UL and Missing Tribemate

[hazlogs]

It is currently 18:00 Pacific Time on Sun Oct 6 2002.

Currently in Saint Claire, it is a cloudy day. The temperature is 67
degrees Fahrenheit (19 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in
from variable directions at 3 mph. The barometric pressure reading is
30.37 and falling, and the relative humidity is 61 percent. The dewpoint
is 53 degrees Fahrenheit (11 degrees Celsius.)

Currently the moon is in the waxing No Moon phase (1% full).

Whispering Pines - Rhiannon's Apt.


Salem raps on Rhiannon's door, the usual curt, businesslike knock.

Rested but not in the best mood despite it, Rhiannon answers the door
quietly, giving Salem a simple 'Hey' in greeting once she's unlocked the
deadbolts. She stands aside, allowing him to enter the apartment.

Salem removes his sunglasses as he enters the apartment; his expression's
grim. He's not angry -- tense, perhaps, but not twitching with rage as he
might be on fatter moons -- but the look on his face isn't encouraging for
the prospects of this being just a social call. "Evening. Sleep well?"

Rhiannon locks the door, and sighs, rubbing her temples. "As well as I
could, I guess." Rather than be a corteous host, she cuts straight to the
chase. "Any good news?"

Salem exhales a breath. "I wish," the halfmoon says, tucking the folded
sunglasses away inside his coat. A wry touch flickers across his face.
"Nothing on locating Francisco, first of all. I haven't been able to get
in touch with Alicia to try it. Mostly, I have more information about the
red pills." He glances at his watch.

Hot on the heels of the Philodox, there's another sharp, impatient
knocking at the door.

"Well, at least it's not a flat-out 'no' for the Questing Stone, yet,"
Rhiannon muses distractedly. "What about the--" The knock interrupts her,
and with an almost nervous look, she checks on the new arrival. She
relaxes, seeing it's John, and opens the door again.

Salem glances toward the door. While Rhiannon answers it, the ex-Lord
fishes into one coat pocket, removing a small spiral-bound notepad and a
sheet of paper that's folded to a size only slightly larger. He paces
toward the couch, shrugging one-handed out of the trenchcoat as he does so
and dropping it over the back of the couch.

It only takes a brief look at the two other Walkers before John asks
politely, but rather quietly, "What's going on?"

"Things involving drugs and missing persons," Rhiannon reveals, gesturing
for John to come inside. "You guys want anything to drink? This could be
thirsty talk."

"Water's fine," Salem says. He nods to the Ahroun minutely, unsmiling and
somber. "Where do we want to start? I've already caught Rhiannon up on the
rave itself, but I need to fill you in as well, unless Alicia's managed to
do it first."

The tall Ahroun stares grimly at Salem, then Rhiannon for a few more
moments before grunting, "Water would be nice, thank you." Pausing, John
considers Salem. "Fill me in with everything you know. Everything. Lemme
know what's assumption and what's not."

Rhiannon busies herself in the kitchen, pouring water from the filter, and
fetching a glass of soda for herself. She returns to the living room and
sets the glasses on the table, then seats herself on one end of the couch.
"There's also something about Francisco we need to talk about," Rhiannon
adds.

"Right. From the beginning, then." Salem glances down at the upmost page
of the notepad, on which is scribbled no more than four or five words in
cramped handwriting. Then he flips it closed. "Wednesday evening, Scuro
came to me with a flyer and a plastic bag containing three or four pills,
dark red, with 'UL' stamped on them." He pauses to pocket the notepad and
take the proffered glass of water, nodding acknowledgement to Rhiannon.
Then back to John. All business. "Don't think you've met her yet, by the
way. Shadow Lord, Philodox. Former countryman." He meets the Ahroun's eyes
and adds, after a beat, "But don't hold that against her." Was that a
touch of humor? It's faint and dry, if so.

"I'll try not to," John murmurs quietly, scooping low to take his glass of
water. When he straightens, the coat-clad Walker folds one arm over his
chest, and sips from the glass held in the other hand. "Those pills... did
Rina take any of them, the other night?"

Salem's jaw tightens. "Yes. I believe she did. Though Gaia knows it was
hard enough getting a direct answer out of her..." He grimaces faintly and
takes a sip of water. Then he says, grimly, "They're tainted, by the way,
as I learned today from the Strider Raeye."

Rhiannon grimaces at the news of the pills being tainted. "Well, I can't
have anyone look at the contents until they're Cleansed, then." She
glances at John, and asks both Garou, "What effect will this have on Rina?
Do we have any way of knowing?"

"She'll be cleansed," John murmurs softly, closing his eyes for a while
and taking another breath. He seems largely unaffected - unless you count
the sudden apparent weariness. "Continue, please."

Salem is watching John. Underneath the businesslike mask, there's sympathy
there, and his own brand of worry for the Ahroun's fiance. He answers
Rhiannon's question. "Still not wholly known. Judging from the effects on
those taking it at the rave, as well as those I observed in Rina herself,"
-- and here that practice in making his voice completely even and bland
comes in quite handy; he just about manages to sound completely objective
-- "it acts much like most other 'party drugs'. Lifted mood, lowered
inhibitions... mnh." He takes a sip of water, then with his free hand
offers the folded paper to Rhiannon. "This is the flyer Raeye obtained,
for a different party. There's a chemical formula written on it."

"Your Gnawer relative, 'Dexter', is something of a chemist. Rope him into
this. Or I will." There's steely determination under the gentle, deep
tones of the Ahroun. This Is How Things Will Be. "A few of my contacts
will begin to try find out who's responsible. I may stock up on supplies
then pay them a visit. Preferably with a packmate or two."

Salem turns his gaze back to the Ahroun. "How is she?" he asks, quietly.

Rhiannon takes the flier and frowns. John's mention of Dexter earns him a
nod. "If we can get a pill cleansed and give him one, along with a copy of
this," she holds up the flier, "then he'll be able to give us specifics.
The address I can have run for previous busts, and for known associates."

Another knock at the door, now.

"That would be nice." John seems to ignore Salem's question for the
moment, considering Rhiannon. "If you can do so without letting anyone
else pay too much attention to the area, that'd be nice. Also, I don't
know how your system works..." He seems purely objective and thoughtful in
a professional way. "If I make a mess of the place and you're forced to
have people investigate, will they notice you've checked up on it prior to
any incident there? And can you BS your way out of it?"

Salem lets it pass; he takes another sip of water, then -- finally -- sits
down, perching at the edge of Rhiannon's couch and swirling his glass
gently.

"I can fabricate some reason. That won't be too much trouble." Rhiannon
seems ready to continue, but the knock on the door gives her pause.
There's a stillness to her for a moment, and she glances at Salem and
John, biting her lip. Finally she gets up to answer the door. "Hermano,"
is the only word she greets the newcomer with, but the tone is laden with
emotion.

Power-Chords regards Rhiannon with a solemn expression, then opens his
arms, steps forward and hugs her tightly. "Chica." He murmurs a few quick
words in Spanish into her ear, then lets her go and comes in. His gaze
flicks to each of the other men in turn, and he nods to them. "Gentlemen.
May I introduce myself?"

Jorge (Power-Chords) is a broad, solid and powerful-looking man in his
forties, a ripe old age for a Garou. His face is round and his features
rough, his eyes black and expressive. A shiny gold hoop earring is in each
earlobe, and he has a truly impressive mane of thick black hair, only
lightly streaked with gray and swept back over his shoulders in a style
reminiscent of an eighties rock band.

John turns to observe the embrace between kin and... stranger. He smiles
insincerely and briefly, tilting his head to one side as he sips at his
water. The other arm slips into his coat pocket as he regards the
stranger. "Certainly."

Salem studies the new arrival with a neutral expression, his head cocked
slightly to favor his good eye.

Rhiannon takes a shakey breath and steps back from the newest arrival, and
there's a mixture of relief and sadness in her expression as she waits for
her friend to name himself.

Power-Chords notes the hand-into-pocket action from John, with a quick
glance, but that's all he does about it. "My name is Jorge Delgado,
deednamed Power-Chords-Deafen-The-Wyrm. Galliard Fostern of the Glass
Walkers. From the Sept of the Steel Angel in Los Angeles. I am here
because this is where my son last was."

John's eyes narrow slightly, and he regards Rhiannon sideways for a moment
before withdrawing that gloved hand again, and stepping forward to offer
it to the newcomer. "Sir," he greets with a quiet deference. Eyes still
watchful. He eyes Rhiannon a moment. "I'm guessing this is the second
piece of news you had to discuss."

Salem sets down his glass and rises to his feet at the introduction,
perhaps a beat after John steps forward. A hint of recognition flickers
across his eyes at mention of the L.A. Sept, but for the moment, he says
nothing.

There is a knocking on the door from outside.

Rhiannon nods to John, slowly. "He's not answering his phone. Salem
mentioned using Questing Stone to see if we could find him that way--I
mean, maybe the batteries on the phone are just dead--but with the way he
was talking when I last spoke to him..." It all comes out in a rush, until
she stops, and for a moment she simply stands there. "I have no idea where
he is, and no one else seems to either. No one's seen him. No one's talked
to him." The knock on the door fills the silence after she's stopped
speaking, and Rhiannon departs the gaze of the three Walkers in favor of
her front door and whatever it might reveal.

Power-Chords steps forward to clasp John's hand in a professional
businessman's shake. "Pleasure," he says, although it's plainly by rote.
"John Smith, yes? Rhiannon described you vividly."

John smiles a slightly confused smile, glancing once again towards
Rhiannon, warily. "John Smith, Walks-Thin-Ice, yes. Unfortunately I can't
say the same for yourself. Nice to meet you, though." Smith takes a small
step to one side to allow Salem room to greet ...and arches an eyebrow at
Rhiannon.

Salem's face remains closed as he steps forward to shake hands with the
Fostern Walker. "Jack Salem. Philodox." All bland, businesslike courtesy.

The Gaian in question is at the door, peering in at them, hand raising,
fingers wiggling. "Hey, I hear this is where the party is at. Sup'?"

Rhiannon looks relieved that it's Alicia. "This is, in fact, where the
action is at. Come on in." She's calmed down some, or as much as possible
given the situation. Once her Tribe's packmate is inside, the door is shut
and locked with a finality that suggests further knocking is not desired.

Power-Chords shakes Salem's hand as well, with a faint curious look. "Jack
Salem. Jack Salem--Heard of you, haven't I? Sounds kinda familiar." He
glances over his shoulder at Alicia, and an eyebrow goes up.

"Jack's gotten around," John grunts diplomatically, before clearing his
throat and gesturing towards Alicia. "Packmate to ourselves and Francisco
- a Child of Gaia Galliard. This is Alicia. 'Lish? I'd like to introduce
you to Frankie's father. Jorge Delgado."

Salem offers up the thinnest of thin smiles, quite guarded. "Probably in
reference to the Casino Royale Sept, in Las Vegas. Summer, two years
back."

"Hey, sup Jorge. I'm Guards-The-Flame, Moondancer and Cliath born into the
Sept of Hidden Walk. Whats the dish on our bro' anyways?" Alicia says,
offering a wave and a bright smile to the Fostern. "I miss that goof
head."

Power-Chords looks back at Salem, and both eyebrows go up now, then back
down. "Aah. I got you." He nods at Alicia by way of introduction. "Dish
is, he's missing," he says shortly. "Now I wanna make it clear I'm not
here to blame anyone or bust any heads. My goal is to take a look around,
see if maybe I can figure something out. With your kind permission, of
course," he adds, to John. "I have no intention of affecting your turf in
any way, unless you want my help with something more."

Rhiannon cannot, unfortunately, answer Alicia's good mood with one of her
own. Jorge's explanation she lets fill in the gaps, and then to justify
herself in contacting him, she explains (mostly to John), "If I can't find
Francisco, the only other person who can, is Jorge." She doesn't bother
elaborating on what happens if Jorge can't find him either.

Salem steps back over toward his glass of water, picks it up, and takes a
drink. He keeps his good eye on the other Garou, Power-Chords and John in
particular. The smile, faint as it was, vanished as soon as his
introductions with the Fostern were finished.

John's mouth twists as he grimaces. He looks between Rhiannon and Jorge,
before slipping a hand back into its coat pocket. When the hand
re-emerges, it's dangling a blue glass orb, at the end of pewter chain.
"I'm trusting a resourceful man like yourself has already tried...
'magical' means?" he enquires of the older Garou, whilst still looking
towards the chain anyway. His lips part slightly as he whispers something
under his breath - inaudible.

"Dude.. like.. I got the Questing Stone rite. If you guys didn't, why
didn't you ask me?" Alicia says, shrugging her shoulders with a hint of a
smile upon her lips. "Its how I gotta track ya'll down when you go hiding
in the cracks."

Power-Chords nods, a weariness coming over him now that makes him look a
good deal older. "Before I left town, had a packmate try it. Results were
inconclusive then, but that was then. Can't hurt to try it again." A quiet
glimmer of hope in his dark eyes as he looks at John's pendant.

Rhiannon watches John closely, intent on the orb and chain, as if her
stare alone can produce useful results.

Salem watches the Ahroun as well, swirling the water gently around in his
glass, his expression grim.

John's lips thin as he stares at the chain, and the little glass ball on
the end. There's a faint edge of his whisper - unclear, soft hissing
sounds are all that's audible. The time taken for the ball to not even
waver the slightest possibly begins to wear on people's patience. It
certainly seems to give John cause to frown a little, moving from the
whisper into a deep rumble that's still unclear and under his breath.
Eventually, John wrinkles his nose, snapping the ball up into his hand and
slipping the chain into his pocket. "Proves nothing," he grunts. "The Rite
doesn't reach the Umbra. He could quite possibly be there, and I /did/
order him to become better acquainted with his spiritual connection."

Rhiannon bites her lip and looks away, running her hand over her forehead.
"Cito, what were you thinking," she murmurs softly.

"What 'bout Tesla? Can't we just send the big bad Roach after 'em?" Alicia
offers to the group as she glances from each one. "Can't he feel him?"

Power-Chords sighs and rubs a hand over his face, and nods. "That's what
we thought, too. He's somewhere in the Umbra. May not be able to come
out." There's a lot of other possibilities, but he doesn't give voice to
any of them. "I have a hope that if he can, he will, especially if I'm
here." The lost-kitten theory of Garou-locating. He glances at Alicia with
the exact thoughtful frown that Francisco used to wear. "Spirit, you mean?
Roach spirit?" At John now, eyebrow raised in query.

Alicia nods her head in reply, answering. "Yah, Tes' is our pack totem.
Roach. I mean... he can find anything, right?"

John shoots Rhiannon an uncomfortable yet sympathetic look, then regards
Alicia with a thoughtful frown. "He's not that powerful... I think. But we
can try. Currently it's more a case of we can find Tesla if we want to
contact him, but... hmm." John's brow furrows a little more deeply. "It
can't hurt to ask."

"Let's ask him, then," Salem says. He arches a brow. "No time like the
present, surely?"

Although she wants to hold hope for a solution in the form of the pack
Totem, Rhiannon distracts herself by fetching her soda from the coffee
table and taking a drink.

John wrinkles his nose slightly, and turns to set his glass of water on
the coffee table. A moment later, he's reached into his jacket for his
cell phone, and taps in a long number. He looks over towards the Fostern,
somewhat apologetically. "S'our way of contacting the roach." John doesn't
listen to the other end, but instead leaves the phone ringing for a while,
waiting patiently.

"Ya'know, crackers help too. He loves those." Alicia hints at helpfully as
she rolls her shoulders a bit, finding herself a seat on the ground. Plop.

Power-Chords grins a little, another expression which shows off the family
resemblance, and stands there patiently. At least it's a dark moon
tonight.

Salem remains standing, glass in one hand, the other folded into a pocket
of his jeans. He watches and waits patiently.

They're not kept waiting long. Tesla - quirky as ever - chooses to
manifest himself with a shower of sparks from John's upheld phone - the
tiny cockroach flying around the room in spirals, trailing sparks, before
expanding to the size of a small dog, and scuttling near Alicia - it seems
to be waiting expectantly. The spirit's appearance is identical to a large
cockroach's, in shape, at least. Few ordinary roahes come this big,
though; nor with semi-transluscent black shells that glitter - traced with
white sparks and light, reminiscent of The Matrix's constant falling
pattern, only sideways and upside-down all at once, and so much faster
that it simply seems to glow.

"Yo' Tesla!" Alicia says, lunging for the bug, tackling him to the ground
with a laugh. "You can smell the gum in my pocket can't ya?" She actually
noogies his brown armor plating head, giggling the entire time.

Rhiannon stares at the roach in wonder, and brightens somewhat. Well, just
maybe...

Despite everything, a smile ghosts across Salem's scarred face at the
appearance of Synthesis' patron spirit. It's faint, tinged with his usual
sardonic cynicism, but genuine nonetheless.

Power-Chords sketches the roach spirit a salute, and has to actually
repress a smile when Alicia greets her totem exuberantly. It doesn't last
long though, and soon he's back to not trying to get his hopes up too
much.

The Ahroun clears his throat and tilts his head up in a respectful
half-nod to the appearing cockroach. Slipping his phone away, he grimaces
as Alicia tackles the poor totem to the ground, and it squeals with
complaint under her. The Ahroun plunges on with his request, frankly, and
in the speech of the spirits - it's also audible in English... just with
that 'special spin'. *Uh... Tesla. We're looking for Francisco,* John
grunts out. *We can't find him Realmwards. We were wondering if you or
your people could sniff him out.*

Alicia works out a pack of gum from her pocket and unwraps a stick for the
totem. She plops it down in front of him.

Greedy mandibles scoop up the gum, plunging it into the creature's mouth,
whilst it chitters away absently. This time, inaudible to any without the
gift of Spirit Speech. *Can search, maybe can find.* It 'tastes' Alicia
with its antennae, touching her hair and face, probably looking for more
treats. *I will go find out which. Will tell you when I know.* The
shimmering head turns up to peer at John.

John nods slowly a few times, to himself, largely. Then looking to Tesla,
he murmurs, *Thanks. Whenever you've got a moment. Come find us if you
think you'll need help.* He smiles tightly at the roach, offering up a
shrug.

The shrug takes a little wind out of Rhiannon's proverbial sails, and she
sits back on the couch, looking a little crestfallen.

Alicia pats herself down a bit, then offers a sheepish grin to the roach,
shrugging. "Sorry cutie, stop by my place later and you can get some wheat
thins and fruit juice."

Solemn once more, Salem drains his glass and takes a seat at the edge of
the couch. His eye goes to Rhiannon, grimacing sympathetically.

Power-Chords rubs his face again, taking a deep breath. He folds his arms
across his chest, and he too glances at Rhiannon.

The totem spirit looks around blankly at the other Garou and kin for a
moment before suddenly collapsing apart violently. Its shell dissolves and
its body implodes, with the remnants of its form taking the shape of
smaller, identical white-glowing cockroaches that skitter away across the
floor, disappearing into shadowy nooks and crannies. A few little
cockroaches make their way into Alicia's pockets - evidently disbelieving
her apology - and a few fly into Salem's dark hair. One zips into John's
cell phone... then there's no more trace of the spirit, anywhere.

John clears his throat again, and turns his eye to Rhiannon, then Jorge.
"Doesn't know. He's going to go look. Might take... a while." The throat
is cleared once more, with a tone of apology.

"It was worth trying," Rhiannon says quietly. She's pointedly not looking
at anyone, but rather the floor, as she says, "This is the part where we
sit around and wait patiently, isn't it," and her voice is colored with
sarcasm and weariness.

Salem blinks in startled reflex, recovering a moment later and otherwise
unruffled. A wry smile tugs briefly at the corner of his mouth and then,
as Rhiannon speaks, vanishes.

Power-Chords flinches a little at the roach's dramatic exit, then shakes
his head with a weary half-laugh. "Spirits, ay," he says to no one in
particular. He nods at John. "Thank you. This is our best hope, so far.
Thank you."

John looks at the floor, and shakes his head slowly. "If I'd been paying
more attention to my Tribe, and less to other matters, I'd have noticed
his absence more quickly. Don't thank me." John folds his arms. "But yes.
Now... we wait."

John pages to the room: Mebbe we can assume people kinda camped on Rhi's
floor for a while, shooting the shit and worrying, then eventually decided
that the roach might be a couple days in the searching?