"Vampire is what happened."

[hazlogs]

Date: 2 June 2003, Monday, around 9pm or thereabouts.

Currently the moon is in the waxing Crescent Moon phase (21% full).

Silver Avenue, West Side

From Thirteenth to Fifteenth along Silver Avenue's north edge, the St. Claire Sports Facility sprawls northwards. The southern side of the street is covered with small buildings, the fifteen-story Tribune building towering above them by more than ten stories, along where Fourteenth ends. Small restaurants are set into some of the buildings, catering to the businessmen and those who come to the sports facility. Souvenir shops litter Fifteenth Avenue along the side of the sports facility, up to Jellico Lane: caps, shirts, stuffed animals with team logos or colors, buttons and other sports-fan paraphernalia are sold all along here. At the intersection of Jellico and Fifteenth, at one of the major exits from the sports facility across the way, a larger restaurant has a souvenir shop to one side, mimicking a Hard Rock Cafe and even, apparently, reaching for the same atmosphere. Along Jellico Lane, the shops tend to cater more towards the sports enthusiast rather than the fan: fishing stops, equipment shops, sports clothing shops for the athlete. At the intersection of Thirteenth and Ellicott a tall hotel rises, providing a place for overnight visitors to stay.

"..shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit.." The cell phone's tugged out of his pocket, hung up first before turned back on, the speed-dial for Salem's number hit as the young galliard kneels down beside Rina's unconscious form. "C'mon.. pick up.."

"Yes?" Salem's voice on the other end of the line is curt and sounds vaguely impatient.

"Rina's down, needs medical attention," Quentin replies, curt and to the point, his voice tense and trembling with the afterwash of adrenaline draining from his veins, "Just outside the Gun Club on Silver avenue, the alley just near where her Ducati's parked. Dead vampire too, made a fuck of a mess."

"Oh, fuck _me_," the Elder growls. "Any witnesses?"

"Not that I can see," Quentin replies quietly, glancing up and down the alleyway, "Bastard bit her.."

"Stop any bleeding. Any luck contacting Alicia?" There's the sound of a car starting in the background.

"Called you first. I'll give her a ring," Quentin replies to that, "Want me to have her meet us here, or somewhere else, if I get her?"

"Have her meet you, and make sure she's got the Touch fired up. I'm on my way." Salem clicks off.

The phone's promptly dialed up again, a different speed dial this time, and Quentin rocks back and forth on his heels, anxious as he waits for it to pick up. "Alicia! Need your help, Rina's hurt, boss told me to call you.."

Quentin snorts at something said on the other end of the phone, glancing back out towards the street, "Yeah, well.. silver avenue, just down the street from the gun club. Look for the alley near where the motorcycle's parked, Rina's. Salem's on his way."


The Ducati's parked comfortably in a parking spot, Rina's helmet resting beside it. It's in the alley nearby that Quentin's waiting, crouching beside the kinfolk's unconscious and pale form and rocking nervously back and forth on his heels. He's also absolutely soaked, chin to thighs, with rather dark, unhappy-looking blood, and the alley's also home to the headless form of a vampire whose rib cage has been torn in half. Oh, wait, there's the head. Over there.

Heading down the street is Alicia, dressed up much like Jeremy probably would be, except, all the weird freaky stuff. She's in a pair of baggy jeans, a baggy shirt, and a simple black trench coat. It was the first thing she found in the closet when Quentin called. Her hair is pulled back into a pony tail that flops about her shoulder lifelessly. Well now.. its vampire hunter Quentin, and.. Rina. She wonders if she'll ever meet her /concious/. ".. Wow.. what the fuck happened here?"

"She decided to walk home alone," Quentin replies to that, his voice terse with concern as he looks up and over towards Alicia, "He was drinking her blood, I think.. can you help her? I.. I mean, I don't even know first aid."

"Yah, ah'can 'elp 'er. Ya'know, we never had any vampire bullshit until we lost the Caern." Alicia says, making her way to the kin and lowering herself down, rubbing hands together slowly to warm them. She soon falls into prayer, murmuring words upon the Garou tongue as she closes her eyes, lowering her digits onto the wound at her neck.

Quentin turns his head slightly to try and wipe some of the long-congealed blood from his face on the shoulder of his jacket, though as colour begins to return to Rina's features, he relaxes some.. and drops back from a crouch onto his ass, leaning forwards against his knees and watching the progress of the healing in silence.

After muttering another series of prayer, Alicia's fingers turn into a soft and loving, warm, carress. She can feel your heartbeat stemming blood through the pulse of your neck, coming to life, remembering what it is like to be alive. Letting out a gasp, she leans forward and gives the kin a soft kiss to the head. "Ah, thats the money spot. I can feel her beating stronger now."

Rina's breathing deepens, and her pulse becomes strong and regular. Her eyelids flutter slightly.

Salem's car -- the ugly yet grimly reliable rust-orange Yugo -- pulls up and parks along the sidewalk a short distance away. The man himself comes onto the scene no more than a minute or so later, slowing from a jog.

Quentin's fingers splay against the filthy floor of the alley as he pushes himself up to his feet, calling over towards the approaching man, "Over here!"

Alicia lifts herself up and dusts off her knees, shoulders shifting back and forth. "Hey Boss, looks like lil cubby here became Buffy the Vampire slayer and hero of kin, all in one night. Not bad for a blue haired lil smurf eh'?"

Salem slows to a halt as he arrives. He's dressed in the usual casual black, but sans coat. He nods to Alicia, then arches an eyebrow at the begrimed cub. He looks Quentin up and down a moment, then says, "Good job." It's curt but no less sincere for all'a that. His eye then falls on the kinswoman. "How is she?"

"..she was okay enough to empty her gun into him before she passed out," Quentin says quietly, too concerned for the kinfolk at the moment to register the compliment at all, "'Licia says she's gonna be okay.. right?"

"Of course she's ganna be ok. This girl been stuck with every knife an shot with every bullet in Claire's an she is still kicking. She'll be super cool in the morning, no doubt." Alicia says, leaning over to help the kin up, then, with a shift of her body, gets her over her shoulder as she settles herself comfortably into the Glabro form for extra strength. "Shall we put her in yer' car, Salem?"

Salem rubs his bearded chin, thoughtfully. "...Yes." He digs into his pants pocket for his keys. "I'll come with you. Need to get a few things from the trunk." His eye falls on Quentin again, then scans the alley to mark the body and the head.

Quentin twists slightly to look back over his shoulder with a grimace, following Salem's gaze, "What do you want to do with.. well.. that?"

"Yer mess, clean it up Q-Ball." Alicia says with a grin as she wobbles her way to the car with the kin draped over her shoulder. "I'd stuff it into a garbage bag, then set it on fire. It'll turn to ash that way."

Salem nods. "I have the bags... and some rags and spare clothes for you." He shrugs. "It'll do. Stay here." That said, he follows Alicia out of the alley.

Quentin swallows hard, the apple of his throat rising and falling as he stares at the decapitated, rent-asunder corpse.. and then he blinks back over, "Hm? Oh, uh, right. I'll, just.. wait here. Yeah."

Alicia and Quentin do cleanup, while Salem takes Rina home.


Salem pulls up next to Rina's building and parks the ugly rust-orange Yugo in an empty space along the sidewalk. The engine off, he glances over at Rina, buckled safely in the front passenger seat and still out cold, and frowns. He lays a hand on her cheek, then -- habit -- makes a feel at her throat for her pulse.

The steady, strong beat reassures him--and she seems to be merely asleep, now, a profound and healthy sleep. Her brow furrows a little, and she stirs the slightest bit at the contact but does not wake.

There's a bike, matte black and stripped... the sort that's built from the asphalt up, or torn down from the showroom glamour, parked outside of the building also. And, nearby the entrance, there's a rather colorful Fianna, pacing.

The Walker breathes a sigh of relief and unbuckles both his and Rina's seatbelts. Then he shakes her gently to wake her. "Up up, sunshine," he says dryly. "We're home."

The pacing Fianna notices the lovely orange vehicle, finally. Well, not so much notices as catches it out of the corner of her eye, and then simply /has/ to look at it because, well, when was the last time anyone saw an actual Yugo running around. But, from her angle, she can't make out the occupants, so its back to pacing.

A hand bats at him, weak and clumsy. "Shh, caro," she mumbles, half-conscious.

Salem shakes his head a bit, then opens the door and climbs out of the car, going around to the passenger side and opening it up. "Come on, Snow White," the Philodox mutters, hauling Rina out and into his arms. He kicks the door closed, not bothering to lock it. Who'd break into a Yugo anyway?

Well, that got her attention. Not many people in this town look like Jack Salem. Hell. Not many people on this continent, for that matter. The Fianna changes the course of her little pacing trek towards him. Not that she's seen the kinswoman yet.

The Walker kin is a little pale, maybe--but otherwise, she might be a sleeping child, settling into Salem's familiar arms.

Turning toward the building, Salem finally spots Charlie. He arches an eyebrow, then gives the Fianna a nod. "Want to get her keys? My arms are a tad occupied."

Now it hits her. And now the expression changes, moving fluidly from surprise, to confusion. "What th'hell happened?"

"I'll tell you inside," the Walker says, mouth taking a dour twist.

Charlie frowns, "Um. Okay." A teenage vocation as a pickpocket is betrayed by the deftness with which she retrieves the kinswoman's keys. "I'll get the door, too," she states the obvious as she starts into the building.

Salem says, "Excellent," and in this manner the three of them make it into the building and up the stairs to the studio.

By the time they make it to her door, Rina is stirring a little in his arms--though it takes her a few sleepy mumbles to surface. "Caro?" she says hoarsely. "M'sorry..."

Charlie holds open the door, pushing it open with hand and standing sideways along it as it opens. Its not until after they're inside and the door shut behind them that she speaks again. "Okay. So what the /hell/ happened?"

"It's Jack," Salem says, a bit gruffly. He lets Charlie get the studio door as well and carries Rina inside, setting her on the couch. Then, straightening up, he turns to Charlie. "Vampire is what happened."

The Kin girl blinks herself awake, leaning forward and giving her head a quick shake. "Mmm, ugh," she says eloquently. Both hands scrub at her hair, in that way that she has. And then she mutters, dully, "Oh, fucking hell."

Salem grunts eloquently and folds his arms across his chest. "You okay? Quentin called Alicia, who healed you."

Rina wets her lips, and takes a few careful breaths, beginning to come to some awareness of the room. Her apartment. Where and when. "Fuck," she mutters. "Kid came through."

Charlie has the common sense to bite her tongue, for the moment. Quite literally, too, it would seem, as she stands off to one side, eyes fixed on Rina and Salem, arms folded tautly against her chest and legs locked at the knees. Just waiting, watching. Listening.

"What happened?" asks the Walker Elder, staring down at Rina.

Rina puts her face in her hands. "We came out after shooting, split up. I... went to my bike. The guy was in -- in the alley -- and he said... don't start it. Todl me it was wired. Had what mighta been a detonator... no way to know. I think he was crazy... I tried to stall him, he kept talkin' about tellin' me the secret, just... y'know. Not makin' sense. So I speed-dialed Q, 'cause he was way the hell down the block... and then--"

Charlie finally interjects, albeit its startlingly quiet, "Not the same guy you told me about?"

Salem just listens, eyes narrowed and his mouth tight.

Rina rubs the side of her neck with one hand, giving a small nod. "Yeah," she murmurs.

Charlie's eyes narrow, and the grip of her folded arms across her body tightens. But she doesn't ask any more questions.

Salem asks, "What did he look like?"

While the Walker and the kinswoman continue, Charlie moves quickly and quietly around to the coffee table, where she rummages through various papers and such.

Rina takes a breath, and closes her eyes for a moment. "Same guy we ran into. Ugly as hell, pierced up, tats, broken nose... guess he likes bombs." She looks across to Salem, eyes narrowing slightly, wariness in them. "Q-ball /did/ shred him, right? I mean, I'm pretty sure I pumped him fulla lead, but it's kinda fuzzy,"

Salem nods. "Took his head off. He and Alicia are on disposal duty."

Rina lets out a relieved breath. "Oh good."

The Walker Elder pushes his hands into the pockets of his black jeans and starts pacing. "I don't suppose he gave a name or anything... just got you in the alley and latched on?"

Charlie, apparently having found what she was looking for, steps away from the coffee table, papers in hand. Papers which she then delivers to Salem, then retreats back into her arms-folded stance.

Salem arches an eyebrow as he accepts the papers, then gives them a look-over.

Charlie pages: Some sketches Rina showed her the other night of the guy.

Rina nods minutely, and glances to Charlie for a moment, hazy worry in her eyes. She glances over to Salem. "Nothin'. I got jack and shit."

Salem finishes looking over the sketches, then walks over to the coffee table and puts them down. "Nevermind. It's a carcass now." He glances at Charlie, then at Rina. Lips pursed. Thoughtful.

Charlie had started to say something. Had even started to loosen that folded-arm thing she had going on. But she catches sight of Salem's thoughtful glances, and says, defensively, "What?"

He shakes his head. "Nothing." Looking at Rina, he asks quietly, "You need me to stay?"

Rina shakes her head minutely. "I'll be fine," she lies, with the ease of long practice. Then she puts her head in her hands, fingers raked deep in her hair.

"I'll stay..." comes the voice of the no-moon Fianna.

Salem's expression is... skeptical, to say the least; he doesn't need a Philodox's Gift to hear the lie. When Charlie speaks up, he looks at her again, then back at Rina.

Rina closes her eyes, and rubs at the bridge of her nose.

Charlie frowns, and seems to come to some sort of decision, judging by the way she huffs out a slight breath, and strides towards the sofa, where she leans over slightly, hands resting on her knees. "Do ya want anything to eat, or anything? Ice Water?"

"I'm /fine/," Rina says firmly. Then, a little less angry, as if to take the sting out, she adds, "Thanks."

Charlie shrugs, then nods, straightening. "Okay, okay. But I'm staying, nonetheless." She attempts a slight, crooked, grin. "So you can tell me whenever you want something, or, you can just yell at me for being in your way. I'm good for either."

Salem's mouth quirks upward on one side. "I'll be going, then. Make sure Alicia and Quentin didn't leave anything incriminating behind."

Rina's head snaps up. "Make /sure/ he gets my .45," she says swiftly.

Charlie looks over at Salem, and just.. nods. Simple, effective. And as eloquent as anything the Fianna might actually say. Thanks and goodnight all in one.

"Already taken care of," the Walker says. He returns Charlie's nod, then says to Rina, "Call me if you need to." Then he's headed for the door.

"Jack--"

Rina's voice is hesitant, her expression bleak. "I'm sorry," she says quietly. "For... for wanting it so bad."

Salem pauses, glancing back. "You're forgiven," he says. Not 'it's all right'. He almost smiles a little... but not quite. Then he's gone.

Charlie frowns, looking genuinely confused at that exchange. She scuffs a toe against the floor, chewing on her lower lip. "So. I really was serious, about the doing whatever you want me to do. Or you just yelling at me."