Despite the bright, early morning sun blazing in a cloudless, late March sky, Alexei Karamov managed to keep his office fairly dim from his darkly tinted glass and partially drawn shades. The Shadow Lord had arrived to his office at almost twenty minutes to ten, but the middle partner of Zarecki, Karamov and Sadowski was allowed certain leeway in conducting his business. Both of Alexei's partners were kinfolk to the Shadow Lords, and despite John Zarecki's seniority by almost twelve years of legal practice, the simple fact that Karamov was a philodox of the Shadow Lords put him firmly in control of the law firm. While it certainly brought greater prestige and wealth to the Shadow Lord, leading the law firm and conducting a war against the Wyrm also provided more than a few headaches.

Alexei placed his briefcase on the floor next to his desk, then turned and walked back to the windows as he smoothed out his hand tailored, black suit jacket. Middle Manhattan spread out before him as he gazed eastward, looking past the financial buildings of the East Side to the Queensboro Bridge and Queens. For a long moment the Garou simply watched the eastern portion of the city, willing himself to begin the day's work.

The office doors thundered open behind him, but Alexei did not so much as wince as they slammed into the wall. He had been expecting his new visitor since late last night, and the only surprise in his visit was that he had not already been at the office when Alexei arrived.

"I'm sorry Mister Karamov, but he won't listen to me!" Alexei's secretary exclaimed frantically. The Shadow Lord finally turned from the windows with a slight smile for the attractive young blonde unsuccessfully attempting to stop the stocky Italian man that had burst into the office.

"That's alright, Miss Dulaney," Alexei said, looking past the secretary. "I've been expecting Captain Vernieri. Close the doors on your way out, if you would?"

Miss Dulaney hesitated for a long moment, but then finally exited the office. Alexei started back to his desk as Captain Vernieri stalked into the suite, his dark eyes holding an angry glint.

"You, you stupid Russkie, you have a lot of explaining to do," Captain Vernieri finally snarled, following Karamov to his desk. Alexei sat down casually, and gestured to the chair in front of the desk.

"Please, Captain, have a seat," the lawyer stated with warm smile. Vernieri slammed his fist down on the desk.

"I've got two departments, three lawyers, and one panic stricken father breathing down my neck!" the captain bellowed. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"I'm sitting down," Alexei replied simply, feigning confusion.

"Stop making fucking jokes!" Vernieri screamed. "You know what the fuck I'm talking about! Where's the girl you're holding? Where the fuck is she? How could you draw me into your fucking shadow games with Meleshenko?"

"First of all, captain, take a deep breath, and relax," Alexei said, completely unruffled despite Vernieri's tirade. "I'm not going to speak to someone that is screaming at me."

"What the fuck is going on?" Vernieri demanded a second time. Despite the rage clearly showing on his face, however, the captain maintained a calm, even tone to his voice. Alexei smiled slightly as he opened the bottom drawer of his desk.

"I have, as you figured out, detained one Brooke Farron in your name," the Russian stated as he searched for something in the drawer. "I need to hold onto her for a few more days, so you'll cover for me. She's a very important witness, after all."

"Witness to what?" Vernieri asked, frustrated.

"To a crime," Alexei replied, closing the drawer and placing a manila envelope on his desk. "To be perfectly frank, there was a knife fight last night, and a poor, unfortunate Russian immigrant was stabbed twelve times, bringing about his untimely death."

"I'm not in homicide!" Vernieri exclaimed, losing his cool once more. Alexei sighed.

"You didn't hear me when I said 'Russian immigrant', did you," the Russian concluded.

"Oh, let me guess," Vernieri said. "This Russian immigrant was working for Meleshenko, and he happened to run afoul of one of the Mafia families."

"One of the Tongs would be more believable," Alexei countered with a smirk. "After all, the Russians and the Chinese have been fighting over heroin sales."

"In Brooklyn," Vernieri finished.

"Come now, captain," Alexei said, his smile becoming condescending. "You and I both know that the fighting between the Russians and the Asians has spilled out of Brooklyn and into the other boroughs. Don't be so naïve, captain. You're on the organized crime squad. You should know these things."

"She's a minor, Karamov!" Vernieri pointed out. "She needs her legal guardian and her lawyer!"

"And that would be me," Alexei stated smoothly. "Miss Farron has consented to having me as her legal attorney. The court has appointed me as her legal guardian for the duration of the trial, in order to assure that her family is not drawn into a war between the Tongs and the Russians."

"It won't work!" Vernieri complained. "I can't do that! You're raping the judicial system here!"

"You'd better make it work," Alexei stated, growing stern. He patted the envelope that he had placed on his desk. "Or one copy goes to the commissioner, one copy goes to your wife, and one goes to the Reverend Al Sharpton."

"You can't," Vernieri said, growing pale. His voice was barely a whisper as he spoke.

"I can," Alexei corrected, his voice cold and even. "And I will. People owe you favors. You can make it work. Bury it in red tape. Or your career goes down in flames."

For a long moment Captain Vernieri simply glared across the desk at the lawyer, his eyes showing an incongruous mix of hatred and fear. Alexei leaned back slightly in his chair, his features betraying nothing as he calmly awaited the captain's answer.

"Alright," the captain finally relented. "I'll do this. This once. But you can't hold that over me forever, Karamov. And when you can't, I'm going to bury you and your KGB buddies hiding out in Little Odessa. You hear me?"

"My KGB buddies and I will be waiting," Alexei said with a faint, not quite menacing smile. "Good day, Captain Vernieri."

Captain Vernieri glared at the Shadow Lord for another moment, then turned and stalked out of the office. With a satisfied smile, Alexei replaced the envelope in his desk, and finally began his work for the day.

__________________________________________________________

Silently, he made his way through the cramped hallways of the Records building, little more than an unnoticed shadow despite the heavy traffic of a normal business day for the city government. The security guards had never seen him enter the building, and the dozens of officers, accountants, and clerks that he breezed past barely even looked up as he made his way along the thirtieth floor of the Records Office.

His target was only a few feet in front of him now, sitting at a desk placed in a corner cubicle of the office. Her light brown hair spilled down over the back of her chair as she typed into the computer that faced her, oblivious to the man slowly creeping up behind her. Silently he came to a stop only an inch behind her, and slowly slid his hands through her hair to reach for her neck.

"Jesus Christ!" the woman exclaimed suddenly, leaping out of her chair and almost landing on top of her desk as she whirled around. Her dark eyes, widened by her terror, quickly focused on the smiling man in front of her. "Jesus, Max, don't do that!"

"But it's so funny to see you hit the ceiling like that," Max van der Waal commented with a smirk as he leaned against the corner of the cubicle. The woman put her hand to her heart, trying to slow her frantic pulse. "Really, Gina, you have to learn to unwind."

"How did you even get up here, Max?" Gina Reynolds demanded, finally settling down again. She lowered her voice as she glanced past her visitor, checking quickly for her manager. "I'm not supposed to have anyone up here while I'm working!"

"They'll never know I was here," Max promised as he took a step closer to the young woman. "But I couldn't bear to be away from your smiling face any more."

"Right," Gina said, pushing Max away from her despite the smile on her face. "Whenever you come up here, you want me to find something for you."

"Gina, I'm wounded," Max said dramatically. "Really, darling, I just missed that beautiful smile of yours."

"Why do I even put up with you?" Gina sighed, sitting back down in her chair. Max smiled as he leaned down next to her.

"My charming good looks and my irresistible wit," Max concluded.

"It's probably just that funky South African accent," Gina countered with a sigh. Max laughed.

"It is beguiling, isn't it?" the young Shadow Lord said. "So how have you been?"

"Since your last visit?" Gina guessed. "Well, let's see, I would have been a lot happier if you had called me back last Saturday."

"I'm sorry about that," Max said, growing quickly contrite. "Really I am. But the boss had me jumping. You know how it is."

"Of course," Gina concluded, though her expression remained skeptical. "So, what do you want? I know you don't come up here unless you're looking for information."

"I wish you wouldn't think like that," Max said, still playing the part of the repentant. "Sometimes I just like to see you."

"What's his name?" Gina inquired.

"Vincent Farron," Max replied, finally dropping the act. "I need some information on him and his family, if you could find it in your heart to do that for me."

"Never heard of him, but I'll put it through the computer," Gina said. "Should I expect the same kind of incentive?"

"You want me to take you out Friday?" Max assumed.

"Cash on delivery," Gina corrected. Max wrinkled his brow in puzzlement.

"You get paid for this?" the Shadow Lord asked, feigning surprise.

"Max," Gina prompted, though she could hardly hold down a smile.

"I'll pick you up for lunch," the Shadow Lord said. "You'll be ready by noon?"

"I will," Gina said. "I'll bring everything with me."

"Great," Max said, turning to leave.

"Hey, Max," Gina called out after the Shadow Lord.

"Yes?" Max inquired, turning back to her.

"Who the hell do you work for, anyway?" Gina asked.

"Come on, I told you already that I can't say," Max reminded her.

"Come on, Max, I have to know," Gina pressed. "I'm going to die of curiosity. I promise I won't tell a single soul. Girl Scout's honor. Cross my heart."

"Sorry," Gina," Max said. "By the way, my offer still stands. I'll be around Friday."

"I won't count on it," Gina said as Max turned and disappeared into the rows of cubicles.

_________________________________________________________

"Do you want anything with your eggs?"

"Just some toast and orange juice," Brooke replied, sitting at the pricey wicker table that centered the cozy sunny dinette of Tanya Kolesar's Central Park West apartment. Just through a doorway on the other side of the table, Brooke's hostess continued with preparations for a late morning breakfast. "If you don't mind my asking, don't you have work today?"

"I am at work," Tanya replied, finally returning from the kitchen with two plates of eggs over easy and toast. Wearing a black, knee length dress and boots that just touched the hem of her skirt, Brooke's hostess was a well toned, remarkably attractive woman in her early twenties, with cinnamon colored hair and deep brown eyes. Despite the borderline yuppie appearance, however, Tanya exuded an aura of supreme self confidence, as well as the same vaguely unsettling, almost predatory impression that Brooke had noticed in Alexei the previous night. "When you work for Mister Karamov, sometimes you get to stay at home and watch runaways. Do you want salt or pepper?"

"No, thank you," Brooke answered. "Um, I don't mean to be rude, but how long do I have to stay here?"

"Until the boss, says," Tanya answered, disappearing into the kitchen again. She returned a moment later with two glasses of orange juice, and set one down in front of her guest. "I'm sure it won't be very long, Brooke. Just until we straighten everything out."

"I wish I could at least tell my parents I was alright," Brooke said, poking at her eggs with her fork. "I mean, maybe I don't get along with them too much, but I… I actually miss them."

"It's hard, I know," Tanya said, a note of sympathy in her voice. "I never thought I'd miss my parents, but when Alex came for me… well, I found out exactly how much I loved them."

"Alex… Alexei? He kidnapped you?" Brooke asked, stunned. Tanya smiled.

"This is what happens when you turn into nine feet of walking destruction for the first time," she stated with a bit of a smile. "I couldn't exactly stay home, you know."

"That won't happen to me, will it?" Brooke asked, suddenly considering the possibility that maybe she was a werewolf. Tanya laughed.

"No, it won't," the Shadow Lord finally said, brining her mirth under control. "At best, you might be related to a Garou somehow, but we wouldn't have missed it if you actually were one. Anyway, Max or Alex will probably come up with something today, and then we'll know exactly what Xavier wants with you."

"Maybe it was just a normal date," Brooke mumbled, returning to poking at her eggs. "At least, as normal as a date with a werewolf could be."

"Maybe it was," Tanya agreed. "If it was, then tomorrow night you'll be back home. But if it wasn't, and we just send you back home without checking, Gaia knows what could happen to you. Or your parents."

"I know," Brooke said quietly. "But it's just so frustrating. I feel like a prisoner!"

"Well, let's get out of here, then," Tanya suggested. "Once we finish breakfast, we'll go over to Fifth Avenue and get you some new clothes. How does that sound?"

__________________________________________________________

"Come on, Bickle, get up!"

"Dude, I am so not in the mood for this," Bickle grumbled, rolling over and burying his face in one of the beer stained, foul smelling brown pillows on his couch. "I just got finished with a four day bender, two Goth chicks with a serious bondage problem, and one of your dumbass friends who seems to think I can put a curse on his slut of an ex girlfriend."

"Get the fuck up, Bickle!" Xavier DeLeon bellowed, grabbing the far smaller man by the shoulder and hurling him onto the filthy carpet of his living room floor. After ten seconds or so of stumbling to one knee in a cloud of dust and old pizza boxes, Bickle finally regained his senses, and turned a vicious glare on his uninvited guest.

"You got serious fucking problems, you know that, dickhead?" Bickle shouted, running one hand through his bleached white hair. The apartment's owner tried to look intimidating to Xavier, but Bickle's five foot seven, emaciated frame was dwarfed by Xavier's far larger frame. The only truly frightening feature Bickle possessed were his eyes, a once clear blue that was clouded with barely concealed insanity and rage. "I'll see you fucking drowned in the sewage treatment plant and I'll give your fucked up body over to Lord Collum himself to ass fuck you right into Malfeas!"

"Well, at least you're awake now," Xavier said. "Try me, fucko. I'll take you down so hard your little Bane buddies'll need a month to put you back together."

For a long moment the two psychotic men locked harsh glares, but Bickle finally turned away and kicked at an empty syringe on the floor.

"What do you want?" he asked, still thoroughly irritated by Xavier's interruption.

"Brooke is gone," Xavier replied.

"Your fucking problem, man," Bickle grumbled, his voice both dejected and irked. "Go get her. You don't need me or the rest of the pack to go get your little plaything."

"Karamov has her," Xavier added. Bickle turned back to him, surprised.

"You fucked with one of Karamov's girls?" the smaller man concluded. Then he stopped, a look of curiosity coming to his face. "I didn't know Karamov took them that young. Maybe the time's right. Maybe he's going to fall."

"We have to get her back," Xavier pointed out. "Karamov must have know about her somehow, but I don't know how much he knows."

"Shit, leave the little bitch," Bickle said. "It ain't worth fucking with Karamov and his pack. We'll find you another girl, if you want one so bad."

"Nigel said we need her," Xavier explained. Bickle's eyes went wide, and the man turned quickly around as he scanned his apartment.

"What time is it?" the smaller man demanded, growing rapidly frantic.

"Sun's still up," Xavier replied. Bickle relaxed only the slightest bit.

"Shit," the smaller man finally said. "Shit. What the hell does Nigel want with her? How did he get involved? I mean, this was just supposed to be some kind of stupid little jaunt for you! What the fuck is Nigel doing in the middle of this? Oh, shit, we are so fucking dead! What the hell did you get us into?"

"Easy, Bickle, easy," Xavier said, moving closer to his friend and putting a hand on his shoulder. Bickle was easily excitable, and suffered outrageous mood swings when confronted with situations such as the one that faced him now. "Look, all we have to do is get Brooke back from Karamov, and all our problems are over. You call up a few Banes, we find the girl, and we hit them real hard, and real fast. Callow'll be all over this one, too. So don't worry."

"Don't worry?" Bickle repeated, on the verge of a full blown panic attack. "Don't worry?! This is Karamov we're talking about! And if he ain't enough, he's got that gigantic bodyguard Mortiss with him most of the time! He'll rip my fucking head off and shit down my throat! And if we don't get her, then Nigel gets us! Oh, fucking shit, what the fuck did you get us into, man?"

"Don't worry," Xavier said, trying to calm Bickle before he could get truly out of control. Bickle dropped back down on the couch in a cloud of dust, burying his face in his hands. "Everything will be alright. I promise."

"You'd better be right," Bickle said, finally looking up. "Because I don't want to die just because you wanted a fifteen year old piece of ass."

"You won't," Xavier assured his friend. "Now, do you think you can find our girl with one of your Bane allies?"

"I can give it a try," Bickle answered. "But we don't go anywhere near Karamov unless Callow and Spook are with us."

"Just find her," Xavier said. Bickle nodded, and started back through his apartment with an increasingly cheerful whistle.