GTA: Bone Gnawer

[hazlogs]

[Oct 18, 1996]

Forgotten Church Basement(#1279RJLMh)
        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.
Contents:
Jimmy Wilson
Obvious exits:
Sanctuary  

Hazmat shifts to Homid soon as it's convenient, rubbing at her nose. "Mmf, 
  better."
Jimmy Wilson chuckles wryly, opening the fridge. "Turkeydogs? Beer? That's 
  about all Becca bought with the forty bucks I gave her, looks like. Want 
  some?"
Hazmat grins. "Both." She brushes back her hair and looks around. "Ain' hadda 
  beer in *months*. Wha' brand?"
"Red Dog," Jimmy says, handing a can over and opening one for himself. The 
  turkeydogs follow, still wrapped in plastic. "Hank's s'posed ta get a 
  microwave for us ta use down here."
Hazmat cracks open the can; a small geyser of beer and foam spurts out. Rather 
  than get angry, though, the lupus utters a pleased whooping noise, despite 
  the fact that much of it spills over onto her hands. "Cool!"
Jimmy Wilson chuckles. "Chug it up quick, or it'll all get away. Seems my 
  can's dead. Yer lucky, Haz." He rips open the turkeydogs.
Hazmat gives Jimmy a smirky little look, conveying that she knows *just* why 
  beer spews out that way. She downs perhaps a good third of the can in one 
  gulp and belches.
Jimmy Wilson grins, pulling out a turkeydog and chomping on it. He hands the 
  pack over to Hazzie. "So... Ya just here ta visit or what?"
Hazmat takes a lesser sip of beer and helps herself to a few dogs. Between 
  munches, she says, "I'm tryin' tuh spend more time out here, yah. Keep, 
  um... in touch, yuh know?"
Jimmy Wilson nods. "Cool," he whines. "So, ya seen Mac 'round lately? Or 
  Chugs? I heard that he was back in town, ya know."
Hazmat's cheerful expression withers slightly. "He is? Chugs, I mean?" 
  Suddenly she seems to have a bad taste in her mouth that needs to be washed 
  down with more beer. "Mmf."
Jimmy Wilson shrugs. "S' what I heard," he says. Noticing her lack of 
  enthusiasm with the subject, he decides to jump to another topic. "Um, those 
  other Gnawers you was tellin' me 'bout back at the Caern... The ones that're 
  dead now... I, um, looked at what was written on their stones back at the 
  mound. We need more people like them, Hazzie. The city's goin' ta shit an' 
  no one seems ta give a damn."
Hazmat nods. "Yah. Mac useta give a damn bu' I think he's feelin' tired. *I* 
  give a damn bu' Matt an' Becca an' Mosh an' stuff don' listen ta shit 'bout 
  what I say." She shrugs, helping herself to another turkeydog.
Jimmy Wilson sits down, chugs, then belches. "*I* give a damn. My whole pack 
  does. Well, most of 'em. I dunno if you'd join up with us or nothin', but 
  I'd 'preciate any help you could give us. We're gonna start doin' regular 
  patrols an' stuff. That's what Tommie an' I were plannin' right from the 
  beginning. Of course, I got some other shit ta take care of first." He 
  fingers the necklace he wears, tugging slightly at the bear fur on it. 
  According to Touch Deer, it symbolizes courage.
Hazmat sips at her beer again, thoughtfully. "I'll help yuh patrol an' stuff, 
  yah. Help wi' Gar's pups, too. I wanna wait a bit 'fore I get back inna 
  pack. Make sure I know which trail I'm sniffin' an' it's th' one toward the 
  right prey."
Jimmy Wilson nods. "I unnerstand. Don't worry 'bout hurtin' my feelings or 
  nothin'. I wouldn't follow me either." His high pitched hyena chuckle 
  ends in a little snort. "I, uh, gotta get Sparrow outta the hospital either 
  t'night or t'morrow. I need a car first. Wanna help me get one?"
Hazmat giggles, grey eyes bright. "Sure!"
Jimmy Wilson swallows the rest of his beer. "Gonna need some more ta drink 
  first. Hey, wanna see how ta get a real buzz?" He wanders over to the 
  fridge, pulling out two fresh cans and setting them on the floor.
Jimmy Wilson contorts and blurs as he is transformed.
Jimmy Wilson shifts into Lupus form.
Hazmat raises her eyebrows, watching curiously.
Shakes takes a can in his jaws and shakes his head furiously. Then, setting it 
  down between his paws, he punctures the top with a sharp canine. Beer sprays 
  from the can and he laps it up quickly, in effect shotgunning the beer in 
  lupus form.
Hazmat laughs. "Yuh think *tha's* cool? Check out this trick I figgered out ta 
  get free food from people." She downs the rest of her beer and cracks open 
  another can, setting it on the floor.
Hazmat contorts and blurs as she is transformed.
You shift into Lupus form.
Hazmat sneezes once and pads up to the open beer can. She snuffles it a little 
  and then grasps it in her jaws, firmly from the top. A pause, and then she 
  lifts the can, tilting her head back so that the beer sloshes down her 
  throat (and over her muzzle and onto her fur as well).
Shakes falls back onto his back, rolling around on the dirty, cold floor. His 
  tongue lolls out of his mouth as he dog-grins and wags his tail. Nothing 
  like chuggin' a Red Dog in lupe! I feel better now.
Hazmat chugs down the rest of her second beer, sloppily, and drops the empty 
  can on the floor. She sits down, tongue lolling out of her mouth. Me too.
Shakes stands up and shakes his head a little. Ready ta go?
Hazmat sneezes again, but the city smells don't seem to be bothering her 
  nearly as much. Then again, with the reek of beer on her fur, maybe she 
  doesn't notice it anymore. Sure!
Shakes starts up the stairs. C'mon. We'll only shift if we gotta. Cool?
Hazmat wags her tail. Cool.

[The dynamic duo head out into the street]

Shakes trots down the street, his dogtags jingling. He stops to sniff at a 
  fire hydrant just outside the abandoned church, then mark it. He inclines 
  his head at Hazmat. Come on. Old truck up the road ain't moved in over a 
  week.
Hazmat splays her ears in approval at Shakes' actions; she's glad to see that 
  he's not one of those "awkward" homids. She whurfs agreement and pads, 
  somewhat lopsidedly, after him.
Shakes lets out a belch. That was good beer, he thinks, sniffing a little at 
  the air. Red Dog's cool. He wobbles a little himself, heading up the street. 
  Not far now.
Hazmat utters a wolfy hiccup. Mad Dog's even better.
The two mutts finally spot their quarry. An old, beat-up chevy stepside sits, 
  apparently forgotten, on the side of the road. Shakes' tongue lolls, 
  however, as he notices something else right up the street - a brand new GMC 
  Jimmy. He looks over at Hazmat, his jaw dropped. Better pickings up the 
  road, yeah?
Hazmat bumps into the other Ragabash and lifts her muzzle to snuffle in the 
  direction of the nicer car. Very good prey. Prime buck. It may make a lot of 
  noise, though.
Shakes shakes his head to clear it. It has my name on it. Let's take it. Let's 
  check the locks.
Hazmat wags her tail and circles around to the other side of the truck, 
  snuffling at the tires.
Shakes marks a wheel. It's mine now. All legal like. He moves around to the 
  door, standing up on his hindlegs and leaning against the door of the truck 
  with his forepaws. A piercing alarm suddenly fills the air. Damn! Shakes 
  falls back, landing in a heap on the sidewalk. Alarm!
Hazmat yelps and scitters back, nearly falling over in her haste to get away 
  from the horrible noise. Her ears go flat against her skull. Ow!
Shakes is up and running moments after hitting the ground. Alarm! Shit! 
  Shoulda known! He heads for the old chevy, hoping to hide underneath it.
Hazmat staggers back a few more steps, temporarily befuddled by the shrieking 
  alarm. Then she scrambles to her feet and makes for the chevy, crawling 
  underneath it.
Shakes lies in a puddle of engine oil beneath the old truck his paws crossed 
  over his head. That was so stupid, he thinks. His good eye blinks as he 
  notices the man running out of a nearby building, black suit, tie and dark 
  sunglasses on. The man's hand is in his jacket, ready to draw as he scans 
  the area for would-be auto thieves.
Hazmat seems to have recovered. She watches the man from under the chevy, grey 
  eyes alert. He won't suspect us. Animals don't steal cars and trucks.
The man's hand comes out of his suit jacket and he points his keychain at the 
  car. There's a little 'blirp!' and then the vehicle's alarm goes silent. 
  Looking down at his wet left rear tire, the man cusses. "Damn dogs." His 
  hand goes back into his jacket again and he scans the area once more, his 
  eyes finally coming to rest on the ragabash duo beneath the old chevy. 
  "Here, doggies," he says, walking towards them. "I have a little treat for 
  you." His hand comes out of the jacket once more, this time holding a 9mm 
  pistol.
Hazmat bares her teeth and growls. Stupid ape. She belly-crawls further back 
  under the chevy.
Shakes follows along with his partner in crime, retreating further back under 
  the truck. "Come on, puppies. I want to show you what I do to stupid animals 
  that piss on my property." The man's smile is wide and warm, as is his 
  voice. He chambers a round as he approaches even closer, crouching to get a 
  better view under the truck.
Hazmat growls again, the note takeing on a deeper tone, edging toward a Hispo 
  bass, deep-throated and threatening, putting all of her Garou rage behind it.
The man stops his approach, then begins to retreat slowly, his pistol still 
  pointed at the two dogs as he backs up. "Stupid dogs. Don't fuck with my 
  truck." He tries to sound brave, even though there's no one around to hear 
  him, but his voice still manages to crack a little with fear. He tucks his 
  gun away and starts to run back to the truck, pulling his keys out.
Hazmat continues to growl, the noise bubbling out from her chest, black lips 
  slicked back from her teeth. Is that Cujo under there, or what?
The door to the GMC flings open and the man makes good his retreat. The engine 
  is fired up in almost no time flat and the smell of burning rubber fills the 
  air as he peels out. Several seconds later, police sirens can be heard in 
  the distance. The sound grows louder as the police cruiser approaches, then 
  disappears as it heads after the speeding truck. Someone must have informed 
  the fuzz that a car alarm went off, or perhaps the truck's alarm system does 
  that on it's own.
Shakes slinks out from under the old truck, shaking off some of the black oil 
  on his fur.
Hazmat lets the growl peter off as the man drives off. She crawls out after 
  Shakes and shakes out her somewhat dirty fur. Next time, we scare him into 
  giving us the keys.
Shakes rolls around on the pavement. I think he pissed himself. Good one, sis! 
  He stops playing and bounds up into the bed of the old chevy. Think this 
  thing even runs?
Hazmat springs easily up onto the hood and snuffles at the windshield. Only 
  one way to find out. Do you know how to drive?
Shakes chuffs. Do I know how to drive? That's the stupidest thing I heard you 
  say ever. I'm a good driver. Hell, I could prolly drive lupe if I had to. 
  Shakes sniffs at the rear window then pushes on it, sliding it open.
Hazmat wags her tail. Father showed me how to drive a motorcycle once. And how 
  to shoot a gun. She bounds up into the roof of the truck and then into the 
  bed. Springs in her paws, or something.
Shakes squeezes in through the rear window. It's a tight fit, but he's used to 
  such things. Once in, he sniffs around the sterring column and under the 
  seat. Did they leave the keys here?
Hazmat pokes her head through the rear window. Can't you hot-wire it?
Shakes looks up at the other raggie. Like this? No. Better to find keys if 
  they have 'em. But I don't see none. Come on in.
Hazmat sneezes and manages to squirm her way in, fiinally landing, heavily, in 
  the front seat. She starts to sniff around. Keys, keys, keys...
Shakes paws at the rear-view mirror, then the sun visor. Some papers and small 
  celophane wrapped packages fall from the visor as he moves it, but no keys.
Hazmat paws at a floor mat and then barks triumphantly.
Shakes' attention is no longer on the search for keys, but rather on the 
  packages that fell from the visor. Someone left some pot in here. Hrm... he 
  sniffs a little at it, then looks over to what Hazzie found. Keys! Lucky 
  dogs! Wanna drive, Haz?
Hazmat's head comes up, a pair of keys dangling from her muzzle. She tosses 
  her head, flipping them toward the other Ragabash. Nope. Your truck. You 
  drive. She wags her tail.
Shakes looks at Hazmat, his head cocked. I better shift. We'd get in a lotta 
  shit if we got caught driving in lupe, ya know? Breaking the Curtain an' all 
  that. Anyone lookin'?
Hazmat sticks her nose out the rear window and looks about, ears up and nose 
  snuffling. All clear.
Shakes lies down flat on the seat and shifts, out of view of potentially 
  prying eyes.
Shakes contorts and blurs as he is transformed.
Shakes shifts into Homid form.
Hazmat pulls her head back into the cab and barks excitedly. Her wagging tail 
  *thwaps* Jimmy in the head.
Jimmy Wilson sits up, holding his head. "Hey... Stop it. Where's those damn 
  keys?"
Hazmat thinks they fell on the floor near the brake.
Jimmy Wilson gropes around on the floor for a few minutes, finally coming up 
  with a keyring. "Cool." He looks around out the window, just in case there's 
  someone nearby. "Ya see anyone Haz?"
Hazmat wags her tail, accidentally whacking Jimmy again. Nope, all clear! 
  Let's *ride*!
Jimmy Wilson fumbles with the keys, trying to find the right one. Of course 
  there are only three keys, and the one that fits the ignition is the third 
  one he tries. The engine grinds a few times, then finally turns over, a 
  small cloud of black smoke billowing behind the truck. Jimmy throws it into 
  gear and the truck lurches out onto the street.
Hazmat loses her footing and nearly falls off the seat. But she recoves 
  quickly, excited. Truck! she barks. Truck truck drive *drive*! Whee!
Jimmy Wilson pulls the beat-up pickup out onto the road and reaches over to 
  scruff at Hazmat. "Cool, huh? Where should we hide it now? I don't want no 
  one stealing it, ya know."
Hazmat sits down on the seat, nose and head sticking out of the open rear 
  window. Behind the church?
Jimmy Wilson reaches over to roll down the window on Hazzie's side of the 
  truck. "Well, we can keep an eye on it at the church, I guess. Good a place 
  as any." He starts messing around with the radio. Apparently the tape deck 
  is broken and the AM receiver only picks up one station, and it plays 
  gospel. Jimmy shrugs, turning the volume up until the tiny speakers rattle. 
  He sings along as he drives. "Tell me more about Jeeeesuuuus..."
Hazmat barks delightedly and sticks her head out of the window, her black nose 
  twitching in the wind.
Jimmy Wilson eventually pulls the truck in and parks it behind the church, 
  after driving it out as far as Kent Crossing and back. The radio died out 
  about half-way back on their trip but he didn't seem to mind. He has a new 
  vehicle, and the fuel gauge on this one even seems to work. His Gnawer luck 
  seems to have turned for the good.
Hazmat pulls her head back into the cab and pounces Jimmy as soon as the truck 
  is well and fully stopped. Fun!
Jimmy Wilson chuckles and scruffs Hazzie some more. "Yeah... we should do this 
  more often. Jus' don't ever go out drivin' with Mosh," he whines. "Not if ya 
  wanna live through the ride. He almost wrecked the van I had before. A 
  coupla times."
Hazmat sneezes. Understood. One day we'll get that other truck, too. You 
  marked it. It's *yours*.
Jimmy Wilson gets out of the truck. "Yup. That's a cool truck, too. Hell, tell 
  ya what: I'm gonna teach you howta drive soon. Cool?"
Hazmat clambers down out of the truck, tail wagging. Cool!
Jimmy Wilson heads over to the old church, climbing the stairs and vanishing 
  through the double doors.