Yes, I finally update a bit more. I'm actually suffering from a bit of writer's block, but I'm also way down in chapter thirteen, so perhaps I'm not so bad off as I think. (If only I could find the right spot for Cruss and the Fae Court...) Also my new job has seriously cut into my writing time, so I trust you can all bear with me. To FuryS and Tremere (and others who share their views on certain subjects) I apologize in advance for the ending of this chapter. I vow to make the next posting a little more prompt.
Jinroh; Sorry I took so long responding. The answer to your question about the ronin is yes, I do plan to reveal more...but I'll do it later. (look for Ch. 12) Eventually he will tell his story, and you will hear exactly what he believes happened to him in The Pit. Till then, be patient, and don't think even this story will be all the truth of his tragic past (sob).
Fall of the Heroes: A Tale of Detroit
Chapter 8: Lightning Strikes Shatter the Earth
"Statement: The files have been decoded. Query: What do you wish to know of them?"
"All." Syntax's calm face actually broke into a small smile. Screens flashed and pulsed around her as her hands flew across some keyboards. The sharp clacking of keys filling the room with more then just the quiet hum of computers. Files and pages of writing scrolled by as Syntax eyed them carefully.
'Leona' Throatripper sat upon a metal table nearby. Her ears were pressed against her head, her tail held out stiffly behind her. She still hated this place. The strange flashing lights and hissing machines only filled her with unease. The stranger stood next to her, Leona had to admit his presence was calming. Whatever Lord Argent had said about the man's evil and untrustworthiness, he still seemed a pillar of strength and confidence. His dark eyes carefully watched Syntax, perhaps he too didn't trust the Glass Walker. Leona softly growled in pleasure at that thought.
Lord Argent was sitting quietly on a nearby chair. His gaze alternating between the stranger and Syntax. His face seemed paler then usual, and he appeared rather uncomfortable with the whole arrangement. Leona herself was unsure what to make of him, Argent's actions had been strangely erratic ever since the stranger had appeared. Perhaps it was his unease at having such an untrustworthy companion nearby. Or perhaps it was something else? Leona felt a slight throb in her head as she again started thinking of the plots and hidden truths of the humans. She snorted in annoyance and stopped considering the possibilities.
Snapback remained in crinos, apparently expecting trouble at any moment. He still stood in the far back corner, his eyes narrowed as he eyed the assembly. Leona sighed, knowing how hard it was for the metis to interact with other Garou under even the best circumstances. Now, with this motley assortment... Leona hopped off the table and slowly padded over to him. She whined slightly and wagged her tail. Snapback glanced down at her, he growled quietly under his breath in wolfspeak.
"What is it Throatripper?"
"You seem troubled by new pack," said Leona with a nod of her head to the others. "You should show calm, they will help find good pack."
"I have had many packs," snorted Snapback. "Their loss is almost expected by now." Leona knew that was all too true. Snapback had lost his last three packs in terrible battles with the Black Spirals. Some of the other Garou thought he was cursed, dooming any pack he traveled with to death. But Leona had convinced her pack to take him in, arguing that perhaps Snapback was simply very lucky. After all, he survived. She sometimes worried that the moody metis had started to believe it was his fault that his packs died. It was not a good mindset for a pack member.
"Good pack better then new pack though. Good that pack be together. Get good pack together and go rip up Wyrm-stink. Yes? You will join us again in hunt, yes?" Snapback snorted but nodded his head in agreement. Leona paused then, and batted her nose towards the leather pouch he wore belted around his waist. "What inside small hole," she growled out, "back at fight you try to get into it. Why stop fight?"
"Oh, that?" Snapback's hand fell to rest upon the pouch, covering it mostly from view as he patted it. "Talismans, I have a few. Hoped to use one on Wyrm-stink. Kill him dead." Leona growled in understanding and nodded. That thought hadn't occurred to her, she wasn't good at thinking secretively. If she wanted something dead she just tended to go for the throat...it usually seemed to settle the problem. Leona twisted her head around to eye the shapes of Argent and the stranger. If only that mystery had a throat... There was a sudden sharp chirping, Leona's body snapped to full alert tenseness as she snarled. The Glass Walker simply reached over and picked up the small black talk-box that humans used to speak across far distances.
"Jo? I almost didn't expect you to make it out of there. No, not you specifically, you as a group. How sustains your health?"
"Are they okay," said the stranger as he stepped forward anxiously. Syntax held up her hand to silence him as she listened into the talk-box.
"Both Dominic and Charlie were damaged pretty seriously," she said after a while. "But somehow Jo got through with not even a scratch."
"Not a big surprise somehow," muttered the stranger as he seemed to relax. Syntax's face suddenly went from mildly pleased to dead stillness.
"Hello Dominic," she said coldly. "Yes, I procured the files, I have decrypted them and am putting them through examination now...Yes I have found information about the dumping. It is not random waste of a regular production. They are producing the chemical for the explicit purpose of dumping it." Leona growled in anger at the thought. There was just no justification for what those humans were doing to Gaia. Syntax tapped away at her keyboard as files flashed up. "Yes, all of their production is centered in Factory Thirteen of their complex in South Detroit. They look as if they are dumping the stuff exclusively within certain spots, for example, the lake." Syntax suddenly frowned. "Are you sure that is a logical idea? One would surmise you are weak after the business at the Towers."
"What madness is he discussing now," asked the stranger darkly.
"Here, let me speak to him." Argent rose from his seat and held out his hand for the phone. The stranger sneered at him. Syntax though handed over the phone, apparently glad to evade having to speak to Dominic any longer. "Dominic, this is Moros. I think that in light of...yes, I did. I...I thought that maybe...no! Never was that my intention...I have the other two in the pack and you'll never guess who else...Ah, so you knew...ah...yes, of course." Argent lowered the phone, his features seeming even more worn then usual, he held out the phone to the stranger. "He wishes to talk with you."
"Yes?" The urrah's voice was wary and guarded. But at least it no longer dripped with his weak willed whines of despair. Dominic sat on the grime coated floor of the parking garage of a hospital. Jo had found a spot for them on the dark, lowest level. It was hidden from easy view by a large series of unused ambulances in need of repair. Dominic and Charlie sat quietly, each trying to let their natural healing powers patch up their wounds.
"Hear me out urrah. I don't trust you, and you despise me, but we have fallen into the middle of something that is very big. And we shall need to work together if we are to learn of it and survive through it. We need each other." Charlie grinned as he heard the words, a silly smile spreading across his face. Jo didn't look up, but Dominic could well imagine her own smile. He frowned in annoyance.
"Agreed."
"Allied is up to something. They possess fomori, and are quite possibly an arm of Petex." Nearby Charlie looked up curiously at the word. Jo simply nodded her head in agreement. "Also, they're working with the Dancers, the two groups have joined together for something. Whatever this something is it involves the creation of a unique chemical for dumping at specific sites. What does this tell you?"
"That the chemical and the sites each are part of the same puzzle," said the ronin quickly. Dominic grinned, at least his mind was apparently still as sharp as it had once been. Perhaps this working together had not been such a bad idea after all. "You want to investigate, don't you? Are you well enough to do it."
"We will be soon," growled Dominic. "But we will need rest, and there is only so much time in the day. We are close to the factory, we can search it and see what we can learn of the chemical. But you are conveniently close to the lake. Return there, and learn why they choose to dump into it."
"I will see what can be done."
"One last thing," said Dominic quickly. "Why do you think Moros is there?"
"Age...the final closing comes. There need be good songs." The ronin's voice dripped with contempt for the words. Dominic nodded in agreement. Moros wanted one last act of heroism to be remembered by. The old fool filled Dominic with scorn.
"You may of course use him as you see fit. But I would remind you-"
"I need no reminders," snapped the ronin suddenly. "I saw and knew just as much as you. And I know what did and did not happen perhaps even better."
"You still sing the same songs for the same wrongs," sneered Dominic. "You should learn a new tune. However I feel towards Moros is nothing to the contempt I feel for the dual treacheries you committed."
"I accept the guilt of the one, yet stand by the second. It was the right choice, if you had seen his eyes you would know this to be true." Dominic snorted in annoyance.
"Ah yes, I remember. Two black pools which seemed to contain no depth, yet held within them galaxies...your poetry supports you as well now as it did then, urrah!" The ronin's voice dropped to a chill whisper that was barely audible.
"Dominic 'Rends-the-Darkness'. You are so good at splitting it apart and shattering it to the four winds as you blaze through life. But did you ever stop to look behind at exactly what you left in your wake? Do you leave a trail of light...or only your own dark shadow?" The phone suddenly went dead. Dominic snarled in anger as he tossed the small piece of plastic aside.
"Hey man, chill out, you're way too tense." Jo skipped over and picked up the fallen phone. She dusted it off on the sleeve of her jacket as she looked back at him with a smile. "So did you guys start bonding? Did I detect a trace of camaraderie there?"
"Feel lucky that I am wounded and in need rest Josephine. Else I might very well be ripping your throat out." Dominic pulled his coat in around him as he leaned back against the wall. "We need rest in order to heal up. You may have first watch."
"You'll be lucky if I don't send up signal flares to the mutated freaks. At least they might be less of a jerk then you," muttered Jo as she stomped over to sit within view of the entrance to this level of the parking garage. Charlie slumped down, his eyes almost closing immediately. Then he shifted uneasily and peeked one eye open to look at Dominic.
"Is this how it is?"
"Is this how what is," muttered Dominic, his eyes already closed as he rested his chin on his chest.
"Quests," said Charlie quietly. "The songs always make them out to be so much more..."
"Heroic?"
"Well...yeah." Dominic slowly opened his eyes and peered at Charlie from under his dark eyebrows. His hand slipped into his coat and pulled out Bonespur. He set the blade out on the ground in front of him and nodded at it.
"That is a klaive, a weapon that is crafted to slay Garou. Last night I used it to slay many Dancers, they will never again harm a living soul. Is this a good weapon, is it heroic?"
"Yes, of course." Charlie eyed the finely crafted blade with a vague sense of awe. Dominic could tell he had overcome much of his natural fear for the weapon. After fear came curiosity...but idle curiosity was not the emotion for a klaive.
"Would you like to know what I did with that klaive three years ago?"
"Three years?" Charlie's face grew pensive. He mumbled under his breath as he repeated old poems and stories of heroic deeds done by Dominic. His eyes narrowed as he concentrated. Finally he shrugged. "Was it the battle against the Glass Demon?"
"No Charlie 'Black Muzzle' Galliard of the Get of Fenris. Servant of Bull, protector of the Raging Falls and nephew of Marn the One Eyed." The pup's face grew grim as the words of his title reminded him of a whispered lesson in an alley. Dominic nodded down to the knife. "You were curious why I knew Syntax, weren't you?" Charlie nodded nervously. "Three years ago she and her tribe proposed to make that 'jungle' of hers. The council voted that it was an abomination and not to be."
"But they started building it anyway," whispered Charlie softly. He turned to lock eyes with Dominic's quiet stare. His eyes grew suddenly worried. "What happened then."
"Marn decreed them traitors, Garou who had succumbed to The Weaver and no longer served Gaia. Many became fearful as they watched them bind many spirits into their creation. They were making it almost into a caern...a caern to technology. Such a thing had never been...should have never been." The silver light of the klaive glinted in Dominic's dark gaze. The rune of duty glinting on his shadowed face. Charlie trembled, but found he could not turn away. "Fear swept through the tribes, fear at what this could mean. It was decided that they were as dangerous to Gaia as any Dancer could ever be. It was decided they had broken with the Litany and turned against us."
"You are Philodox, judge of the ways...keeper of the Litany..."
"Executioner for those who break its laws," finished Dominic slowly. Charlie spun away then, unable to stand that dark gaze any longer. Dominic spoke softly, his voice a whisper in the darkness. "Is that a good weapon, is it heroic? Know this Charlie 'Black Muzzle' Galliard of the Get of Fenris. Nothing...nothing that you hear in those tales and songs of yours. Nothing speaks of what a hero truly is."
"And what is a hero," gasped Charlie in terror. Almost looking as though he would prefer the question to go unanswered, yet knowing he had to hear the words.
"A hero is a dream." Charlie's face grew pensive. "All that exists are those who do what must be done, when it must be done. Everyone else is just a coward who needs it done for them because they do not wish to face the truth of themselves." Dominic's head sank back into the shadows as he pulled his black coat around himself. "Rest now pup, you shall need your strength soon. We must go be heroes after all."
Soon Dominic was asleep. But Charlie sat there quietly. His eyes locked on the silvered gleam of the klaive until sleep finally, and blissfully, came to him too.
"You are going out with the pups?"
The ronin glanced up as Argent slowly approached. The elder Silver Fang's face looked worried and uneasy. The ronin glanced over his shoulder to where Syntax was tending to Leona's and Snapback's wounds. He glanced back to Argent, and noticed the slightly eager gleam in his eye.
"I suppose you wish to go too?"
"I should think I should lead the expedition," said Argent stiffly. He nervously licked his lips, his eyes darting across the dark warehouse to the others. "After all you have certain...complications that would make you unsuitable..."
"Do I?" The ronin leaned in close to Argent, his voice a harsh whisper. "You should know more then anyone I am not as deserving of the blame as other believe. You alone should realize that perhaps I have shouldered more then simply my own burdens."
"No, no you have not." Argent's voice was shaky and uneasy, his face trembled as he shook it negatively. "You were wrong, you were wrong to do what you did. He was skilled enough, it didn't make a difference." The last was spoken in an almost plaintive whine. The ronin leaned back, his face expressionless. He should have known it would be like this.
"Why are you here Moros?"
"Dominic, I was worried-"
"Why?"
"There is a strangeness-"
"Why?" Argent made to answer, and then fell silent. His eyes fell away from the ronin as he looked to the ground. The ronin ticked his jaw upward slightly and then turned away. However, something made him stop and glance over his shoulder. "I am sorry, I am not one to judge..." Argent glanced up with a small, sad smile.
"No old friend, perhaps you are the perfect one to judge." He turned to look at Syntax and sighed. "Perhaps it is not more glory I should seek. Perhaps I should learn to accept for myself what I have too long let others carry." Argent turned back to the ronin. "I am only one voice, but I want you to hear it. Your choice was a difficult one. But I think you chose the best course. And I think it was my fault you had to decide." The ronin nodded and turned sharply away. He motioned for Leona and Snapback to follow as he headed for the door. No one noticed the slight swelling of tears in his eyes.
Endelon watched as three of them exited the warehouse. The skilled one and the two pups. His eyes burned painfully in the bright gleam of the newly risen sun. But he would not allow that to deny him this hunt. Argent was still within. All that stood in the way of the prize was whoever else dwelled inside the large warehouse. Endelon's dark blue eyes scanned over it critically, assessing it for his planned assault.
"It could be dangerous, even for one as skilled as you." The soft voice came from behind him, and no one ever sneaked up on him! Endelon spun in a blur of dark robes, leaping to his feet and drawing forth his klaives in a blinding flash of motion. He found himself facing a young woman.
She was beautiful. She wore a bloodstained and tattered sky blue dress, belted tightly around her slim waist by a thin sash. Her eyes were bewitching pools of hazel green, dozens of colors and shapes seemed to dance within their depths. Her hair was a majesty to behold. It was such a pale blonde as to appear as a mane of white silk that hung in rich waves down her back to her waist. She was dainty of build, yet with a suggestion of strength in every inch of her. She smiled at him, her teeth glinting brightly.
"Who are you wench," he hissed around his mouthful of fangs. "And is there a reason I shouldn't slice the heart from your body for my breakfast?"
"You may always try, master assassin." She said the last almost in a mocking tone, yet her face and eyes failed to hint at any amusement. Endelon grinned, his own dark eyes going murderously cold. He sprang forward his klaives snapping through the air as they lashed in from two sides. She leapt upwards and rolled in midair, leaping over him to narrowly evade the attack. As she did there was a sudden flash as she extended to her crinos form, in the same instant kicking out her leg to catch his left cheek. The claws of her foot tore it open as she quickly resumed her homid form and landed lightly behind him. Endelon spun around, his eyes narrowing.
"Who are you? You fight as he does."
"I am an old friend come to repay some old debts," she said lightly. "I would aid you Endelon, if you would have me." He watched her carefully, a stiff morning breeze catching at her torn dress and tossing her long white hair around her. Never before had he been evaded so effectively twice in one hunt. He ran his hand along the gash she had opened. Then felt the other cheek along the healing holes the Garou warrior had inflicted in the alley. He looked at her again, she daintily lifted her foot to inspect the stain of his blood on her toes. He bowed slightly.
"If you wish to join the hunt so be it. We shall see if you can prove your worth to me." He smiled at her, but his eyes remained dark and cold. She smiled back, her eyes glinting as darkly as his own.
The snow crunched under Leona's paws as she walked into the park. Her hackles were raised in angered indignity, she felt like ripping apart something.
"You should relax," said the stranger, "you're starting to look a bit too feral."
"Yeah," agreed Snapback with a chuckle. "Down girl, heel." Only the stranger's strong grip on the leash saved Snapback from having his leg torn open. Leona's fangs snapped the air as she pulled against the choking cord wrapped around her neck. Snapback laughed at her as she twisted her head about in frustration. The stranger pulled her back and knelt down by her.
"Relax," he said quietly. The soft tones seeming to carry as much authority as a battle cry. "You ruined your clothes, and you didn't want to wear clothes Syntax created with Weaver magic. There was no way you could walk around naked. So it was either this, or not coming. Is the leash worse then the computer room?" Leona grew sullenly quiet, she forced her hackles to lower, and twitched her tail slightly. The stranger nodded at her as he stood again. Leona felt Snapback's chuckle more then heard it. She tilted her head at an indignant angle as she allowed the leash to guide her forward.
"How are we going to check anything with all these people here," said Snapback with a grumble. There were indeed a score of families scattered about the park and lake. Leona felt the warm heat of the sun beating down on her as a slight chill wind rustled through her fur. She watched the small people scamper and play in the snow. Older people sat and watched, or laid out meals. The lake itself was quiet and innocent looking. Only a series of cracks even suggesting that the ice had been broken.
"We'll wait," said the stranger as he walked up to the river and slowly circled it. "They'll clear out eventually, and then we can act." The stranger stopped and just looked out over the frozen water. Beyond it the evergreens swayed in the breeze. "Why would anyone ever seek to despoil this place?"
"You speak as though they need a reason," grumbled Snapback as he sat down on a nearby bench. "If there is one thing I've learned, it is that humans are truly senseless creatures." The stranger said nothing, he simply continued to watch the snow fall, an odd look on his face as he watched the snowflakes tumble down around him. Leona watched him curiously, wondering why anyone could become so saddened by the fall of snowflakes. Then she twisted alertly at the sound of running footsteps.
"Hey mister! Hey mister, is that your dog?" Leona looked at the two young girls. Each bundled up in thick red coats. The stranger turned to them slowly with a odd smile.
"I would say she's her own dog, for can you ever own another living creature?" The two girls paused at this thought, their faces scrunching up in momentary thought. But then the younger one seemed to overcome the philosophy with the simple argument of there still being a dog in front of her.
"Can we pet her?" Leona's ears dropped against her head at the indignity of it all. The leash was insult enough. She glared up at the stranger, daggers in her eyes. From behind her she heard Snapback chuckle again. The stranger looked down at her, no trace of insulting laughter in his eyes.
"Well? Can they pet you?" Leona glared from the stranger back to the two soft, pink humans. Their eager eyes watched her carefully. The stranger just stood with a quiet expression on his face. Leona growled slightly and nodded her head. "She seems okay with it, just be gentle," he told the girls. They giggled as they rushed forward, their gloved hands brushing over her tawny fur and scratching at her neck.
"Pretty doggy, aren't you a pretty doggy," crooned one of the girls. Leona had to admit that once she got past the instinctual urge to gut the humans and rip out their hearts, that this was an enjoyable experience. She yipped slightly as she pushed against one of the girls, the humans giggling as she did so.
"The entire mainframe system crashed. The security room shorted out. The phone system wires fried. Hundreds of sensitive files missing. Security, a customized creation, killed. Twenty-four enhanced guards dead. Nineteen security armor suits destroyed. The walkway blasted apart. One elevator damaged. One elevator cable cut. Multiple elevator doors ruined. Dozens of exterior windows shattered. Countless office walls, ceilings, desks and computers torn apart. Hundreds of rounds of silver ammunition spent. One limousine crushed. Entire North Tower shut down for the work day. Compromising questions from mortal law enforcement..."
Robert Sands sat in his office and listened as Mr. Kay listed off the costs of the Garou attack. His fingers massaged at his throbbing temples as he listened and thought. This would be so costly as to crush the revenue for the entire year! His superiors back at Pentex would doubtless frown at such a grave mistake. Robert Sands had lived for long enough in the boardrooms of that shadowy corporation to know that failure never had an excuse. He'd gotten as high as he had in the organization because he'd never made a mistake. Now, to have it all crushed in the matter of one night. It was too much to bear.
He lifted his hand slightly, Mr. Kay quickly fell silent. What Robert needed now was a victory of such levels that it couldn't help but blot out this gross error. But what would he need to do to equal and surpass the damage done last night? Then it came to him. The plan was quick coming to fruition. But yet they all hunted and wished to destroy Dominic Winford. Would not great glory be his if he could accomplish what even the Black Spiral Dancers had failed to do? He picked up the note the master had given him and slipped it into his pocket.
"Tell me Mr. Kay, exactly what files did they gain access to. What do they know? What might they plan with this knowledge?" His stern aide flipped through some of the papers in his hands. He straightened his gold rimmed glasses as he scanned through them. Robert waited patiently, knowing that Mr. Kay would find what he needed. His personal aide and bodyguard also wasn't in the habit of making mistakes.
"Of most note," said Mr. Kay's deep voice, "is that they gained access to over half the files on Project Infusion. Primarily all information about the sites and production of Chemical G."
"Ah, I bet that sort of thing pissed them off," smirked Robert as he leaned back in his chair. "I bet they don't like it one bit. Now, if I was going to shut down the operation I'd strike at the source, wouldn't you." Mr. Kay nodded, Robert grinned. "Good. Get together a full squad. Battle forms, Assassin forms, even some Sweepers. Equip as you see necessary. I want you to be there to entrap and destroy any Garou who appear."
"Sir, if you are so sure of an attack wouldn't this be the optimal time to contact the Black Spiral Dancers? They would have a even better chance of dealing with any assault as they are better equipped and with more experience in battling Garou."
"I know that Mr. Kay," snarled Robert. Mr. Kay quickly nodded again and backed out of the room. Robert watched the door close and sighed. He had nothing left to lose. He had no boundary he now wouldn't cross. If he didn't destroy Dominic and his allies then there was no tomorrow for Robert Sands. And given a choice between his own life and theirs...Robert didn't even need to pause and consider the options.
"You mean to tell me you were beaten by fucking faeries?" Treeshaker and Rockcrusher both nodded at the same time. Pugdog chortled at the thought, his stubby snout splitting open as he laughed. Stinkface snarled as he stood up.
"You were not there, you know nothing of what we went through!"
"Yes," hissed Rockcrusher, "the faerie is a tricky-"
"-bitch who always seems to have a way out," finished Treeshaker. The two fraternal twins sat next to each other in the dark sewer room the pack was using as a lair. Both in the homid, the only way to tell a difference between the two dirty, dark haired figures was by looking for Treeshaker's small breasts. Tick and Quiggis sat across from them. The two newer members of the pack were also in their homid, though they wore ratty coats and torn jeans. Tick remained silent, except for the occasional random giggle. Quiggis was tugging at his jagged black beard.
"But the second time you should have had her. Didn't you surprise her?" Treeshaker and Rockcrusher both nodded at the same time. Pugdog laughed again, his fangs glinting in the dim light of the chamber.
"You mock our battle Pugdog," snarled Stinkface. "Yet it is not us who lost half our pack to a lone Garou. It is not us who were disbanded as a pack for weakness." Pugdog surged to his feet, Stinkface snarled eagerly as he eyed the older warrior. Pugdog's yellowed eyes narrowed.
"Careful pup, you begin to test my nerves," he growled. His voice dark and rough due to an old throat wound suffered years ago in battle. Stinkface forced himself to meet Pugdog's eyes. Refusing to show fear to his challenger. Stinkface knew he should have realized Pugdog wouldn't follow willingly. It was hard to give up being alpha of a pack, especially to a younger and less experienced wolf. But Stinkface was unwilling to just give up control of his own pack simply to soothe Pugdog's pride. "You seek to test me little one," sneered Pugdog, "you think you deserve to be alpha?"
"Enough talk! Challenge for-"
"-control of the pack! Fight to-"
"-death or submission!" Treeshaker and Rockcrusher chuckled as they hissed out the words. Their eyes agleam and eager for blood. Quiggis grunted as he glanced up at his old leader and nodded to the young pup. The two old warriors snarling in mutual agreement. Tick simply twitched and giggled again, but seemed to be acceptable to the idea.
"Very well pup, the pack is mine!" Pugdog stormed forward openly, showing little respect for Stinkface as a passable danger. Stinkface snarled as he charged forward, his claws lashing out in powerful, wide swings. Pugdog raised his arm and accepted a blow along it, however his other hand hissed out and raked his claws across Stinkface's face. Stinkface quickly staggered back, blood dripping into his eyes. His hands wiped at it as he heard Pugdog advance. Reacting instinctively, Stinkface swept out his leg, his clawed foot kicking out blindly. There was a hiss of pain as Stinkface's claws tore open Pugdog's thigh.
"Ooooh, that there-"
"-has gotta hurt," snarled Treeshaker and Rockcrusher in glee.
"You are getting old," snarled Stinkface as he brushed the last of the blood from his eyes. He snarled as he started to advance for the retreating warrior. "I shall rule the pack, both packs!"
"Young fool, you think me beaten so easily?" So saying Pugdog sprang forward, his claws hissing out in a double downward strike. Stinkface barely twisted his head out of the way of the deadly leap. But his shoulder was still hit, flesh torn apart from the brutal blow. His body tossed to the ground.
"Get 'im Pugdog," snarled Quiggis loudly. Stinkface also suspected he heard Tick giggle a bit more happily then usual.
"You are mine!" As Stinkface tried to push himself to his feet a massive weight slam down atop him. Pugdog grabbed Stinkface's right arm and twisted it up behind him painfully. Stinkface knew that if he struggled too much Pugdog would easily snap the limb. "Yield to me, I am master of the pack."
"I lead pack," growled back Stinkface angrily. He suddenly felt Pugdog force himself between his legs. Felt Pugdog's penis press up against his bottom. The older wolf's intentions clear. Claiming of Stinkface would mean forced submission. Obviously Pugdog wished the younger wolf to learn his place. Stinkface's eyes flashed dangerously, he would not yield his pack!
Stinkface pressed his left arm against the hard pavement. He felt Pugdog start to force his member into his rectum. Stinkface bared his fangs as he suddenly pushed up with all his might, twisting his head about and arcing his back. There was a sharp snap and an explosion of pain in his arm as it shattered and splintered from the force of his move. But Stinkface allowed his anger to mask the pain as he twisted his head back and clamped his jaws down. Pugdog gasped in surprise as Stinkface's teeth dug slightly into his neck.
They froze there. Pugdog almost sodomizing Stinkface. Stinkface with a death grip on Pugdog's throat. The other members of the pack drew silent. Then Pugdog shifted his hips back as he shuffled off Stinkface. Stinkface twisted about and rose slowly, his jaws still digging into the oily fur of Pugdog's neck. Stinkface's yellow eyes gleamed dangerously as he glared at Pugdog. The older wolf looked back darkly, his face twisted in anger. However slowly his ears dropped back to his head. His eyes slowly twisted away to look at the floor. Stinkface quickly released his hold, then smashed Pugdog across the face.
"Who leads the pack?" Stinkface stood snarling over Pugdog. His arm hanging limply at his side, blood leaking from the shoulder wound. Pugdog slowly backed off, keeping his eyes averted as he crawled off to a dark corner.
"Stinkface...Stinkface rules pack," he said loudly. Quiggis growled slightly in disbelief. He stood up, his eyes dark and angry. Before he could even take a move towards Stinkface though both Treeshaker and Rockcrusher leapt into his path. The two small figures hissed loudly, their teeth glinting sharply in the darkness. Quiggis growled slightly, but quickly retreated from the dark pair. Treeshaker turned around, her fanged mouth smiling widely as she pressed herself against him. She rubbed her body up and down as she licked at the blood dripping from his shoulder. Rockcrusher also pressed himself forward. Even Tick rose and rubbed along Stinkface's leg.
"Whippooooorwiiiiill!!!" Stinkface tilted his head back as he howled the war cry in victory. The warbling cry echoed through the pipes, carrying to all the other packs. They would all know who ruled this pack now. "Whip-whip-whip-pooooor-will!!!"
Syntax worked at the most encrypted of the files. It had been the most protected. It had been the most hidden. She knew it was the keystone to the whole dumping operation. Whatever Allied had been up to involved this file and the secrets contained therein. If only she could figure out what it meant. But the encryption process seemed to be unbreakable. It was just too random and bizarre. It didn't make any sense how it was supposed to be translated.
She had just exhausted another numerical code, even after trying it in almost every known language. Blue Storm floated silently nearby, his own senses also bent to the task of piercing the secret of the file. Near the back of the room Lord Argent sat quietly, his face downcast due to being told by the ronin to wait here. Syntax was unsure why the ronin had seemed so resolute on not having anything to do with Argent. Though it was perhaps only because she didn't care to have the Silver Fang hanging around her.
Syntax was forced to admit to herself that it was for several reasons. First, she didn't much care for any company. This past night had seen more visitors to her lair then she had had in the previous year. Second, he had been one of the council members to call for the deaths of her pack and their plans. Syntax could remember him sitting in the council chamber and clucking his tongue as he shook his head. He had appeared a gentle old man...yet had apparently been as bloodthirsty as the rest of them. But mostly she was bothered because he refused to stay silent.
"You're a Theurge then, eh? But you don't use the proper rituals. You do it all through those computers and whatnot."
"The power of the spirits is still within. It is just a good method as painting pictures on the ground and chanting off nonsense words to the night sky." Argent frowned at her icy reply.
"I seem to recall you coming to council once to present the idea for this blasted electronic mess you've created." Syntax didn't look up at him, instead she began working on another code as she replied.
"It is a shrine to the glory of Gaia present in electronics. It is no more inherently evil then a knife or club." Argent snorted slightly. Syntax frowned as she slowly turned to look at him. She brushed her shaggy, dark hair away from her face as she locked gazes with him. She spoke calmly, but her eyes glinted angrily. "But yes, I was at the council. I heard what you thought of us. I was there when you sent in Dominic to butcher us as though we were the spawn of the Wyrm itself. The blood of my packmates stains your hands Silver Fang. Look closely at yourself before you ever dare to judge what we have done."
"There are many regrets in my life young lady," said Argent quietly. "Do you think I went to bed pleased with what we had done to you? Do you think I celebrate that night? Do you think I was happy with your deaths?"
"You ordered them," snapped Syntax sharply. "If you didn't support it then you should not have voted for our murder."
"There is a difference between what you wish done, and what must be done. Perhaps you should also ask yourself what you did. You were told not to build it, couldn't you have guessed the results of breaking the laws of the council. You knew what we would do."
"We...I thought. If you could only have seen it when finished." Syntax's words stumbled slightly as she recalled again the horrors of that night. The Night of Kinslaying as it had been dubbed by the Galliards. "We thought you would understand," she finally finished. Argent shook his head sadly. Syntax almost got the feeling his grief was genuine. But she ignored it, not caring exactly how a murderer felt. "It is a stain of dishonor upon all the council members. Dominic, the murderer, may have been the one to actually dirty his hands, but you are all equally to blame."
"I am sorry for your loss. But you perhaps judge too quickly things you know not about. Whatever I may think of Dominic I know that he is a good man. He only desires the best for the tribes and for Gaia."
"Even if we don't follow the path of Gaia you do, doesn't make our devotion to her cause any less strong." Syntax turned around to regard her screens again as Blue Storm once more failed to decode the files. "Whatever our path, it doesn't justify him killing us."
"Perhaps not, but if you hate him so why aid him?"
"I do not help him! I help my friend, Jo. She asked for my help, not him." Syntax glanced back at Argent. "I doubt Dominic even has friends. Even you and the ronin cannot stand him. All he has are foolish pups that remember his old deeds and still believe him great." Syntax surprised herself by the trace of anger in her voice, she was not one to usually show her feelings. "If he were to fall to the claws of the Wyrm I would shed no tears for him. I would howl no cries of mourning. I would laugh, and spit on his grave."
"Such anger doesn't belong in one so young. Especially when that anger is perhaps directed poorly." Argent sighed as he stood up and walked over to her. Syntax stiffened as she felt his hand gently rest on her shoulder. "I am old, I have little pride left. I think perhaps it is time I was honest with myself and others. I would tell you the true story of what happened to your pack. Would you like to learn of it?"
"No," said Syntax as she turned away from him. "I wish to open this file and learn what Allied has hidden within it." Argent's hand slowly withdrew. He spoke again, and it was with a sigh of regret.
"I'm afraid I can't help you with your technology."
"You may help by being silent and letting me work," snarled Syntax. She quickly started typing again, uneasy with the emotions and feelings Argent had dragged to the surface of her. All she needed to know was he had been one who had ordered her pack's deaths. And Dominic had carried the order out. Their words were nothing to her. She typed quickly, working hard at the damnably difficult code. Then came Argent's quiet mutter.
"That looks like runic symbols of the Dark Litany. The writing patterns of the Black Spiral Dancers." Syntax glanced up at his words.
"What do you mean?"
"Look here." Argent shuffled forward and brushed his hand along the screen. His finger tracing at small wild patterns hidden within the garbled code. Syntax's eyes narrowed slightly. Of course, the code couldn't be translated because the message was hidden within the symbols of the coding itself. She frowned as she looked over at Argent. But despite her own feelings Syntax knew what she was, and was not capable of.
"I know not the runes. Yet you seem to have studied them. Would you be willing to help me search out and translate the symbols?"
"I could," said Argent with a small grin, the lines of his face crinkling around his mouth. "But only if you are willing to perhaps deal with a few chants and painted symbols."
"I could manage," said Syntax coldly, "if you can cope with me electronically sorting it out." Argent grinned wider, and a very small smile traced itself across Syntax's face. They both nodded and went to work. Not for technology. Not for tradition. But for Gaia.
Charlie stepped out onto the street, his eyes squinting in the bright gleam of the afternoon sun. His entire body felt sore and full of aches. Movement had returned to his arm, but it was still stiff. He reached up and brushed at the long scar that ran along his cheek and down his jaw. A lingering reminder of the klaive wound from early last night. It was strange that it had been so recent, it felt like he'd grown more in that one night then many did in years. One night where he had learned lessons and faced dangers that no young Garou should have to face.
He looked again at the city as he buttoned up the brown shirt Jo had found for him. He tucked it into the dark slacks belted about his waist. Humans passed in front of him on the sidewalk. Rushing about on their daily routines. Blissfully ignorant of the evil that had stalked their streets. Unaware how fragile their existence really was. Cars rumbled and honked as they filled the streets to overflowing. Steam sprayed out of vents as the crowded masses moved about. Each desiring to be faceless to the next.
"Well, you look better, literally. I think you should try dressing up more often." Charlie turned to see Jo push her way through the crowd towards him. Two large hot-dogs coated in a heaping of toppings clutched in her thin hands. Jo grinned up at him, her dark eyes dancing, as she offered him a hot-dog. "I brought breakfast, lunch, and dinner, literally." Charlie frowned down at the hot-dogs, but the growling hunger of his stomach made him reconsider just turning them down. With a sigh he grabbed one and began to eat. He had been hungrier then he had thought.
"Thanks," he managed around a mouthful. Jo shrugged.
"So how do you like the clothes?" Jo tugged at the shirt like an overindulgent mother as she straightened it. "See, it helps make your shoulders not look so narrow. The color works with your hair too. Try not to rip these up like you do to all your other clothes, I think you look good."
"Thanks, I kind of like them. But how'd you get them anyway? I didn't think you had much cash on you." The thought trailed off. Charlie turned to frown down at Jo. She looked away as she scuffed her foot on the pavement. "Damnit Jo," he growled, "tell me you didn't."
"Okay, I didn't."
"Are we ready?" Any further complaints were blasted away as Dominic came storming up to them, pulling his dark coat around himself. Charlie nodded in quick agreement. Jo smiled and offered him the second hot-dog. Dominic looked down at it darkly, he sniffed his nose and scowled at the smell. Then he turned and started walking. "Let's get moving then."
"Well, good to see you bright eyed and bushy tailed," muttered Jo as she set off after him. "I'm just glad you didn't wake up grumpy, because then you can be so hard to deal with." Charlie smiled slightly as he fell into step next to her. Jo glanced up at him and shrugged as she offered the hot-dog. Charlie quickly grabbed it and started to scarf it down. They passed through the crowds easily, some subconscious sense warning the humans out of Dominic's path. "Well, I'm feeling better today, how about you two?"
"What's gotten you so pleased," muttered Dominic as he peered over his shoulder at her. "Did you find a couple bits of roadkill to snack on?" Charlie felt his stomach gurgle slightly at the thought, he dropped the last bit of the hot-dog into a trash can.
"Maybe, maybe not. But what I'm literally happy about is you." Dominic's face grew suspicious as he watched her. Jo reached up and patted him on the back. "I thought about your actions this morning and hell I said, literally I said it mind. Right in the middle of buying those hot-dogs too. Hell, I said, I think it was really swell how you went and included a certain old friend in the operation. Y'know, putting him in charge of going to the lake. Though I didn't actually say all that literally, just the hell part. But still, it's about time you realized how useful he could be. So, feel better for letting a friendship back into your life?"
Charlie nearly choked in worry as Jo blurted out her thoughts. He saw the narrowing of Dominic's eyes, the slight curling of fingers into fists. Jo only smiled, apparently oblivious to the danger. Or perhaps inviting it. Charlie seriously wondered what it was about her that made her always seem to bring up this obviously painful subject. However, Charlie was forced to admit, it strangely enough did seem to be working. Since their initial meeting the ronin and Dominic had started to work together more and more. He watched Jo carefully as they walked, his opinion of her cunning suddenly raised a couple of notches.
Dominic decided not to continue the argument, and instead returned to a brisk walk. They walked through the streets of the city. Dominic confident that their earlier assault would have thrown Allied's forces into confusion. The trip was quiet, though admittedly that was only because Charlie had started to learn how to tune out most of Jo's random chatter. He had learned a great deal about these two heroes during his time with them.
Charlie felt his eyes trace over to Dominic's back. Of course some of it he found he wished he could forget. He recalled again the story of blood and murder Dominic had spoken of. How the Shadow Lord had butchered all the Glass Walkers of the city save for Syntax. Charlie was still unsure of his feelings on the matter. Could Dominic still be considered a hero? Or had he shown himself to be a base villain at heart. Charlie wasn't sure if he cared whether or not the council of elders had called for the deaths. It still hadn't made them right.
Finally they arrived at the factory complex. He looked over the multitude of large buildings. The entire area taking up a whole city block. Some of the factories still appeared to be in operation, belching forth dark streams of smog into the sky. Others were boarded up and dark. Looking like picked over corpses, their bones bleaching in the sun. Wasted remains of the industry.
It only took Dominic a few moments to cow the gate guards into letting them in with no questions asked. They walked through the dark parking lots. Ahead of them was the squat black structure that had been identified as Factory Thirteen. The square shaped four story structure was dark, its windows blocked up by black tarp. They slowly circled around it till they were out of sight of any of the workers in the other factories. The rear doors were chained shut, a padlock locking them together.
"Do we rip it apart," asked Charlie as he began to call on the beast within.
"Hold on there a second werecrow man," said Jo as she shoved past him. "Maybe you should relax and just try to play this quiet. Play it cool...like Jo. Like we should have played it last time." She frowned pointedly up at Dominic, who simply grinned back at her. She sighed as she reached under her sock cap and pulled out a piece of wire. "Now...just watch and observe the magic."
"When does the magic start," asked Charlie ten minutes later. Jo continued to curse and mutter at the lock, twisting about her hairpin in annoyance. Dominic stood keeping a careful watch out for anyone who might see them. "Jo, you can do this, right?"
"I do it all the darn time...just usually on smaller locks. This one keeps bending the hairpin instead of letting me push down the tumbler." Dominic glanced over at Charlie. He motioned with his eyes at Jo. Charlie nodded. He quickly reached down and grabbed Jo, she yelped in protests as he pulled her away from the door. Dominic meanwhile surged up to his crinos form. He grabbed the chain and easily snapped it apart before reverting back to homid. He smirked at Jo.
"There's my magic. Now, let's see what we can learn." Jo crossed her arms and sulked as she and Charlie followed him into the large building. Charlie looked up as soon as they entered, awed at the design of the place. Massive machinery crowded the building and soared up to nearly the ceiling. Dozens of metal catwalks circled and ran around the huge devices. Chains dangled down in clusters, part of an intricate pulley system that held aloft dozens of large metal buckets. Light filtered through the windows high on the walls and the skylight in the center of the roof. Dust motes danced in the bright beams of sunlight. A strange tang wafted about on the air. A scent not from the oil or metal of the machines.
"Do you smell that," asked Charlie. Dominic nodded and motioned towards a large vat from which a thin billowing of steam leaked.
"Why do I suspect that's why we're here." He turned and started up one of the metal stairways. Charlie followed after him. Jo wandered off into the rows of machinery, her eyes darting about inquisitively. Dominic set off on the first level of catwalks. Charlie followed closely, brushing aside dangling chains as they circled along the walkway. They reached the vat, it was half full of a strange greenish liquid that bubbled and popped. The green glow was cast upward to shine upon their faces. "This seems familiar somehow," muttered Dominic. "I think..."
He was cut off as the main doors to the warehouse suddenly swung open with a metallic roar. They spun about as they watched the figures come streaming in. Men clothed in black body armor, their faces hidden behind their helmet's faceplates. Another squad came bursting through the back door. Many of them taking up defensive positions as they raised their guns. Three men walked in. The two on either side were ghastly pale and wore thick black shades. The one in the middle wore a suit of darkest black. His dark form highlighted only by the golden glint of his glasses. He looked up into the dark factory.
"Surrender now Dominic, and we may allow you to live. Otherwise you may consider this as your final resting place!"
