The evening came quick that day, or at least, it felt like it. A few domestic disputes, a hunter causing trouble, and even two of the six children in the pack getting lost in the city left him borderline exhausted. Six years as Alpha had not made his job any easier, nor more enjoyable. Someone had to do it though, and he was proud to assist his pack and lead them to safety.

Checking his calendar, he saw that the full moon was tomorrow night. He'd planned out how it would go to a T, and it would be another successful month so long as people listened to him. Six years had not been kind to him, as it took about 3 years to garner the full respect of most of the pack. Even then, there were outliers who refused to listen, who refused to take him seriously as an Alpha despite his successes. He just prayed they'd listen tomorrow night. Sending a mass text to the members of his modest pack family, he reminded them of tomorrows date, and that if they wanted to have a drink, best have it tonight, and that he would be down by Sam's Bar and Tavern if they wanted to have a jolly old time. Adjusting his flannel shirt and rolling up the sleeves, he put his wallet in his back pocket and nodded to the younger and non-drinking members of the group who would stay to watch the children. He then left.

---

A long day on the bridge for a fashion shoot was the least of the bartender's problems. Today's problem was that it was the day before the full moon, the supposed busiest day of the month. Why? Who the hell knows. The same men and women show up on this day, all from that apartment complex down the street. She wasn't about to complain though. They tipped well, and they were all nice. She especially liked that Irish guy. She really hoped he hadn't noticed her eyeing him the last few times he'd been there. One day she'd ask him out, but that day wasn't anytime soon.

She fixed her hair, putting it up in a high ponytail, and touched up her makeup. She wanted to look nice, even if she wasn't really up to flirting today or anything. But the prettier she looked, the better she was tipped. It was the sexist world she lived, she supposed. She called her boss, met with the floor manager, and set up the glasses. All was set.

Mira’s red eyes blinked open around noon. She saw sunlight coming through a tiny window and hitting her in the face, making her groan. Running a hand through her messy long brown hair, she smacked her lips and looked at her surroundings through slitted eyes. Ah, in a bathtub. Well, that wasn’t too unusual. She was by herself in this one at least and still had all her clothes on… an off the shoulder shirt and denim shorts. She only had one shoe on, but they were $1 flip flops anyway. Clearing her raspy throat, she wobbled a bit as she stood, seeing another body sprawled out on the floor, drooling while snoring.

”Lazy ass,” she mumbled, stumbling a bit as she got out of the porcelain vessel and her barefoot smacked the tile floor. She muttered something unintelligible, seeing her other shoe behind the toilet. She grabbed it, slipping it on and then making her way out of the bathroom.

Whose house was this again? She couldn’t remember. Actually, she didn’t feel hung over. Still drunk then. Awesome. She sighed and saw a cute brown leather jacket hanging off the couch, a few people getting out of there, some still passed out. She walked up to the couch, grabbing the jacket and slipping it on. Perfect fit. Well, it could have been hers, even though she knew it wasn’t. Not caring though, she left, continuing to run her fingers through her locks to untangle it.

---

Later that evening, after a bit of sobering up and a shower, Mira got dressed to go out again. She slipped into some distressed jeans and a cropped t-shirt, setting a pair of reflective aviators on her head. She almost always lost her shoes so she put on some flip flops again, stuffing money into one side of her bra and her cell in the other side. She put on makeup, covering the circles under her eyes, and dropped some eye drops in her pupils to make her seem completely normal, happy, awake. Such a faker she smirked at herself bitterly before leaving her apartment that looked almost untouched besides a barely filled fridge and a bathroom with towels on the floor.

Mira remembered hearing a name last night, Sam’s or something. Someone had mentioned it anyway. So she walked around until she saw a sign that said Sam’s Bar and Tavern and smirked. Hopefully they mixed a drink as well as she was told. She looked put together but still like she was a party girl as she stepped inside the bar, scratching her scalp and looking around to see who all was within. Not many people yet. Ah. Better to start slow then. She made her way to the bartender and sat down, ordering a mojito. After the amount of shots last night, a low amount of alcohol sounded welcome for now.

Nanix observed the girl walk in and as a partial party girl herself, saw the tired look on the girls face. Was she looking for a party. She'd find a good time here, sure. But the group from the apartment building wasn't really the party type, so far as she had seen. Nanix heard the call for a mojito and made one, her crafty hands mixing the drink like a pro. She handed it over to the patron

"you opening a tab or are you paying by drink?" She asked, wiping down a part of the counter where some early day drunk had spilled his gin.

Stíofán had spent his day at the gym. He would do this a lot of days, especially on the day before the full moon. He thought, maybe if he exhausted himself the day before, he wouldn't have the energy to do too much on the full moon, and wouldn't ending up injuring himself, or anyone else, too badly. He went to the apartment complex, dropped off his stuff, and had a shower.

---

Stíofán arrived at Sam's Bar and Tavern at dusk, and looked for the bartender. He didn't know her name, but he wanted to. Ever since he had settled down in California he had a thing for her. Stíofán could never work up the courage to ask her out. Every time he tried to talk to her, he just ordered another pint of beer. Being Irish, this wasn't a problem, because he could handle a lot of alcohol before getting drunk. He had, on occasion, ordered so many pints of beer that he got drunk, and another member of the pack had to take him home so that he didn't get angry and accidentally transform.
He saw that she was talking to somebody already, so sat at the bar, and waited for her to notice him.

James tapped his foot and glanced at his watch again and gave an exasperated sigh, "Hurry up Kat, this whole thing was your idea to begin with an now you're barricading yourself in the bathroom."

Kat rolled her eyes into the bathroom mirror at James' griping, "Coming boss..." She finished putting on her lip gloss and exited the room after giving herself one last once over. Her died brown and blonde wavy hair was left down and messy, sunglasses pushed back her bangs to show off steel grey eyes like James'. Her skin was slightly tanned, tawny and her nails were painted a light shade of blue. Her outfit consisted of a pair of faded grey blue jeans, a black studded belt, a tight black tanktop, and a denim jacket. She felt it was good enough and when she finally did come out James sighed.

"Thank god..." Her brother was wearing his own pair of dark blue jeans with a brown leather belt, his brown hair had been done via the running the hand through it technique... She envied him that. His tan was darker than hers, closer to bronze, probably due to the fact he spent a lot of time outside whereas Kat was more of a night owl... James was 6'4" and she was 5'4" leaving them a full foot apart. James' shirt was a simple grey tank with a black leather jacket that he wore with a pair of steel toed work boots... mostly because if he wanted to fight he wanted to break bones if he decided to take it out on someone's knees.

"You know, getting to know the pack isn't a bad thing... We did come to them for protection you know."

He half snarled, "Do I look like I need protection?"

She rolled her eyes, "Let's just go..."

~*~

Once at the bar Kat took a seat and ordered a vodka and orange juice and James scoped the place out for pretty girls he'd probably end up dragging home later. She sighed shaking her head, well... at least he'd found some way to cope with his issues... If you could call womanizing coping.

James took a seat at the other end of the bar, feeling the need to prove to Katherine that he didn't need her babysitting him, and ordered a rum and coke... Start the night off light and smash yourself later, that was the best way to do it... at least in his opinion.

Andrew walked down the lonely avenue leading from his pack's apartment complex to their preferred outing for such nights, Sam's Bar and Tavern, his trademark beige jacket flapping in the breezy Northern California wind. The aforementioned street, the only paved one in town, whose mud-caked surface was dimly light by the surrounding street lights, saw little action, mostly due to character of the community in which it laid. With a meager population just above 200 people, Mountain Creek is little more than a quaint little cluster of clapboard cabins, unkempt yards, and weather brick storefronts rising humbly from the immensity of the surrounding forests, seemingly stuck in the 19th century. Somewhat orderly rows of cottonwoods line a grid of streets seldom disturbed by vehicles of any sort. There's one grocery store, a single bank, and a lone gas station, all sandwiched together on the town's short main street. Over 75 miles away from the nearest town with a populace of over a thousand people, it was deemed perfect for the remaining werewolves in California, thanks not only to its seclusion but the isolation of each resident, with most houses over half a mile away from each other.

As Andrew entered the tavern, it was nearly nine, meaning most of the other members of the pack were already there, and it turned out he was right: over a dozen werewolves crowded around the bar, all lazily ordering drinks. Much like the usual crowd, the establishment hadn't changed since Andrew first came to Mountain Creek almost a year ago, its signature thick, beer laden air still clinging to his nostrils every time he entered while the plywood-paneled walls hung with deer antlers, aged Midwestern beer promos, and mawkish paintings of game birds in flight groaned and wailed with every gust of wind. He slid into the nearest booth, away from the quiet commotion of his brethren, and waited for someone to serve him.

Carlson saw that Stiofan had arrived, and nodded to him once he knew that he was in Stiofan's range of vision. He hoped that Stiofan had been paying attention the last few weeks he'd been addressing the pack, talking about recruiting some new members . They were low on omegas and every member counted. Sipping on a light beer (he'd no intention of drinking heavily that night - he talked to some of the girls at the bar, being the pleasant, handsome archery teacher he was known as in this part of town. He watched with his peripherals as other people came from the apartment complex, and sat themselves down for a stiff drink. Drinking the night before a full moon was practically a tradition. He wasn't exactly sure how it came about, but it had been going on since before he joined the pack, and he wasn't about to stop now. smiling plesantly and greeting everyone with his kind hellos and minimal southern drawl, he was a popular man - with the ladies, at least.

Restless... or even more so simply exhausted, Chung-Ho still couldn't find any solace. Even when he was leagues apart from his situation, it still plagued him horribly. It was like the image of his family was nipping at his ankles, seeking his attention with whimpers. A quick breath puffed his fair cheeks before filing out. Dark eyes were peering out the full-wall window when a vibration shook in his back pocket. Pulling his phone out, swiping the code in before reading the text message from his most recent girlfriend. She wanted to meet him at a bar.

He brought up the time on the same phone. I have a class in about fifteen minutes.

Swiftly he typed up a response, planning for them to meet later tonight rather than at the moment. His etiquette classes were important, he was behind on his dinner mannerisms, or more so his toast making and receiving rules. It was all tedious but if he didn't learn than he'd be a fish out of water when it came time for it, no matter what the occasion was.

Just as expected, three knocks resounded from his hotel door. He turned around and grabbed his matching suite jacket for his outfit, which wasn't too far from formal. A dash of style from his home country gave him an unapproachable appearance, and yet, a exotic uniqueness in a crowd. He stepped out from the room, paying no mind to acknowledge the man standing outside his door. As usual they would escort him to his classes and wait for him to be done, only to leave once all of classes were finished.

What a lifeless life I live. Chin-Sun, are you enjoying the riches... or are waiting to spite me with the Moon group's responsibilities? He lowered his eyes in a significant moment of somberness as he walked down the stairs, his full lips closing tightly in surrender. I have no choice, do I? He asked his subconscious, knowing very well that his answer or any answer, would never come.

Seeing the crowd start to shuffle in, Nanix and the other bartender started serving drinks at rapid-fire pace. They had no time to loose as this was the busiest night of the month. Nanix served James his rum and coke, and the other bartender served Kat and Andrew (they had their own sides of the bar to tend to). Nanix then turned her attention to Stiofan, who she had noticed a little bit before, but finally had the time to serve.

"Good evening, mister" She greeted, and simple smile gracing her lips "Your usual, I presume?" She asked, grabbing a glass. "You never order anything else." She joked.

---

Carlson watched as everyone entered, surprised to see Kat and James. They never came to these social gatherings. It was a pleasant surprise, but a surprise nonetheless. He sipped his light beer and excused himself from the little group he was talking with, making his way to Kay.

"I didn't expect to see you and your brother come tonight. I'm glad" He greeted, remaining his usual, pleasant self. "How do you like Sam's? This place has been around for almost a century"

Andrew remained at his seat, his hands gripping the glass of water he'd ordered. He had no interest in drinking at all that night; after all, he was the pack's only Omega present, and had to make sure none of the werewolves managed to get themselves in trouble. After he took a few sips, he began to survey the room, closely watching each and every patron of the establishment with his deep, dark eyes, often stopping to glance at Kat, who, along with her brother, had just become the latest Betas of the group. As he studied her, entranced by the form of her wavy hair, he noticed Carlson approaching her.

Although originally fond of his position, Andrew had grown tired of having to figure everything out between each pair of quarreling werewolves, wanting instead to become Alpha and subject Carlson to the mindless negotiation he had to experience ever since he joined the pack back in December. I could easily take that blonde idiot, Andrew though to himself, clenching his glass tighter with each word. After all, I'm one of the best fighters here, with me being an Omega and all, right? I ought to show him. Maybe then these fools will realize who ought to rule this measly pack, he continued, nearly smashing his glass.

Mira sipped at her drink and smirked at the bartender’s question. ”Start a list and I’ll pay you at the end of the night. Don’t worry, I tip,” she chuckled, turning around and leaning on the bar as handsome guy after handsome guy, and pretty girls came in as well. She could only hope they liked to party as well. Turning back to the bartender she waved one over and leaned in. ”Let me know if you hear of any parties from any of these people, mkay?” she asked, finishing her drink and requesting a Jack and Coke.

She sipped and looked across the bar to a handsome looking guy with a similar looking drink. He almost looked too… clean? For her, but she’d been wrong before. She slid off her seat and went over to the guy. ”What are we drinking?” she asked him, eyes sparkling a bit. She had no qualms about going up to a complete stranger after all, as she knew it would lead nowhere. She always threw up her wall before it did. Just party enough to not get hurt. That was her motto.

He didn't understand, not even a little. This sudden spur of rebellion that exploded from him was unexpected... even to him. Even as he sprinted as fast as he could down the street, turning a corner hard and nearly bumping into a large dark-skinned man, Chung-Ho couldn't bring himself to slow down. His breaths were flowing out heartily, stinging his throat with heated needles as he pushed aside anyone too close to dodge.

In his native language he could hear his caretakers calling for him to stop, their hardened steps chasing after him. "Stop! Stop!"

“Young master!”

Chung-Ho slid into an alley, bumping into a metallic can and knocking it over. Grime splattered over his jacket as he fell onto the ground, catching himself before landing chest first. He cursed quickly before scurrying behind a set of boxes, hiding from his captors. Powerful thumps battered the inside of his chest as they drew near, growing louder the closer they came. When they passed by without a second thought, he let out a sigh. A moment later he sunk to the ground and hung his arms over his bent knees.

Where can I go from here? I can't return to the room, they'll just send me to the class on top of telling Chin-Sun. For a moment he was alone with his useless thoughts, then his phone vibrated in his back pocket, reminding him of earlier. Immediately, the pub that his "girlfriend" had commented about popped into his head. With a sly peek from behind the stacked boxes, Chung-Ho declared his surroundings clear and headed off through the crowd.

Eventually he made it to the small pub: Sam's Bar and Tavern. He noticed a rugged group inside; not exactly the most... amicable place to be at the moment. Walking pass the majority of them before taking a seat at the bar, he pulled his jacket from his torso and placed it on the counter. The price for his dirty suit would be near minuscule compared to the small fortune he was sent every month, and yet he couldn't help but be vexed by his deplorable appearance.

He gazed at his hands on the table with a cold stare. Oh well, at least I'm away from everyone for awhile. No pressures or tensions... well none except for my parents' last wishes. At the sudden thought, he swept his sleek hand through his hair.

It was frustrating. And the worst thing about it all was that he wasn't old enough to order anything to drink.

NanixErka said
Nanix then turned her attention to Stiofan, who she had noticed a little bit before, but finally had the time to serve. "Good evening, mister" She greeted, and simple smile gracing her lips "Your usual, I presume?" She asked, grabbing a glass. "You never order anything else." She joked.

Stíofán smiled at the fact that the bartender had remembered what he ordered. He gave her a nice smile, before saying, "Yeah, thanks"

Smiling right back, she got him his usual drink, and slid it over to him. "I have no idea how you can stomach that. I can barely handle a long island" She commented, quickly cleaning the head of a fountain drink spout for an excuse to stay nearby

"I guess it's just one of the perks that come with being Irish," he told the barmaid.

She chuckled "indeed. I've got more German blood in me, you'd think i'd be able to hold my liquor" she joked

The last rays of sunset filtered through the blinds of the three room, third story apartment, painting the back of the main living space a rose red and illuminating the figure within it. Garret sat at a low table, various arrows laid out in-front of him, alongside sharpening instruments and a tool that helped fill the bodkins. Currently his attention was focused on the broadhead in his hands, he rotated it slowly as he drew the old whetstone along the head, making sure the arrow head had a razors edge. Setting down the whetstone, Garret felt each of the three edges of the broad head, and finally satisfied with his work on the arrow set it down with a slight sigh. Tonight was going to be a big night, even for the hunter, full moons always were. Even though they were generally good about keeping a low profile and keeping to the areas outside the city, tonight was their time to cut loose, a monthly celebration or some other such idea, and as such it was the night they got sloppy. Whether it was a new born Omega attacking a human pedestrian, or the unwilling turnings that had been occurring, tonight was when the most breaches of the peace tended to happen, thus freeing Garret from the constraints of the old code to act.

Standing Garret made his way to his small bedroom, and the side of his bed. Reaching under he felt the bottom of the bed till he felt a slmall seam. Pressing up he heard a faint click as a large box fell unto the floor. Gripping it tightly Garret pulled out the box and set it on his bed, opening it after he did so. Inside was a set of leather armor, which he dawned carefully, his cloak, which his slung over his shoulders, his bow, quiver and knives. But at the bottom of the box was the gauntlet. Reaching in with his right hand Garret lifted the tool and slid his ruined hand into the socket of it. Hie felt his fingers curl and tighten around the trigger mechanism for the thing, he toyed with it a bit as he secured the gauntlet's straps. Striding out to the living room Garret gathered his arrows and slid them into his quiver, attaching his bow to it as he did so.

Moving to his balcony door and simply looked out of the glass of a small while, mentally preparing himself for whatever lies ahead. Taking a deep breath he opened the door, a cool breeze rushing in, playing with the loose ends of the cloak. Involuntarily shivering Garret stepped out, closing the door behind him and proceeded to the railing. Triggering his gauntlet, the mouths of the snarling figures snapped open and Garret swung himself on top of the railing, latching on to the low roof with his left hand tool. Feeling the metal teeth bite into the roof, he pulled himself up, resetting the gauntlet after he did so. Garret took a deep smell, even he could smell the bay as it's scent was carried by the breeze "This might work to my advantage in the hunt. he thought to himself as he set out across San Francisco. He would try to stay on the roofs but whenever a roof was too slanted, or too far away to jump to, he would willingly slide or climb down to prowl the alleyways, avoiding main roads whenever possible. Finally he arrived at the roof of the building across the street from the tavern. Unhooking his main weapon Garret extended his bow and selected his arrow. A simple broadhead, nothing fancy. After this was all said and done, Garret looked down at the tavern, at simply began to wait, the breeze masking his sent.

"Well, we're all different," he told the barmaid. As Stíofán took a large gulp of his drink - making sure to not get his beard wet in the process - he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. He subtly glanced over, to a window, into the darkness of the night. He thought he had seen something atop the roof of the building across the road, but couldn't smell anything. Anyway, he thought, it isn't my job to look after the pack, I'm not an Omega. If something's wrong Carlson can deal with it.
Stíofán had noticed that James had sat next to him, for his first night before a full moon in this pack, "It's good to see you here, James, so it is," Stíofán hoped that James would understand his Irish accent.

Having a bad feeling, Carlson looked out the window, seeing Garret with his expert eyes. As Alpha you /had/ to be able to spot trouble, even when no one else could. Carlson always had his senses turned up to an 11, and he knew it was a windy night. It was suspicious to say the least. Talking with the tavern owner, he had the shutters to the old-timey bar closed, so that the only entrance or view of the tavern was through the small and thick window of the entrance door. Carlson then went up to all the Omegas - including Andrew, and warned them

"There's a suspicious character on the roof across the street. Spread that word that we're using the back way tonight. Remind everyone, and be safe" He instructed, garnering a nod from most of the other Omegas, who immediately did as they were told. Carlson wasn't expecting a nod from Andrew - as he knew that Andrew was among the few that did not fully respect his authority. But he knew that Andrew was not a stupid guy, and that he wanted what was best for the pack as much as Carlson did. It was the only thing they agreed on.

--

Nanix unfortunately realized that he conversation was over, and got to serving other patrons. When she saw that the shutters were being closed, she asked her boss why, and he said something along the lines of "I don't want any of these hooligans to break the glass again" or something. A little rude, perhaps, but she understood. She readjusted her shirt- which was riding up on her hip a little - and got back to work with the other barrista, mixing drinks and taking tips. She was making good money tonight.

James and Kat went about the night as they usually would, drinking and talking to the other patrons though not always to the other pack members. Kat wanted them to fit in but James didn't really care if they did or not. When whatever trouble got the Omega's knickers in a bunch Kat started paying more attention to the goings on rather than the few humans who had walked in. James approached her, "What's going on?"

"No idea, but we should be careful."

James shrugged and walked off, he'd spotted a cute gal come in earlier and she looked like the partying type. Maybe the night wouldn't be a waste after all.