Élodie Blanc's Story

Leon sat on a stone bench, adjacent to the Police Department. He'd been told a new officer had joined the department which meant Giroux would have another body trailing him for the next few weeks. He never minded the company, he would of even enjoyed it if not for their relatively short shelf life.

He glanced down at the seeds piled up in his hand, picking one out occasionally and slipping it past his lips as he waited for the officer to join him.

El was experiencing a mixture of feelings. Excitement, nervousness… mainly disappointment. How long would she be shadowing other officers? It wasn’t a good mind-set to approach any job with, but her grumpiness wasn’t shifting no matter how much she tried to look on the bright side.

The bright side:

Her jaw moved the way a cows might whilst chewing grass, a habit she’d gotten into, a sign that showed she was frustrated.

It wasn’t raining.

The man was easy enough to spot. Figures passed in and out of the doors to the station, some uniformed, others not, most carried an air of importance as they strode to their destinations. This man was lingering, waiting.

As she made in a straight line for him she attempted to arrange her face into an expression that wasn’t downright unpleasant and grouchy. El wasn’t too sure if it was working. She smiled anyway and stuck out a hand to her partner, almost knocking the seeds straight out of his palm once she'd come to a square standstill.

“Elodie Blanc”

Her tone of happiness was noticeably strained.

Leon moved his hand down and away, trying to salvage the small mountain of seeds that rested in his palm. A few were lost in the process, spilling off the pile and skipping into the dirt. He looked at the scattered few before gazing up at the officer.

"Giroux. You in the business of knockin food outta stranger's hands?" He spoke with a thick accent.

He shut his hand, locking the remaining seeds away as he carried them to his jacket pocket. He rubbed his hand down his shirt before meeting Elodie's.

"I take it youre the new officer?"

“No” She said after taking a moment to decipher his words which were hidden by that accent. “I thought we were in the same business?” Her happy pretence had already begun to slide away, replaced quickly by snide.

“Yes. That would be me. I can see why you're a detective.” She released her hold on his hand after a firm handshake, which did leave a few seeds between her fingers, but she was just about polite enough to not scrub her hand on her trousers. Just about.

“Vargeras, we’re headed?” Just the thought of heading over there made her wrinkle up her nose. Nasty place. Full of werewolves - and a werewolf victim, apparently. If you could ever label one of them such a thing.

“I was told you’d be driving…”

Leon ran a hand through his hair, feeling each oliy strand pass between his fingers.

"Looks like you got this handled. What do yah need me for?" He stood, pulling a key from his pocket and sliding it into the officers palm before walking towards the passenger door of a beat Dodge, sporting a black and rust color scheme. The door screeched as he pulled it open.

“Aren’t you my babysitter?” she said, not hiding her bitterness very well.

Closing her fingers around the key, El mumbled a; “that works too.”

The car really wasn’t in the best of shape. The driver’s seat squeaked quite violently when she dropped into it, making her momentarily consider dieting. Most of the noises it was making sounded unhealthy, but when the engine was brought to life it didn’t sound like it was going to die just yet.

“How long you been working this? Get put on babysitting duty much?”

"Nope" Leon leaned back, pressing the soles of his shoes against the stripped dashboard.

"A little too early to be calling you Baby, anyways." He peered over at her for a moment, eyes skipping across her body. "Or maybe not." He let out a breath before gazing out the side window. His hand made its way back to his pocket, picking out a few seeds at a time.

"I do my job and Im not looking to get promoted. Get the greens dropped on me because of it. I dont mind it, never get tired of my partner."

She watched him prop his feet up and shot him a quick glance full of distaste. This wasn’t the weathered professional she had been expecting. In fact, he was anything but professional. At least his manner gave her high hopes for her own future career.

“Funny” El said without even the hint of a smile at his ‘baby’ comment before speedily pulling out.

Narrowing her eyes some, she stared straight ahead, mulling over her first impression of the man she had just met, her head tilted to the left a little as she did so. A bit vain, nonchalant, not aspirational and certainly not inspiring. A small sigh escaped from between her lips as she turned the corner and onto the main road which would take them into Vargeras.

“I’m assuming you’ve been briefed. Sounds like paranoia to me. When she called, she herself even said there were no traces of a physical break in at all. And, let’s face it, the woman, judging by her address, hardly lives the best lifestyle. Doubt she’d know someone who could even afford to hire anyone with magical abilities to pull off such a break in. And. Werewolf.” Elodie said the last part as though that confirmed the ‘victim’ for a fool.

“What do you think?”

"Listen, most important part of this job is a sense of humor. This line of work, it gets dark. Don't make it darker. Bosses aint gonnah be impressed cause you talk nice and look like you just came from a funeral." Leon funneled a few more seeds into his mouth, his heel clicking against the dashboard.

"Can't really tell you much without seein the scene. Dont walk into it with assumptions, itll just make it harder to see whats really there."

“I doubt humour is the most important part, really, unless you laugh criminals into jail. Which is impressive, I admit.” El chuckled some at her own joke, since she was sure she’d be getting nothing from her partner. That ended with a short sigh which sloped into awkward quietness between the two. The car seemed to be having its own conversation, however. As they made their way into Vargeras where the roads were less smooth, it rattled and bumped along, talking metallically whilst her occupants struggled to find something to converse about.

Luckily, they were saved by a voice emerging from the scratched dashboard.

"Looks like we're not going to find out, either. Higher priority call, take this next left."

Leon breathed through his nose, face scrunching as he tried to muffle a cough.

"Well at least you've got sense of humor, even if its a bad one." Giroux responded as if ten minutes hadnt passed.

---

The knowledge of the increase in werewolf attacks over the past few years, weeks, even, was enough to make El on edge as they drove through their haunt. Lining the streets were buildings which she would describe as shoddy. In her opinion, werewolves did not deserve any care from the state. They were dangerous, unruly, untrustworthy. She pulled in a little way up the street from the scene of the crime which was easily distinguishable by the small gathering partially visible down the alley in the morning light.

If she had to make an initial guess, she’d be putting this straight down to pack conflict. Werewolves really were a bunch of un-peaceful brutes.

She studied the area a bit closer, taking in the sodden rubbish laying in the gutters and trash piled against walls. Messy un-peaceful brutes.

The sun glinted off something half-hidden in the alley. A something which was strapped to someone’s back. Craning her neck, El let out a low whistle at what she judged to be an impressive greatsword.

“Hey, how come you don’t have one of those?” She asked Giroux as she reached to kill the engine.
If it was humour he wanted, then he’d have to get used to being the butt of the joke.

Leon funneled a few more seeds into his mouth. He took a moment to attempt to chew them before speaking, half chewed seeds muffling his words. "What? A svord?"

"Might make you look a bit less..." she watched him munch away. Him, he, this clown who was supposed to be her advisor "useless."

With that, she slung the keys back to him and climbed out of the car, only to step straight into a pile of soggy cardboard.

Leon shrugged. "Looks heavy, I've got back problems." He shoved another handful into his mouth, blowing his cheeks up like a squirrel.

He stepped out of the car, passing the bag of seeds to a vagrant dressed in burlap scraps before rubbing the reside off on his pants. The man smiled, taking the bag and disappearing into an alley.

Leon made his way towards the scene, pulling his badge out from beneath his grey t-shirt shirt and letting it hang against his chest. "Whos the cyclops?" His words were barely audible through his heavy accent. He addressed the other man; "Radio said it was a dog call, Choncey?" He peered down at the grisly corpse. "They're getting pretty brave with these..." He moved his hand to his waist, fingers capping what looked like a long, iron nail sitting in a leather holster.

Richard looked up, then greeted the man with a nod. "Nothing good, Kane. I'm not sure I've ever seen one like this before. Werewolf with sharper teeth, maybe. I don't know. It's why I called you down here. We've had two attacks within the last week. This is the third. It's strange, look-"

He knelt down on the ground next to the corpse, carefully avoiding the large puddle of blood around it. Pulling out a pen from his pocket, he pointed to the space around the bite. "That's a lot of slobber. But the wound almost looks like it's been made with a knife. This is also the only injury we can pick out. Until we get this guy to our pathologist, we won't know much more. What do you think?"

As two more people began to approach, Richard got up and approached them, scowling at the nickname. "It's not Choncey," he growled. "Kane, you know agent Giroux, I'm sure. Ah, who is this?" he asked, gesturing to the young woman.

El had trailed after Giroux, quite ungracefully as she’d been slyly trying to get the saturated cardboard off the bottom of her boot by dragging it along the concrete. She came to a momentary standstill behind the bodies which ringed the corpse before worming her way in besides her partner.

To be honest, the sight made her a bit queasy, she hadn’t seen anything this bad so far, and her discomfort was written across her face.

What did she think?
She was sure they weren’t asking her, but… two attacks within the last week. But from what she’d heard, she’d describe them more as maulings. Whereas this… this seemed purposeful, targeted, there was no denying the fatality of that single wound -

Giroux brought the palm of his hand against his forhead, squinting his eyes "Doh! Forgot we ended up naming you Richard. Choncey was our second choice. Apologies." He smiled before peering over his shoulder. "I dont know, she just kinda followed me here. Get behind the yellow tape, lady."

El shot Giroux a reproachful glare.
“Elodie Blanc, I’m his shadow. Greeny.” She might have smiled if she wasn’t agitated at how this ‘seasoned officer’ was influencing her first impression. Not that her own attitude was helping in any way.

Aldous merely looked over the new arrivals and scoffed; especially at the woman who introduced herself as a greenhorn. "Fine lot you work with, Dick," he stated dryly. He turned his attention back to the corpse. It was quite a vicious kill indeed; Aldous wondered, for a brief moment at least, if the victim felt anything before the lights went out. Instantaneous death, or the slow, bloody kind?

"Emerich Michael..." he said absentmindedly. The name didn't ring any bells, as was expected. He pondered over the corpse, however, the smell of blood and what he could only assume were voided bowels lingering on the air. Despite the horrid stench and gory visuals, Aldous kept his lunch. He'd seen a lot worse in his many years working for the Society; this young man's death was nothing too impressive, if he had to think back.

Still, he had to ask the obvious question: "Do we have any leads?" He was sure he knew the answer to that already, but it couldn't hurt to inquire.

"Eloide. Nice to meet you," said Richard, giving her a nod. There was a short glare given to Leon before he turned back to the hunter.

Raising one hand, Richard flicked the wall beside them. "This is the Den. Hotspot for werewolves. I doubt this murder is linked to them or else they'd of disposed of the body and not left it festering out in the alley, but they might have heard something," he said, motioning for them to move out of the alley as several members from the forensics team came to collect the body. "I'll be questioning the members, and I want you all to do the same. Kane, I know you and werewolves- the Society and werewolves in general- aren't on the friendliest terms, so I'm leaving it up to you if you want to join us. I'll be keeping you up to date on any information we come across."

Talk about being thrown in at the deep end.

It was safe to say that The Den really wasn’t her kind of place. She’d dislike it even if it wasn’t full of those she judged to be little less than responsible, more rational monsters. The scent and smoke offended her. It tickled at her throat and threatened to make her cough, but instead, she just coughed self-importantly and squinted through the haze, looking for someone to make use of. Preferably someone who didn’t look like they’d snap her in half, though, most of them probably could. That fact did little for her comfort.

To put on a brave face and try not to look too intimidated was all that she could do. She approached her chosen interviewee. A woman, around her age, short hair. El might grow to regret that decision as she became more visible the closer she got; the woman simply looked like trouble.

“Good morning.” She started. Bad start.

"If you know it wasn't us, then why do I need to worry about prison?" Baron asked pointedly. "I told you I don't know anything about it, so do you have anymore questions, or are you just going to bother me and my customers for the fun of it?"

Meanwhile Elodie wasn't fairing any better. Julienne didn't even look up from her drink as the officer approached her.

"Piss off," she said over her drink.

Cops.

Shit.

Ivan finished committing what the police had said to memory, straightening when the one guy announced his intent to barge into The Den. He took a few steps backwards, belting his waistcoat tightly as he pondered the information.

Three attacks. All from the same markings. The police were chasing the same lead he was, and that meant nothing good for him. Cops sniffing around his business meant answering more questions than he'd be asking, and watching his step far more than he felt was comfortable. He'd need to stew on this a little more, figure out how to proceed.

He leaped the gap between the buildings easily, a dark shape on light sky.

As he opened the door on the roof to head down to the den, his stewing turned to brooding.

Brooding always made him uncomfortable.

"Make yourself at home," Baron replied.

He took another long drag of his cigarette as his eyes shifted to the other officers in his bar that where currently engaged with a number of his customers.

The sooner they finished and left the better...

Sliding out of her seat, Jeanne took a pause, lifting her head. Her eyes narrowed, shifting around the Den.

"... what in the world," she mumbled, a frown drawn upon her face. "What was that?"

"Raccoons have been getting into the cellar," Baron replied dryly. "Going to go report me to the health department now?"

Fortunately the din of the bar meant that most people likely hadn't heard whatever had caught Jeanne and Baron's ear.

Jeanne let out a chuckle. "I don't think the raccoons would be their main concern," she replied, shoving her hands in her pockets. She brought up the UI on her bionic lens, though there was no telling that she was unless one were to look her directly, intently, in the eye.

She moved toward the cellar, checking the scent trails around it. "I'm sure you wouldn't mind if I poked around," she told Baron.

"Do you have a warrant?" Baron asked bluntly.

The woman hovered her hand above the doorknob, fingers twitching. "I can get one," she warned him, looking over her shoulder at Baron. Her gaze wasn't as friendly as it had been before.

Baron stood from his chair, slapping a hand against the edge of the door as he met her eyes.

"Then you go do that," he told her. "And stop harassing me and my customers."

Even so petite a woman next to the Bloodstone pack leader, Jeanne stood firmly in place as they locked eyes. "Expect me in a few minutes," she growled.

She didn't make it two steps from the cellar door, before the gig was up and a woman's shriek split the air - emanating from the cellar.

Elodie had been set on ignoring that initial setback. In fact, she’d pulled up a seat next to the woman quite cheerily and was organising her thoughts to make another move, in a non-romantic way, of course. But her flirting and skirting was interrupted by a scream that made her hairs stand on end.

Her eyes had inevitably found their way to the doorway, along with most other pairs.
They then caught hold of the officer who was rightly demanding entrance.


“Truly, if everyone is being as honest as they claim about the incident that occurred last night, then there should be no reason for us to be denied access unless there’s something else to be hiding.” El got to her feet slowly, keeping her tone calm and careful. She was trying to make up for Leon’s crass behaviour in a pit full of the easily-angered. With this opinion, her hand was hovering dangerously close to her holster also. Though, the inhabitants of The Den were being reasonably cooperative, considering the circumstances. She doubted these most sentient of monsters would all be in on something abhorrently incriminating. Another explanation, she believed, she hoped.

She made for the door too.

Baron kept his hand pressed to the door as he stared Jeanne down, and she could almost see the amber hue of a wolves eyes fixed onto her own.

"This isn't what it's going to look like, she's here of her own decision," Baron told her.

His eyes flicked to Leon and Elodie, but with Leon's gun unholstered and leveled on him things where heating fast. Several of his pack where on their feet as well, but a scathing look from him was all it took to keep them stood down.

A shootout with the police would be disastrous for everyone involved.

And so he laced his hands behind his head and allowed Jeanne to pull the cellar door open. He didn't take the indicated seat though, and his jacket was open enough to leave his sidearm visible in its holster. As the officers converged on the cellar door, and Leon kept his gun trained on Baron, he kept his hands where they where. He didn't particularly want to give the officers reason to think he might reach for his weapon and give them an excuse to shoot him.

"You're making a mistake," he growled lowly as Jeanne moved past him.