Not my kind of fashion statement (Chapter 3)

(Note 21/01/05: I'm sorry if my chapters seem a bit, lax on occurrences, this is because I like splitting them up quite often, I'm not good at watering down whatever flawed build up an amateur like me comes up with, which is why I'm in doubt as to whether to just upload this or wait until I can make Chapter 4 and upload them together, whatever I did, hope some people are still enjoying this. I didn't have the patience for the long descriptions and build up present in some books, even some extremely well known trilogies which I won't name, because I don't want people to think I'm comparing my newbie scribbling to people's published pride and joy, what I'm saying is, having had little patience for slow build up, I worry I'm repeating things I myself don't like to others, I guess it's a case of preference, anyway, I hope you enjoy, sorry for my bit of personal mumblings.)

If it's one thing I've learnt. Irony loves to listen in. Well… okay, it was more self-inflicted this time, I'll admit. What am I referring to? Shooting my mouth off about appearances meaning little, and, before you know it, I'm meeting Farel, dressed in gothic apparel to blend in at our… recreational visit.

"It suits you."

He started, sniggering at me, Farel was shorter than me and Tessa, but taller than Julie, he was brown haired, green eyed. If I could hand it to him for anything, it was how often he was smirking about something, including me.

"Look who's talking, Farel."

Of course, his position now was a bit…well, diluted, by the fact he'd dressed up quite punk, at least he left out the hair.

"No green Mohawk?"

"I was figuring you'd hold off on the purple dye yourself, so I skipped it."

"I'll leave it black, thanks."

We were meeting out behind our little 'base', where we had a small parking area, we had a van with some equipment in it there, some bicycles, and a couple of motorbikes. Most of the members of our little 'branch' tended to walk, the van and one of the motorbikes simply belonged to the Wolf's Fang, Farel made use of the van quite often, he was heavily involved with information gathering, but on a more field like approach than Julie. The other motorbike was… either Tessa's or Tyson's; the bicycles belonged to Farel and Julie. Me? I walk.

"So how are we getting there Farel? Is the van free today?"

"I was hoping you'd suggest taking the motorbikes, you're the wild one."

"You can get in trouble for your own joyride ideas, Farel. What are we taking?"

"Oh lighten up!" He smirked. "We're supposed to be going for fun, remember? Put on the act, at least."

He slapped me on the back, I just stared at him impatiently.

"Alright, alright. Boring sod." He grinned. "We'll park it a little ways away, I'm not sure a small transit van goes with our little bit of camouflage."

So what's Farel? A racoon, which suits him, I guess. I've probably known Farel for longer than I give credit for, but, arguably, I could say that about everyone I work with, Tessa, even, which would amaze people. Because then they think it's a wonder I still work here! Farel hopped in the driver's seat, I got in next to him, looking through the back, seeing an empty van.

"Where has all the equipment gone?"

"I took it in for repairs yesterday."

"Will it be done soon?"

"It's ready to be loaded, actually." He paused, then looked at me. "Why? You going to line something up?" He smirked.

"That all depends if this goes well."

He started up the van and we set off, I crossed my arms and sat back, looking at myself in the side mirror. No more leather, now I was in a black t-shirt and baggy black trousers. To add to the effect I had a black leather spike choker around my neck, and a similar wristlet on my right wrist, the other still had my watch on it. In red, on the front of my T-shirt, stylized, and practically dripping of sarcasm and humour, read 'Cute at heart.' Bet you couldn't guess who picked this out for me?

"I'm telling you, that outfit suits you."

"Ugh."

"You should show it to Tessa. Or give it to her as a gift."

The image of Tessa yelling at me, with 'Cute at heart', written on her shirt, entered my brain. A lot of people might have laughed, but I think the image actually inspired a bit of fear in me, maybe I was still half asleep.

"…just drive, your disturbing me."

"Sure thing, pal, wouldn't want to put nice images into your head."

Somewhere down the line I think Farel got the impression me and Tessa had something more complex going on between us, that or he just loved getting on my nerves, and Tessa's, when he wasn't liable to be bludgeoned for it. Somehow, the latter seemed more likely, but this is Farel we're talking about, I'm pretty damn sure it's not beyond him to come up with a crazy theory like that. Farel put the radio on, I didn't stop him, I had a fairly hard to describe taste in music, it went all over the place, but me and him were both satisfied with whatever Farel tended to pick, usually rock, anywhere from the 80s to early 90s.

Rap seemed to inspire something along the lines of 'mindless animal fury' in me, personally; needless to say, Farel had got the point the first time he tried any. It wasn't a very long journey, but long enough that I was able to close my eyes and relax awhile before we got there, it did me good, and I was going to need it, I'd bet. Unfortunately, I also had time to think. For a long time I haven't liked my mind wandering, things were so much clearer when you didn't think too hard about things. When you did think hard, well, senseless, impractical questions began to get in, what sort of question? Maybe I'll tell you later. Farel turned off the radio.

"Just about there buddy. I'll bet you dinner you'll end up in a fight."

"Get stuffed, Farel."

"Feel the panther love! Same as always with you. We really need to get you into gambling."

"Farel."

"Yeah?"

"Note my prior statement. Now, memorize it, and replay it to yourself until were on a different subject."

"Right then, how are we going to find out about this woman, Chris? You can't exactly share a scent."

"I'll just have to." I sighed. "Ask."

"Even after the last time?"

"Well what the heck else can I do? She could be anyone from all we know back at the fang. I need some face to face..."

"Save it for now, we better park here and walk."

"…right."

Once we got out, we could hear some of the music and sounds already. I frowned at him. He just smiled, Farel wasn't quite as devoid of sympathy as he seemed, he just wasn't the kind to, say, pat your hand, I might have responded a bit aggressively to such a gesture, anyway. Maybe. He knew I was dreading every time I came here, at least he was here, the worst was being there alone, I nodded, and we set out on the short walk down a few alleyways to arrive there, at what was known to everyone who had their head deep enough into the city to know about it, as the pits.

The air was filled with music; there was no 'welcome! Come in!' no glitzy sign with the p fizzling on and off, just the music, the drone of voices, but that was far from the brunt of the atmosphere that seeps over you. The large cage in the middle, the bars, the low life, the smells, ah, the smells, the alcohol, the smoke, the blood. These were the things that really tell you, 'Welcome'. And what a welcome it was.