Cub Collected

[hazlogs]

It is currently 19:40 Pacific Time on Thu Jul 26 2001.

Wharf, Pier Two
The creak and sway of the rotting boards are in sync with the gentle slap of 
  water against the pylons. Only the sections of the Pier jutting far into the 
  river have fallen into disrepair. The sections nearest the bank are still is 
  fair condition as some commerce still occurs by way of the river. However, 
  many goods that were once shipped via the waterway are now shipped overland 
  which is cheaper and faster. The wharf stands as testament to an older time, 
  when the River was a lifeline for the city.
Beyond the warehouses lining the banks to the west, the black asphalt strip of 
  First Street can be seen.

Malachi stalks restlessly around the wharf, hands shoved deep into his 
  pockets, shoudlers hunched, eyes fixed on his feet when they're not 
  restlessly flicking their glance here, there, and everywhere.

Junior looks around the pier, nodding to Matt when he spots Malachi. He 
  gestures towards the kid, and heads over to him. "Mal."

Malachi slows, turning his gaze up and toward the sound of his voice. Upon 
  spotting Junior, the kid's face immediately freezes, then twists into an 
  ugly scowl. "Fuck off," he tells Junior, and starts moving away, heading for 
  the street at a quick, angry pace.

Junior shakes his head, and moves to intercept the kid, moving quickly. "Hold 
  it right there, Mal. Something you need to know."

Malachi stops short, grimacing, and steps around to the side, clearly wanting 
  to have nothing to do with the Bone Gnawer. "Piss off!"

Junior growls, and makes a grab for Mal's shirt. "Mal. Hold it right there, or 
  I swear I'll break your legs and MAKE you listen to me."

Matt stands at the end of the wharf, where it meets the land. He leans 
  nonchalantly on the pier, cigaretee dangilng. "Well. What 'ave we 'ere. Did 
  Oi no' tell ye things were goin' ta get interestin' soon? 'ear the man out. 
  'E 'as a proposal for ye that joost might save yer ar-sed neck."

Malachi dodges Junior's grab, but not quickly enough to escape or avoid it. He 
  opens his mouth to snarl something at Junior, then stops as Matt speaks up. 
  His eyes snap to the Fianna and narrow. His hands, out of their pockets now, 
  open and close, open and close.

Junior regards Malachi, looking serious. "Malachi. This is important. Come 
  with me, and just listen to what we have t' tell you, OK?"

Malachi turns back to Junior, looking less than convinced. Anti-convinced, in 
  fact. "No, /not/ 'okay'," he snaps back, mocking Junior's tone. "I told you 
  to fucking leave me alone. Are you fuckin' /stupid/?"

Matt waits, pushing up from his slouch and cutting off Malachi's most 
  convenient escape route. His smile isn't menacing at all, though it might be 
  considered a little thin, humorless.

Matt says "Yer goin' ta listen, mate, if we 'ave ta break yer legs an' hold ye 
  down. Not my first choice.""

Junior snorts. "Hardly. But I do know something about you that you don't know. 
  And need to. And you WILL come with me and listen to me, Mal. Even if I DO 
  have to break your legs and carry you."

Malachi's eyes flick from Junior to Matt and back again, rapidly. His hands 
  open and close. "...Y'wouldn't." Open and close.

Junior growls. "Yes. I would. It's THAT serious and important, Malachi."

"We would." Matt says. "An' will, if ye force us. Yer alternative is ta simply 
  shut yer gob an' listen. So which fer ye: an earful, or an 'alf ton o' pain 
  an' an earful?"

Malachi says nothing for a moment, eyes flicking back and forth. His head 
  lowers, slowly... and then abruptly snaps up, and at the same moment, the 
  kid pulls away from Junior, squirming to get out of the oversized tank-top 
  and taking off toward the street. So what if Matt's in the way? Malachi 
  barrels right toward him.

Junior growls, starting after Malachi, still holding the kid's shirt.

Matt sighs, pulling his hand out of his jacket pocket. He snaps open the 
  retractible baton he has held concealed, and whips it at Malachi's 
  unprotected kneecap.

Malachi attempts to dodge out of the way as Matt swings the baton, and though 
  the kid's fast, he's not fast enough. The blunt weapon connects with an 
  audible *crunch* that's immediately drowned out by Malachi's howl of pain; 
  the kid loses his footing, hits the damp wooden boards of the pier... and 
  then *explodes* in a torrent of fur and claws and screaming rage.

Junior winces. "Ah, hell!"
Junior moves towards Malachi, blurring up instantly to Crinos and slamming one 
  huge fist right at the cub's temple, to knock him out.

The Fianna wasn't expecting /that/ reaction. He sidesteps, to avoid the blur 
  of Legbreaker's fist. "Bollocks!"

The frenzying cub lunges to his feet with jaws agape for murder, and then 
  Junior's fist slams into the side of his head, knocking him sideways; Mal's 
  jaw snap shut with a *click* as he collapses at the very edge of the pier, 
  nearly falling off. Stunned, the cub makes a groggy 'urrrgh' noise, 
  mismatched eyes glazing.

Junior gives Mal another HARD hit upside the head to knock him out, then 
  shifts down to homid again.

Malachi's head snaps to the side again with the force of the blow; his eyes 
  roll up, and he slumps unconscious, reverting to his birth form, clothes 
  shredded and glasses who-knows-where.

Junior sighs, and takes off his duster. "Bloody hell. THAT could've been 
  easier." He bends down, and wraps Malachi up in his coat. "Matt - look for 
  his glasses, would you?"

Matt watches the cub, for signs of movement, then slaps the tip of the baton 
  on the planks of the wharf, collapsing it back ino a fist-sized package. He 
  looks around. "Aye, but no witnesses, Oi fink." He checks about, eventually 
  finding something. "These them?" he asks, holding the frames aloft.

Junior nods, sighing. "Yeah, that's them." He grunts as he lifts Mal up into 
  his arms. "C'mon. Let's hit the back streets back to the church before Mal 
  wakes up. Least we're for sure he's one of us, now...though I could've done 
  without the....strength of the affirmation."

Malachi remains quite unconscious. His face looks different without the 
  constant scowls twisting it.

"/You/ coulda done wifout," the Fianna grumps. "'e was in /my/ face..." Still, 
  Matt helps Junior get Mal into a fireman's carry, to take him back to the 
  church.

Junior snorts softly. "I TOLD you in the church he was my moon. What did you 
  THINK would happen when you busted his kneecap, hmm?" He shakes his head, 
  grinning wryly, and heads off.

Forgotten Church
The old church is dark, dimly lit by outside light coming in through 
  scum-encrusted windows during the day, and tomblike during the night. There 
  is a coatroom in the back of the nave, with separate doors leading off to 
  mens' and womens' restrooms, and two staircases, one going up to the balcony 
  and bell-tower, and the other leading down to the basement. The double doors 
  leading out to the street are at the back of the coatroom.
The hard wooden pews in the sanctuary are, for the most part, still intact. 
  There are even Bibles and hymnals left in the shelves along the back of each 
  row, although many of them look rather chewed on. The altar on a dais at the 
  front of the church is empty, and the lectern that once stood next to it has 
  been knocked over. Rotting red cloth hangs at the very front of the church; 
  there might once have been a design on it, but it has long since faded or 
  been eaten away.

Junior carries Malachi inside, and hmms. "Downstairs would probably be best 
  for now. C'mon..." He starts for the sairs down.

Forgotten Church Basement
        This basement is only partly below ground level, and there are windows 
  evenly spaced on the walls, right below the ceiling level. The main part of 
  it is a large open area with a small kitchen in one corner and a large, 
  ratty carpet in the center, covering the cement floor. There is a rather 
  large window in the kitchen; it looks as though it might actually open onto 
  the street. On the wall opposite the kitchen is a large bin, and there are 
  folding tables along the wall perpendicular to it. On the other wall there 
  are a few folding chairs, many fewer than one would expect from the number 
  of tables.
        A hallway next to the kitchen leads off to two offices and what once 
  might have been a classroom.

As he gets carried down the stairs, Malachi makes a low noise, deep in his 
  throat. "Uuhng..."

Junior sets Malachi down for a moment, and goes off to one of the rooms, 
  bringing back a rather moth-eaten blanket. He spreads it out, moves Malachi 
  to it, and then reclaims his coat, shrugging it back on. "You waking up, 
  hmm?"

Matt finds a chair near the door, lighting another cigarette. He seems weary, 
  but is strategically placed again to block the door, and his left hand is 
  still wrapped around the baton handle.

"Nngh." Malachi's closed eyes squeeze more tightly shut for a moment, one hand 
  digging at his fuzzed scalp. He coughs, then spits out some bloody spit. 
  Probably bit his tongue when Junior clocked him.

Junior sighs. "YOu had to do things the hard way, didn't you, Mal..."

"You told me ye'd had words, Junior," the Fianna asks calmly. "seemed ta me 
  he'da liked ta frow you down a flighta stairs."

Malachi replies with a barely-coherent, groggy mumble. The only words 
  recognizable are things like "fuck" or "shit." His eyes squint open, and he 
  shakes his head gingerly, as though to clear it.

Junior glances back at Matt. "Joey didn't like him taking advantage of me, 
  and....had words with him. It soured things a bit." He sighs, and turns back 
  to Malachi. "You willing to listen now, I hope?"

Matt snorts. "You use understatement loike a Welshman."

Malachi peers, frowning and blurrily, in Junior's vague direction. "...Listen 
  to what?"

Junior sighs, regarding the boy. "Mal - do you remember what happened when 
  Matt hit your knee?"

"...after it hurt," Matt adds.

Malachi squints towards Matt, his frown deepening. His ill-matched eyes seem 
  larger without the thick-framed eyeglasses. "I..." His unfocussed gaze 
  twitches to the Junior-blur, and his expression hardens. "No."

Junior hmms at the squinting, and glances at Matt. "Give him his glasses. This 
  will work better if he can see what I do."

Matt looks surprised, having already forgotten he has the boys spectacles. HE 
  pats a jacket pocket, and reaches in awkwardly for the frames, unwilling as 
  yet to give up on the baton.

Junior takes the glasses from Matt, and offers them to Malachi. "Here."

Malachi starts to sit up, pauses a moment with abruptly clenching jaw and 
  reddening ears, then pulls the blanket about himself and finishes the 
  motion. Glowering suspiciously, he snatches the glasses from Junior's hand 
  and puts them on.

Junior nods quietly at Malachi. "Sorry about the clothes. You shredded them 
  when Matt hit your knee." He sighs. "Let's make this quick, then I can do 
  show-and-tell and you can start asking questions. You WILL have them." he 
  regards the boy. "Bluntly - you're a werewolf. So am I. Name's Legbreaker - 
  you might remember hearing that name the other night?" With that...he shift 
  down to lupus.

Matt pinches the bridge of his nose, apparently expecting a headache any time 
  now. "Now that we have yer undivided attention, Pete Junior 'ere is goin' ta 
  blow yer mind.

Legbreaker whuffs softly at Malachi, cocking his head to watch the kid with 
  interest.

Malachi's eyes widen visibly at the transformation; reflexively, he leans 
  back, not quite scooting away. His mouth opens, then shuts again, firmly, 
  and his eyes flick between the Junior dog and Matt and back again.

Legbreaker glances back at Matt. Warn him not to be afraid, OK? I'm going to 
  shift to Crinos, just to give him an idea of what happened.

Wholly inappropriately to the basement's mood, soft singing becomes audible -- 
  someone's singing 'Like a Prayer'. At least it suits the general location. 
  Bernie breaks off as she comes down the stairs, glancing around to take in 
  the scene. "Hey," she greets the trio cheerily, as if nothing odd were 
  happening, "...I brought pizza."

Legbreaker glances to Bernie, and whuffs, wagging his tail. Good. I'm 
  hungry..and the cub probably is too. Let me show him Crinos first, then we 
  can hopefully talk over food.

Malachi glances at Bernie, lips thinning as he recognizes her, then focus 
  mutely back on Junior.

Matt smiles to Bernie, and eases forward a bit in his chair. Malachai doesn't 
  seem likely to bolt, but...

Legbreaker pauses a moment...padding a little further away to give Malachi 
  some more room..then shifts.
Legbreaker contorts and blurs as he is transformed.
Legbreaker shifts into Crinos form.

The only hint Bernie gives that the scene might be in anyway out of the 
  ordinary is that she keeps half an eye on Malachi as she moves farther into 
  the room to set the pizza box down on the counter, near the fridge.

Legbreaker smiles down at Malachi, rather toothily.

Malachi's lips pull away from his teeth, baring them back at the Crinos. His 
  fingers tighten, white-knuckled, on the edge of the blanket. It's not quite 
  fear, or not entirely fear.

Legbreaker nods to Malachi, slowly, and then shifts back to homid.
Legbreaker contorts and blurs as he is transformed.
Legbreaker shifts into Homid form.
Junior looks down at Malachi. "Ready to listen now?"

Matt ashes his cigarette into an empty can on the table. "Books, ye 'and us a 
  wee somefin' ta drink from the fridge?"

Malachi's face uncontorts out of the reflexive snarl, though he remains tense. 
  The kid's frown remains, stuck firm. "Werewolf. Right. Then how come you 
  look like a dog?"

"Sure, long's I'm here," Bernie agrees, and flicks the fridge door open, 
  regarding the contents skeptically. "There's Coke, orange juice of 
  unspecified age, an' beer unworthya th' name. Which d'ya want?" A glance to 
  the room at large, and she adds, "...an' anyone else want somethin'?" She 
  pulls out a Coke to begin with, possibly her own choice.

Kaz clatters down the stairs, looking as if she's got the memory of more than 
  a few recent fights, in her clothes if not her body. She pauses at sight of 
  the group, and Malachi in particular, and says, "Oy."

Junior shrugs. "Lots of my tribe look like dogs. We're called Bone Gnawers. 
  Other tribes look a lot more wolf-like." He glances at Bernie. "Beer please. 
  I think I'll need it." He looks back to Malachi. "You're one of us. You 
  proved that rather dramatically at the pier when you shifted when Matt 
  nailed your kneecap. That's what happened to your clothes."
Junior looks, seeing Kaz. "Heya, Kaz. Got a new cub."

Matt says "Juice, please." He stands out of the chair and shifts slowly into 
  lupus, the change fluid. For your example, Son of Barlowe."

Kaz says, "Yeah, Matt said." The fact that she hasn't been physically near 
  Matt all day doesn't seem to bother her. "So, hey, kid, is everyone still 
  fucking annoying?"

Junior points towards Matt. "See..."

"I am!" Bernie exclaims brightly as she goes about grabbing the drinks, and 
  carrying them over. Junior's handed the so-called beer, but she keeps the 
  soda and juice for the time being. "Heya, Kazarina."

Malachi's brow furrows. In truth, he looks a little overwhelmed at the moment, 
  saying nothing in reply and pulling the blanket closer about him.

Junior sits down across from Malachi, and regards the boy. "It's a bit much 
  all at once, I know." He pops his beer open, and takes a sip. "Want some 
  pizza?"

Kaz leans against a wall, watching. She adds, quietly, not interrupting Mal's 
  train of thought, "Yo, Bern."

Speaks-Circles shifts back to homid, reclaiming his seat.

Malachi looks at the pizza, seems about to agree, then grimaces faintly and 
  shakes his head, his expression stubborn.

Junior sighs at Malachi. "Bad news first. You can't go home, at least for a 
  while."

Kaz asks, "Whaddayou, gonna go on a hunger strike?"

Malachi shrugs, though whether in response to Junior or Kaz is uncertain.

Bernie hands the orange juice over, and uses the just freed hand to idly mess 
  up the Fianna's hair spikes before wandering back toward the pizza box. "'s 
  good. I know, I made it. Lotsa meat." She picks the whole thing up and 
  brings it over, dropping cross-legged to the floor by Matt's chair and 
  setting the box on the ground in front of her before opening her soda.

Junior pauses long enough to snag himself a slice of the pizza before turning 
  his attention back to Malachi. Taking a bite, he chomps it while he watches 
  the kid. "So, c'mon, Mal. Talk t' me. You gotta have questions. God knows I 
  did."

Malachi hunches his shoulders and stares stubbornly at a spot on the wall just 
  past Junior. "No."

Kaz veritably lounges against the wall. "Why the fuck not?"

Junior rolls his eyes upwards, and sighs. "Because he'd rather be mad at me 
  than talk to me."

Matt rolls his eyes. "Because 'es being a fookin' trainspotter, but ye didn't 
  'ear me say that official loike."

Malachi scowls, his eyes shifting to Kaz for a few moments before fixing 
  themselves on the floor. His fingers find a loose thread in the blanket and 
  start twisting it around the end of his thumb, slowly.

Kaz snorts softly at Matt, but her attention remains on Malachi. "Dun want 
  y'all's answers. Want his. Which'll probably be somethin' like 'Because 
  you're all fuckin' annoying,' but what the hell, I gotta ask. So." She takes 
  a step forward. "Now that I've asked twice, I'd like an answer, hey?"

Malachi mumbles, in a flat, mulish tone, "Answer t'what."

Matt says "'e doesn't remember shiftin', Junior."

Junior glances back at Matt, taking a bite of pizza, and nods. "So I gathered."

Kaz gets a little more understanding in her expression. "Aw, shit. Frenzied, 
  huh? An' at this rate, he ain't gonna be able to relax enough to shift again 
  voluntarily. Nice kettle of fish, this." She sighs. "I was askin' why you 
  ain't got no questions, but if you think we're jus' all gonna eat you, it 
  ain't no wonder you ain't got none."

"Pers'nally," Bernie remarks idly, taking a slive of the pizza herself, "I'd 
  rather eat th' 'za. C'mon. If I was tryin' t' fatten ya up I'd use donuts." 
  She flashes the cub a quick grin, and sips her Coke.

Malachi keeps his eyes fixed on the floor and speaks in a low voice, just loud 
  enough to hear. "Fuckin' all together, all'a you. Shoulda known." He lifts 
  his eyes and glares, first at Kaz, then at Junior. "Doesn't change 
  /nothin'/. Werewolf or whatever. Doesn't change fuckin' /nothin'/."

Junior arches an eyebrow, taking a gulp of beer. "You're gonna have t' learn 
  t' deal with the anger, Mal. I know. You're my moon, and it's hardest for us 
  full moons."

"You know 'is birfday, Junior? Ye checked?" Matt doesn't doubt the ahroun, 
  this is evident in the confidence of his tone, the questions mostly 
  formalities.

Malachi grits his teeth and turns his glare to the floor again, withdrawing 
  into angry silence.

Junior nods. "I do. He's a full moon like me. Got it bad, too, I'd say."

Kaz looks from Mal to Junior and back again. "In /what/ all together?" She 
  sounds a tinge wary, a little uncertain, as if something's gnawing at the 
  back of her memory.

Malachi mumbles something about a 'fuckin' conspiracy' under his breath, but 
  otherwise doesn't look inclined to say anything to anyone.

Kaz takes the path of least resistence. "Well, f'damn sure we're all 
  werewolves. Unless that ain't what you meant."

Bernie's eyes widen, and she glances around at the others, looking seriosuly 
  taken aback. "It's all over, he knows we're th' Illuminati! Quick, bring out 
  th' iron maiden!" She smirks to herself and munches the pizza, watching the 
  kid out of the corner of her eye, and murmurs almost inaudibly, 
  "...excellent! Execute them! ..Bogus...."

Junior glances back at Bernie. "Please. Not Bill and Ted." He looks back to 
  Malachi. "What kind of conspiracy, Mal? We know each other, sure. Most of 
  the city wolves do."

Matt rolls his eyes again and sips his juice. "Books you are too much. Aye, 
  Mal, it's an evil conspiracy. Werewolves 'ave been around since the dawnin' 
  o' fookin' civilization, developin' growin', fightin' just fer the 
  opportunity ta one day torment a little boy in upstate Washington. Please."

Beset on four sides, Malachi hunches inside the blanket. "Whatever. 
  Werewolves, fine. Werewolves." His tone is flat and tense. "Doesn't change 
  th' fact yer still a fuckin' faggot 'n I still fuckin' hate your guts, 
  Junior or Legbreaker or whatever your fuckin' name is."

Junior sighs, and takes another large gulp of beer. "Hate my guts all you 
  want. You're still wrong, though."

Malachi shrugs, as though he expected no other reaction from Junior.

Bernie shrugs, picking out a second slice of pizza. =Someone= oughta eat it. 
  "Well, that's a'ight. You don't hafta =like= him."

Kaz closes her eyes briefly, as if this is just vague confirmation. "Well. 
  Shit. It's fuckin' As The World Turns." She sighs. "Can I just clear 
  somethin' up here? Junior, you ain't gonna go hittin' on him no more, or 
  whatever the fuck you were doin' that made him think you /were/ hittin' on 
  him?"

Junior sighs. "If I knew what the fuck made him think that in the first place, 
  sure. But he's like talking to a fucking brick wall." He's starting to look 
  tense.

Matt mutters something about the similarity to talking to Echen-rhya.

Malachi's mouth twitches into a grimace. He goes back to winding the thread 
  around his thumb until the tip turns white.

Junior finishes off his slice of pizza, and takes another. "Kaz? You talk to 
  him? Maybe he'll actually tell you stuff."

Kaz says, "Somehow, I doubt it. Specially since I gotta lay down a law or 
  two," and looks back to the cub. "He's still gonna have to teach you, but 
  it'll just be stuff like how t'fight, an' alla that kinda shit. But if you 
  got problems with him, in terms've him hittin' on you or whatever, he's 
  gonna answer to /me/. But if you keep actin' like you are, well, /you/ gotta 
  answer to /us/. So, anyway. Tell me why being a werewolf who's apart from 
  the human herd, who don't gotta deal with fuckin' bullshit no more, who 
  don't gotta put /up/ with a lotta human shit -- why's that such a fucked up 
  thing?" After a moment, she adds, suddenly realizing, "Don't we got any 
  extra fuckin' clothes down here anymore? Jesus."
Kaz casts a faintly apologetic glance at Junior, which seems to imply some 
  discussion afterwards.

Junior rolls his eyes. "Didn't have a chance t' check. He was waking up when 
  we got him here, so I grabbed the first blanket I could find."

Matt sighs. "Oi fink Oi've done as mooch damage as Oi'm goin' ta. Malachi, If 
  ye need anyfing, Oi've already told ye where ta find me. May have some 
  clothes that'll fit at the Decadence." He gets up, moving toward the door.

Junior nods. "See ya, Matt. Thanks."

Malachi grunts, unwinding the thread from his finger. To Kaz he just shrugs, a 
  hint of weariness in the gesture as well as the characteristic, constant 
  tension and underlying anger.

Kaz says, "Yeah, bring 'em back when you gotta chance, I think we got shit 
  here, but just in case."

Bernie rises from the floor and claims the now-empty chair, waving to her 
  departing packmate, and then regarding the cub again. "Y'look tired. Yes?"

Junior finishes off the beer, and sighs. "I'll go root through the stuff, see 
  if I can find him anything t' wear. Maybe he'll want t' talk if I'm not 
  here." He gets to his feet, leaving the empty can for now and taking his 
  half-finished slice of pizza with him.

Malachi replies with yet another shrug, though it's clear that he is.

Junior pads off into one of the other basement rooms.

Kaz mutters, "Pretty soon, I'm gonna just start telling you shit anyway," but 
  quirks an eyebrow at Bernie.

Malachi mutters, "Yeah, werewolves." He winds the thread around his finger 
  again, quickly this time, and then yanks it, hard. It snaps off.

Bernie quirks one back, and shrugs a little. "Neither he nor th' stuff he's 
  gotta know's goin' anywhere overnight... maybe th' PMS'll settle some by th' 
  mornin'," she suggests.

Kaz says, dubiously, "Mebbe," and slides down into a seat.

Bernie leans down to scoop the pizza box up with one hand, and offer it 
  silently toward her Alpha.

Kaz grabs a piece and starts munching. And then pauses. "Damn good, Bern."

Malachi, released from attempts to draw him out, eventually scoots himself and 
  his blanket back until he's against the wall, then hunkers down. Eventually 
  he drops off into a fitful doze, and otherwise bothers no one for the rest 
  of the night.