"Ah, going to fight the leeches, eh?" said the smirking Bone-Gnawer from behind his newspaper shelter.
"What?" Nate said, genuinely confused.
"Whorl, I heard ye talkin' to that travel-lady. Said ye were takin' a trip to Chicago," came the reply.
Nate sighed, obviously this would take some patience, "And what does that have to do with leeches?"
It was the bum's turn to look surprised, "Where 'ave you been? Everyone who's anyone, and quite ah few who ain't no one in particular, 'ave heard about the war in Chicago."
Nate shrugged, but he couldn't deny that he was indeed interested, it had been quite a while since he had to deal with the undead, "I've been pretty busy lately, haven't had much time to keep up on the news. What's going on?"
The Bone-Gnawer giggled, nudging a paper cup next to him with a shoe that was more duct-tape than footwear. Nate obligingly threw in five dollars. "Whorl, it's them vampires, innit? Ever since that hullabaloo down in Africa, seems all sorts of bloodsuckers have been makin' themselves known. Even a few of 'em here. 'Parently, some bigwig-leech callin' himself 'Prince Lodin' had all o' his cronies killin' off all the garou in Chicago. So now, anyone who can spare the time is headed over there to teach 'em why that's a bad idea."
"Good to know," Nate said as he walked off, "good to know."
Undead in Chicago? The world was indeed a curious place. Nate shivered at the memories. The last time he had dealt with vampires, they had turned his former mentor into one of their own. In the end, he was forced to take her life...or unlife...himself. Not before she took something of her own, Nate thought, looking at his empty right sleeve. Best not to dwell on that. There were other things to think about, much more inviting things. Like Kathryn. Heh, it was a full week now, since that night. Nate found himself keeping track of the days. They had found something that night. It wasn't exactly a wholesome thing, but the temporary, pleasurable, numbing oblivion of it left Nate with a surreal sense of completeness, and at the same time, a longing for more.
The next morning, Nate had woken up alone. She had, again, left. There was a single scrap of paper curled up in his hand, "Go home, both your future and your past await you there."
Home? Nate guessed that meant Wisconsin, again. He was born in Romania, but that was no longer his own. All his known family had died there, one of them by Nate's own hands. Wisconsin, though, that was where he had found the closest thing he had to a family. Pack Sardukar, the time they spent together was brief, but strangely enjoyable compared to what Nate normally dealt with. He found himself wondering more and more how they were doing...if they were still alive, that is. So, after booking a flight back to New York, and finding money in rather short supply, he planned a trip back to Wisconsin that would involve a lot of running.
His musings were interrupted by someone shoving him bodily into an alley. Colliding ungracefully with the brick wall, Nate spun to face his attacker. A silver switchblade pressed into his throat. "Let's take a quick walk," said a black man in a blacker trenchcoat. Behind him stood a rather large, rather feral looking beast of a person whose only purpose appeared to be providing fist-shaped exclamation points to the black man's orders.
Nate complied, calmly looking for a way out of the situation. The duo led him to a congregation of alleys well out of sight of any streets. Once there, the black man kept the dagger to Nate's neck, "You tread on our territory without announcing yourself. You go around askin' questions like you're someone important. You've got some explainin' to do, halfbreed."
"So what do you want?" Nate said, looking down his nose at the man who was half an inch away from slicing his throat off.
"Some answers, boy," the man replied, "What's a halfbreed like you doin' on Glasswalker territory? Why are you snoopin' around here, not even having the decency to announce yourself? And most of all, why does Celia say you've got a bit o' Wyrm-taint hanging off you?"
Nate sniffed. Yeah, he had noticed the taint hanging off him since his night with Kathryn. It had faded over the week, but it wasn't fully gone yet. Apparently 'Celia' wasn't here though, otherwise she would have noticed that this alley was rotten with Wyrm-stench, and it was getting more powerful. They weren't alone here.
"You should have brought Celia along with you," Nate said calmly, "because I doubt you'll take my word on this."
"What the hell are you talkin' about?" said the black man.
"You chose the wrong alley to push me into," said Nate.
A gurgling noise behind them drew both their attentions. The bigger garou, with a look of terminal surprise, feebly groped at the silver blade sticking out of his chest. There was a nasty sucking noise as the Black Spiral who wielded it drew it back out and kicked the dead garou aside. The black man removed the dagger from Nate's throat and quickly lunged at the Spiral Dancer, dagger at the ready. He stopped dead as Nate reached out, grabbed the back of his trenchcoat, and yanked him to the ground, hard. The black man looked up at Nate in disbelief as Nate said, "...and I really don't take well to being threatened, or being called a halfbreed."
Nate turned to walk away, but a shadow detached itself from the wall in front of him and another Black Spiral stepped out, grinning. The black man let out a short scream that was cut off quickly with a gurgle. The Black Spiral standing in front of Nate held a six-foot chain, with spikes on the end. The spikes were silver. He didn't look like he was going to move out of the way. "I don't have any quarrel with you," Nate said, "I'm not like other garou. In fact, this is the second time you guys have saved my life. Let me past and you won't have any trouble from me."
The first Spiral chuckled, "That's all well and good, even if it's an unconvincing attempt to beg for your life. See, the problem is, then you'd become one of those...whaddaya call them, Tony?"
"Loose ends," Tony said.
"Yeah, that's right, loose ends. See, we can't be having those around here," said the first again.
"So, the fact that I stopped him," Nate said, indicating the smaller of the two rapidly cooling corpses, "from killing you means nothing?"
"He thinks you couldn't of handled him yourself, Vince," said Tony.
"Maybe I should show him why that's a bad thought to be having," said Vince.
Nate narrowed his eyes, "If that's what you want," he said, "Just remember, I offered an easier way out of this."
Vince lunged forward. Nate saw the arc of the blade and easily avoided it. Again, Vince lunged, and again, Nate dodged. Nate frantically tried to work out a plan in his head. The alley was too small to shift into Crinos effectively. It was also a depressingly obvious fact that Nate was unarmed. He had to be lucky with every one of his dodges. Vince only had to be lucky with one stab. Again and again the Black Spiral lunged forward. Nate was quicker, that was becoming obvious, but Tony was now moving in to join the battle. Nate wished he had Glitterdust with him. But carrying a scimitar on public streets tended to give a very bad impression, and so it was two miles away in his hotel room.
Vince lunged forward again, this time off-balance. Nate's single hand shot up and caught Vince's wrist, squeezing tight. Nate planted a swift kick to Vince's midsection, knocking him back into the brick wall and winding him. Before Nate could take advantage of this, though, a steel chain whipped around his throat and yanked him backwards. "He's all yours, Vince," Tony growled, holding the chain tightly.
Vince lunged forward again, this time at an immobilized Nate. There was the metallic clashing sound of silver striking silver, and once again, Vince was sent careening into the wall. Nate looked down in surprise. Glitterdust sparkled in his hands. He didn't know how it happened, but Nate put two and two together rather quickly. He had fervently wished for Glitterdust to be there, and it was. Spinning the sword around, he made a motion as if to sheath it. Instead, though, it went smoothly through the gut of Tony. The chains around Nate's neck loosened, and Nate spun around, the silver blade describing a cruel arc through the air. Tony's head tumbled to the ground. Nate turned to face Vince.
A few seconds later, and Vince was thrust against the wall a third time. This time, Glitterdust was embedded in his breast. Nate withdrew the blade, and has Vince fell to his knees in front of him, said distractedly, "I warned you, I don't take well to being threatened."
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Two hours later, and Nate was nearly finished with the preparations in his hotel room. His travels hadn't been a complete loss as far as gaining new knowledge went. If a garou had to get somewhere fast, and transportation-inventions of the Weaver were not available, there was a Rite that could provide much of the same results. Nate closed his chant on a sharp cadance. Suddenly, his mind filled with a vision of the road. Nothing but the road. His legs twitched spasmodically. Giving in to the urge, Nate began to run. He ran down the stairs of the hotel. He ran out into the street. He ran westward. He would continue running, under the effects of the Rite, for almost a week, switching to lupus when practical, until he reached his destination, the city of Chicago.