"I'm less concerned with his ego than what he plans to do when he runs into Sarah."

[hazlogs]

It is currently 21:22 Pacific Time on Tue Jul 1 2003.

Currently in Saint Claire, it is partially cloudy. The temperature is 63 degrees Fahrenheit (17 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the west at 9 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 30.07 and rising, and the relative humidity is 48 percent. The dewpoint is 43 degrees Fahrenheit (6 degrees Celsius.)

Currently the moon is in the waxing No Moon phase (17% full).

Regan Avenue West, Downtown

For two or three blocks, between Thirteenth and Fifteenth Streets, red-brick apartment buildings alternate with the occasional small, struggling side garden or a small business. A pizza parlor decorates the corner of one intersection, and a relatively prosperous deli takes up space at another. Along one street, a fire station interrupts the other buildings, small but obviously in good condition from frequent need. Graffiti shows on sidewalks and on a few of the buildings, but is not prevalent. The road has been paved sometime within the last few years, to judge by the lack of potholes.

Salem stalks out of a low-income apartment building, one not too different from his old home, in fact, the light summer trenchcoat hanging loose and open. He pauses at the base of the front steps to light the handrolled cigarette that's hanging off his lips.

Leonard stays in the shadows of an alley across the street and down aways, leaning against the wall, arms folded. He keeps an eye on the apartment building.

Renee is making her way down the street, eyes focused on her feet. Her steps are steady, if slow.

His cigarette lit, Salem puts away the lighter and scans the street, his expression cold and blank. He spots Renee, nods slightly to himself, then continues his scan of the area, looking for something. Or someone.

Leonard narrows his eyes, watching. He takes a half-step back further into the alley.

Renee finally comes to a stop infront of the apartment steps and looks at the Walker Elder, dark bags under her eyes. "Yo, you got a minute?"

Salem's eyes are scanning the nearby alleyways, the shadows, the places he _knows_ are places to hide within. His nostrils flare subtly -- he's a territorial wolf, especially this close to home. But there's no sign that he spots Leonard, and when he turns back to Renee, his expression is blandly neutral. "I do, actually. What do you need?" His voice is pitched low, too quiet for the Wendigo to hear.

Renee rubs at her tired eyes. "Managed ta dig up some new info 'bout the guy in the paper."

That catches the Walker's interest. His gaze sharpens as he focusses on her face, in that intent way that always looks critical, judgemental. "You did?" He glances around again, then nods toward a small all-night coffee-and-donuts place across the street from his building. "Come on. Let's talk. My treat."

Renee tugs on one ear and looks away. "Cool. Could use somethin' at eat."

Salem leads the way, crossing the street with a brisk, long-legged stride -- _he's_ slept well recently, at least. The two of them disappear into the coffee shop, which is almost entirely empty. Salem takes a table near the window, one with a good view of the street, and especially the building he lives in. "Coffee, black," he tells the waitress; his curt tone and cold half-gaze doesn't encourage chit-chat.

Leonard keeps an eye on the brownstone after he sees the two garou disappear into the coffee shop.

"Two cream, one suger," Renee grunts. Just as friendly. Sitting down in one of the chairs, she rests her elbows on the table.

Salem leans back slightly, one arm cocked back and resting on the back of his chair. "You look like hell," he tells the young Gnawer, not entirely unkindly.

Renee shrugs. "Been a long day. Feels like my feet are gonna fall off. An' you know, people throwin' tantrums an' shit. Anyway, yer more interested in what I managed ta find." The Gnawer keeps her voice low, so it doesn't carry.

Salem grunts, then holds up a finger as the waitress returns, delivers their coffee, and leaves. He shifts his weight, one elbow on the table as he sips from his cup. "I'm listening."

Renee sips her drink, then sighs. Causing a cloud of steam to billow from the cup. "Well, the stories 'bout teeth-marks are bogus. Guy is a lefty an' is takin' body parts. Only the livers. Goin' stainght for'em too, almost doctor-like. Usin' a big-assed serated knife."

Salem cocks an eyebrow at this. "Livers? Hm." His eyes narrow thoughtfully. "But he's deliberately making it look like there are teeth marks? I'm surprised that forensics hasn't picked up on that."

Renee shakes her head. "No-no. Teeth marks were jus' rumours, started by some guy who saw the second body before the cops got there."

"Ah." Salem nods slightly. "Better." He toys with his cup, keeping half an eye on the apartment building across the street. "Alicia seems to think he's related to Sarah's... problem."

Renee takes another gulp of coffee. "Could be. Need ta ask them 'bout the guy. Remember if he is a lefty or not."

"Left-handedness is fairly rare, yes..." Salem absently taps a finger against the table edge. "I have to track down Jeremy, see what he's found out."

"You got anythin' new ta tell me?" Renee mumbles. "Don't seem ta hear too much outta you."

"Leonard's been snooping around," Salem says flatly, looking out the window and into the street again. "I can practically smell him."

Renee ahhs, squinting out the window. "Stubborn ass. Don't think I could deal with him at the moment. Certainly seems ta have an inflated ego."

"He's probably angry that 'outsiders' are muscling in on his 'territory'." The Walker's tone remains flat. "I'm less concerned with his ego than what he plans to do when he runs into Sarah."

Renee sighs, cheeks puffing out. "Ya know, instead of takin' eveythin' onto yerself you could make somethin' more formal outta it. Family is allowed ta voice complaints an' have judgments made, you know."

Salem turns his eye onto Renee. "The boy's planning to murder Sepdet out of hand if his kin so much as _talks_ to her. No challenge, nothing formal, but simple murder." He cocks an eyebrow. "So, I'm less than confident about his honor." Leaning back in the chair again, he adds, "If he wants to be formal, he should contact me. I _am_ in charge of the city, after all."

One blood shot eye focuses on the Walker for a second, before Renee grunts. "Figured we were both busy tryin' ta run things here, jus' diffrent parts." She sighs. "I'd stop worryin' 'bout people comin' to you. Seriously, I'd try ta go for some formal shit. Hell. Bring up the thing about Sepdet. Gettin' a smack-down from freakin' everyone is gonna hurt more then gettin' it from one guy."

Salem turns his gaze back to Renee, meeting it levelly. "I don't claim to run it alone, but I out-rank you. The responsibilty's mine." He says this without arrogance; his tone is bland, and he delivers this as though it were a statement of fact, nothing more. It doesn't even sound like a fact he relishes particularly.

Renee just sighs into her coffee, eyeing the remnants in the bottom of the cup.

Leonard watches the brownstone.

Salem tilts his head, studying her for a moment. Then he shifts his weight and reaches for his wallet; as he stands, he lays a ten on the table between them. "Thanks for the information," he says quietly. "Go home and get some sleep. You look as though you need it." Was that a note of _concern_?

Renee downs the last of the cup and stands. "Yea, I do. Still, think 'bout what I said, kay? If you make things formal, Leonard'll get his ass kicked. For utterin' threats against Sepdet, if nothin' else. Girl has a lot of respect."

Salem nods. "And deserves every bit of it." Resettling his coat on his shoulders, he heads back to the street.

Renee slips out a seconds later, making her way southwards.

Outside the coffee shop, Salem watches the Gnawer go, then turns his attention to the area at large, all hints of softness fading from his expression, his scarred face turning cold and hard. After a moment or two, he starts to walk, slowly, his hands in his pockets and his body language deceptively casual.

Leonard keeps an eye on the brownstone from his position in the alley, glancing behind him occasionally. It takes him a moment to notice Salem, but when he does, he just watches.

Salem still hasn't seen Leonard yet, but his path is taking him toward the alley where the Wendigo is hiding, and the way his eye is roaming, he's bound to spot the woods-Garou before too much longer.

Leonard slips further back into the alley, eyes narrowing.

Salem passes by the mouth of Leonard's alley, slowing only briefly to glance down it. Then he moves on. The Wendigo's in shadow, the Walker still in the half-light of a city street at night.

Leonard watches the ex-Lord pass, eyes narrowed, then goes back to watching the building.

Time passes. Other people leave the building and enter it -- white, black, hispanic. The Wendigo has plenty of time to watch these denizens of the city, these humans who wouldn't know one tree from another. Whores. Boys in gang colors. Shambling homeless, not all of them old. No Native Americans, though. No Sarah.

Then: a voice in the shadows behind him. Quiet. Even. Cold. "Looking for someone, Leonard?" It's Salem's voice.

Leonard glances behind him. "Two people." He continues watching the building.

Very casually, Salem steps up close to the Wendigo, very smooth, very controlled. "Two, hm? A certain woman and a blue-haired youth?"

Leonard glances at you, looking you up and down pointedly in a 'get out of my personal space' kind of way. "No. My kin and the Russian guy trying to kill her."

Salem's teeth flash in the darkness, white against pale skin, his curled lips framed with ink-black Satanbeard. "Your _kin_," he says icily, "does not want anything to do with you. And _you_ are trespassing on my territory."

Leonard narrows his eyes. "What she wants is not important. It is my responsibility to protect her. If she wasn't on your territory, I wouldn't be either. That said, I apologize for trespassing." He gives you a slight nod of respect. "I know what its like to have your claim to the land ignored."

Salem snorts. "Unless you claim to be a few hundred years old, Leonard, you _don't_." He nods toward the street. "She's being protected. I live in the same building... which I didn't at the time of the first attack. Go back to the woods. You're not welcome here."

Leonard eyes you. "I don't expect you to understand the importance of tribe. She's not your responsibility, she's mine, and I'm not leaving until this wasicu is dead unless she comes with me. She's MY kin, not yours."

The former Ahroun takes another step closer, taller than the younger Garou and extremely unfriendly. "Let me repeat. You. Are not. Wanted. Here. Get out. Go home. And do not come back."

Leonard narrows his eyes, looking up. "Then I'll get my kin." He turns and heads into the street.

"Hell you will," the Glass Walker growls as Leonard turns away. He moves forward, quickly, making a grab for the Wendigo's shoulder.

Leonard deftly dodges, shifting his weight slightly as he half-turns, leaving empty space where his shoulder was. He continues on out into the street.

Salem spits out something vulgar in a slavic language -- which sounds a lot like Russian to the uneducated ear -- and says, in clear English, "One foot on those steps, Leonard, and you will regret it."

Leonard heads right on up the steps, impertinent whelp that he is.

Salem is still in the shadows of the alleyway. As Leonard continues across the street, he reaches into his coat; by the time the Wendigo has reached the steps and set foot on them, the 9mm is out and aimed, the motion smooth and practiced.

Leonard feels it first, the thud of sharp, hot pain slamming into his back. The sound of the gun comes later, louder than the street's background noise.

The sound of a scream comes from down the street, and somewhere a few doors slam. Several passers-by turn away and walk hurriedly to somewhere else, anywhere else.

Leonard stumbles at the top of the steps, going down to one knee as a blossom of blood spreads slowly along the back of his shirt. He seems to pause a moment, then stands, turning around, and suddenly -- whoom, he's moving, faster than should be possible in his condition. Course, maybe it just winged him. He jumps down the steps in one leap and rushes, head down, eyes on Salem. Rather furious eyes.

In the shadows of the alley, Salem makes the gun vanish back into his coat and moves back a step, rage-shifting into Glabro and bracing himself. He meets the Wendigo's charge with bared teeth and one blazing eye.

Leonard runs right at the glabro, aiming a shoulder for his midsection in an effort to knock the wind out of him. He doesn't slow down at all, trying to add the full weight of his bulk to his speed.

The Wendigo barrels right into the Glass Walker, mainly because he stands there to take the blow. Both go down, hitting the grease-and-oil-slicked concrete with the Walker on bottom. Now that Salem has Leonard in his grasp, it's clear he doesn't intend to let go, and he fights like the demon he was once named for and like the Ahroun he once was, intending two things: One, reverse their positions and get Leonard under him. Two, beat the crap out of the Galliard.

Rage burns on behalf of both werewolves, and in the short time in which they brawl with each other, it becomes clear -- to the fight-savvy Walker, at least -- that Leonard's youth and quickness matches Salem's determination and skill... or comes damned close to it, anyway. It isn't pretty and it isn't quiet; the dumpster gains one sizeable dent as the pair, each struggling for a better hold, slam into it.

Footsteps rattle down a flight of stairs, and Sarah bursts from the front door of her building, one hand buried under the denim jacket she wears. She scans the street, stepping out from the building and taking a look around with wild dark eyes.

The two Garou pound away at each other, moving in speeds far faster then any human can go. Leonard takes the shots like a pro, not feeling a single one land as the experienced ex Ahroun hammers his fists into his gut and face. The two trade excellent back and forths, but it is the Wendigo's body which gives, despite the gift which quells his pain. With a final snap to the ribs, followed by a fearsome *crunch*, Leonard hits the ground, /hard/, soon followed by Salem to his knees.

Salem's mouth is bloody with broken teeth, and most of the thick black hair has escaped the ponytail. Brutish face contorted into a snarl, he spits out one word. "_Yield_."

The noises bring Sarah to the edge of the alleyway, the gun cocked within the concealment of her jacket; she leans against the outside wall of one of the buildings, out of sight. She closes her eyes for a moment, breathing a silent prayer.

Leonard breathes heavily, a painful catch in the pattern that demostrates all too well that resist pain is not the same as feel no pain. His own hair covers his bruised and battered face which has already begun to swell. He gathers himself, almost seeming to be ready to take the fight to the next level, but instead bares a brief flash of throat, head falling back as he takes a deep breath.

"What the hell is going on he-... oh holy shit." Alicia says as she makes her way down the street, trench coat whistling behind her in the breeze. She heard the commotion and the gunshot earlier and thus, bolted to see what was going on. "Salem... woah.. is that Leo, or whats left of him? Talk to me.. if you can.. are we under attack?" Out comes a pair of barretta's as she reaches behind, snagging the dual pistols and snapping the triggers off.

Salem closes his hand around the Wendigo's bared throat, just for a moment, and then gets to his feet. He's still breathing hard, his expression savage. His head cocks, good eye rolling toward Alicia; he answers her with a grunt and turns his head away to spit a tooth out onto the pavement.

Leonard pulls himself up using the brick wall, shaking his head as if to clear it. His face looks like so much raw meat, swelling reaching its peak, one eye closed the other just about. You're sure he'd look savage if he didn't look like the stay-puft marshmellow man.

One breath, and Sarah pulls the gun and steps around the corner into the alleyway, the small revolver ready in a two-handed stance. She sees the two of them, and goes very very still; even as Alicia comes in and adds two more guns to the equation, the dark-eyed Wendigo doesn't say a word.

Seeing that pretty much things are in tact, as much as they can be, Alicia puts the guns down, sliding the safety's back into place. "... So.. you wanna explain whats going on here?" She cuts her eyes to the newly arrival, giving her an up an down look. "She must be Sarah." She notes with a twitch of her lips.

Bones and joints make audible popping and cracking noises as Garou bodies reknit themselves back to health. Salem wipes blood from his face -- Leonard got him good in the nose, and the red stuff flowed like water -- and stares down at Leonard. "Get out," he rasps. "Now. Just you. And don't come back."

Leonard straightens, eyeing the Glasswalker. He looks like he really wants to say something, but decides not to, turning and heading on down the alley.

Sarah lowers the gun slowly, muzzle-down in both hands. Her eyes, fierce and hard, watch the Wendigo until he is out of sight.

Salem stares balefully at the Wendigo's retreating back. "Territorial dispute," he says to Alicia, his voice low. "Fucking little stalking bastard." Glancing down at grimed and disarrayed self, he makes a noise of disgust and shifts back down to homid. As he turns to address Alicia, his gaze touches Sarah's, briefly.

Alicia rolls her shoulders a bit, then simply shrugs. "Ah. I see. You ganna be ok? Need me to heal ya up or some shit, or is it all just pretty much looks worse then it is?" She glances over to Sarah again, then turns her attention upon Salem.

Sarah's attention turns to Salem. She tucks the gun away under her jacket, the movements tense. "You're fine?" she asks quietly.

Salem works his tongue around in his mouth. "Nothing lethal. I'm fine." He reaches into his coat, quickly checking to make sure the 9mm is still there in its holster, then tilts his head, listening, his face turned narrow and calculating. "Cops'll be here soon. I'd better disappear. Sarah?" He addresses the tense kinswoman. "You should go back inside."

Rolling her shoulders a bit, Alicia glances over to Salem. "Wanna come over to my place and hang out bro?" She asks. "Um.. shoot the shit, have a talk or something?"

Salem shakes his head sharply. "I'll talk to you later. Promise." His eyes shift toward the street again, then back to his packmate. "Leonard's not welcome in the city anymore. So you know."

Taking in a slow, deep breath, Alicia nods her head. "Gotcha boss. On it like stink on shit." She says, rubbing her neck. Geez, try breaking that one to Yi. ".. Well.. I hope we talk. You know, for a Galliard, I'm feeling behind the times here.. hell.. I see more of Renee then you bro. I don't want us to start having distance an stuff.. ya'know.. I miss ya." She offers a quick smile, then glances out the mouth of the alley. "We need ta' scatter. Boys in blue are ganna be all up in this."

Salem nods. "I know. And I know." He starts down the alley, toward the farther end. "I'll be in touch."