"So, kinda like the mafia, 'r what?"

[hazlogs]

It is currently 09:51 Pacific Time on Mon Feb 24 2003.

Currently in Saint Claire, it is clear outside. The temperature is 33 degrees Fahrenheit (0 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the north at 9 mph. The wind chill index puts the temperature to 25 degrees Fahrenheit (-3 degrees Celsius.) The barometric pressure reading is 30.11 and rising, and the relative humidity is 43 percent. The dewpoint is 13 degrees Fahrenheit (-10 degrees Celsius.)

Currently the moon is in the waning Half Moon phase (46% full).

Whispering Pines - Jeremy's Apt

This apartment gives a look of high expense, not in the building itself, but it's contents. The walls and ceiling are painted pure black, and the carpet matches the darkness, save for some off color fuzz, being that it's a pretty new carpet. Across from the door in the living area is a large black entertainment center consisting of a not suprisingly black 42" TV, a large fully digital stereo system with CD and tape players, AM/FM stereo, a setting for the TV, and a useless setting called 'phono'. There are various gaming systems tucked into the entertainment center as well, baring names like Dreamcast, Playstation and Playstation 2, various systems with the word 'Nintendo' upon them... 3D0, NeoGeo, and finally something called a 'colecovision'. This system is complemented nicely by a high quality Bose surround sound speaker system. Two black leather couches are on the left and right of the living area, angled at the entertainment center. A large chest rests on the ground between the couches and the entertainment center, working as a foot rest. The only sources of light are the LEDs on the stereo, the TV, and a small blacklight bulb in the fan in the center of the apartment. A door to the right of the apartment leads to Roger's bedroom(+view) and the small kitchen is visable on the right side of the apartment, almost a part of the living room. The kitchen is lit up by a hallogen lamp, resting next to the front door, pointed towards it.

A brisk knock sounds on the door.

The roachkin staggers out of his room, a touch bleary-eyed. He grunts, upon noticing who his visitor is, ducking into the bathroom briefly to splash water over his face and neck, to help him wake up a little. Then, after heading over to flip the various security bolts and catches, he opens the door and waves the Elder in. "Yo."

Salem unbuttons his coat as he comes in out of the cold, but keeps the sunglasses on. His expression is flat. "You wanted to speak to me?" he asks, all business.

Ebony heads into the kitchen, digging out a can from the fridge, some energy-drink or another. "Yup. Drink?" he prompts, before adding, "Ran into a little problem, 'day or so ago."

"No, thanks." Salem slips his hands into his coat pockets, head turning to follow the kinsman with a mirror-shaded gaze. "What problem?"

"One with a russian accent," Ebony quips, cracking the can open and taking a long drink. "Was takin' a walk down Reagan...s'usually quiet down there in the day, fulla stoned junkies that like nothin' more than t'sit an' watch the world go by. This guy, though, was hyped up, like he was on crack...all movin' fast and aggressive. Dangerous. Beth was there too - she stopped off on her bike when she saw this guy harassin' me. He said....we were both marked, or somethin'. That we were already non-existant, and we should tell our friends. Then he pulled a gun and backed off, though he didn't actually fire it. Just a safety-card, I guess."

At the word 'Russian', the Philodox stiffens, muscles in his jaw tightening. "Shit," he says quietly, when Ebony's finished. "What did he look like?"

Ebony gives a brief description....slightly shorter than average, maybe 5'5-ish, spiky hair. "Beth spoke to her man 'bout it...he said f'me t'tell you that th' Get want in on whatever's goin' down with these guys."

Salem rubs a hand along his bearded jaw. "Mm." The Garou didn't look like he was having a good day to begin with, and this news seems to have made it more grim. "I'll keep that in mind. We may be able to use their muscle." He pauses, hands pushing back into his pockets, his frown deep. "Did he say anything else? Mention any names?"

Ebony takes another slow swig from his can. "Not tha' I remember," the kinsman admits. "I'll check with Beth, but I don't reckon so. He felt....weird, though. Not just like some junkie on a bad trip, but...real dangerous. Just the way he moved, 'n shit."

Salem nods slowly. "Have Beth call me if she remembers anything more." He pauses, head cocking slightly as if considering something. "Have you met Rina, by the way?"

"Who?" Ebony wonders. Clearly, that's a no. "More family 'r somethin'?"

Salem nods again and reaches into his coat, taking out a pen and a small spiral notepad. "She knows something about our local Russian problem," he says dourly, while writing something down. He tears off the page and hands it over; it contains a phone number. "Get in touch with her. I will, too, but she should get the details from eyewitnesses."

Ebony takes the paper and eyes the number, before digging his cellphone out and programming it in. "Walker? Garou?" he prompts, after making the entry.

"Walker kin," Salem says, putting the notepad away.

Ebony ahhs. "Coo'. S'a big family," he observes thoughtfully. "So what's goin' on with this ruskie business, anyhow?"

Salem folds his arms across his chest. "Criminal organization. Some of them are outright Wyrm, most simply ruthless to what they consider competition."

Ebony makes a face. "Bitches. So, kinda like the mafia, 'r what?"

Salem nods once. "I'll let Rina fill you in on the details. She knows more than I do." He unfolds his arms and takes out a brass pocketwatch, glancing at it. "If you see him again, or if anyone similar approaches you, be careful. As I said, most are merely human, but some... are not. And they're all quite dangerous."

Ebony mmhmms, finishing his drink. "Yeah. I'll keep m'eyes peeled an' let you know if I see 'owt else," he agrees vaguely.

"Good." He starts to turn for the door, then pauses. "Sorry to wake you, by the way."

Ebony grins crookedly. "Y'din't," he assures. "Ain't slept yet. Maybe catch some zees in a couple'a hours or so. See y'round, Salem. An' chill, yeah?"

Salem grunts. "Not difficult in _this_ weather," says the Walker with gallows humor. "Be seeing you, Ebony." He opens the door and heads out.