"Scaring him? I'm just memorizing his face."

[hazlogs]

It is currently 19:45 Pacific Time on Sun May 4 2003.

Currently in Saint Claire, it is partly sunny. The temperature is 55 degrees Fahrenheit (12 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from variable directions at 7 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 29.83 and falling, and the relative humidity is 63 percent. The dewpoint is 43 degrees Fahrenheit (6 degrees Celsius.)

Currently the moon is in the waxing Crescent Moon phase (23% full).

Jermantown Avenue, Industrial Sector

From warehouses a few blocks away from the river, across a chunk of city more than a dozen blocks wide, factories brood over the streets like dark dragons over their piles of treasure, greedy and all-encompassing. Huddling around the factories are smaller, less imposing buildings that are probably warehouses, or storage locations for trucks. The factories spill fumes into the air, darkening the area and blanketing it in a stench to mark humankind's domination over the world. Some of the warehouses stand empty, some are boarded over, and some, on the northern and western fringes of the area, have been converted to bars, with bizarre lighting, frequent brawls, and music that blares loudly at all hours of the night. There are no residences here for anyone to complain, and the factory workers populate the bars thickly. Throughout the area, trash and oil mingle together on alleyway streets, impeding the paths to the dumpsters at the ends of many of the alleys.

Salem prowls through the neighborhood with the usual handrolled cigarette dangling from his mouth, hands buried in the pockets of his long black coat.

Picking up the pace, Renee's feet carry her along the familiar streets. Then suddenly, she comes to a dead stop. Jaw working in silence, as her eyes fix on an aproaching figure.

Karl stops as Renee does, and studies her expression briefly, before turning to see who or what she's looking at. That kind of reaction usually means bad news...

Salem hasn't noticed the two Gnawers just yet, and keeps walking along, gaze shifting side to side, sweeping the area. He'll spot them in a moment.

The cub can almost see Renee counting to ten, as her form slowly relaxes. If nothing she, whe will attempt to be reasonable. So she stands there and waits. The Walker will come to her soon enough.

And so he does; Salem's step pauses briefly once his eye falls on Renee and her friend, then picks up again. He crosses the street, heading toward them.

As hse is waiting, Renee crosses her arms and then conciously stuffs them into her pockets. "Hey. Whatcha doin' on this side'a town, Salem?"

"Visiting ghosts," the tall, scarred man replies evenly, as he comes up to the pair. His eye falls on Karl, and he seems to be sizing Renee's companion up.

Karl

This kid is around 5'2" and looks to be in his mid-teens, with dark hair that /was/ sculpted into a "bowl cut" and neatly parted down the centre - it's now something of a greasy scruffy mess. His pale skin belies the fact that he rarely ventures outside, and emphasises those deep brown eyes. His nose displays a few faint freckles from childhood that haven't quite yet faded.

His very baggy blue jeans barely hang at his hips and are wearing out at the back of the cuffs where his dirty bare feet keep treading on them. The faded green teeshirt displays many a food stain, namely fast-food grease and peanut-butter-and-jelly. A well-fitting black zip-up tracksuit jacket keeps him warm. His gangly frame once screamed "bookworm" or "computer geek", but now it's gained an added "...and I've spent the past month in a dumpster looking for old copies of National Geographic/PC Format"

Karl is confused. But then, what's new. He says nothing as he watches the two interact. He might learn something. He tries not to be intimidated by the man, but fails. And it shows.

Renee sighs. "Mind tryin' not ta scare the kid Salem? Guy is new. Takin' him out fer a walk, so he doesn't rot in that basement." She nudges Karl's side. "Give him yer full intro, kay?"

Salem snorts. "Scaring him? I'm just memorizing his face." The Walker's voice is deadpan, and the cigarette bobs in time with his words. He takes it out and flicks ash on the sidewalk, then looks expectantly at the grubby streetboy.

Renee's eyebrows lift. "Well, ya look like ou're considerin' weither or not ta eat him, while er doin' that."

Karl murmurs, "So... he's..." Karl shrugs, then composes himself. "I'm Karl Blakely, Homid Theurge of the Bone Gnawers," he says proudly. Then he adds, "You can call me Whispers when I'm shorter..." He isn't sure what kind of reaction he is going to get, but he waits for it.

"Jack Salem," says the scarred man, after taking a drag off the cigarette. "Philodox and Elder of the Glass Walkers." The introduction's brusque. Glancing at Renee, he guesses, "Cub?"

Renee nods. "Yea. Lyra an' Raul has been dealin' with mosta his teachin'. I've been kinda busy ta do too much." Shks over at the Theurge. "Yer gonna haveta remember ta add that ta yer intros."

Karl's eyebrows raise as he learns the man before him is another tribal Elder. Turning to Renee, "What's that, that I'm being trained by Lyra and Raul?" Then he quietens again, he's just a cub in the presence of two tribal elders - he should probably keep such questions until a more appropriate time.

Salem grunts. "She's right. For your own sake, too. You'll get cut a bit more slack otherwise." He focusses on Renee again. "I have a bit of FYI for you. Something you need to know."

Renee tilts her head one side. "I might too. Talked ta K.C. recently? Or is this 'bout her encounter?"

Salem's eyebrows rise. "I've talked to her, and yes, that's exactly it." He inhales another lungful of smoke, lets it out, looking damned grim. "How much did she tell you?"

Renee shrugs. "That she met one. Got a name. Told fucker ta scoot, but it came back. Figured we could use Questin' Stone an' wh remembers of the guy ry an' track him down. She wants a squeeze the fucker for info."

Salem's smile is thin and unpleasant, the kind of expression that might make a cub glad it's not pointed his way. "Squeezing vampires is always fun."

Karl ping-pongs his head between the two as they talk. He sure is gald Renee's here with him, because if he was left with this guy alone... Karl shudders.

Renee snorts. "Personally, I'd rather jus' kill'em. Fuckin' unatural things. So, ya like that idea?"

Salem's smile vanishes as he takes another hit off the cigarette. "The last three were killed. We need to question one, however... since it seems it's not an isolated infection like I'd hoped. So, yes. I like the idea."

Renee nods. "We need Alicia, K. C. an' anyone else who wants ta join. Shall we try fer Thursday?"

Salem flicks ash onto the sidewalk. "Sounds like a plan. Where do you want to meet?"

Renee scratches at her face. "Junkyard or Railto works."

Karl starts biting a nail, then realises what he is doing and folds his arms.

"Make it the Rialto," Salem says, more decisive than polite. "It'd be better to do this in the day, too, if possible. Even out of the sun, they're sleepy during the day. At a disadvantage."

Renee grunts. "Deal. I'll take the kiddie home, do my stuff an' start passin' word."

"Excellent." The Walker gives Renee another thin smile, this one less unpleasant even if it doesn't reach his eyes. Starting to move on, he gives Karl a nod in passing. "Nice to meet you."

Karl nervously scratches his neck and says "Uh, yeah. Nice to meet you, too Jack-rhya."

Renee winces. "Try Salem next time," she mutters to the cub. "If ya want ta keep yer arms an' legs. Only lets a few call him that."

Karl almost squeaks at that, then tries again. "Uh, sorry. Salem-rhya." He hopes he can patch it up in time.

Renee watches the Walker as he leaves, then takes the cub back to the Church. Locking him in the basement, before leaving to take care of her own buisness.