UL and Neo-Night

[hazlogs]

Date: 10/4/02

Currently in Saint Claire, it is a cloudy day. The temperature is 60
degrees Fahrenheit (15 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in
from variable directions at 3 mph. The barometric pressure reading is
30.14 and falling, and the relative humidity is 77 percent. The dewpoint
is 53 degrees Fahrenheit (11 degrees Celsius.)

Currently the moon is in the waning No Moon phase (13% full).

Location: Whispering Pines - Rhiannon's Apt.


Salem arrives at Rhiannon's door some time in the early evening, making a
guess as to when she'd be home from work. His knock is, as always, short
and brisk.

Rhiannon paces back and forth in her apartment, cellphone stuck to her
ear. She's certainly more rested than in previous days, but this is only
serving to give her more energy to be agitated with. The knock catches her
attention, and she says to the phone, "Hang on." Seeing that it's Salem,
she begins unlocking the door, speaking to the caller all the while. "No.
No. Definitely no." She nods a hello to Salem, and steps aside to let him
in, still speaking. "You know, I really want her to feel like one of the
group too, but not at the expense of losing the collar."

The Walker's apparantly got himself some new threads, but his fashion
sense hasn't changed much. Still far too much black, but the jeans have
been replaced by BDUs, and his hair's tied back into a loose ponytail. At
least the button-down shirt hanging open on his torso is white, even if
the t-shirt underneath is the usual ebony shade.

Salem raises an eyebrow, then nods, entering the apartment without a word
and heading for the couch. He removes coat and sunglasses on his way
there.

Rhiannon rolls her eyes as something from the cellphone annoys her. "Bill,
this isn't one of those 'Warrant Squad Democracies'. Yes, you can say
that. Word for word. You can even said that I told you to say it. Okay.
Don't fuck this up." Although the final warning to 'Bill' is said in a
friendly enough tone, it's still clearly an order, from superior to
subordinate. "Hey. Need anything?" The kin gestures at her kitchen with
one hand while stowing the cellphone in her jacket pocket with the other.

Salem shakes his head as he settles down onto Rhiannon's couch, stretching
his legs with a grunt. "I'm fine. Trouble at work?" He cocks his head at
her, regarding the kin with that one dark eye.

Rhiannon makes a sound of frustration, and waves her hand. "Just the usual
kind. Too many alphas, not enough Garou." She goes to the kitchen and
fetches herself a rootbeer, popping the top off on the counter on her way
back to the living. "So. What's new."

"You won't like it," the Philodox warns, with only the faintest edge of
humor in an otherwise solemn demeanor. "But there seems to be a new pill
making the rounds. Dark red, with 'UL' stamped on them. Heard anything
about it?"

Rhiannon frowns slightly. "UL. Any design with it? Tribal sun, that sort
of thing?"

Salem shakes his head. "Just the letters. They're connected with some
group calling itself 'Neo-Night, Incorporated,' which, along with whatever
else they're going, seems to like organizing raves." A frown twitches at
his mouth. "And given away rather freely at said raves. Scuro obtained
one." A beat. "Rina, too."

"Huh." Curious, Rhiannon seats herself on an arm of the couch. "Did either
of them, ah, partake of the festivities, as it were?" She asks the
question carefully.

"Scuro knows better," Salem says. "Rina... Mnh." He rubs at his mouth with
a rueful look. "Much of the crowd seemed to be... partaking, as you might
say. Overall, it seemed no different to me than any other party drug, but
the fact it's being given away so freely makes me suspicious. And..." He
pauses, frowning.

Rhiannon nods, rubbing her chin. "...and..." she suggests, when Salem
doesn't continue himself.

"And there's the manner in which we found out about this," Salem says,
sitting up. His expression is somber. "A few nights ago, Scuro came upon a
pair of kids, teenagers I think she said, putting up posters for the event
last night. Both were agitated, and one of them tried to attack her. He
was frightened off by a couple of passerby, and then both of them ran off,
leaving the poster and a few of the pills." He scratches at his chin,
thinking. "Also, the poster itself was a rather slick affair.
Professional, and the rave itself, according to Alicia, looked far more
organized than these things usually are." The Walker shrugs his shoulders;
he's no expert himself, of course.

Rhiannon takes a drink from her rootbeer, lost in thought. "Well, I can
say I haven't heard anything about it. This either means it's really new,
or, no one's allowed to tell." She shifts, and asks, "Do any of you have
any of the pills left? I can give them to someone, for processing. He can
keep it quiet, and let us know what exactly they are, at least chemically.
If there's anything weird going on, he won't be able to tell about that."

Salem passes a hand back over his head, brushing stray strands of hair
away from his face. "Alicia has one, and Scuro should still have the bag
she collected the other evening. There's also going to be another of these
things on Tuesday, and one assumes that more of our little red friends
will be passed out then, too."

"Good. Unless they have anyone else they'd rather use, an aquiantance of
mine just moved into the area, and he's--" she grimaces, apparently none
to pleased to say this, "something of an expert on the subject." Another
sip from her Thomas Kemper. "He also has access to actual lab equipment,
so we won't have to worry about going to a regular lab to get them
tested."

Salem tilts his head slightly. "Any relation to the person John called you
about the other night?"

"He is, in fact, the person John called me about," Rhiannon confirms
grimly. "I won't lie--the idea of asking him for anything that could
remotely be considered a favor isn't my idea of a good time--he's probably
a pretty good person to ask. He's Gnawer kin, and a punk." It's not clear
if she means punk to be an insult, or a statement on his lifestyle.

Salem grunts. "If he can get the job done and get us some useful
information... I can overlook a few personality defects." The muscles in
his jaw tighten. "Mainly, I want to know what the side effects are. And
how addictive it is. Alicia said she was going to sniff the pill she
received for taint, but I haven't gotten a chance to ask her how the
results of that test came out."

"Sounds like a plan," Rhiannon agrees. "As long as it's not tainted,
Dexter can test it, and then we'll have a better idea of what it is. If it
IS tainted, things get more complicated."

Salem pinches at the bridge of his nose. "Right. We get a Theurge to find
out what kind of bane's been bound to it." The thought of the pills being
tainted makes the halfmoon even grimmer than he usually is, but he pushes
the dour expression back with a shake of his head. "That's where things
stand right now, in any case."

Rhiannon stands up, and stretches a bit. "I'll wait to hear from Alicia,
then." She finishes off the rootbeer, and heads into the kitchen to throw
out the bottle. "So how are things aside from this new development?"

"Nothing, except..." Salem's mouth takes on a wry twist. "The Wyrm
attempted to invade the Bawn this week, too." He pauses a beat for effect.
"With a horse." He's completely deadpan.

All sound of motion in the kitchen pauses for a moment. Rhiannon slowly
comes back into the room, a puzzled expression on her face. "Did I hear
that right? Did you say a...horse?"

"A horse," Salem confirms. "No lie." One corner of his mouth quirks
upwards. "One horse, no rider, practically sleepwalking, with a triple-six
carved, _carved_, into its hindquarters." He shakes his head. "It smelled
faintly of the Wyrm, but the taint vanished after it was killed."

Rhiannon sighs explosively. "Well I guess they get points for creativity,
if nothing else." She settles onto the arm of the couch again.
"Disappeared--so it had something attached to it? In the Umbra?"

Salem snorts. "The Theurge hanging about during the incident didn't say. I
don't think he was quite sure."

Rhiannon absorbs that with a 'hm'. "Why the hell use a horse," she muses.
It's a mostly rhetorical question, but she still looks like she expects
there to be a logical answer, despite the oddness of the situation. "I
suppose they could've been hoping it would go unnoticed, but that seems
pretty dumb, even for Spirals."

Salem nods agreement, clearly still rather bemused by the whole affair.
Then he shrugs, almost carelessly. "Apart from that, it seems fairly quiet
out there... which is fortunate, considering that Ouroboros and Reforged
are both still off questing. Gaia help us if something _substantial_
should attack."

Rhiannon grunts. "Yeah, I'd rather they got back sooner than later." She
suddenly looks concerned, and continues, "And Francisco's not been
returning phonecalls anymore."

Salem frowns, his brow furrowing. "I've noticed that he's been rather...
distant lately, but then so has Leala."

Rhiannon shakes her head. "This is more than that. Even though he was
acting like a defeatist idiot, he was still talking to me." Her voice
turns bitter. "Even if the conversations were one-sided. But I called him
on Wednesday, and Thursday, and this morning. Nothing." She sighs, and
rubs her forehead. "I don't think this is just distance. I think he's
gone."

Salem's mood takes a darker turn. "Gone." His frown deepens, and he rubs
at his chin pensively. "Hmnh. We'll try Questing Stone, see if that turns
him up. Check with Leala, too." He glances at her. "What about Jacob? He
was with Francisco, wasn't he?"

"I *thought* he was, but now I'm not so sure," Rhiannon grumbles. "Much as
I'm pissed he seems to be letting himself fall into the same trap as
Jacob, I don't think he'd ever endanger anyone else, much less a cub, over
it." There's equal parts conviction and hesitation in her voice, like
she's not actually as certain of him as she wants to be.

"Hrmnh." Salem reaches for his coat, digging into an inside pocket for a
small spiral-bound notepad and a pen. He flips to an empty page, jotting
down Francisco's name, then Leala's, then Jacob's in tight, cramped
letters. "You said he was acting defeatist?"

Rhiannon nods slowly. "He wasn't too forthcoming about it, but I think
something's been bothering him. He wouldn't say what, and I tried to drag
it out of him every way I know how." She looks off across the room,
focusing on nothing in particular, and adds, "I think it's why Jeremy's
attitude has been getting to me so much, lately. Seeing both he and Fran
act like that..." She shakes her head again.