy of being descended from werewolves.)

So this was what he did do: cocked his head to the side, put his hand to his mouth, and blew the little bastard a kiss, complete with sarcastic grin. Then he gave him the finger. Just for good measure.

That was then he heard footsteps, and turning to look… he saw a blood-stained stranger come hurtling into Lonna and another woman he didn’t know. That wiped all consideration for Alexander out of his head as he turned and ran towards them, a look of concern showing on his face as he bent to help Lonna to her feet.

“You alright?”

The was addressed first to Lonna, and then to Danicka, whom he looked up at after offering Lonna his hand.

some random dude barrels out of nowhere and knocks two women flying. And Aidan goes to play white knight. And Alexander jogs to a halt, shakes his head once, like a dog, to snap droplets of water out of his hair and eyes.

“Hey, man! How you doing!” He’s within arm’s reach now. It doesn’t matter that Aidan’s bending to help Lonna up. Alex more or less jumps on him, his left arm arcing out to lock around Aidan’s neck in a ‘friendly’ embrace so aggressive it was nearly a clinch. Alex’s skin is hot and damp, his body solid with enough muscle to bring to mind unpleasant memories of how fucking hard he could hit. He stinks of sweat. “Look at that, your face totally survived. I’m so happy for you, man!”

— and his arm tightens, hard, yanking Aidan closer to his own 5’9″ height: up if Aidan’s still crouching, down is he’s standing out. Alexander thumps Aidan once on the chest with his free hand, quite a bit harder than necessary before letting go.

At last, Alexander turns to the victims of the hit-and-run, curious. “What the fuck was that about?” If anyone or anything was still on the ground, Alexander drops down to help pick shit up. “You guys wanna sue? That’s reckless endangerment or something, dude. Good thing my man Prettyboy here was around to help out, huh?” And he hands Lonna her purse with a big, toothy grin.

Danicka lifts an eyebrow. “Yes, we should sue people for running,” she says drolly, and then gives a whistle. “Lee!”

It’s still setting the transplanted east coaster’s temper to a razor’s edge, enough that he doesn’t realize the blonde who’s come out of the pottery barn in his path is the mystery woman he’d seen on at least three occasions and never actually spoken to. Fate had seen to it he was shot, more than once in fact the last time he’d been within twenty feet. His hand adjusts itself on the handle of his suitcase and he’s considering holding it up over his head like some jamook despite the fact he already looks like a wet animal.

Then someone comes barreling through throwing a hipcheck better suited Jack thinks for a Devils game than a sidewalk and nearly topples over the girl in front of him. “Hey, watch yourself asshole!” This is not altruistic. Jack’s venting out frustration at his inability to prepare for the weather at someone who’s knocking over the pedestrians in his corner of the world. His neighborhood goddammit and don’t let anyone tell you differently.

Giacomo keeps walking though, slowly catching the group around the casualties of the man’s passing.

What Jackie is perceptive enough to catch is the name shouted, it’s one he knows. It’s source revealed brings one seconds, then two of impassive curiosity followed my a dawning realization that that is in fact mystery blonde and Lee must be…. yep. That’s them.

One can’t decide if he looks like he’s going to stay or run as fast as he can before the other shoe drops.
Because around that one he can only associate the smell of powder and the burning feel of blood pouring out of him and the fear that this might be the end.

In the end it’s neither. He stops. Briefcase in hand and stares at the assembled, each in turn before checking the face of a gold watch.

There’s a whistle, and she’s been spotted by her roommate. “V!” She reaches out to hug her roommate with one arm, turning her head to watch the stranger run away. “Should we go after him or something?”

So, when she hit the ground, and looked at the perfectly nice man who seemed to be training for a marathon, she just could’t figure out why he was running. He must have been in a hurry; wife’s in labor, he really had to go to the bathroom, and he was about to miss a cab. Lonna came up with the best of excuses.

Now, she almost took a face plant, and the only thing that she could think of was that she was wearing light colored pants and was sitting ass-down on wet pavement. She looked up at Aidan and took his hand. She was getting up, and she was getting herself together. Her hair was a mess.

“Yeah, I’m fine… I’m just going to have to change pants or something,” she said. She looked at Aidan, then Alex… then Aidan again with brows raised.

“Oh, nah, there’s no need to do anything. he’s probably just in a hurry, had a good reason to be running,” she said. It didn’t seem ominous, she just shrugged a little. Alex gives her the purse back. He shoots her a huge grin, and for her part she… just… took her purse back. “Thank you.”

Maija is firmly of the ‘do not get involved’ camp. And thus, she stops where she is, dark eyes flicking between the one that did the barreling, and those barreled.

Wait– last time she saw a man running crazy like that, he had a pack of crazy BSD lupus after him. The lord kin stares at his wake to see what pursues him… Just the guy and girl from the Brotherhood last night. Or rather, they aren’t pursuing. Actually, the jogger is now beating up (Sorry, On!) someone who seems to be rather kind and thoughtful. And beyond them?

Make that, Nessa puts herself between the Lonna and whomever aimed the bowling ball man at them. Her expression, her body language, should anyone notice, is rather intent, rather tense.

Company coming?

“Jesus Christ kid, move!” he shouts at her before deftly sidestepping.

They’re around the corner in staggered succession, two tall blond men in khaki slacks and polo shirts and sturdy shoes, gaining on the man as if they’ve caught a tailwind. It is not a freakish speed that they’ve got going, but given how thin the taller of the two of them is and how athletic the younger one looks it shouldn’t be a surprise that they can move faster than the linebacker of a man who they’re chasing.

The man plowed through Lonna as if she wasn’t even there, and a moment later he slammed into Danicka in the same manner but didn’t knock her down or even seem to faze her. Now he is pushing away from the stylish blonde, throwing another frantic look over his shoulder and completely ignoring everyone else around him.

“Keep runnin’, dickhole!” the younger of the two men hollers, tearing through the conglomeration of Kinfolk while the taller man slows down, huffing to catch his breath. It’s then that the gathered have the opportunity to notice a Phoenix Police Department badge hanging from his left hip, underneath the flap of his black waist-length leather jacket.

“Everyone alright?” he asks, planting his hands on his hips while his partner shoots after the desperate man.

Fucking douchebag.

There was only one proper way to respond to that. Since, you know, Alex had decided they were such good friends and all. Reaching up with his hand, Aidan smiled oh-so-pleasantly and pulled Alex’s face into his own to plant a kiss right on the other man’s lips.

“Oh, I’m doing just peachy.”

That was when the two detectives raced by, and the second of the two paused, hands on his thighs, to ask if they were alright. Aidan looked at him curiously for a moment, wondering what the hell they were doing out here from…Phoenix.

“Think so.”

Assuming Alex doesn’t clock him in a moment.

Lee throws her arm around Danicka, calls her ‘V’, and Danicka smiles mildly. She doesn’t pay any mind to the man who slammed into her, doesn’t seem terribly concerned with the cops chasing him, and so she raises an eyebrow. “Do you normally go running after any old asshole on the street just because he’s an asshole?” she asks, sounding so openly curious it’s almost childlike.

It’s not hard to tell what city she’s from. This is rolling off of her like the rain off her umbrella, which she shifts so it covers Lee as well. Two other men run around the corner to zip after the asshole, one of them is stopping to pant and ask if they’re all right, and Danicka is being distracted by a redhaired man in nice clothes is kissing another man, who she can only assume is his boyfriend. It’s so sweet that she smiles to herself, nods to the detective:

“Yes, sir,”

and turns to Lee again: “Let’s grab some tapas.”

Great; now everyone thinks Alex is Aidan’s douchebag boyfriend. And then Lee’s walking up, and under normal circumstances, Alexander would totally have some smartassed remark ready. He might even be enough of an ass to ask Lee where she was hiding this friend of hers that Friday night they met, because god damn.

But these are not normal circumstances. Two guys, apparently cops, are tearing through them and Alexander’s opening his mouth to say something when they barrel through and he just shuts the fuck up and jumps out of their way so fast you’d think they were poison.

The taller of the two wants to know if everyone’s all right. Alex stares at him. The hairs on his arms are standing on end. He wishes he were a good liar right now; he wishes he could put a mask on his face that hides what he’s feeling, but he can’t. And the look on his face is sort of … well, sick. Like he’d swallowed a cup of castor oil.

“Hey. Officer. Yeah.” He grabs Aidan’s shoulder with one hand, Liadan’s wrist with the other, and takes a step back. “We’re fine, man. Totally cool. Better go after your guy. Heh. He’s uh… he’s getting away.”

He doesn’t take his eyes off the cop. And he takes another step back, yanking the two kin closest to him with him. Forcibly, if need be.

This? is turning out to be the strangest afternoon Jackie has had in a long time. That’s saying something, what with the giant furred monsters and a secret society completely different and too similar to his own. “You okay, doll?” Catching her eye and only looking briefly before-

He tries, so, so hard to ignore the fanooks making out in the street.

And then?

The cops.
Awesome.

If he gets scared he doesn’t show it. Instead catching the man’s eyes directly. “Everything’s fine. Might wanna help your partner catch that maniac though.” If the detective is looking them over, he’ll see the Italian man doing the same. The badge is unfamiliar, but it’s not as though one simply see the name of the city without getting right up to it and he’s certainly got getting that close to the man’s belt. Suffice though, to know he’s not from here.

“Tapaaaah why are you touching me?” This she turns to Alex, who has grabbed her wrist.

And then? Time to talk to the cops about that relatively nice, relatively harmless young man running down the street. Odd, they detectives made her stomach turn, made her look curiously while the blood-splattered man didn’t.

“What’s going on?”

Lonna asked the police officer, Detective, mister Phoenix PD, what was going on.

Just another day in the neighborhood, right? Right.

She catches a glimpse of that badge, and cusses under her breath, long, thin fingers lifting to pull that hoodie down lower, shoulders hunching as she shoves her hands back unto the ‘roo pocket of her sweatshirt. Don’t matter where the badge originated. A badge is a badge and a missing person’s report/runaway search/amber alert is the same everywhere.

She can totally blend into the wall – right? Meanwhile, she watches.

The man running, so like in Grant Park. The pursuers, cops, outside of Chicago like those she was warned about by Yuri; but the distance!
She had been about to assume that her experiences were making her paranoid until she sees the joggers face, his undisguised reaction. The way he avoids the cops.
Its all just tooo familiar now.
Her eyes narrow, and her gaze drops to the pendant around her neck; some carved, painted and rather beautiful and with a particular glyph painted on it. Mrena had done brilliant work.

“Oh,” the cop, a sergeant according to his badge, says, not moving from the position he’s chosen but briefly gazing over shoulders at his partner, “I think he’s got it.”

After he finishes speaking he levels a clear blue gaze at the short man trying to haul his buddies away from him. There isn’t really anywhere to go, no place to hide except for the park across the street behind the line of cars, and the running man finds that out a moment later when the younger plainclothes policeman catches him by the back of the neck and bodily hauls the heavier man towards the alleyway.

“Let go!” the guy shrieks, immediately starting to claw and scratch at the guy’s face with both hands.
“OW, fucker!” the younger detective protests as they disappear behind the Pottery Barn.

Then Alex was grabbing him and Lee and yanking them back, as if somehow there was something wrong with the detective. Sergeant. Aidan glanced at the other man irritably before pulling away. Something about the look on Alex’s face though…

The man was practically freaking out. And Aidan was pretty sure it had nothing to do with the fact that they’d kissed.

“What the hell is it?” (This directed at Alex quizzically.)

Then, raising his voice: “Hey. Hey. I’ve got a great idea, guys. Why don’t we all get tapas and let the nice officer do his job? Huh?”

Alex’s back is to the alley. He hears the yelling, but he doesn’t turn from the tall cop. He just keeps stepping backwards, yanking Liadan and Aidan bodily along with him. He couldn’t be doing a worse job of looking unrattled if he wore a sign reading: FREAKED OUT NOW. GETTING AWAY.

And then Alex, the tattooed boyfriend of the redhead, is yanking on her roommate. She frowns at him, because Lee clearly does not want to be grabbed on by him, and reaches over to physically SMACK the back of Alex’s wrist. She’s not a particularly strong woman, but she certainly doesn’t hold back. “She is a grown woman, dickhead. Let her go.”

She isn’t freaked out at all. There’s no reason to be.

Every Italian-American Yankee fan’s hatred trifecta. Unless he’s one of those who’s got a cop brother, in which case it goes, Boston, Mick, Mayonnaiser. Colleens like Lee of course do not count but that’s getting into the intricacies of this too far. Suffice to say that Jack doesn’t like this man on principal alone.

And what the fuck is a Tapas?

Jack smirks at the words ‘nice officer’ and tuns back to the man who’s uttered that word for the second or third time this one has likely ever heard it. “Christ keep your han-” The blonde takes care of it. Jack isn’t one to practice as he preaches and this occasion is no different but appearances are wonderful things to keep up.

Lonna seems alright and so it’s eyes back on the officer. That’s where they stay.

Danicka smacks the back of Alex’s hand to make him let go of Líadan. The tall redhead takes the opportunity to try and twist free of Alex’s grip. The man looks like he might bolt at any second, and she’s not sure she wants him to still have a hold on her when he does.

And, instead of being a compliant little citizen, she turned around and started to make her way to the back alley that the guy had been led to.

Her brain went to places that were awful places, and she just… she just couldn’t stand it. Now, this said, Lonna wasn’t the most atheltic of creatures. She was above average, yes, but she didn’t run for a living. or at all for that matter. With a rack like hers, bouncing must have been a genuine concern. Right now, she didn’t particularly care.

Narrowed gaze on the cop, and she moves closer, sliding along the wall, fingertips trailing the wall of the poopery barn, doing her best to remain unnoticed, but at the same time ready to shove whomever is closest, back with Alex. out. of. the. way.

Of what?

Doesn’t really matter. Alex is freaked, and that’s enough for the waif he calls ‘mouse’ – or ‘shorty’, depending on the day. Lonna is closest to her, and conveniently one she has met. Low, her voice, barely carrying to her and Nessa.. “Hey. Maybe yeh should…”

And Lonna starts off – and she cusses again – then raises her voice a little “Hey, no, really – yeh should…” and she’s reaching to take her arm and stop her.

The shadowlord grabs Lonna and Danicka (if nearby) by the hand, with a no-nonsense grip that is probably a little painful, and pulsl her towards the direction Alex is going, going around a little so her back isn’t to the ‘officer.’

Back in the alleyway a rather large amount of weight hits a solid metal object and shouts in furious pain. The sound of a solid organic object hitting a squishy organic object sounds out, and then the sound of another large amount of weight and an “Oof!” Whatever’s going on over there isn’t going so well.

One would think that this guy would be doing something to help the battered boyfriend and the helpless friend, or would be doing some sort of crowd control what with the number of concerned women he has around him at the moment. But he isn’t. He just keeps his eyes on Alex and poses a question.

“You know what would really help me out, pal?”

Something catches his attention, though, and as Lonna starts off towards the alleyway, the sergeant turns towards the creeping Maija before she even starts talking. His gaze is unamused as she speaks, and he turns away from the small coterie of half-bloods to address her.

“You know, you oughta keep your hands to yourself, there, sweetheart.”

That was when Lonna suddenly started running towards the alley, and Aidan, instinctively, broke away and started running after her. He had no way of knowing that one of the other men there might find this somewhat suspicious behavior. He wasn’t thinking about that. He was thinking about Lonna getting herself into trouble.

“Hey, Lonna! Ignore them… let’s get out of here.”

— and Alex’s short patience comes to an end. It snaps.

“No. You know, actually?” He’s hot under the collar. It’s in his voice, the belligerent way he gets up in the cop’s face. “I don’t want to know what would help you out. I don’t want to help you out. I don’t think you’re a cop at all, and I think,” he abruptly raises his voice to shout at everyone else, “all you stupid motherfuckers that are standing around frowning at me should run like hell.“

There’s people scrabbling all around, which only serves to deepen the pretty little line in her pretty little forehead, and then Alex snaps. She lifts an eyebrow; she can tell he’s genuinely nervous, but as far as she knows he’s a paranoid schizophrenic. Doesn’t know him from Adam. Doesn’t know Aidan from Abel. She could not care less about the big-breasted woman rushing towards the alleyway or the street urchin trying to sneak past the cop. So: she ignores the lot of them. Especially the one with the badge.

Danicka shakes her hair off her shoulders, lifts her umbrella, and steps off the curb to cross the street, skirt swishing around her knees. “Lee, I’m going to Tres Sueños, it is just over there,” she says, giving an idle point in the direction she’s walking. “I’ll get us a table.”

Jack’s foot slowly steps too close to the other as he silently thanks God. Not the mother woman who’s also the earth and queen of spirits the rest of them believe in. No, his. The big fire and brimstone man in the sky he prays to at mass every single Sunday. He gives thanks because he’s not wearing loafers and he unties one shoelace with the sole of the other foot. He squats as if he’s just noticed it, reaches to tie and examines the man closely.

Lonna’s going the other way but that’s not at all what’s got his attention.

What does is the badge. Not the badge itself but the fact that when he looks at it he ought to see a big blue piece of paper sticking out of the back of the man’s pocket. It’s possible of course the younger of the two has an arrest warrant for the guy or that they’d come upon the guy at the scene of the crime…unlikely seeing as these are not boys in their own jurisdiction. Phoenix, he finally reads.

One hand goes over the lump on one ankle and thinks the better of it.
Something isn’t right here.

“Kid’s right, Sully.” He stands again and moves a step closer. Then another. Balls of shining brass on this one. “You’re a looong way from home. What’s your game?”

And then Aidan is running off to intercept Lonna. Líadan is torn between her sudden and completely foreign desire to protect the thin man who has already been beaten once this weekend, and self-preservation. And Alex is getting into the cop’s space. And Danicka is walking away.

And Líadan is torn in three directions. One direction to Aidan, the person she could consider family if she knew what ‘family’ really meant. One direction to Danicka, her roommate, the assertive one. It’d be so easy to fall into step behind her and just…walk away. And, oh why did she even fucking care, one direction to the asshole who liked to pick fights with people regardless of whether they were bigger or stronger.

She closes the distance between her and Alexander Vaughn, punches him in the shoulder. “Hey, come with us.”

Without waiting to see if he does or not, she spins on her heel and follows Danicka into the street.

It wasn’t working.

Aidan tells her to come on, and she turns her attention on him. He says that she needs to ignore them, and that they need to get out of here. The Child of Gaia opened her mouth to say something. On a fundamental level, she was distraught, almost pained. “But-but.. If these guys… he’s… someone needs to do something-”

And, aparently, the girl who got tired brushing her teeth was the one to do it.

And the cop’s addressing her, turned away from most of the rest of them, and she pulls her other hand free from her hoodie, reaching back as if to find the wall behind her – hopefully masking the click in her hand. Hopefully. “Yeah, alright.”

Then Alex is in the cops face, followed by the other dude (what IS it with guys and testosterone?!) and she doesn’t wait any longer – she springs forward to slam her switchblade into the notcopguy’s thigh. Hopefully. While the rest – hopefully – run the hell away. Dumbasses.

((dex+melee+WP please don’t stab alex by mistake he’d kill me then even if I’m helping and Kahseeno you can TOTALLY HAVE V if you let me make this…))

In the alleyway there’s scuffling, some grunting, and then the sound of a fist connecting with someone else’s face.

“… fuckin’ touch me!”

The younger detective’s voice wafts out of the alleyway as Maija is lunging forward to plunge her switchblade into the back of the sergeant-not-sergeant’s leg. He must see her out of the corner of his eye, or else he felt the air displacing around her, because he steps out of the way, then whirls around to get her in a one-man restraint.

[Whelan: Brawl+Dexterity: Grapple Maija. Spending WP.]

He’s starting to back away, head after Liadan when … the streetrat does something so incredibly brave and stupid even Alexander’s impressed. Even Alexander’s stunned for a moment.

Did she just…?

And then he joins the party. Why not?

(+7)

Whelan: 17
Aidan: 15
Boyle: 14
Nessa: 13
Jackie: 11
Lonna: 11
Maija: 11
Alex: 8

Declare in reverse order. Go!

He does what he knows how to do. Attempts to re-establish control of the situation.

[Reflexive, go for gun. Action: Point it (at everyone)]

A: stabbity at whatever she can reach of The Bad Whelen
Dex+melee-2=3 diff 7 for grab.)

Lonna and Nessa are preoccupied wrestling with each other, the older woman trying to haul the younger, taller blonde away from the alleyway where a sharp shriek and silence suddenly fall. Whatever was going on in the alleyway is over, but not fast enough for the sergeant.

Although Maija doesn’t manage to do any damage, the star-crossed lovers who come to her aid do, each landing a punch on his back. Aidan’s will merely cause a temporary welt on his back but Alex’s causes such distinct if human pain to jolt up his back and into his throat that the guy grunts, lets go of Maija, and falls to the ground.

That’s when his partner comes around the side of the alley, blood on his hands and staining his bare arms, and starts towards the two men, not seeming overly concerned with the pair of women.

He doesn’t look terribly pleased.

[Sgt. Whelan is stunned for this round. Everyone else, roll inits, plz.]

Declare in reverse order. Cody, roll Short Fuse at will.]

(Action: KICK ya in the BALLS mothertrucker.)

For some reason they’re not. Cooly he siply moves the small firearm along the path of the elder plain clothes man’s head.

[Action: AIM: Whelan? Which one? The bad one.]

He’s going to send him to the fucking hospital.

And while Whelan’s crumpled on the ground, Alexander shoots the man with the gun an angry glance, long enough to ascertain that Jack’s not going to shoot him or anyone under his watch. Then, with an appalling brutality that would make all but the most hardened bastards flinch — stomps his heel down on Whelan’s head hard enough to crack bone against concrete.

And then Boyle’s coming at him. Alexander moves like a man used to vicious fights, which he is. He turns around to grab the other’s arm and spin him into a lock.

(a. stomp! b. grapple Boyle)

a. stomp. +2 diff called shot; -2 diff attack on a stunned target. -2 dice. IN KAHSEENO’S NAME!)

Everything happens quickly, Alex trying twice to stomp Whelan’s skull in before the deceptively muscular younger detective is on him, swinging at his throat with his left hand but barely hitting him. He growls his annoyance, then steps around Alex to collect his partner.

That’s when the knife lances across his flank, nicking his polo shirt and the flesh beneath but not doing any damage that is going to permanently scar him.

“Fuck, lady!” he shouts, and then something happens.

The guy on the ground opens his eyes with a jolt, and the kid–he can’t be older than late 20s, which is a kid compared to his superior–gets him under the arm and hauls him to the ground.

“Man, I’m gettin’ tired of hauling your old ass around…”

Meanwhile, Aidan catches up to Lonna, who is trying to get to the alleyway where no sound emits. Whatever happened in there, the younger detective seems to have lost interest in for the moment.

[This will probably read like Greek, but:
Whelan: 1 Faith spent, all Bashing damage healed.
Boyle: 2 Faith spent, two Lethal damage healed.]

And she is – fast pace walk, pulling her hoodie back into place, and she’s off down the street. Thataway. Then that other way. No heading straight home for her. She’s dumb sometimes – but not stupid.

Alexander’s staring. He’s just staring. Not even werewolves can do that — not merely regenerate but just, poof, heal. And he’s still creeped as shit, but he knows when he’s outmatched.

“What the fuck are you people?”

What, not who.

He was panting gently when he caught up to the other kin, reaching out to grasp her arm and give a little tug. Aidan had no way of really knowing who was in the right. The cops had seemed like cops to him, and the man they chased… like a crazy guy with blood on his clothes. But then the older one had acted a bit… strange, and Alex had freaked out… and Maija had tried to stab the cop… and…

None of it really made any sense. And the woman with the knives? Jesus. You don’t just throw knives at people who aren’t attacking you unless you have a damn good reason!

THumb releases hold on steel and the broad chest clean shaven man who looks anything but slick squats to set away his pistol back near his ankle when the officers retreat. “The fuck was that about, you think?” Up to the kid who just shrugged off a clean shot to the face. His accent is eastern, one of the ‘News’ most liekly, but certainly not Chicago.

He’s looking at the kid with a predatory interest, but one obviously not carnal or anything close. He looks the way a miner might see a new vein of ore just below the surface of ordinary lime. “C’mon.” This, when he stands. “Let’s go have a look at the perp.”

Briefcase in hand he motions Alex to follow.

And then, she couldn’t look at it anymore.

He looks at the man with the gun, talking to him now. And he shrugs.

“I have no fucking idea, but I’m not fucking with them anymore.” Jack suggests that they have a look at the ‘perp’ — Alex looks past him to where Lonna stood looking into the alley, sees her face change.

“What? What’s going on in there?”

Jack turns on one heel, strong. Gives Lonna a discerning look. “Lonna baby, what happened in there?”

Out one side of his motuh, quieter, to the one with the fists without actually looking at him. “You got a name, kid?”