Walker House

[hazlogs]

It is currently 17:40 Pacific Time on Thu Oct 11 2001.
Currently the moon is in the waning Crescent Moon phase (37% full).

Walker Safe House

        This small tenement building is a work that any interior decorator
would be proud of. The building is somehow filled with light and space,
despite the fact that the room is far from large. Mirrored surfaces and
lush green potted plants are much in evidence - jarring only slightly with
the video cameras that perch unobtrusively in various locations. A small
sign on the wall lists the number of apartments upstairs as eight, though
there are no names next to the apartment numbers. A very thick door leads
downstairs, with no visible method of being opened - except a keypad next
to it. A monitor is perched above the entrance, showing images from the
hidden camera that watches the outside of the building.

        The lobby branches off into what appears to be a small recreation
room; for use only by residents and their guests.

Dizzy gets a slight shake of the head. "Why, if you're not going to use
it? A gun's a tool. It makes it easier to kill someone, but you still have
to be willing to commit the act. Would buying myself a paintbrush make me
any more likely to create art?"

"If you saw a blank page in front of you? I'd think you'd be more inclined
to. Obviously, this is something we're going to have to learn to do."

Salem's boots can be heard coming down the stairs, moving at an unhurried
pace.

Corey blinks and stares at Dizzy. "I'm sorry, I lost track of the metaphor
when you extended it. But, agreed. I just can't think of a way you can
/teach/ yourself to kill. I don't believe practice would be appreciated on
the public at large."

Dizzy chuckles, shaking her head, "I just want to be more prepared, you
know. I know I'm going to have to sooner or later. It's like we're in the
Mob." She turns at the noise of an elder approaching, "Hello, Salem-Rhya."

Salem's lips thin slightly, though otherwise his expression is
amiable, as is his tone of voice. "Evening. And just 'Salem' will do. 'Mr.
Salem' if you feel the desperate need to be so formal."

There is the sound of keys being put into the lock of the front door, and
then the electronic lock opens as well. As the door is pushes open
Jonathan appears, pulling his bike along into the safehouse, and tracking
in some mud as well.

Corey nods to Salem. "Good evening." He seems slightly put off by the
elder's appearance, but when he glances to the door he becomes even more
put off. Softly, to the point of maybe only being heard by Salem and
Dizzy, he adds, "Well, well. Look what the cat coughed in."

Jonathan places his bike up against the wall and then wipes off his feet
before approaching the others. "Greetings Rhya, Dizzy." he says, and
places his hands in his pockets.

Salem gives Corey a somewhat measuring look, his face betraying no hint
which way his opinion tilts. He greets the new arrival with a nod, arms
folding across his chest.

"Young man," Dizzy says sternly to the newly arrived theurge cub. "Leave
that bike outside and clean up that mess. Right /now./"

"Good to see you too, /Hops/." Corey, bitter? Nahhhhh. Having given his
return jab, he waits to see the cub's reaction to being ordered by someone
not an elder.

Salem arches a brow, his eye going to Dizzy, then to Jonathan. Like Corey,
he seems interested in how the Theurge cub reacts. It's impossible to tell
who he favors.

Jonathan glances over at the bike, then back at Dizzy. "Sure, And shall I
just hang a sign on it saying 'steal me', Dizzy-yuf?" he replies, hands
crossing one over the other to look at her. "No offence but that bike
there costs more then all the furniture I bought for your room hon, and I
am not leaving it outside.

"Well, you can't bring that muddy thing in here. If you have enough to buy
a bike, then a lock should be fairly inexpensive," Dizzy says, hands on
her hips. "At least have the decentcy to clean it off before bringing it
in. Washing it down _and_ drying it. As for the mud that you've already
dragged in, that needs to be cleaned immediatetly before it stains."

Jonathan nods to Dizzy. "I see." he says, leaning back slightly. He
glances over to Corey with a smirk. "So while I was off at the /theurge/
moot I guess Dizzy over here rited, is that it?" he asks jovially, then
returns his attention to her. "Look Dizzy, mud won't stain the floor, it
will just dry. And I'll clean it up, /as I planned to/ after I get
something to drink. And if you have a problem that, well, you know where
to address that to."

Salem's voice is quiet, but the authoritive note is evident. "Just because
you both are of equal rank does not mean you are equal in status,
Jonathan. Your remark that Dizzy is also a cub is rather invalid. Not to
mention the fact that she is quite right."

Corey quirks an eyebrow, and gives the bike a more thorough look than
normal, apparently interested. Nodding once almost to himself a moment
later, he announces his judgement. "Lady and gentleman, your attention
please." He walks over to the bike, and begins to present it like he's on
a game show. "You'll note the specially made shock absorbers, the front
and rear anti-lock brakes, and the ergonomic, space-saving design. What we
have here..." He takes a pseudo-dramatic breath for suspense, and
finishes, "is a perfect example of what happens when you have more money
than /sense/."

Jonathan growls lowly, probably because of the moot, or that it happens to
be his moon, but none the less, a low growl is aimed at the elder. "I'm
afraid, /Rhya/ that this has nothing to do with the bike. She could have
asked me to clean it up. She chose to order me, and frankly, I don't
believe she has any right to." he replies in a gruff tone of restrained
rage.

"Well, _Jonathan_." Dizzy says, walking over towards the bike, to the
opposite side that Corey is on, "You have two choices. You can take care
of the bike and the mud now, /or/ Corey here will be happy to take care of
the bike for you. And the mud... well, John is in a pissy mood today and
he's right in the basement."

Salem shifts his weight forward, his good eye fixing on Jonathan, hard and
with a glint of ruthless dominance. It's a look that suits the Philodox,
one that's clearly second nature. A full-moon's portion of Rage snarls in
his body language but doesn't make itself heard in his very calm, very
even tone of voice. "Do you think you're her better?"

Corey grins at Dizzy's words, and leans across the bike's seat to whisper
something to her.

Jonathan looks Dizzy over and shrugs. "Her? Of course." he replies, hands
returning to their crossed possitions. "I'm better in the umbra then she
is, I'm smarter, and what is really sad, is I'm also better at
her at pulling off a good prank. She hasn't done shit since she got here.
Yeah, I might have fucked up more, but at least it was while I was off
doing things instead of holeing up here and hiding away from the world."

Almost fuming at the theurge cub's presumption, Dizzy takes a deep breath
to calm herself. "I'm sorry, but obviously you're quite delusional. Now,
I'm losing patience and I'll ask you once more. Would you please move the
bike and clean your mess before, and I know he's just dying to, let Corey
do it?"

Salem's eye remains fixed on Jonathan. He seems about to say something,
but then Dizzy speaks. He glances over at the Ragabash, then back to the
young Theurge, regarding them both critically.

Jonathan waves his hand dissmively. "Fine Corey, ditch it outside." he
says quickly, eyes remaining on Dizzy. "But I am not done with you." he
says, stepping closer to her, until he's right in her face. "Now how about
telling me by what right you presume to order me around?"

Roger steps up from the basement carring a sizable pyrex glass cylinder
with a green liquid in it and nearly freezes when he spots Salem. "Holy
shit its el Diablo himself." He says as he approachs the renounced one.

Corey grins at Jonathan sweetly and insincerely. "Oh, who said anything
about outside?" Seizing the opportunity from the door being left open
after Roger comes up, Corey grabs the bike by seat and handlebars and
sends it on a nice trip down the basement stairs.

Salem is distracted from the cubs' confrontation by Roger's greeting; he
glances over, then gives the Metis a faint grimace. He's on edge -- only
slightly, but on edge nonetheless. "Don't call me that."

[Roger.  He's in Glabro]
"Who's that freak?" is usually the first comment to come up about this
creature. This 'man' is about 6'5" in height and is covered in sparse
brownish black fur-like hair upon his whole body. His face is one of
oddness and even more oddness, he has a childlike quality radiating from
his reddish-green eyes... but this is no mere child. He wears long khakis
and a tight blue button down dress shirt. Over this he wears a large black
leather jacket.

Jonathan doesn't seem even slightly offended by this, being hit by a car
would only do moderate damage to that frame, and the rest is just a few
dollars to replace. "Well?" he asks, his breath hot on Dizzy's face.

John makes room for Roger to pass him by, as he steps back to observe the
unfolding scene. And the bike going down the stairs. He looks to Jon and
Corey, and grunts, "See Roger... /this/ is why I worry about treating them
like adults and expecting them to grow into the mold."

"What right do _I_ presume?" Dizzy asks, overacting being surprised, "You,
my dear Hops, are on the bottom of the chain. You continually get yourself
in trouble, you never learn from your mistakes, you show no respect to
anyone, you often do things with no regard to safety and..." She counts
each of the offenses on her fingers, ending with a bitter smile, "You're
ugly and your mother dresses you funny."

Roger looks at Dizzy with slight annoyance and then back to Jon. "You two
break it up damnit. Jon, go get your damn bike and take it /outside/.
Dizzy, what the fuck is wrong with you? Here I am downstairs telling John
you are fit for responcibility and then I come up to this? Like fucking
children!"

Jonathan steps back, an odly serene grin on his face. "I see." he says to
the fellow cub. "I understand now." there is something wrong, something
about the look in his eye, the kind of thing you see only occationally,
often with someone quite mad. It is clear he isn't all there anymore. The
cub takes another step back and then turns, heading for the basement.

Salem's eyes narrow, his expression masklike and cold as his gaze follows
Jonathan. Perhaps that's a hint of suspicion there in his face, but it's
not clear.

Roger looks suddenly to Salem now. "And you, Jack. What the hell happened
to you? I heard you renounced and became a pussy. Tell me it ain't so."

Dizzy shakes her head, grinning. "Yeah, I bet you do," she says softly, in
response to Jon.

The Ahroun frowns plainly at the cubs. "I've had it with this shit. There
will be a grilling." He doesn't stop Jonathan from going downstairs, but
merely watches. "Salem. Did you learn any of the philodox gifts? I think
specifically of a questioning of all these cubs."

If there's any doubt that Salem's sense of humor _isn't_ working well this
evening, it's scattered by the sharp glare he throws Roger's way. John's
voice forestalls his retort, however, and he directs his attention to the
acting elder with a semblence of calm. "I can tell if they're lying or
not, if that's what you're asking."

Roger nods at the glare and smiles. "Promising..." he quips as he heads
over to the plants to give them each a bit of the fertilizer in the
cylinder he's carrying.

Any reaction Corey might have had to Roger's questions is squelched by
glares from the various parties here, whether directed at him or not. He
looks aside to Dizzy with a 'we're in for it, aren't we?' expression
showing.

John folds his arms and looks about the assembled Walkers. There's a
growing look of 'what the fuck is going on in my house', about him, as he
frowns. "Some will have some better questions than I will. But this has
been long overdue. Corey and Dizzy know, that I spoke to them a while ago
about loyalty to the tribe. I think maybe I should redefine that now. /I
am not the tribe/. Your loyalty is not only to me, because I'll kick the
shit out of you if you don't. Your loyalty is to each other. We fight the
Wrym, not each other. Roger and I are discussing a pack. We need to trust
each other implicitly. And when you Rite-- /before/ you Rite - you need to
trust each other." The Ahroun's temper is rising. "You cannot do that if
you are sniping at each other constantly in petty, juvenile ways."

Dizzy nods along in agreement with what John says. There is no fear in her
stance or eyes. She's in the right here and that will come out soon
enough.

Roger turns and shoots a look to Dizzy. "Trust. Yes. Precisely. I think I
know exactly what to do. Salem... I remember you from the old days, a
violent sonovabitch with a mean streak bigger then helios. An Ahroun's
Ahroun. Now I hear you are a Philodox. You don't need to tell me why, I
think that much you can tell on your own time. What I want to know is why
you came back? And why now? I'm sure John has already asked, but like John
said... we need trust right now, and I need to hear it from you."

Corey stands quietly by his fellow cub, listening and waiting until he's
addressed.

Salem closes his eyes for a moment, pinching at the bridge of his nose.
When he opens them again, the ex-Ahroun is definitely calmer. "It's a long
story, Roger. The short version is that I never intended to be away
forever. For the rest..." -- and here he glances briefly at the cubs
before turning his eye back to Roger -- "...I'll enlighten you later."

Roger nods to Salem and then looks to his hands, "Well... all in all, its
good to see you still have those. I remember when Bowen showed me your
'claws'." He laughs a little, "Oh, and another thing. You still got some
fight in ya, right? I mean... you didn't totally pussify yourself, did
you?"

Salem eyeballs Roger, his frown returning, tugging at the corners of his
mouth. "It was painful, not permanent. And do I _look_ 'pussified'?"

Jonathan returns upstairs, hands in his pockets and the bike gone.

John looks between Roger and Salem, curiously-- his mouth twisted slightly
at the bickering.

Corey frowns slightly in confusion at Roger and Salem, and leans closer to
Dizzy to whisper something.

Roger looks over Salem again and frowns thoughtfully, "I dunno... From
where I stand I see Salem. But who knows what scars lay deeper inside that
crainium of yours. I think we should go down stairs and demonstrate just
how much of a... man... you are."

Dizzy watches Jonathan with a slight smile, curious to what happened to
the bike. She almost presses the mud issue, but leaves it as her fellow
cub whispers his question. She nods at the whisper and whispers back to
Corey.

Salem goes rigid, and for a moment the old Salem snaps forward, flashing
across his face in a spasm of rage, his glare so vicious that even the
dead eye spits violence. The lapse lasts barely a heartbeat; visibly, the
now-Philodox pulls the rage back and shoves it down. He replies with a
cold, curt, "No."

Both eyebrows go up at the answer the younger raggie receives. Pulling
back, Corey mouths silently at Dizzy the phrase 'No shit?' and resumes
watching Salem and Roger.

Roger smiles ferally with a flexing of his knuckles. "Excelent. You're
still in there, with some willpower to keep you sane this time. Over all
Salem, I'm impressed. Welcome home."

The eldest ragabash in the room nods nonchalantly to Corey.

Jonathan has a serene smile on his face and his hands in his pockets. The
cub cassually strolls up to the other two and bows slightly. "With your
permission I'll go speak to the elders?" he asks, looking to Dizzy.
"Unless you object, Rhya?"

Salem's expression is dour; he looks like he has a not entirely pleasant
taste in his mouth. "Thank you," he replies, evenly.

Dizzy smirks, shaking her head at the theurge's antics. "That word is
reserved for those of higher _rank_, Hops. We are of equal rank, no matter
what our standing may be."

John eyes Roger and then Salem, with his arms still folded. "Thanks
Roger." he grunts, mildly, then looks to Jonathan and Dizzy. "You two
knock that shit off. Dizzy. Tell Jon what I told you and start fucking
acting it."

Jonathan shakes his head. "I wouldn't dare say I'm the same rank as her
highness." he replies, smirking. "And yes Dizzy, please, inform me as to
how I should act. Oh, and I was planning on having pizza later, what
toppings shall I order?"

John's eyes narrow, and he barks viciously and loudly, filling the lobby
with his voice, and anger, "I gave you a fucking order, cubs, and you will
obey. Don't you /dare/ insult my intelligence by expecting me to assume
that you didn't know what I meant!"

Roger nonchallantly turns to pour the rest of the green liquid in the
glass he carries into a nearby plant. "Jon. I talked to James this morning
about you." Roger mentions quietly, "I've given permission to your coming
punishers to be creative, but to make it temporary. I don't want to have
to tell them to make sure its permanent."

Dizzy holds a hand over her mouth to keep from giggling at Jonathan's
studpidity. "We're pack animals, Hops. Argument within the pack will cause
it to break up and doom the pack. Act in a manner which benefits the pack,
according to one's auspice, or, if you dislike your auspice, there are
ways to change it, and remember, you are a Glass Walker. Loyalty to the
tribe first. United we stand, divided we fall."

Corey looks between Jonathan, Dizzy, and John, trying to keep his
expression neutral, or at least remove the annoyance that's been surfacing
since Hops opened his mouth.

Salem steps back and leans against the wall in a casual manner that only
partially succeeds in looking sincere. He turns a critical attention to
the cubs, lips thinned, arms folded.

Jonathan nods to Dizzy, "Of course." he says, his tone is sencere. He then
rises up from the bow and moves back to lean against a wall.

Roger looks over at Dizzy then Corey. "I think I know the problem here.
You aren't being applied enough. Dizzy... how are you at science?"

Jonathan chuckles at this softly, but covers his face.

Dizzy assumes a serious, business-like face nodding at Jon. Quizzically,
she glances at Roger. "Huh? Science? I got a B in chemistry in High
School."

Roger smiles ferally at her responce as he reaches into a large inner
pocket of his trench coat and pulls out a large floppy paperback book and
tosses it at Dizzy. Is it? Yes, it /is/ the 'Idiot's Guide to Physical
Chemistry'. "Read it, learn it, then read it again. You have a week before
I quiz you on it."

Jonathan speaks up quietly. "She wouldn't know a diode or a resistor from
Jell typing." he states, "Science is my purview, not hers."

Corey gives a puzzled glance to the book, then at Dizzy and Roger, not
quite getting what's going on here.

Dizzy blinks, reading the book's title. "Um... yeah. Science and Math are
not my forte." She holds the book out so Jonathan can take a peek.

Roger shoots a glance to Jonathan and nods to this. "You are of no use to
me Jon... you've proven that in the past. You all can call me Drill
Sergant Roger from now on, cause you just joined Walker Bootcamp. Dizzy!
You WILL read that book and WILL learn its contents. Do you understand
me!?"

Salem almost cracks a smile at that. Almost. His eye strays toward John,
gauging the Ahroun's current mood.

Jonathan steps towards Roger, hands at his sides still. "Rhya, may we
speak?" he asks, motioning towards the kitchen. "In private."

Dizzy nods to the barking galliad. "Oh, I'm not questioning you or saying
I won't do it. Improving our weaknesses cuts down on them, right?"

John just shakes his head. He sends Jonathan a warning look, and then eyes
Dizzy with open disapproval. "Dizzy. Whether you know it or not, quit
trying to earn points. That's a weakness I want gone from you." The quiet,
quiet Corey gets a more thoughtful look, as he adds. "Jack. We got things
to talk about."

Jonathan glances at John with a surprised look, whoah, someone /else/ was
sick of that, hmm, maybe they aren't so bad. But back to the matter at
hand, he returns his gaze to Roger calmly, "Please?" he adds.

Roger gives Dizzy a harsh glare then barks at Jon again. "You have no
rights grunt. If you have something to say to me then find yourself a
toilet and flush it. Cause I'm not interested. All I'm interested in now
is results, and we haven't had any of those from you all yet. Except
Sophia... Sophia is the one of you cubs I would gladly put through her
rite of passage right now and have as a packsister. For the rest of you,
well maybe you can aspire to be as good as her... but I doubt it. You are
all gonna hate me till your rites of passage, but I don't care. I'm gonna
grind you down to your component compounds and then when you put the
pieces back together you MIGHT be Glass Walkers."

Salem shifts his weight, posture shifting toward 'attention'. He unfolds
his arms. "I'm at your disposal, of course."

Jonathan hmms softly at this and nods, moving back to lean against his
spot on the wall. "Yes Rhya." he says softly and places his hands behind
his back.

Roger barks again, "I want you at attention soldiers!"

Dizzy stands up straight, holding the book at her side. She looks at Roger
as if inspecting him.

Jonathan snaps to attention quickly, his hands move to his sides quickly.
His head is lifted upwards and forwards, he doesn't look to Roger, his
eyes remain straight ahead, fixed. His chin is lifted, shoulders back,
chest out. His legs are held parallel, just over shoudler width apart.

Roger snaps to Dizzy now and points at her face. "Eyes forward cub." With
this he looks to inspect Corey and Jonathan. "You might think I'm playing
around right now. But I'm done with playing around right now. Time you
shaped up. There is a timeline I'm giving you all. Two months. You /WILL/
be ready for your rites of passage in that time or there will be pain AND
death. This is not an idle threat."

Dizzy looks forward at the command. Well Dizzy, you're in the army now.
Poor girl.

John doesn't appear to be paying attention to the ultimatums delivered. He
just starts to move off towards Salem, slipping his hands into his
pockets, chewing on the inside of his lip. He tilts his head up a little,
inspecting the Philodox's face. "You're staying." It's a question,
really...

Salem clasps his hands behind his back; he returns the Ahroun's gaze for a
moment, and then directs his gaze elsewhere. He's still looking at John,
just not locking eyes. "Yes." His answer's very definite.

Jonathan has been in camps like this before, even if for quite a different
reason then expected, so he knows better then to show any emotion right
now. The cub merely stands there, still and listening to the NCO.

John inclines his head, in acknowledgement. "Good." He pauses. "How do you
feel about packing under cockroach?"

Salem cocks his head, a quizzical look passing briefly across his face. "I
_am_ a Glass Walker," he reminds John. "I'd be honored."

Roger looks over his soldiers and nods his head curtly. "Now. When I give
you an order it will be responded to with, yes sir. Am I understood?"

The Ahroun's mouth quirks slightly in a smile, despite himself, at Salem's
response. "Of course. Now. The important part. How do you feel about
packing with Roger, Francisco and myself?"

"Yes sir." Dizzy hazards. It's more of a question than a statement.

Corey, back ramrod straight, chest out, eyes forward, and generally at
attention in a posture he hasn't had to use for over a year, answers
Roger, "Yes, sir!" From one military family into another...

Roger barks suddenly at Dizzy, "I didn't hear you cub!"

Jonathan replies with a quick, "Yes /Sir/." The second word said quickly
then cut off, his gaze never waivering from it's fixed position in front
of him.

Salem's answer has a wry touch, though he doesn't smile. "I haven't met
Francisco, so I can hardly have an opinion on him. Otherwise, I have no
objections."

Dizzy blinks, taken aback at Roger's in-your-face approach. "Yes sir!" She
replies, more forcefully. Alas, though it may be considered loud for her,
it would _never_ fly in an Army boot camp.

This however is NOT an Army boot camp, as the cups will soon realize.
"Now, I want each of you to work on your minds and bodies. I'll be holding
classes from now on that you will all attend. The subjects will be
science, economics, the law of man and the litany of Garou. We will
discuss the wyrm in detail, you /WILL/ know your enemy. We will also be
training your skills, all three of you will be marksmen, and women, when I
am done with you. I'm sure John will be glad to help us with that. Third
your bodies themselves. You have been growing soft, that much is obvious.
So starting NOW there will be a strict health training regiment prescribed
for you. Starting now. All three of you, down on the ground and give me 20
push ups."

Salem's attention strays for a moment toward the Metis, and a twitch of
approving grin tugs at his lips.

Jonathan drops to the ground in a fluid motion, from his couch he pushes
out his legs, and begins, counting silently to himself. One, two...

John actually just pinches the bridge of his nose, nodding to Salem. He
grimaces, and mutters under his breath "Good, no?"

Dizzy takes off her jacket and sets it on the floor. After a quick streach
of her arms she kneels down to start the push ups. She wrinkles her nose,
never exercising in a skirt before.

"It certainly won't hurt them," Salem replies, in equally quiet tones.

By the time the Ragabash cub is done setting her clothes aside and
stretching the theurge is already up to 12, he continues, then when he
gets to nineteen he pushes up harder, claps his hands together at the top
and then rises back up to stand at attention, head forwards.

John frowns at the noise, and then turns a little, levelling a finger and
growling at Jonathan, "What I said about making points goes for you, too.
Pull that shit in your own time."

Roger glares now at Jonathan. "You think you're hot shit huh? Big bad
theurge has a larger dick then the rest of us? Well. You earned yourself
another thirty pushups. Get going! Dizzy, Corey... up stairs. You are
confined to your rooms for the rest of the night. Use your time before you
sleep wisely. That means studying, exercising... Something useful."

"Yes sir," Dizzy responds, grabbing her coat off the floor and heading up
to her room.

Jonathan replies quickly, "Sir, yes Sir." he states and quickly returns to
his pushups. He begins to strain at about the fourty fifth push up,
obviously needing to work on upper body more then the lower body. He wraps
up the fiftieth pushup and then moves back to attention, not quite as fast
as last time, but he returns to the position, eyes forward.

The theurge cub's pushups last well into the time it takes the other two
cubs to get upstairs and into their rooms. "Good. Now upstairs with you
too. Use your time wisely, as if your life depends on it. Because it
does."

Jonathan doesn't waver, speaking in the quick tone of a trainee. "Sir,
permission to get my supplies, Sir?"

Roger steps up till he is right in Jon's face. "This isn't the military
cub... the wars they fight are between men and their machines. This is a
Garou you are talking to... I don't want any pussies fighting beside me.
You need your supplies you go get them! But tonight no, you may NOT get
your supplies. I gave you an order and you will obey. Upstairs now."

"Yes Sir!" he replies and quickly turns to head up the stairs.
Jonathan walks up the stairs, to the second story of the building.

Roger seems to visibly relax as the cubs leave, a certain glazing over of
his eyes fades away as he turns to John and Salem. "Well... I guess whats
done is done. We'll know what we are left with in 2 months. Either cliaths
or dead cubs."

John folds his arms, again, turning away from Salem for a moment, to look
consideringly at Roger. Considering. The expression on his face is deadly
serious. "Well done. I only hope /you/ can keep that up. I won't. I was
too close to murdering Jon, tonight, and giving Dizzy his head, as a
warning." He drops his head a little, looking thoughtful. "Corey will
pass."

Roger nods at John's opinion, "I agree... but I think I can manage for two
months. I'll need your help here and there of course. I maybe a better
marksman, but you are a far better hand to hand fighter. I only wish we
had a ragabash to train them with that. Still, I think Diz will be
salvaged, and Core is fine enough. Oh, and I want to rite Sophia. I think
shes as ready now as she ever will be by our training."

Salem looks up toward the stairway for a moment before turning back to the
others. "Does anyone in the tribe know the proper Rite?"

Roger nods his head quickly, "Francisco does."

John nods. "Daisy was going to be doing something for Sophia, as Theurge
and Elder, but..." He shrugs, and looks at Roger, shaking his head.
"Jumped the gun on us, didn't they."

Roger shrugs at this and wonders, "I dunno John. We... we four could be
the only ones left. We'll see. We really need these cubs, but I won't
abide by their idioicy."

"I doubt that anyone thinks that we should," says Salem evenly.

Roger reaches out his hand to Salem now, as if tying up an old loose end.
"Salem, welcome home. I apologize about before... I needed to see where
you stood. Now I know."

The Ahroun continues looking grim, both arms folded as he eyes the
stairway. "The Rite tells, in the end. Mine was supposed to kill me." he
adds, thoughtfully, then straightens. "Need to fill you in on current
projects, Jack. Blights, and such. Sewers and Hospital-- through a little
bluster, bravado, luck and good positioning, we're at the forefront on
both issues."

Salem hesitates a moment, eyeballing Roger critically, and then nods in
acceptance and shakes hands. "Understood. It's forgotten." Releasing the
Metis' hand, he turns to John, arms folding across his chest. "Good. And
the fountain? I gather that a headless body was discovered in it."

Roger shakes and then lowers his hands to his sides. "Something like that.
At least there IS a fountain now. Someone obviously either is unhappy
about that fact, or wants to make sure its known that the fountain is
/theirs/."

John wrinkles his nose and shrugs. "I haven't looked into it, honestly.
There hasn't been any feuding amongst my people. I'll get a few people to
put some feelers out, and see if there's something it's probably linked
to. Could be supernaturals. Could be politics."

"Could be vampires?" Salem's voice is quiet, but the word's pronounced
with a considerable undercurrent of venom. And... something else,
unreadable.

Roger shoots a glance to John as if they were just talking about that,
which they sorta were. "Could be bastard leeches. But finding out would be
risky. Shouldn't be too difficult to do some checks if we can be patient."

There's a tell-tale twitch at the edge of one of John's eyes. "Kaz told me
about an encounter with vampires, a few days ago, yes." His voice is now
emotionless, and he looks to the others. His eyes filled only with
warning. "For ten years I have dealt with leeches. Delivering messages, or
killing them. They're in the city, and I didn't notice them get here. It
pisses me off." He pauses. "A lot. It is maybe time that I sat some
Galliards down and told them what I know."

Roger wonders on something absently, "I wonder if they have really set up
here. Like with a prince and such? Or if its just a few of them striking
out on their own."

Salem glances at John, his expression cold, dead cold, emotion so rigidly
walled away that it all but screams. "Let me know when you do so. I also
have some. Experience with them."

John inclines his head, to Salem, and lifts his left hand. He wiggles the
fourth finger-- the fifth, prosthetic wiggle with it. "Rina told me." He
slips the partially-gloved hand back under one arm, and looks to Roger.
"St. Claire's been a no-go zone for a few years, apparently."

A wary twitch flicks across Salem's face and is gone. He says nothing,
however.

Roger grins and nods. "I should hope so. Last time there were vamps in St.
Claire they had their asses handed to them. And rightly so for those
filthy wyrm-laden bastards. We'll see though. We need to check it out
either way. Oh yes, what happened with Jon and the leeches?

John's eyes widen slightly. Barely noticible. "I haven't asked. He was
apparently acting as look-out for the others, while they investigated
something strange." He frowns. "Kaz and the others knew shit about
vampires. Got rid of the bodies, I think... I... wasn't in the mind to ask
about those things, when I found out." Again, that sour expression. "I
came here /because/ there were no vampires." he mutters.

Roger quickly replys, "And when we're done there will be no leeches again."

Salem remains silent. Roger, at least, would recognize the brooding,
inwardly-focussed expression.

Roger regards Salem a moment and seems throughful himself.

There's a few moments silence in the room, and John regards Salem. "Got
caught, didn't you. S'why you're with us, now. Right?"

And here we have Kaz, whistling up to the front door, and ringing the main
buzzer, in something of an energetic mood.

Roger lets John and Salem chitchat as he moves over to see whos at the door.

Salem opens his mouth, then closes it rather abruptly as the buzzer rings.
"I'd rather not talk about it," he tells John, in low tones.

Roger palms the door opon upon noticing who it is.

Kaz gives Roger a cheerful sort of mock-salute. "Hey, hey. John around?
Wanneda bug him some."

John doesn't even nod to Salem. Just looks him in the eye for a few
moments, and then looks to see who's at the door. "Why hello, Kaz." he
says, mock-cheerfully. Both arms unfold and slip into his coat pockets.

Roger stands aside and motions for Kaz to come in, "If you're buggin' him,
you're bugging up too I hope."

Salem grimaces at sight of the new arrival, but says nothing.

Kaz looks at Roger in confusion. "Well, if you're here, and if I'm talking
to him in your hearing, I assume I'm bugging you too." Her smile cools
considerably when she finally notices Salem, but she doesn't lose it
completely. "So hey, John, you get th' bagels?"

The Ahroun tilts his head, watching Kaz. Somewhat expectantly, actually.
"I didn't taste them." he replies, casually. "But they were apparently...
quite good. Thank you."

Roger mentions non-chalantly, "Not as good a roasted pig mind you... but
quite good."

Kaz says, as if diagnosing an illness, "Hungry cubs." She studies John,
and adds, "Think we got some stuff to talk about."

John eyes Roger sideways, his expression taking a sour turn. "Thanks Drill
Sergeant." he grunts, then looks at Kaz. "Yeah. A whole lot of things.
Trouble's raggies, vampires, who's looking after the sewers... And maybe
you've picked up something in between?"

Kaz says, "Only thing I've picked up is the need to whap Leonard upside
the head. Anyway. What about Trouble's raggies? And the sewers -- well,
you and me, and we're doing a shit job of it. We need to figure out what's
up with that Umbral side of things. And do some more fucking lighting. And
as for leeches --" She stops. "Well, what kinda details you wanna know?"

Salem's face eventually smooths into a deadpan mask, lifeless but for the
alert posture.

Roger remains silent for now as well, as he usualy isn't included in Kaz
and John conversations.

John agrees to the various points, though there is a raised eyebrow at
mention of the Wendigo. "You'll have to tell me about the Wendigo Elder,
sometime, then." he grunts, and considers. "First up, sewers are easy.
Just gotta book the hall and pay the band. Feels like we got more people
to choose from, since I mentioned it at Moot, so you can grab some people
and I'll grab some people, and one've us'll go down. Try keep your eye on
a regular, so that we got people we can trust to go down there without us,
and not have everything go to shit."

Kaz nods. "Folks who can get familiar with the area, and can back the
other folks up on installation. Flexible people."

Roger speaks up about now, "As for installation... I have more lights at
my place. And I've developed some anti-personel lights as well. They have
a PETN, Pentaerythritol tetranitrate shell... if you want to use them.
You'll need to be careful putting them up, but if someone tries to break
them... boom."

John looks from side to side. "Know the banes, seen a bit of what they can
do, and know what rips 'em up best. Yes. I'd /prefer/ if they were our
people. Safehouse is always open for the injured to rest up, and I don't
use the van so much that it's unavailable if needed." He eyes Roger
warily. "Last time I used experimental technology of yours, I nearly got
my ass blown clear out of the manhole. We got a point for self-destructing
lights? Might do more harm than good. We want the place to /stay/ lit."
There's a pause and he adds, a little more quietly, "Not that we can't use
'em, someplace."

Roger shrugs and says quickly, "I told you not to use it in an enclosed
place. And it wasn't experimental."

Kaz shakes her head, reflexively, and nods at John's reasoning. "Anyway,
Roger, point being is, think of another application for that, but I think
it'd be kinda rockin' f'other shit. Sneak attacks an' all."

Roger again shrugs. "I doubted you'd want to use them. I just had an idea
and ran with it. I still have several coils of the original lights to put
up."

Kaz notes to John, "Right-o on the 'know the area' shit, too. Who else's
been gettin' in contact with you?"

John inclines his head. "No-one." he notes, smiling faintly. "But I'm
going to grab Andrea again. She wants more of the woods-patrolling packs
to get into this. What I /do/ need, is to find Sepdet. She seems to have
been avoiding me, lately, and I need to know what's happening with that
Summoning."

Salem listens to the talk of the sewers with quiet interest, looking
thoughtful. His eye rests on Kaz rather more than it does the others, but
he doesn't display any more overt hostility.

Roger chimes up now and informs John, "I talked to James this morning, and
apparently Sepdet said something about wanting theurges to start helping
her out with talens and such for us... Well, you specifically."

Booted footsteps come running down the stairs, at a fast clip.

Kaz snaps a finger. "Oh, right, you'll be happy to know one of your
annoyances is goin' away soon. Final Strike's not gonna run under Cougar
no more, they're lookin' t'run under Unicorn again."

The Walker Ahroun's face actually lights up with a satisfied smile, at
that news; his eyes half-lidding as he savours it. "Oh /good/. Ass-kickers
who can actually fight where the fighting's good, and use the
dishonourable hit and run tactics that Urrah like myself approve of. Good
to hear." His eyes open a little, and he eyes Kaz, thoughtfully. "Did they
say why?"

Roger turns to look over his shoulder at whatever might be coming down the
stairs.

"What about ass-kickers?" Rina's footsteps hit the ground floor
hard--apparently she likes to vault the last few steps. She flashes a warm
smile to Kaz, and lifts a hand. "Hey.

Salem glances up, greeting Rina with a nod and a hint of a smile cracking
briefly through the mask.

Kaz shoots a grin at Rina. "Heya." Then she explains to John, "Rides-Fire
said that they respected Cougar like a son-of-a-bitch, her ways aren't
theirs, and her caution hampers shit. So, y'know. Goin' back to somethin'
that'll let 'em kick ass better." Then she grins, suddenly. "And hey. You
wanna hear about hit and run? Have I got news for you..."

John looks over his shoulder for a moment, and smiles a faint, private
smile at the kin girl, before looking back to Kaz. "Do tell."

Rina snorts, and comes to John's side, insinuating herself under one of
his arms. "Yeah," she mutters acidly, "when I think ass-kickin', Unicorn
just /pops/ right inta my head."

Kaz asks, "There's this Gift. Calls the Wyrm to th' person usin' it. They
/gotta/ come. They ain't got a chance." She bounces on the toes of her
feet. "An' guess who's gone and learned it...?"

Roger looks at Kaz with wideeyes all of a sudden. "You're fucking kidding
me? You know the potential that has?!"

Kaz is grinning widely now. "Yes, my one and only, which is why I just
/told/ you about it."

Smiling ferally at Kaz with bared teeth, and an intense light in his eyes,
John half-growls, "There are times, Kaz. When I could almost... /almost/
think about hugging you."

Roger nods soberly all of a sudden, "Of course, of course. So, do they
come to /you/ specifically, or just the place you called from?"

Salem excuses himself, disappearing up the stairs.

Rina's grin widens, and she slips away from John to act on the words,
giving Kaz an impulsive hug. "You rock."

Kaz says, mock-alarmed, "Don't go doin' that! Not when I just got used
t'knives..." She trails off, still grinning, and says, "T'/me/, not t'th'
/place/. So it hasta be set up well." She breaks off to hug Rina with some
enthusiasm, and adds, letting her go, "Little chancy. But I trust most've
y'all."

Roger nods to this simply enough. "Ok. I know exactly what to begin work
on. It'll be simple and completly safe to you."

Kaz says, a little warily, "Do tell?"

Rina rumples the Gnawer's hair and steps back to John's side, a faint
smile lingering on her lips.

John returns his arm around the kin, and eyes Kaz thoughtfully. Trying to
keep amusement out of his expression. "We'll look after you real well,
Kaz. I'd be like... really annoyed, if you died." He looks expectantly to
Roger, awaiting genius.

Roger nods. "A ring of claymore and flamethrower based explosives. Totally
unidirectional with no backdraft what so ever. Everything around you would
be horribly ripped apart if not utterly obliterated in the blast then the
Garou around you hidden in the kevlar coated boxes can pop out and break
them to pieces in their pain and confusion. There are also a couple of
other ideas I'm thinking of that are more experimental, but I know this at
least would work like a charm." Roger adds, "I can demonstrate it for you
sometime if you aren't sure how safe it is."

Rina nods, watching him with narrowed eyes. "Good one, Rog," she says
quietly. "Don't eve3n need boxes, just blast shields. Somethin' to stop
shrap and fire. Fixed walls, maybe.

Kaz blinks as she listens. "Y'know, and it ain't like they can /stop/. I'd
like a demonstration sometime, yeah, but that's a damn good idea. Get on
it, huh?"

John's eyes narrow at the metis, too. "What're you looking for in a test
site, Roger? We'll go find one. Soon."

Rina nods emphatically, her smile coming back with a slightly wicked edge.
"And lemme know if y'need help finding supplies."

Roger smiles and shrugs to John. "I'm already on it. I'll just need
ballbearings and nitroglycerine for the claymores. I can use napalm for
the others. And If we move all the stuff in the basement to one side we
can drape kevlar curtains around an area and put cameras behind blast
shields to watch the effect. I'll gladly stand in the middle of the mines
of course, to demonstrate the safety to those inside of them."

Kaz quirks a grin, shaking her head. "Livin' large," she mutters,
half-wonderingly.

Of course, there's always the question... "And practical application? How
portable are we talking, here, and what kind of damage? I'm thinking of
sewers. I'm thinking of hospital." John adds.

Kaz shrugs at John. "There's spots that such an operation'd be useful for
in the sewers. We just gotta do some spelunkin', checkin' maps."

Rina catches her lower lip between her teeth, and nods. "How are we on
maps?" she asks, glancing around.

Kaz says "Well, mostly they suck shit, but we can at least compare 'em
against what we /know/."

Rina wets her lips. "How do we improve what we got? Any chance of gettin'
somethin' better, say from city planning?"

Roger thinks on this for a moment and shakes his head. "For the sewers it
would be suicide unless she was wearing some kind of protection. Even in
Crinos the damage would be too much for her to safely take from all the
rebounding ballistics. Though it would be perfect for the hospital. And
hell, she could wear it around. It'd be heavy, but I think Kaz could
handle it. Think of the suspenders to those large pants circus clowns
wear, it'd be carried like that then deployment is as simple as releasing
the clasp and dropping them on the ground. Full detonation would occur in
about .2 seconds of pushing a single button."

John actually laughs. "Send in the clowns..." he murmurs, then looks at
Kaz. "Temporary Wyrm-sweeper. Kaz of the Engineer Corps." The look is less
amused than measuring, though. Keenly studying the idea for relative
worth. "She could get out, and try again... and again, and again..."

Kaz considers the idea. "/Really/ need a test. But... Goddam, f'shit like
th' hospital...?" After a moment, she adds to Rina, "If you could get
/good/ maps, I'd... have John kiss you some more."

John's eyes flick down to Rina, to see if she approves.

Rina's eyes narrow slightly. "I'll work on it. Might have someone who can
help on the Kin side." Her brow furrows a little. "Theurge-type question:
any way to take shit like demolitions over to the other side?"

Kaz's eyes narrow. "I s'pose Xia or Siobhan or Lianne'd be able to get
good maps, too, come to think. An' yeah, you can, but it ain't real easy."

Rina bites her lip, and wrinkles her nose slightly. "Hm. 'Cause you just
/know/ the baddest shit's over there." She glances down. "Like with a
certain play."

Roger simply nods to Rina. "Just get it dedicated. Though it won't be as
effective on spirits as claws, teeth, and gifts... It'll knock them for a
loop in a big way before they have a chance to react. Which will give us
the upper hand at the begining of battle. And I still have those gasoline
bombs that I used at the revel... Well sorta. I kinda upgraded them. They
now have 125% the explosive power of TNT."

Rina glances to John, one eyebrow raised slightly. "Hm."

John eyes Roger, warily. "You better have a launcher or something for
those..." he mutters, then looks to Rina, holding her a little tighter.
"What's in the hospital, Rina... is intelligent. It was watching us,
during the revel, when it could've made us pay very dearly. With lives."
He adds, somewhat bitterly, "It /chose/ not to."

Rina nods minutely, her jaw tightening. She studies the floor, hard.

Kaz looks between the two of them. Then she says, cheerfulness not
/detectably/ forced, "So. Trouble. Raggies."

John clears his throat, and looks back up towards Kaz. "Yes. More hospital
shit. Trouble Raggies can work together, yeah? I got a couple ideas in my
head for scouting and missions to be done that a raggie's talents might
lend just that little extra advantage to."

Salem returns from whatever errand he had upstairs, his apparant mood
somewhat better than earlier.

Kaz says, vaguely sarcastically, "No, we're all individuals who hate each
other. Yes, we can work together. What specific kinda scouting in what
specific kinda areas?"

John looks to Rina again, and then back to Kaz. "Well... duty rosters.
Maps. And if at all possible... just overall familiarization in restricted
areas. If someone can... I'll want them to get a look inside that
restricted wing. Chaser wants to coordinate this, and I can't think of a
better Raggie for the job. Just want you to see if you can get /your/ lot
to sign up, and be cooperative."

Salem leans against a wall nearby, thumbs hooked into the front pockets of
his jeans.

"Double, double toil and trouble," Rina murmurs, softly.

Kaz quirks a grin. "Cooperative. This should be a blast. I'll send 'em
Chas's way. /I/ sure ain't the expert, but I don't gotta be."

Roger nods to all this seeming deeply interested as another idea hits him.
"Tags." He says as he gets a notepad and a pen out of his trenchcoat and
starts writting some ideas down.

John looks curiously at Rina for a moment and takes a breath. As if
steeling himself for something.

Kaz echoes, "Tags?" Apparently, she doesn't notice John's breath.

Rina watches the floor silently. Her eyes are dark, thoughtful, and a
slight frown creases her face as she listens.

Roger looks up, startled as if he forgot there were other people around.
"Aye. Bioelectric positioning tags."

Salem notices, and his gaze goes to Rina with restrained curiosity.

"I had another idea." John grunts, passively. "Just a thought, I mean...
it needs work, but... I don't know. It's something to think about." He
clears his throat a little. "Garou nuns. Sort of."

Kaz gives Roger an odd look, and then John an even odder one. "Um?"

Salem's eye shifts to John, one brow rising. "Sounds rather like a bad
joke," he says dryly.

Roger looks at John, "Did you just go crazier then me?"

John lifts a hand to his face, rubbing idly at his temples. "Well... yeah,
I thought so, too, at first. But I'm pretty sure the principles are sound.
The idea is... we cleanse the hospital. Bit by bit, over a period of
months. Every patient, doctor, hospital bed and scalpel. Cleanse the lot.
And to do this... we teach the Rite to a bunch of females. Form a fake
organization. Religious. Then, using a little hacking skill, some bribes
for political influence, and maybe a touch of blackmail... we get the
organization to do contract-volunteer work. So that they have the access,
the time, and the right to do that cleansing. And some sort of 'sisters of
St. Claire' idea occurred to me." The Ahroun clears his throat again, face
turning grim. "But there you have it. Garou nuns."

Roger looks at John with a broad, wordless, grin.

There's a pause. "Well, y'know. Good costume." This from Kaz.

"Interesting," murmurs Salem.

John clears his throat again, looking at Rina, once more. A little bit
like looking for support. "Well. I mean... they'd have to work damn hard,
for long, /long/ hours, and we'd need quite a few people." He licks his
lips. "Lots. And it'd tie everyone up for months. But... I don't know. I
should talk to a Theurge, maybe. But I think it'd work. Cleanse the
Realm..." He trails off, and then repeats himself. Looking a little
confused at the seriousness behind those absurd words. "But yeah. Garou
nuns."

Kaz finally concludes, "You're very strange. Have I mentioned that lately?"

Roger adds, "He maybe strange, but behind that pretty boy face of his is
the mind of a mad genius. I can tell. Takes one to know one."

The corner of Salem's mouth quirks into a crooked smile at Roger's remark.

Out of the corner of her eye, Kaz gives Rina a half-worried sort of look.
But she snorts at Roger. "Ain't got no arguement here."

Rina laughs softly. "He can tell a hawk from a handsaw," she murmurs,
still looking downward. Her eyes are unfocused.

John grumbles lowly, "Oh for the love of Gaia... if a plan doesn't involve
kicking ass or blowing shit up..." He rolls his eyes.

Roger quickly retorts, "Then I didn't think of it."

Kaz's attention on Rina becomes a bit less oblique, but she still doesn't
say anything. "It's a fuckin' good idea, John, you're just weird, is all.
Long term recon needs different kinda consideration, after all."

Roger shakes his head, "Except that I have thought of something that
doesn't involve kicking ass or blowing stuff up... at least, not much of
it. Like I was saying Bioelectrical tags. Tracking devices that can be
placed deep within the human body. If you want a map of a place, you jump
someone from an alleyway or whatever. Plant a tag in them and trace their
routes on a GPS system on a computer. When you know they are in the
hospital you open a paint program and divert control of the mouse to the
tracking device. You'll know exactly where they go throughout their day
and over a few days you get their daily routine. Add a microphone... a
micro-microphone, to the device and you hear whats going on around them
too."

Rina looks up, vaguely, toward Roger. She doesn't speak, but studies his
face intently.

Kaz says, "Roger. You're a saint. Fuckin' doctors and shit?"

John looks at Roger, strangely. "Maybe if there was someone who ever went
behind the sealed up wing. But Drew works there. And she's an artist. She
could do us a map, surely."

Roger looks at Kaz and seems a bit confused. "Saint?" is all he asks on
that matter, "And sure... Doctors, gang members, politicians... the only
worries are costs and actually planting the devices."

Kaz shrugs at John. "She can't hear every fuckin' conversation, though.
An'... Fuck yeah, get someone who works in the sealed wing."

John gives Rina a distracted look, and moves to put both arms around her,
holding her close to him, as he thinks. "How expensive? I've got other
things we might want that for. But task at hand..." He trails off for no
real reason.

Roger thinks on this a moment. "Not cheap, but it depends on how far away
the recieving base would be. Probably somewhere between $1000 and $2000
per unit."

"A trifle," Rina murmurs, "some eight-penny matter." She glances down,
thinking.

John simple gives a faint 'Hrm.' of agreement, to the kin. "If it's worth
it. We can get the money." he notes, mildly. "There's so many damn things
we can do with this. Dammit. This is why Chas is gonna handle shit. I
don't want to have to worry about who's doing what, but if we can get her
some good, solid objectives, with suggestions like these, her people can
pick their favourites."

Salem straightens from his wall-lean, glancing at his watch. Well past
midnight. "I should be turning in." He glances at the other Walker-types.
"John, Roger, Rina... I'll see you tomorrow, yes?" His eye skims briefly
over Kaz, pausing just long enough to give the Bone Gnawer a nod that's
just polite enough to avoid out-right insult, and then turns to head for
the stairs.

Kaz says, cheerfully, "Sleep well!"

And on that note, "I think I need to get to bed as well, after I write up
some plans. I'll be staying in the basement tonight... if you need me."