"Lunch Money's got some spine after all."

[hazlogs]

It is currently 19:05 Pacific Time on Tue Apr 1 2003.

Currently in Saint Claire, it is mostly sunny today. The temperature is 57 degrees Fahrenheit (13 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the southwest at 12 mph, with gusts up to 21 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 29.92 and falling, and the relative humidity is 51 percent. The dewpoint is 39 degrees Fahrenheit (3 degrees Celsius.)

Currently the moon is in the waxing No Moon phase (0% full).

Harbor Park -- The Meadow

One of the last bastions of green left in the city, mottled and withered grass and weeds covers the earth like a badly stained carpet, with the construction work turning what is left into just bare dirt. The vegetation seems marginally healthier the further it is from the river and much healthier towards the central area of the park around the fountain. Construction work is ongoing here: a raised earthen berm about five feet tall is being built all around the park perimeter, with two breaks each at the Bridge Street entrance and the First Street end. Wooden posts are being erected at regular intervals all along the earthen wall, while tasteful iron gates and fences are being added at the entrances. Overpowering the scent of living vegetation are the exhaust fumes from a busy street to the west and an unpleasant stench from the Columbia River to the east. From the street view or river view, the park is now isolated, as if it existed apart from the city. People in tall buildings have an excellent view of any goings-ons for now, though. In the center of the park, a small glade of six tall trees and a flower bed surrounds the fountain.

The murky waters of the Columbia River flow swiftly along the east side of the park. Bracketing the park to the west is First Street and the city of St. Claire.

There's a flicker of worry or fear in Cat's eyes, and he tugs on his wrist lightly. "I want to go home," he says, still softly, eyes still on the ground. "You're not my friend. You'll only bring trouble."

Tabia lets go of his hand, at that. Throws it back toward him, really. "Yeah, I probably would. Go home. Get the fuck out of my face. I don't need them, and I sure as hell don't need you, either," she not-quite shouts at him.

Tabia

Mischief. Something about this girl screams it, even when she's trying to be serious. Her age may have something to do with it -- she's still shy of her teens, and perhaps the fact that she isn't the least bit shy, extremely extroverted and full of energy. She's about average in height and weight for her age, around five feet tall and perhaps ninety pounds. Black hair, cut short in a style that could go equally well on either gender and brown eyes, as well as dark skin suggesting middle eastern descent.

She wears worn-in blue jeans and tennis shoes, topped with a baggy sweatshirt, all well-suited to outdoor activities. The outfit is topped off by a light blue denim ball cap with a pyramid logo and 'Luxor, Las Vegas' lettered across the front.

Rina paces up from the south end of the park... as nonchalant as a pretty Italian mafia-girl in black can possibly be. Her tone is deliberately quiet, easy. "Everything all right, kids?" She hooks both hands into her pockets, and slouches.

Cat finally lifts his head enough to meet her eyes. "You're lying ag-" but he stops when Rina appears, face tinged with relief when he catches sight of her.

Were it anyone else, Tabia would have something far more to say. But Rina surprised her last time, and the memory of food and cards is still fresh. "Fine," she bites out. "He was just telling me to fuck off, and I was just leaving." Even if neither of them speak a word of Spanish, the short string of it that follows is almost certainly invective. Venting, not directed at anyone in particular.

Elisabeth makes her way through the park, leather jacket easily keeping the evening chill at bay. Tabia's angry voice catches her attention and she looks toward the group, frowning faintly as she reconizes one of three.

"I doubt that's how /Cat/ put it," Rina murmurs, closing the distance between herself and the pair, placing herself squarely between the two as mediator. They can still see each other, of course, but she stands with neither of them. "Chill. The fuck. Out."

The Walker cub bites his lip, looking up at Rina pleadingly and clenching his sketchbook a little more closely. It's clear he's terribly unhappy with the situation. "I just want to go home," he mumbles, looking at the ground again.

Cat

He's fifteen years old, but he looks twelve, and at times acts eight. His almost white-blond curls have grown back curlier and more windward than ever, tendrils dangling in his eyes and over his ears. With his small, too-thin body and big round eyes, he looks like a child refugee, and from far away he might be mistaken for a girl. His eyes are a brilliant blue-green shade, a shock of color on his pale face. Despite the better diet and exercise, he hasn't lost the gauntness in his frame; but he's growing, slowly but surely. 5' 2" now. He eats an inordinate amount for someone his size, which probably attributes to the growth spurt.

He wears a Catholic school uniform; a white, longsleeved button-up shirt; a warm, navy blue zip up jacket that's a size too big; black slacks that fold once at the bottom; and plain white Keds, which are a little grey and muddy now from use. He often has a watchcap tugged over his ears, curls poking out from under it. He's been given a black, worn-out briefcase/backpack, the type often seen on Japanese schoolchildren. (+detail Cat's backpack).

Rina

Dark-brown eyes, touched with amber, look out from a pixie-sharp face. Rina's skin is fair, but not quite pale--a light Mediterranean olive from generations of pure Italian ancestry. Her black-brown hair is left just long enough in the front to fall almost into her eyes; the butch cut tapers to an army-short buzz at the sides and back, hardly more than a velvet fuzz covering the nape of her neck. Her chin is delicately-boned, her mouth small, the line of her jaw well-defined. Her eyes have a shadowy, bruised look, either from fatigue or the artful use of makeup; save for that Gothic touch, she might have stepped from a pre-Raphaelite painting. She can't be more than twenty-five or so, but in that youthful face the eyes are cynical, brooding, world-weary. Athletic grace and a certain streetwise confidence show in her movements, but there is often an element of tension as well.

Utilitarian black cloaks the girl's body: loose black fatigues, lightweight army boots, and a long-sleeved knit shirt that hugs the muscles of her upper body.
A traditional biker jacket in black leather, at least two sizes too big, adds a layer of toughness to the petite woman's attire. Several patches of electrical tape and a small plate of discarded circuit board patch a few holes and rips in the leather: the front and back of both shoulders, and a spot near her waist on the left. There are more additions to the traditional biker body armor: scraps of circuit board, metal spikes and rivets, and a pair of mismatched vambraces that make her look like some sort of Mad Max knight errant.

She wears two rings, both a silvery white gold. Her right hand bears a single diamond framed by two smaller ones, the decorative work on the ring elegant and subtle, perhaps Art Deco. On the left she wears a simpler band decorated with letters and scrollwork.

Elisabeth sighs and runs a hand over her hair, before aproaching the trio. "Hey, Cat, right?" She greets the Walker cub. "I'll give you a ride back, if thats what you want."

As Cat mumbles, Tabia's ire turns his way again. "God _damn_ it, Lunch Money, why _don't_ you just say it? That's what you _mean_. You don't want to go home, you want me fucking gone!"

Elisabeth

The woman before you is tall, standing a height of 5'10. Elisabeth's age seems to rest somewhere between her late teens and early twenties. Her facial features are strong and somewhat rectangular, with slightly raised cheekbones, small chin, and hawk-like nose. Beth's hair is straw-blond, with streaks of darker brown hairs running through it. The woman's eyes are a beautiful ice-blue, perfectly set in her pale face. Physically, the kinswoman is impressive. Regular physical activity, having blessed her with toned muscles and an athlete's grace. Her hands, if one bothers to look at them, are covered in a series of small scars and the palms are toughened by physical labor. On her right hand, a golden engagement ring encircles one finger.

Currently, the woman is wearing a pair of blue jeans, a form fitting white top, and a leather jacket. Her feet are clad in leather boots, the type favored by bikers.

Rina glances up to the taller woman, eyes narrowing. "I'll take care of him," she says quietly. "He lives with me." Then her attention returns to Cat and Tabia. "Why don't we go back to my place, and discuss this. Hm?" It isn't so much an offer as a command.

Cat looks up, startled by Elisabeth's sudden out-of-nowhere appearance, and sidesteps closer to Rina in reaction. He doesn't get a chance to answer the Get woman before Tabia's outburst catches him totally flatfooted. "You -lied- to me!" he shouts back, finally caught up in the anger. "I got Gabriel hurt because of you, an' for nothing. You're -not- my friend!"

Elisabeth pinches the bridge of her nose between two fingers and mentally counts to ten. "Excuse me," the Get kinswoman says, directing her attention toward Rina. "I'm afraid that I don't know you you are. My name is Elisabeth, or Beth, if you prefer." Her gaze shifts to Cat, expression hardening. "If you're going to blow your top, this is /not/ the place to do it."

Perhaps oddly, rather than making her more angry, Tabia throws back her head and laughs. Oh, there's still an edge, there, mind. "Lunch Money's got some spine after all." Elisabeth is largely ignored, though it's clear she was heard, as she goads Cat, "I think it's a perfect place to do it. C'mon. Blow your top. I wanna see what you've got."

Rina's hand comes down on Cat's shoulder, and she steps between the two, facing Tabia. "Settle down," she says quietly. "You're coming to my place. And the two of you can discuss this, preferably /not/ like children."

Elisabeth rolls her eyes. "I still don't know who you are," she directs toward Rina. Then points a finger at Tabia. "Or who you are, for that matter."

Cat stamps his foot like any little child in a temper tamptrum ."My name isn't Lunch Money, it's -Cat Harper-. An-" Rina's hand comes down and he stops, literally biting his tongue and glaring at Tabia.

Tabia doesn't seem to care particularly that Elisabeth doesn't know who she is. Rina is a consideration primarily because she's in front of Cat. But she tries to step around the woman, to shove the boy. To Rina, regardless, "More room here. Sometimes the best way to solve things, too." Someone's spoiling for a fight.

Rina follows the girl's movements easily, staying in Tabia's away. One hand is free, and the other slips under her jacket. "Lady, I dunno who you are either, but for your own safety I think you better /leave/." Her voice is low, hoarse--and she doesn't take her eyes from Tabia.

Elisabeth's eyes narrow, fixing on Tabia for a moment. Before focusing on the other cub. "The Loud-Mouth like you, Cat? Do you want me to take you to the farmhouse? Fighting here would /not/ be a good idea."

He's nearly shaking, although whether from fright or anger, it's hard to tell at this point. "That lady's Missalizabeth," he says all in a rush, still glaring at Tabia from the safety behind Rina. He's clutching his sketchbook so hard his knuckles are turning white.

Tabia says, "What's wrong, Lunch Money, not even gonna try? I thought you were mad at me for hurting your little friend Gabriel? But I guess you don't really care about him, do you?" They might notice that, as upset as she is, she's far more in control now than she was when they arrived. Has been since Cat got angry with her. They might even be able to guess that she knows exactly what she's doing. Though, of course, she has no way of knowing why it's really such a Bad Idea.

"Cat," Rina says tightly, "tell your friend Miss Elizabeth she needs to leave now."

Rina pulls the ugly weight of the .45 from beneath her jacket--and with the other hand, she grabs Tabia by the shoulder and whirls her around, grappling her and pressing the gun to her back. "We're going for a walk."

Cat blinks and gets very quiet when the gun appears. "B-bye Miss Elizabeth," he says -very- softly, glancing at her for a moment before doggedly following Rina.

Elisabeth scowls and pointedly stares at Rina's retreating back for a few seconds, before she turns and begins to stomp away.

Before she turned away, Elizabeth might have seen the terrified expression on Tabia's face as the gun is put to her back, though neither of the others would have. The sudden change, however, they could not miss. Where a twelve year old girl couldn't do much of anything in that situation, the Crinos that she has become breaks free of the hold with ease. The panicked swing of the arm to get Rina and her gun _away_ is more of a backhand than a claw-strike, though those razor-edges could still find flesh.

Elisabeth's depature is cut short, as Tabia firsts and takes a swing at the other kinswoman. Swearing fluently in German, Beth begins looking around for anything that she could use as a weapon.

The strength of the Crinos, even used casually, is nothing to be trifled with. And Rina is not a particularly sturdy person. There is a crack of impact, a cry of pain, and the Kin girl is flung aside like a rag doll; she lands in a rough heap some ten feet away, the gun not far from her limp hand.

As the other Kinswoman lands in a heap a short distance away, Elisabeth makes a grab for the fallen woman's weapon.

When Tabia's small form changes, his eyes grow wide- and then Rina goes flying. The snap of change isn't audible, but his high-pitched shriek turns into an angry howl as his body flickers and spurts upward, and he charges for the Frenzying Tabia.

Unlike before, the girl-turned-war machine is not looking for a fight. It was fear, not rage, that triggered her change, and before Rina has even hit the ground, she's already turning to flee, only to be caught from behind by Cat. Heedless of all of this, within the Umbra, a small owl spirit is taking flight, freed from its bond and compelled to track down the nearest Garou before it can be free.

Elisabeth crouches down and scoops up the .45 in her right hand, while pressing two fingers from her left against Rina's neck. Checking for a pulse. Satisfied that Rina isn't dead, the Get kinswoman stands and aims the weapon at the two Garou. Just incase on of the furry killing machines decides to head in her direction.

Cat's only recently learned to handle walking and running in Crinos- fighting? He only knows that this creature hurt Rina, and someone will pay. He slams his clawed fist as hard as he can into Tabia's side as she turns to flee, on the verge of Frenzying himself when a flittery little owl flies right in his face.

Rina doesn't move, lying still and pale in a crumpled heap.

Tabia is operating under the age old fight or flight reflex. Elisabeth, gun or not, isn't an immediate threat, so she doesn't try to go charging over that way. Cat, on the other hand, is a different story. Letting out a roar of pain from his blow, she does what any cornered animal would do, and lashes out. Claws, this time, though it's not aimed at all.

Still keeping her eyes on the fight, Elisabeth pulls a slim cel phone out of her back pocket and quickly scrolls through the number in memory. Hitting the call button, she presses the phone against her ear and waits for someoen on the other end to pick up.

Cat's too distracted by an owl spirit that keeps buffeting his face with it's wings. His arms go up in meager defense from it- and Tabia's blow rakes across his stomach, drawing blood. He screams again, unable to defend himself with the spirit in his eyes. He snaps at it in wild anger, stumbling backwards with one arm around his bleeding stomach and the spirit fluttering weakly from his jaws.

After the second ring, Salem's crisp voice greets Elisabeth. "Jack h--" The greeting cuts off at the sound of Crinos mayhem in the background, and his voice gets a whole lot more businesslike. "Fuck. Who is this, and where are you?"

Seeing her enemy falling back, the newly changed Strider reverts to the original plan -- escape. Get as far from this place as quickly as possible. Instinct or simple good fortune that the direction she chooses is deeper into the park, rather than away from it.

"Beth. Two crinos. Fighting. Harbor Park," Elisabeth barks into the phone.

Salem spits out something vulgar in Serbian. "On my way. Who?"

There is a brief silence, as Elisabeth's eyes track the fights progress. "Cat. Don't know the other one. Some lady I don't know with a buzzcut, got sideswiped."

Cat howls, dropping to all fours and turning his massive head over his shoulder to stare blankly at Elisabeth and Rina, torn between chasing after Tabia and staying with Rina, tail tucked. ~Home,~ he howls weakly, blood dripping from stained fur to the ground.

"Witnesses?" asks Salem on the other end of the line. The Get kinswoman can almost _hear_ the gritted teeth.

"Its in the middle of the fucking park, what do you think?" Elisabeth hisses into the phone.

Salem's voice seethes with barely-restrained impatience. "Are there any _immediate_ witnesses? Anyone screaming and running? Was anyone around when it started?"

Elisabeth's answer is short and too the point. "No."

"Good. Be there in a few." Salem clicks off.

Rina's breathing is audible, and has a slightly strained sound. She comes to with a quiet noise of pain, lifting her slightly, dazed eyes and a hand searching for the gun. A moment later her dark gaze settles on Cat, and she stares. "Where-- the girl, the cub, where-- have to find her!"

Tabia makes a mad dash, finally coming to a halt near the fountain. The Strider Ragabash circles around it, seeming to find some measure of safety in the structure. By the time Salem gets to the park, it's no longer a Crinos at rest near the fountain, but a girl again. Not awake and aware just yet, however.

Elisabeth looks down at the other kinswoman. "Not a chance. People are coming to deal with the situation. You say put."

Cat curls up in a tight ball, his guttural whimpers turning into sobs as he reverts to homid, his sketchbook held over his wounds. "It hurts," he gasps in pain, tears running down his cheeks. "It hurts, it hurts-"

Rina grits her teeth. "Aright. I know. You'll be okay. Just stay put, we'll getcha home." She sounds absurdly calm, for someone lying in a heap and missing a handgun.

The sound of Salem's Yugo isn't much louder than the rest of the city's nighttime traffic, hardly noticeable. The tall figure jogging quickly in from the street, coat-tails and long hair streaming behind him, _is_ noticeable. He arrows unhesitatingly toward the trio of kinswomen and cub, then checks, having spotted the girl at the fountain.

Elisabeth points toward the fountain. "Other one is over there."

Rina's head lifts slightly. "Is she down?" she grates through clenched teeth.

"Noted," Salem replies, flatly. He stares over at Rina for a moment, at Rina and the fetal cub near her, and grinds his teeth. "One moment." Jaw clenched, the Walker stalks over toward the fountain and brusquely takes hold of Tabia's upper arm, near the shoulder. "Up."

Tabia moves, though mostly because of Salem's tugging. "Huh? Whazzat?" she murmurs, confused.

Rina continues to talk to Elisabeth in those quiet, grating tones, trading introductions. There is still an undercurrent of tension, of hostility. When she tries to sit up, she promptly drops again, prompting an exclamation from Cat. Elisabeth checks her pulse again, and monitors her while watching Salem's distant interaction with the cub.

Salem's mutilated, satanic visage is not a comforting one, and his grip is iron. "Get up or I'll carry you." His voice is sharp with command. Though he doesn't look away from Tabia when Rina cries out, his jaw tightens again, visibly.

Tabia shakes her head, trying to clear it. She hasn't yet realized the state of her clothing. Of her possessions, only her backpack, dropped at the scene, and her Luxor cap, which could just fall off, remain intact. Still needing to be half-dragged, she does at least make it to her feet. "Wh..who?"

Salem leads the dazed girl back over toward the others, never loosing his hold on her. "A member of your new family, and one that you need to listen to, or else. Do you have a name?"

Elizabeth is looking over Cat's wounds and tending him--checking on the motionless Kin from time to time.

Tabia seems to regain enough of her senses to start struggling, not that she really has much chance of pulling away from the man. "Who the hell are you? What have you done to me?" And then, as memory starts slamming down on her she goes slack again, the resistance ceasing. "Oh god."

"You remember now?" Salem pauses to turn that one dark eye down on the girl, his expression pitiless.

Tabia doesn't bother to nod, but her expression makes the answer obvious. "I didn't..." An abrupt change of question, as her mind starts to go there and backpedals fast, "Are they okay?" A bit frantic, that question.

Rina isn't moving--but Elisabeth doesn't seem panicked by that, any more than she is by the bloodied and whimpering Cat.

Salem glances over toward the others, then back at Tabia. "Nobody dead," he says flatly. "You're lucky. Come on." He resumes walking toward them, the new cub held firm.

Tabia is pulled along by Salem, not resisting, but not doing much more than putting one foot in front of the other, either. When she shivers in the breeze, it hits her that she's _naked_. "Where the hell are my clothes!?" Looking around frantically for them (a lost cause) or for her backpack, since that has a change in it.

Salem snorts. "You turned into an eight or nine foot killing machine. You expect your clothes to survive?" At that, the pair arrive to where Rina, Cat, and Elisabeth wait. The Get kinswoman explains, in brief, what happened, and halfway through the explanation Salem's eye turns toward Rina; the tall man radiates tension. When the Get-kin is done, he asks, "Rina? How badly are you hurt? Can you stand?" Underneath the crisp, businesslike tone is something more worried than anything.

For the first time in long minutes, Rina stirs. "Think so," she says hoarsely. "Little help, maybe--" She manages to prop herself up on an uninjured arm; there is blood on the grass under her, but not much. Still, to Salem it doubtless seems a nerve-wracking amount. "Nothin' too bad."

Tabia lets out a small, relieved sigh at Rina's response. Cat, at least, she can see, even if she does aim a distressed look his way. Spying her backpack, she tries to pull away from Salm, "Lemme go," she insists, the object of her attention clear.

Salem shoots Tabia a black, nigh-murderous look and releases her -- timed just as the girl pulls and is off-balance. "You run, you die." Without waiting for a reply, he turns to Elisabeth and instructs her -- with brusque courtesy -- to take Cat home. Then he kneels down to help Rina to her feet.

Tabia stumbles as she's released, but manages to keep her feet. Once dressed -- the backpack is all but empty now, it was her only change, and she's still barefoot -- she goes to her shredded jeans to retrieve a few items from the pockets, keeping herself betwen them and the kin and Garou present for a measure of privacy.

There are scratches across her shoulder and chest, the shirt ripped and bloody, an ugly wetness visible beneath the torn fabric. She bites back a cry of pain, when she straightens--and her eyes close, and for a few seconds she sways on her feet. "I'm good," she mutters darkly. "I'm good."

"You're not," says Salem, "but the car's not far." He's strong enough to support her, easily. His gaze falls on Tabia again, all the softness in it when he addressed Rina vanishing. "You. Come here get her other side." Again that tone of disobey-and-you'll-regret-it command.

Rina's expression remains tight, a grimace of suppressed pain. "Sorry about the gun," she mutters.

Her every instinct screaming to run, that this is the best chance she'll get, since he's occupied by Rina, nonetheless Tabia comes, both because of what happened to her, and because she's the one that hurt Rina, even if she didn't mean to. She just shakes her head at the apology, not meeting the woman's eyes as she does what she can to help get her to the car.

Rina swallows, and grits her teeth against the pain of walking. "Jesus /fuck/," she growls hoarsely.

Long distance to the room: Salem drops Rina home, takes Tabia over to the farmhouse and hands her off to the Garou there (I'm assuming he gets told about the little owl spirit that showed up when she Firsted).

To: Seeker, Raeye, Collin, Road-Rage, Hathor, Tatt, Tabia, and Sepdet
Cc: farmhouse (global mail alias), and Tabia
Subject: New Cub
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Salem drops Tabia -- recently Firsted cub with an Owl kinfetch -- off at the farmhouse. Try not to break the new cub, because the Walker sure look like he wanted to. ;)