Setting
-- Resident of The Phantom QuarterIt was a deathly darkness that was so commonplace for Lutetia's nightlife that surrounded them. The putrid air of the Phantom Quarter was hardly anything one wished to tolerate for very long, what with epidemic plague lingering about the atmosphere. The buildings were wretched in appearance, sporting broken outer portions and decaying interior; truly a testament to Lutetia City's infamous legacy. The rancid smell was the crux of the entire locale: it was a scent that could only be compared to the stench of a thousand corpses left to ferment in a sauna, a rather hot stink that burned the sinuses upon contact.
- 109 posts here • Page 2 of 5 • 1, 2, 3, 4, 5
Her initial reaction was panic, but if he wanted to harm her, he would have already done so.
She didn't care one way or another if he wanted to finish off the job the other had started by this point. She reached out with her bloody hand, gently petting what fur she could reach. "P-please..." She whimpered tiredly. "H-help.. me.." She pleaded. 'I don't want to die...' The thought echoed in the fogginess of her brain. Tears ran down the side of her mud covered, blood stained cheeks.
This was getting him nowhere...
He turned tail and headed back the way he had come, wishing he had some way to communicate to the woman that he would be back. When he returned he had his shirt in his jaws which he deposited on her shoulder, nudging her hand towards it with his snout trying to get her to apply pressure to the wound.
She was panting when the wolf returned with the shirt that it pressed on her shoulder. He pushed her hand back to her shoulder and for some reason, she got what it was trying to say. Pressing down on the wound with the shirt to try to hinder the bleeding, she hissed as the stinging continued. "G-good boy.." She murmured. "Good.. boy.."
It had only been twenty-five minutes since Jesse had left Re'Altarm, but to him - and likely her as well - it seemed like an eternity. He could only hope she was still breathing.
He came barreling out of the dark with the sound of a vehicle approaching along the street and wasted little time in pawing at her to make sure she was still awake, and alive.
He whined lightly and lay back down with his head on her stomach again, a gesture to comfort her where he lacked the words to do so while he waited for Bowen to catch up.
'I don't want to die... Not now..'
Her eyes rolled open slowly as she felt the paws of the werewolf. A meek smile rose to her lips. Then she started to do something no one expected of her. She began to chuckle, a dry weak throaty sound. Most would think her gone insane.
'I'm gonna live, you bastard.. And I'm gonna come after you..'
He did not need to see her wounds to know she was bleeding and bad. He cursed once and quickly scrambled back to his car. There was the sound of a trunk being opened and then slammed shut. He returned in haste with a large orange and black duffel bag marked with red crosses. It was then that he shined a bit of light on the situation. He placed the lit penlight in his mouth. His right eye was shut tight but his left scanned across her body as he moved his head and the beam of light. "Relax. Easy. Don't move." As he worked to stop the bleeding he asked her basic questions such as her age and her name.
Her right arm was so badly mangled that it required a tourniquet to stop the bleeding. After he had fashioned the device he haulted the bleeding at her shoulder. He then crossed her brow with her own blood in two strokes to form a 'T' more out of years of training than out of necessity in this instance. He un-pocketed his cell phone and hit a single key as he continued to evaluate her. "Yeah. Get me Barnes and Torres." There was a pause in his conversation as he took a closer look at her arm and the bones jutting out of it and through the dressing he had attempted to use to stop the bleeding before he applied the tourniquet. "I need you and Torres to meet me in the Quarter." There was another pause. "Use the car's Lojack." Then another short pause. "Bring a back board." One more pause. "Yep. Hurry up."
He pocketed the phone again and reached into the pack to take out some formable braces. A few seconds later and he was working to secure her right arm and the broken bits of bone that it had become. During the whole ordeal he continued to speak encouraging words.
He probably should head back he knew, since Baron would want to hear of a werewolf attack so close to their territory, but he opted for staying for now. He wouldn't be able to communicate a word of it to Baron anyways, not while he was stuck like this.
But as he worked at her right arm, she hissed and whimpered and wished that he would just leave it alone. Every jolt was pure agony, but she was too tired to fight any longer. Still, her comfort came by merely petting Jesse. The words wouldn't come, but all she could think was 'Good boy...'. He wasn't a dog, she knew, but he looked too small to be anything but a wolf. Her strokes were short and more like pats anyway.
Her eyes began to droop though. Tiredness had long been taking over her, and sleeping sounded way better at the moment than dealing with the pain. "T-tired.." The word came out barely audible and sounded like more of her whimpers.
He prepared the catheter after temporarily tourniqueting her other arm and got a blood flash the first time. He pressed the catheter into her arm with his thumb while he taped it down and hung the bag on a nearby piece of rebar before connecting the tubing to the catheter and after clearing the air out of the tubing.
A moment passed as he moved up to her head and ran his fingers through her dirty, blood-matted hair. He then moved down her body, rapping his hands around her neck as if he were choking her but gently feeling around her neck and at the back before moving down her body and checking for missed injuries. The ground was so uneven that he could not risk turning her until the back board arrived least she have a spinal injury and he cause more damage. He could not raise her feet to stave off shock for the same reason. The only precautions he could take at this point was to keep her conscious and blanket her with his coat to keep her warm.
She did not have a head injury that he could tell. Her irises were even though she showed signs of serious shock. She was shivering in the cold and because of the blood loss. Five more minutes would pass until a black van pulled up. During this time Bowen would periodically glance up at the IV bag to make sure it was dripping and continuously take precautions to insure she stayed awake.
When Barnes and Torres got there they assisted Bowen in securing the girl to the back board and two of them carried her out, the third carrying the IV bag. They loaded her into the back of the van. It was no ambulance. It looked more like a small swat van on the inside. Their destination would be Cornell's where she would recieve the treatment she needed. Barnes would take the sedan to meet back up with Chloë. Bowen and the man he had called Torres would take the van and Re'Altarm to the medical center. She would indeed live.
As the van began to move he lay down to keep from getting knocked around by the turns and bumps in the roads.
He had never met this woman before, but it was always different when you were first on the scene. It made him feel responsible in some way, as if it would be his personal failure if she didn't make it. It was an illogical way of thinking, but he would feel better once she was out of the woods.
He was making for the warehouse. Heâd missed Cass. Heâd been on his way to finish her off that night heâd attacked the scavenging woman. He was sure sheâd have crumpled since their last fight had only been the day before. But now, sheâd had time to heal up some and so total victory this night seemed unlikely. If only the others saw things his way, if only they would see the truth in his words, if only they would support him instead of the useless, misguided woman who knew next to nothing about real werewolves. They had a werecat, for fuckâs sake. What a state that scraggly band was. And Arman knew that he could fix them.
His human form was nowhere near as daunting as his wolf one. He was on the short side, 5â8â, but heavy built. And dirty, unshaven and unkempt. He was wearing little more than rags. His hardened bare feet carried him through the dirt, weaving through ruins, jumping low piles of rubble and finding paths when they could.
Seri hopped from the rooftop to the fire escape below nimbly, balancing precariously upon a guard-rail with seemingly no trouble at all. "Can't contain yourself for a few measly days? Tut tut. Anyone might think the puppy was rabid. Is that it, Arman? Are you foaming at the mouth like a dumb animal, a slaaave to your instincts?"
As much as he wanted to despise the odd little creature, he really didn't. Seri was an unusual thing -a freak. That's why he belonged. Sharp of tongue, claws and teeth; there was no use in getting stirred up and striking out at his wind up games. Not if you didn't want to make a fool of yourself. Arman had learnt so. Besides, he was weirdly charming; in a way that made you want to tie him up in a bag and dump him in a trash can.
Despite being rash and often brutal, Arman was not hateful, not towards pack members, and neither was he that easily angered. There might have been some malice to Seri's words and his regard for Arman. But the werewolf took it all as friendly jibes, as he usually did when he was met with hostility within the pack. He remained happily in his sphere of social ineptness.
He gave the werecat only one glance before fixing his eyes forwards and on his way.
"Big bad dog? Sure you got a word wrong there.
I'll have you know I have a good hold on my instincts. If I didn't... don't you know what dogs do to cats?"
Letting that hang for a while, he then let out a small, barking laugh. It was lost of humour.
"Did she survive?" He asked, interested as he strolled trying not to be put off by the feline manner in which Seri moved. It made him a little uncomfortable. Arman assumed Seri knew what had come of the attack, since he knew about it in the first place.
He stretched out on his perch, yawning, before stalking after Arman along the railing. "If you don't start being more careful, one of these days somebody's going to come to put the rabid wolf down." he said, voice laced with snide disapproval. "Church, Ardelean, Baron... doesn't matter. We're gonna get caught in the crossfire." The werecat slipped from the fire escape onto the top of a half-ruined wall, bare feet padding across the brick.
"Hm" he continued, scratching the tangle that was his dirty beard in a worried way at the mention of Baron. "Not so lucky. Don't worry your strange self, nothing'll happen to the pack. I'll make sure of it. And especially not you. I've never met anyone better to wriggle out of things. I have everything under control. Everything will be ready-" he cut off, a menace eclipsed the previously buoyant glaze.
"Maybe it's time to expand our territory, Kitten..."
In fact, he had a few things in mind that Baron would like even less.
They were heading towards a row of ruined houses, their insides gutted, making a good, covered pathway. The warehouse was located at the other end. As Arman passed beneath the first roof from a gaping hole in the side of the house, he started to hum, which lightened him up some. The sound would ricochet, an eerie echo ensued which matched the scene of rot perfectly. There were signs of recent life lined along the walls, mouldy blankets, cheap wine bottles; the smell of urine was particularly potent.
"So, have you all missed me? I'm certain Cass has." He was only half joking. Arman was under the illusion that quite a lot of the pack members actually liked him, rather than that they were too scared to be outwardly belligerent.
The warehouse was fast approaching at the end of the street. Seri deftly ascended the side of the building, still looking down at Arman below. "There's a reason you haven't already taken charge, rabid wolf. Cass keeps us safe. You put us in danger. Not everyone's as... ambitious as you. Keep that in mind." he purred, before slipping inside through a hole in the roof, choosing not to take the door with Arman.
"This place gives me the creeps." Cally said as she turned to Arren, while he was driving.
"Yeah, stinks like shit too." He commented, pointing the spotlight up at the dilapidated buildings. "I don't know if this place will even be worth the investment... I'll pull up here and we can get some photographs of the place.."
It had rained again last night and the putrid stench of the Quarter was thick in the air.
"There," Jesse said as he pointed over Baron's shoulder at somewhere up ahead. "Pull over there."
Baron edged the car up to the side of the road and put it in park as he removed his seat belt and got out.
Jesse let himself out of the back seat and headed over to rusted out dumpster where he had left his clothes the night before. Crouching down he all but gagged. They smelled like a latrine, and were thoroughly saturated from the rains which had served to absorbed the rancid odors of the Phantom Quarter.
Worse yet, they had been disturbed from where he had left them behind the dumpster and a quick search of the pockets turned up that both his cellphone and his wallet where gone.
"Well, this is revving up to be a great day..." Jesse muttered as he stood up. "Alright, it's down this way," he added as he pointed them off in the direction he had first heard the woman's scream.
Ivan kept his hands at his belt, watching the two men for a moment. He wasnât here to observe, or make pithy comments, so he kept his gaze straight ahead, ran his thumbs across leather, and refrained from asking why the hell Jesseâs clothes were out here.
Once they reached the site of the attack Jesse pointed out the refuse heap where he had found the woman.
âThis is where she was attacked. I caught sight of it briefly, over that way. It was only a glimpse though, I couldnât make much out. I probably should have gone after it, but the woman was in bad shape,â he explained. âThe way she described the attack⊠we might be looking at sadist. It was almost like he was drawing it out to torture her more. And he could have killed her had he wanted to. Even if he heard or smelled me coming and took off, it wouldnât have taken more than a second to finish the job.â He shook his head. âIt looks deliberate, and like he wanted her to live.â
Baron crouched down where Jesse had indicated the woman had been attacked. Unfortunately the rain had washed the blood away, and he couldnât get a scent over the rancid stench of the Quarter. Everything smelled of decay, and it overwhelmed any minute odors that might still remain.
Ivan took his time, glancing around them, looking for potential threats. When he didnât see anything, he glanced towards where the attack took place, frowned down at it.
Crouched down near the pavement, put a finger to a crack. The paved stone was still fresh, still recently broken, far away from being worn down and smoothed out by weather and sun and heat.
âHit her with force,â he grunted, rising and pointing at the crack with the toe of his shitkicker, âmeans itâs big or strong. It drew the attack out how?â
Wasnât his place to ask, but he couldnât seem to help himself.
âShe said it held her down, and taunted her. Said it was laughing. There were a lot of superficial wounds on her arms before it bit her,â Jesse explained. âShe was pretty shaken up but she seemed to remember it pretty clearly.â
Baron frowned and stood.
âI canât smell a thing through this shit,â he muttered. While he mulled the matter over he pulled a pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his coat to light one up. Smoking wasnât exactly helpful with the olfactory senses either, but he wasnât going to be able to pick up a scent here anyways.
âWhat kind of⊠who hits someone this hard,â Ivan said, pointing to the crack again, âand takes the time to laugh or whatever? Looks more like a hit and run than torture to me.â
"This is the third one in four months that we know about..." Baron growled out. "I'm starting to think we're dealing with a rogue mongrel. It's too controlled for lunentia," he remarked with a frown. "If we have a rogue wolf loose intentionally inflicting people at the doorstep of our territory, it's going to have the police crawling all over Lupaix," he said. "Ivan, I want you to head a search of the Quarter. If there's any wolves out here, I want to know about them."
It was a peculiar move on Baron's part to request Ivan take point on this, as he normally would have given his brother, Ragenard, the job.
Ivan rose to his feet, brows lifting, the scar separating the white of his eyebrows shining in the light.
âWhy?â
âWhy what?â Baron answered.
Ivan gave Baron a pointed look. âYouâve got lieutenants whoâre bound to be experienced.â
"Ragenard's gone, Elliot's dead, Jac's in the hospital," Baron answered. "Unless you think Bastien's the one for the job," he added pointedly. Ivan knew full well how accommodating Bastien could be to non-pack. "Or Julienne perhaps?" he added with an arch of his brow as he took a drag of his cigarette. The woman had a temper well renowned among the pack. "You're new, you know what it's like out there alone. You'll show restraint where they won't. Come on, letâs get out of here, weâre not going to find anything of use here." He discarded his cigarette into a puddle as he turned to head back towards the car.
Ivan watched as Baron left, then turned to look at Jesse, raising his eyebrows.
âDidnât get a good look at it?â
âNothing but a glimpse of shadow,â Jesse answered with a grimace before watching Baron make his way back to the car. âDid he say Ragenardâs gone?â
Apparently it was news to Jesse too.
Ivan didnât respond, just watched Baron go. After a moment, he glanced towards the crack in the pavement, scuffed at it lightly with his boot.
âLetâs go,â Ivan said, following in Baronâs footsteps.
A few minutes later the car pulled away to head back towards Lupaix.
In the darkest alleys of an alleged city of ghosts one can find things most mysterious, intriguing and unnerving. In this particular alley a hand emerges from a manhole from which the wind carries odors and sounds most vile. This hand, however, belongs to someone less vile than usual; a strange partially mummified humanoid wearing clothes fit for a desert mercenary.
As he came to notice, the place he was in is in fact not a desert, but a run-down part of a city with a cheeky gothic aesthetic he found uncanny and unpleasant. The murky rain pouring from somewhere above the rooftops of decrepit buildings. He came to hate rain even more than usual, because his skin felt dry no matter how much he was showered in it.
To be honest he was not in a very happy state either, since he recently realized he was dead, and had been for a long time. He was still aware that he was not a ghost, as frequent fistfights with crazed lowlives came to prove. At a time he would say he felt like blood and muscle after a fight. That feeling had long passed, as now he felt mainly like syrup and beef jerky.
But being an optimistic lad, he decided that not even undeath would stop his mercenary endeavors, for he was Eli, the most dashing magic gunslinger around. He moved down from the murky alley towards the flickering streetlights, keeping his right palm by his holster and adjusting his mysterious and intriguing hat with his left hand to shadow his disturbingly decomposed face.
"This is the place." He lead her to the location he had found Re'Altarm. It is worth mentioning that he did not yet know Re'Altarm's name just yet. The place smelled most foul and even his keen and experienced senses were of little use in trying to track the culprit. The rain had also destroyed much of the evidence. "We should have processed this that night but other matters came up and I could not afford to spare people or myself until now." The blood was gone and so were many of the old signs but there were new signs now. Fresh footprints in the shallow mud. "Three people.", he said as he crouched down and turned back to the old signs.
"Heavy but not compared to some.", he said as he motioned to some cement that had been cracked and clawed by a recent impact. The color was different and cement chips lay scattered. In the satchel Bowen had placed nearby Chloe would be able to find all the appropriate devices and instruments needed to process a crime scene.
"Is there a pack near by that would come investigate this area because it is near their turf..?" She asked before looking in the sack that Bowen had brought and picking out a pair of gloves, a bag and pair of tweezers. She slid her hands into the gloves and bent down near where the fresh prints were. "Perhaps they found something they took with them." She suggested, bending over to pick up a cigarette butt and held it out for Bowen to see. She bagged and tagged it before going behind the trash heap Re'Altarm had been digging in before the attack. There were some indication that there had been foot prints there at some point before the rain had washed them away. "Stride suggests that it was running well before he saw the girl, my guess.." She then went about trying to find whatever evidence she could find, taking pictures where she deemed appropriate. "And I would say he's quite large. From what I can gather from the distance of the stride of what's left of the foot prints.. I'd say about 7-8 feet tall..." She estimated.
"What was she doing out here, anyway?"
Bowen had ducked his head into the door of nearby building. The sun shone through broken windows and mud covered the floor. He stepped back out. "I don't know. I have Ms. Moretz doing some background work on the girl and the wolf that found her. As soon as she brings me a report I will catch you up."
He came over to look at what was left of the footprints. "Crinos loup-garou .", he commented in a whisper and then turned to look at her. "Big boy." He snapped a few more pictures and they finished collecting what little evidence was left before packing up and getting back to the car. "Why don't you drive. This is going to be your car anyway.", he said before tossing her the keys.
Arren turned to Cally and she grabbed a camera off the dashboard.
"Go find us a place to stay and set up shop, I'm going to get a drone up and take some pictures. I'll text you when I need someone to pick me up." She said, and Arren nodded, giving her the thumbs up as she opened the door with an audible thunk, and then she stepped out of the truck. As she did this, Arren handed her a Type 22 Pistol.
"Here." He said, and the woman shook her head. "I don't need it, I can handle myself. Besides whose going to mug someone in broad daylight? You gotta be pretty stupid." She commented.
She grabbed her camera and noted that there was a car parked across the street, and someone getting in and out of the car. She didn't pay them much attention as she pointed the camera in their general vicinity, and then she snapped a picture of the building, though it would seem she was snapping a picture of Bowen and Chloe's car.
After a few pictures were taken, she moved to the back of the truck, hefting a fairly large cylindrical object, she moved to unfold it's wings and attach the engine nacelles. She then withdrew a small datapad, and began to program the drone's internal systems.
"Alright, take me some pictures." Cally said, and the Drone's wings unfolded, and with an audible hiss it began to take off.
Certainly strange and out of the ordinary for a place like this.
Once the UAV began to pull up and away into the sky above the buildings, the white truck pulled away and the woman started to walk in the opposite direction.
Chloe frowned though, when she noticed an ominous white truck parking near and a woman jumping out and taking pictures of the area. "Hope the scene's been cleared, doesn't look like press is gonna wait.. I wouldn't think someone from the news team would have any interest in someone being attacked out here though.." She said before getting into the car. "I hate getting my pictures taken.." She grumbled. "Where to, Boss?" She asked after buckling her seat belt.
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