The Last Chat with Jimmy

[hazlogs]

It is currently 19:01 Pacific Time on Thu Mar 13 1997.

Forgotten Church Basement(#1279RJLM)
        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  

Jimmy Wilson sits crosslegged on the floor in a pile of old ratty blankets, 
  his one-eyed gaze locked on a little clay urn before him. The urn itself is 
  simple, looking as if it were perhaps made by a child, and unpainted.
Jimmy sits there, one moment stretching into a long eternity until he finally 
  speaks. "We finally did it," he whines. "Wish ya coulda been there, 
  Tommie-cat. We all miss ya. We got some new guys in the pack, an' I hope ya 
  approve. Chugs tried ta get us all ta follow after Rat with him, but I 
  remembered the promise I made back that day we found Gar an' brought her 
  back with us. An' the promises I made both ta you an' mysef about takin' 
  care a' the pack. Looks like I lucked out an' lived through this." He sighs 
  irritatingly. "Dammit, Tommie. I miss ya." He leans forward, his elbows on 
  his knees and his hands propping up his head as he stares at the urn.
The other Ragabash isn't certain just when Hazmat arrived... just that there's 
  a soft movement behind him, and the feeling of being watched, and the fact 
  that the shadows are thick in the area, darker than they should be, 
  obscuring all but the vaguest lupine shape.
Jimmy Wilson pauses a moment then goes on. "There's lotsa bad shit goin' down, 
  T-cat. Fuckin' Wharf Rats left town an' some others disappeared an' people 
  are talkin' shit. I dunno what ta do anymore. Bein' in charge sucks. I'm not 
  even s'posed ta be here by myself, but ya gotta get time alone sometimes, ya 
  know? Hell, you know that, Tommie. I remember how ya used ta take off ta get 
  yer head back t'gether an' stuff. I gotta try ta pay more attention to the 
  stuff ya taught..." He stops, looking around. Suddenly he stands and whirls, 
  his eye squinting towards the shadow as he begins to sniff the air. "Someone 
  here?" His hands clench to fists by his side. "Speak up!"
Movement and a soft, familiar wuff. ~Shakes. Yuh know me.~ It's Hazmat's voice 
  for sure, but she sounds tired, bone-weary.
Jimmy Wilson looks a little nervous, but at least slightly relieved. "Oh... 
  hey. You been here long?" he whines. "I was just sorta talkin' ta myself. 
  Hey, ya wanna beer? I drug a six-pack down here with me? Red Dog, the good 
  stuff. Shift yer ass an' have a drink with me, Haz. Ain't seen ya in a 
  while. Since people started... talkin'."
Hazmat pushes to her feet and limps forward; strange how the shadows seem to 
  dissolve as she does so. The lupus looks terrible, her fur grimed and 
  bedraggled, and her right forepaw looks crumpled, useless. She lapses back 
  into her native tongue. Talking?
Jimmy Wilson cracks open a beer for the other raggie and looks around. He 
  sighs, turning his back on her for a moment to grab an old, chewed-up 
  tupperware bowl. He returns with the bowl, pouring the beer into it. He 
  opens another for himself and takes a deep swig. "Yeah, talk. Like... well, 
  ya know how paranoid old Chugs is. He wouldn't be so fucking old if he 
  wasn't scared a' every shadow he sees, I guess. Anyhow, he been talkin' 
  'bout how not to trust anyone, since the whole fuckin' world's gone Dancer. 
  I sniffed ya out, an' I guess yer still cool. I trust my nose more than 
  everyone else's rumors. Gotta trust yerself, ya know?"
Hazmat lays her ears back, a shudder going through her body. She flops over 
  onto her uninjured side and, abruptly, shifts to human form. "Talk... yah, 
  Jimmy, we ga' talk."
Hazmat contorts and blurs as she is transformed.
You shift into Homid form.
Jimmy Wilson sits back down into the blankets. "Yeah, we can talk," he says. 
  "Gimme a sec." He grabs the urn and places it out of the way, in a corner of 
  the room within easy reach. "What's up? Where ya been?"
Hazmat lies on her side, hand curled against her chest, uncharacteristically 
  ignoring the beer. She stares at Jimmy for a long moment, her bloodshot eyes 
  haunted.
"You bad hurt, Hazzie?" Jimmy asks concerned. "What's wrong?"
Hazmat drops her eyes. "I'm leavin', Jimmy. All'a us in th' No-Brands."
Jimmy Wilson cocks his head. "Why? Can't take hearin' all the rumors anymore?"
Hazmat shakes her head. "Nuh. 'Cos they're true."
Jimmy Wilson nods simply. "Ah. Ya know ya shoulda never told me that, right?" 
  Jimmy chews on his lower lip, staring at her. "Why? How? Ah shit, nevermind, 
  Hazzie. Fuck."
Hazmat rolls onto her back, her eyes closing. "Yuh 'member tha' fight I ga' 
  inta'? Wit' th' wolfdog?"
Jimmy Wilson nods slowly, watching her carefully.
Hazmat grimaces. "She wuz beatin' me, so I did somethin' stupid. A went tuh 
  th' big-wolf form. Soon as I did, she went tuh Crinos an' whupped th' shit 
  outta me."
Hazmat remains as she is, lying on her back with her eyes closed, one mangled 
  hand curled to her chest.
Jimmy Wilson nods again. "Why... why ya tellin' me this? Is there some way I 
  can help? Like Luke Skywalker an' all that shit? I jus' saw the movie 
  th'other day, ya know. There is still good left in you, Hazzie. I can feel 
  it." Apparently, even in this serious moment, the ragabash can't help 
  himself.
Hazmat doesn't get the reference. "Mebbe. I dunno. Kosh an' Windrunner fell, 
  too. Don' trust 'em. Thena was cool. She killed herself afta' they ga' her." 
  She sighs, rolls slowly onto her stomach. "We're all leavin'... bu' first I 
  ga' a couple things fer yuh."
Jimmy Wilson looks at her a little distrustingly. His gaze sweeps the room 
  making sure no one else is there. "Things?"
Hazmat sits up slowly, fumbling in her coat pockets. Several dozen assorted 
  small items spill out onto the floor as she searches, the sort of junk that 
  Hazmat always carries. Finally, she pulls out a page ripped out of a city 
  map and what appears to be a broken claw of some kind.
Jimmy Wilson looks strangely at the items. "I'm not sure I should take nothin' 
  from you, Haz. It wouldn't be right. Me an' you was friends, an' that's th' 
  only reason we ain't killin' each other right now. If you come back lookin' 
  fer yer stuff, I don't wanna have ta deal with that."
Hazmat frowns, looking up at Jimmy. "I'm givin' this to yuh. It's 'portant. 
  Here." She shoves the junk aside and spreads the map page out on the floor. 
  One section of the city is circled in black. "Tha's where th' Pit is. An' 
  this..." She picks up the broken claw and stares at it for a moment as 
  though she's lost the thrad of what she was going to say.
Jimmy Wilson gapes. "WHAT?! A fucking pit? Here in the city? Holy shit..."
Hazmat jerks herself out of her fugue, blinking. "Yah. Yuh 'member th' 
  earthquake?"
Jimmy Wilson nods, dumbly, not seeming to believe any of this. Maybe Haz is 
  just playing some ragabash trick that's beyond the scope of taste. He 
  hopes...
Hazmat nods. "Yah. So there's a Pit. An' other Dancers tha' nobody's even met 
  yet. An' they wuz talkin' bout some bigshot elder comin' in..." She shakes 
  her head. "Bu' it's all wrong, it's /wrong/. An' anyway, this is for yuh, 
  too." She holds up the claw. "Issa fetish. It keeps all those sniffin' gifts 
  from workin' on yuh. Like Truth. An' Questin' Stone. An' tha' gift tha' 
  senses Wyrm." She tosses the claw down, sending it skittering along the 
  floor. "Go 'head. Sniff me 'gain."
Jimmy Wilson sniffs at her. "Holy shit," he says yet again. Then, "Holy 
  fucking shit. He stares at her for a long moment. "Ya put me in a bad spot, 
  Hazzie. Even if I show up with this info, people are gonna give me shit for 
  not killing you. I can't do it, though. I can't." He chews his lip once 
  more. He stands up, then, as straight as he can. "Thanks, Haz. Get Kosh an' 
  the rest t'gether an' get the hell outta town. I'm sorry for you, but I 
  can't protect ya. I gotta tell the others what happened. It'd be best if you 
  was as far from here as ya can be when I do that."
Hazmat nods. "Yah, tha's th' plan. Bu' I hadda see yuh 'fore I went." She 
  looks up at the other Ragabash, sadly. "I din' wan' this tuh happen, yuh 
  know. An' I don' wan' it tuh go on. It /hurts/." She sighs, rubbing at her 
  face with her good hand, then shifts, reverting back to lupus form.
Hazmat contorts and blurs as she is transformed.
You shift into Lupus form.
Jimmy Wilson watches her. "Get out," he finally says. "Get the fuck out and 
  never come back. I hope we never meet again, Hazzie, fer both of our sakes. 
  I hope you guys do what ya know is right."
Hazmat doesn't reply, and as she limps slowly out of the church, the shadows 
  thicken around her until she vanishes into the night.