Jenny Cornpop and her Friends

[hazlogs]

5/8/2002

East Bridge Street

The power plant to the south, chain-link fence delineating it sharply from the street, takes up two blocks, from Fourth to Second. Across the street, and down along Second and to First, are tenements, small bars, and the occasional slightly-better-maintained building. Teenagers give older, grim-looking men and women nowhere near enough space for respect, jostling them and sometimes knocking them down while brushing arrogantly by. Trash in the gutters and along the sidewalks is a glum reminder, with the filth spewed from the power plant itself and the factories beyond to the south, of the poverty of the area and the lack of care given to this section of the city. The occasional shot rings out, down the street or in the tiny, darkened alleys burrowing between buildings.

[Isaac]
Isaac Rabbinowich is not a tall man, but neither is he small. He probably reaches nearly six feet at those times when he does not slouch. His dark, reddish hair is snarled and knotted. It looks as thought it was once trimmed in a bowl cut, just covering the tips of his ears. One hand reaches up to brush a length of hair aside. It draws attention to the small scar angling down his cheek. His large hands are warm, and despite growing calouses, still soft and often clammy. His perhaps overly lean frame is clothed in a formerly white T-shirt, stained and worn, like his jeans. On his feet are mud-stained and scuffed white running shoes. His hazel eyes seem unfocused and he rarely maintains eye contact for long. His round face is not so large as to be too large; neither is it too thin. It is not, in fact, most things; and yet it is pronounced in a way that words do not well describe. It seems that you may have seen this man before; though where you cannot say.

Isaac was walking east along the north side of the street. A moment ago he crossed, carefully, at the light, and is now heading west along the south side of the street. Every once in a while he seems to pause and look around.

J.C. slouches down the sidewalk, hands in pockets and close to the alleyways. She keeps a keen eye on passerby and sniffles occasionally, as though suffering from some kind of low-grade cold.

Isaac stops. He rubs his nose on the back of his hand and sniffs.

J.C. pauses, eyeballing Isaac for a few moments, and then angles over toward him. "Hey," she greets, once within speaking distance. "Hey, frien'. Spare'a buck?"

Isaac starts, and backs up a half a step. "I." He looks at her more intently, brow furrowing. His nose wrinkles as he sniffs again. "I don't have any money."

There's a rumbling engine heard as a red hot Mustang can be seen driving down the street, sub woofers pounding heavily, enough to give anyone a headache. And behind the wheel, is Alicia, with sidekick Black Fury next to her.

J.C. cocks her head, puffy eyes regarding Isaac curiously. "Down on y'luck too? Ah, y'better off anyways." Her head tips to the other side. "Ain't seen ya 'round b'fore. Gotta name?"

Isaac chews on his lower lip before answering. "My father says I'm not supposed to talk to strangers."

Laura just looks tired as she and the Gaian cruise along. It was a _very_ long night.

Isaac has stopped noticing most of the cars that pass by, his attention on the girl speaking to him.

J.C. flicks a quick, sharp glance at the rising sound of heavy bass, but it's hardly a rare sound in the city. She turns back to Isaac soon enough, grinning quizzically up at him. Her teeth are quite crooked. "'Kay. My name's Jenny. Jenny C., they call me, 'r J.C." She sticks out a hand.

ERrrrrrt! The car squeals to a stop, the window dropping down quickly. Leaning her head out, Alicia blinks her eyes a bit. "Holy shit.. Isaac, that you?" She asks, looking perplexed.

Laura cranes her head so she can see around her friend, trying to identify whoever they just came to a screeching stop over. For her part, she just waves at the two people on the sidewalk, making herself look a little friendlier than she just was.

J.C. jumps, taking a hop away from the street as the car pulls up suddenly. "Holy sh--" She stops, squinting first at driver and passenger, then at Isaac himself.

Isaac's hand had been busily scratching his dirt encrusted head when Jenny made her introduction. He was just about to take her hand when the screech of brakes interrupts him. He falls back and looks over at Alicia. "Um. Um. Um."

Isaac's eyes are wide and full of terror.

"Yup, dat's Isaac alright. Shit... and.. Hey, J.C. Sup' you.. hey, I need to borrow this guy for a few um... weeks, or something." Alicia calls out, still hanging out the window. "He's my cousin and shit."

J.C.'s gaze twitches from Alicia to Isaac and back again, repeatedly. Curiosity burns in her reddened eyes, bright as fever. "Huh, hm. Uh, okay. Yeah, sure." She manages one of those crooked-toothed grins of hers.

Laura continues looking a little confused. That seems to be her best option right now. She starts to scan the area, looking for people who seem horribly out of place while Alicia works her 'magic'.

Isaac's breathing is back under control and his gaze travels quickly between the women. "Um. Um. Hello."

Alicia dips her head and reaches behind her, unlocking the rear door. "C'mon man, we gotta get ya home." She says, nodding, her voice softening to that of a convincing tone. "Brigid is waiting to see you. She's been -real- worried."

Isaac says, "Um. Oh." He smiles uncertainly at J.C. and gets into the car. "Okay. Bye bye."

J.C. wiggles fingers at Isaac. "See ya 'round, Ike!"

Alicia smiles at the poor mentally retarded Fang, then glances over to J.C. waving her over with a hand.

J.C. blinks when Alicia waves her over. More curiosity. She sidles closer. "Yeah?"

Isaac closes the door behind himself and sits on the seat with his knees tucked up beneath his chin.

Laura's eyes flicker over a couple of kids sitting in an alley and a trio of 'all that' teenagers before returning to Isaac and J.C. She still doesn't say anything, just settles herself deeper into the car seat. As Isaac gets in, she smiles at him.

Alicia hands over a bill of sorts to the girl, clearing her throat a bit. "You got my number still right? I'm ganna need a hook up, a big one.. probably a whole lotta guns and ammunition. Big kind.. not the stupid shit." She narrows her eyes a bit, softening her voice. "I'm ganna go on a gut instinct and assume you know a few peeps who owe you a few favors. If you can hook me up, or get me some info', I'd be very, very happy."

J.C. reaches out for the bill, then stops. He grin wilts a little as she leans back. "Ah, foo. I'll keep 'n ear out f'r ya, but the gun shit ain't my gig, really. I can't make ya no promises."

Alicia smirks and insists, holding it out to her still. "Just try OK? Thats all I can ask. Also, if you hear anything else 'bout those -vigillantes-." She says with a wink. "Keep me posted on those too, aiiight?"

J.C. shrugs and takes the cash. She's honest enough, as far as it goes, but no saint. "Sure as shit, girlfrien'. No sweat."

Isaac puts his hands up over his ears and closes his eyes. With his elbows, he hugs his knees to his chest.

Alicia dips her head and throws the car in gear, turns off the woofers for Isaac's sake, then floors it once again. Vrooom, go speed racer.

J.C. hops away from the car as Alicia zooms off. The money's vanished into a coat pocket.


[Later...]


Renee is moving down the street at a steady jog, face flushed and breathing hard. The girl ducks down an alleyway and a few minutes later, a wolf-dog makes its way onto the street, still panting. Putting her nose to the ground, Runs begins looking for a familiar scent.

J.C. pokes along down the sidewalk, kicking at a bit of crumpled trash and looking thoughtful.

Runs breaks into a run when she locates her friends scent, quickly tracking Jenny down. Claws clicking agianst the cement, she comes to a stop near the ratkin and begins to match the other woman's pace. Breathing hard and tail low.

A street dog, with some husky and german shepard blood running through its veins; Judging by the animal's averall shape and ears. The bitch's fur is a honey color, interspersed with dark brown patches and peppered with grey and black guard hairs. The animal's coat is patchy in places, giving testament the hard life of a street mongrel. While the dog isn't particularly large, her huge paws indicate that she is an adolescent, and still has some growing too do.

J.C.'s pace slows. She peers down at the mutt, chapped nose wrinkling up slightly. "Sorry, mutt, got nothin' for ya." No recognition.

Runs whines, latching onto J.C.'s sleeve and giving it a tug. Not really caring about the snot, that she undoubtedly gets into her mouth. Letting go, she trots toward an alleyway. Stopping at the entrance, she looks back over her shoulder at Jenny and gives a soft bark.

J.C. utters a brief "Hey!" at the sleeve-tug, then squints. "Timmy down'a well, Lassie?" She sniffs, scratches at her neck -- at a flakey, dry patch like a healing rash -- and then follows Runs toward the alley.

Runs ducks into a darkened alley.

Runs has left.

Aiyana seems somewhat comfortable in this side of town, but still keeps herself on edge in case anything should..show up.


Tall tenements to either side block most of the light from this narrow alley. Two flimsy doors open to the alley, leading up small flights of stairs from basements to either side. The rows of trashcans stand at attention like little battered knights, just returned from a losing battle with the town's strays, homeless, and drunks. The dead end of the alley is actually a bit cleaner than the surrounding area, most stray trash cleared away, and a new cardboard box spreads over the concrete.

The end of the alley opens out onto the main street.

Once she is certain that there is no-one else in the alley, Runs shifts. Growing larger and then smaller, as she passes through all the forms. "We are so fucked." Are the first words to come out of her mouth.

J.C. steps backward, tensing up at the shifting Garou, especially as she passes through Crinos form. Recognition dawns as she catches sight of Renee's familiar face, but the welcoming grin vanishes at the Garou's words. "Huh? Howso?"

Renee rubs at her face. There are bags under her eyes and she looks tired. "Do you know what a Black Spirial Dancer is?"

J.C. frowns, then hunkers down to sit on her heels. She scratches at her nose, picking at flaking skin. "I heard'a few things," she says vaguely. "Why?"

Renee shudders and hugs herself, looking very much like the little girl she is. "If you think we've got problems, these guys are alot worse. We're trying ta save Gaia, even if we just smash shit for the most part. These guys serve the Wyrm. They attacked us last night, a whole swarm of the fuckers. There are almost a hundred of us and they rolled us over as if we weren't there at all." The girl pauses, swallowing. "They took the Caern last night. They've turned it into a Hive."

J.C. listens intently, bloodshot eyes fixed upon the girl. "Huh," she says when Renee is done, and rocks on her heels. "So *that's* what happened. N'wonder. Spirits were inna uproar las' night."

Renee tugs at her braid. "We are so screwed. We've been checking to see who is alive, and who didn't make it." The girl looks around, almost nervously. "I gotta get back. Kiddies are supposed to stay all locked up safe and tight. I snuck out ta tell ya what was happening, but they're gonna be really pissed at me when I go back. I wantcha to be careful. These are mean suckers."

"Jus' fer me? Aw, hell." J.C. smiles wanly, then leans forward to take hold of the Garou's shoulder and tug in a light, friendly way. "Ya *all* are mean suckers." She sobers. "But I hear ya. Thanks f'r th' warnin'."

Renee chews on her bottom lip. "You can turn into a Rat, right? If ya want, I can take ya back with me. Gnawers are rat's kids, so people wouldn't think twice 'bout it. Keep ya safe, until things calm down a little."

J.C. gets a little glimmer in her eyes. She's tempted, but only briefly. The Ratkin shakes her head. "Nuh-uh. No 'fense, but I don't wanna be in close quarters wit' a whole bunch'a you. 'Sides, y'guys are a bigger target than one lil' ol' rat."

Renee nods and stuff her hands into her pockets. "Alright. Jus' stay away from the old Church, where all those wherehouses have been turned into night clubs. An' the Railto. We ain't made much of a secret about livin' there, so they're probably watched." One more look around, and the cub starts to leave the alley. "Keep safe." Renee steps back onto the sidewalk and if quickly out of sight, making her way back up to the Safe House at a jog.

J.C. lifts a hand and wiggles fingers in a farewell wave. "You too, kid. You, too."

Renee kicks at a bit of trash, heading out of the narrow alley.