Jeremiah walked slowly along the street. He wore a long trench coat, similar to that of a business man on a rainy day, but alas the day was clear in Boston. It bore little more then a cloudy sky that darkened the way of the world in the town. Jeremiah took no heed to the weather though as he passed several small shops and turned down into an alley way behind a series of buildings. His right hand gripped the handle to a large Bass Guitar case, and his left hand held a large ruck sack.This appearance, to any normal person, would seem no less stranger then any other of a traveler's design. This was Jeremiah's key, blending in, beneath the surface. He walked for several more minutes down the alley before stopping outside a black door with a red "X" spray painted on it like graffiti. He nodded his head to himself and set his sack and case down gently and then stripped off the trench coat quietly. Once it was removed his normal attire was shown under a leather vest, which also had an under-arm holster for his pistol, and a series of riot gear pieces covering his feet, shins, knees, and thighs. His arms wore no protection and his forma shirt was only covered by the limited protection of the leather vest. He knelt down and unlocked his Guitar case to reveal the 45-70 Brush Gun, and then he unzipped his ruck sack to reveal a series of traps. He took out a bear trap and quietly began setting it up just outside the door, luckily the door opened inward and the trap was set right up against the base board. Then he took out a few canisters of aerosol spray with no labels, that had been placed in duct-taped Ziploc bags.He set the three canisters over, still in there packaging, and then took out a small stun-gun looking mechanism with a trigger, though rather then a stun-gun, it was actually a miniature dart-gun. He set the dart-gun over inside the Guitar case next to his rifle and then began to empty the rest of the ruck sack. He had pulled out several small smoke bombs and a few stink bombs by the end of it, both of which were cheap to buy at novelty shops around the country. He set the case and the sack over out of the way, placed the dart-gun n his belt, held the rifle in his right hand, and had unpack the aerosol canisters. He raised his left hand, with the first canister in it, and quickly sprayed the compressed contents within before hustling to do the same with the other two. Each canister was filled with the aerosol formula of shifter urine and was a key to this operation. He ducked behind a dumpster across the alley and watched as three fairly burly men in large, blood-stained aprons rushed through the back door. The first planted his leading foot right into the bear trap and fell forward bashing his head on the ground and knocking himself out, while the other two were slung into a rage and stepped out into the alley way. Jeremiah rushed forward from behind the dumpster and got a good ambush hit on the first of the two men, a larger male of African-American ethnicity who bore tribal tattoo over his face. The male was stunned and wobbled back, but his comrade, a male of Caucasian ethnicity who looked as if he were a professional steroid jockey, had tackled Jeremiah to the ground and raised his right fist and let loose a series of three heavy strikes that almost immediately broke the left side of Jeremiah's jaw. Jeremiah, in a lashing moment of pain, lost his rational thinking and slid the barrel of his rifle, which was now pressed to his leg under the hulking shifter, to the stomach of the shifter and pulled the trigger. The shot burst through the skin and spiraled it's way through the intestinal track of the male before exiting through his back just on the right side of the spinal cord near the tailbone.The lead round flew out into the air creating a burst of bloody rain to shower forth from the exit hole and then began to flood through. The flood caused blood to seep from the man at an astounding rate, which caused Jeremiah to become bathed in a red river of victory. The man, nay, the beast of a man stood after rolling the deceased blood bag off him and smiled with a wicked grin as the second shifter regained it's footing and grip on the situation, and then began to charge Jeremiah. This act was faulty and unsuccessful like the first, because Jeremiah stared the shifter through and through as he closed in before snapping his pistol from it's holster in a whipping manner and it's barrel collided with the head of the shifter and it's form was shifted upward in a concussive explosion as a 9mm round began to drill itself through the skull of the dark male. The figure of the deceased male began to slowly fall forward and crashed to the ground like a falling wall. Jeremiah snuffed with a grin as the hole in it's head began to leak a mixture of blood and torn grey matter. He awed at the sight a moment before turning his attention to the unconscious victim of his bear trap that laid on the floor like a large baby. Jeremiah almost let a snicker escape as he knelt down over the large Scandinavian male and ran his right, blood soaked, hand over the bald top of the male. Several finger trails of blood lined the crown of the shifter as Jeremiah smiled and pet the unconscious figure before standing back up. He looked around, down the alley, and then back up before looking up to the dismal cloudy skies and then back down to the poor shifter. Jeremiah lifted his right foot, which bore a heavy boot that had steel plates in the toe and heel, and he then began to drop it several times upon the crimson lined head of the male. Jeremiah halted his boot after several kicks and stared a moment at the hole of blood, brain, and shattered bone left in place of the once pristine shifter's head. He curled his lips slowly at the sight, and then almost non-nonchalantly wiped his boot off on the shifter's chest and let a slight huff pass his mouth as the blood began to drain down and out from the busted skull. Jeremiah then moved the bodies into the dumpster he had hid behind in the first place, and stood just outside the door on the right side, braced against the wall.
He took a moment to breath, while reaching into his right pocket and pulling forth an older model MP3 player and flicking it on with a small button. When it buzzed to life he pressed the tiny arrow buttons into the menu and selected a song, it was "In The Air Tonight" by Phil Collins. The song began to play and Jeremiah rapidly launched himself, or rather what was considered to be him, into the building and he found himself in the back, processing room, of a butcher's shop. The back room was clear, due to it's occupants death mere moments ago and he took this time to access the room. It was, in all obvious observations, a normal butcher's room, but Jeremiah knew more then that. He pressed on and scanned the doorways, two doors leading to the front and to an office, with another leading to the adjacent room where the meat was hung in a temperature controlled freezer unit that was nearly as large as a series of storage units. He drew his pistol into his left hand while holding his rifle in his right hand and he stood between the office and the front room's doors with each firearm aimed to the doors. He took a deep breath and fired each gun twice, while then flicking his Brush Gun forward to activate the lever action mechanism with one hand before quickly darting to the Freezer unit's double doors and ducking in behind the wall. He holstered his pistol quickly and the novelty stink bombs he had stashed in a pouch attached to his belt and he readied them, and then as the shifters from the front and the office entered the processing room, he set them off and scatted them as best he could inside the large unit. The smell caught their attention and drug them across the processing room right into the freezer unit. This was what Jeremiah wanted, they were right on top of him, but they could no longer smell him. He had quickly vanished in the dense and thick freezing mist that was imminent in the whole room at all times, and he would slink quietly from one side of the room to the other, tapping the walls or banging a hanging side of beef every so often before running to another part of the room. He was using this to not only stir the shifters, but to also get a number of how many there were present. The room was getting harder to see in with the freezing mist mixing with the clouds from the stink bombs, but this didn't discourage anyone. Jeremiah had counted at least four more shifters, those of which were all fairly made of medium builds and were exactly half & half in gender, two females with two males.
Jeremiah had set his rifle up next to the door, hidden in the shadows, and his pistol was stowed still in it's holster. He had drawn his short-sword and also found a cleaver on a table along one of the walls. These would the perfect silent weapons while inside the freezer unit and he decided to monopolize on his actions quickly. He wielded each blade tightly, the sword in his right and the cleaver in his left, and began to scurry about the freezer fog. He slipped in behind the first female slicing at the back of her knees quickly and then disappearing once more. He left a pair of heavy gashes in the back of her left knee and crippled her to a slow hobble. That knee would now be her death and Jeremiah knew to move to his next target. He ran in front of the first male, slicing the cleaver across his face and cutting open the male's left cheek, but he was unable to get a better hit then that, so he continued right back into the fog. He dart again, this time to the second male, parallel and facing the target. He raised the cleaver up and held his sword firmly to his waist, putting forward, and then side-stepped while running to slam directly into the male. This caused a ruckus of noise to occur from them both, and the sides of beef they hit on the way to the ground, which drew the ear of the others. Jeremiah had luckily planned this assault though and had placed his waist-bound blade into the left kidney of the shifter, as well as having planted the cleaver in it's right jugular. Jeremiah turned his face as the blood of the shifter pooled out from it's kidney and sprayed forth under the pressure of the blade and soaked the man's right cheek and chest somewhat before he took off once more. The other three found the body though after a moment of following the noise. The first male was pushed over the edge of his anger and shifted, but he did not shift into a wolf, he shifted into a Mountain Lion, a Cougar, and began to circle the body a moment before vanishing into the mist. Jeremiah himself was currently taking a few deep breaths as he realized he was bleeding. The shifter he had just killed had done a minor change and drew forth his claws and planted both hands into his stomach. This left a series of ten penetration marks in his lower abdomen that began to trickle blood down his legs and to the floor. It was luckily a slow bleed, which would prevent him from dying anytime soon, but it also meant he had a steady, slowly giving neon sign being placed on him in the room. He shook away the care of his own health and began to focus once more on the task at hand. The task.. He thought about it what he had called it mentally. "A task." No, he shifted his own words. He knew it was more then a task, he wanted it to be more then a task. It was an obligation to him, and one only a handful of people could accomplish. He brought up the blades in a readied position and began moving between the rows of beef once more before finding the second female. She readied herself with her claws and began watching her back, turning every so often to ensure there were no surprises, but this method was only partially effective. She whipped around to check her back once more and unknowingly opened her back to Jeremiah. He rushed forward and slid his sword into the back of her thigh. He had aimed for her spine, but she turned as he attacked and his blade was forced through the front of her left thigh while the cleaver was slung across her chest which ripped through her shirt, cut her bra free, and sliced a large gash into her breast spanning across her whole chest. The female shifter lashed out and clawed at Jeremiah's face, leaving four long marks across his right cheek, which not only created new pain, but also amplified the fact that his jaw was broken. Jeremiah wrestled with the wounded female a moment before the shifted male pounced onto Jeremiah and forced him off the female into a rolling tussle. Both of them whipped back and forth, trying to force the other off of the, while also trying to deal some damage. Jeremiah had gotten lucky and stabbed the sword of his through the Cougar's left shoulder from underneath, but it became lodged in the shoulder blade and was ripped from Jeremiah's grip as the Cougar pulled back and vanished into the freezer fog again. Jeremiah was now left only with the cleaver and a large collection of gashes and lacerations to his chest. He coughed, and then groaned, because of his own coughing. He was now to point of needing assistance soon, less he bleed to death, but he had three shifters left breathing, and while they were injured, he couldn't leave until he saw them headless or at the least breathless.
He brought himself up off the floor after a moment of concentrating and trying to press back to the doorway and his rifle. He rushed himself, but went no faster then a fast crouch, as to avoid making too much noise. He finally reached his rifle, and just as he did the first female, with the sliced knee, attempted to tackle but failed as he whipped the stock of his rifle around his hand and snapped the shoulder brace off her forehead knocking her back, but not unconscious. He stepped forward and braced the barrel to her head and squeezed the trigger and followed it with a snap of the lever to re-chamber a round. He stepped over her body, while kicking her head once, and then bracing himself for another attack as the noise would give him away. He took a deep breath as another wave of adrenaline flushed itself through his body and he felt invigorated, and just in time, as the shifted male pounced once more, but was easily dispatched by a series of three shots to the torso from his rifle sent the cat of a man wailing in death before it's lifeless figure finally met the floor. Jeremiah was relieved that the male was dead, assuming he was the strongest, but in his loss of blood, and equally a loss of oxygen carrying life fluid in his head, his mind had slipped and forgotten that felines have a Pride Mother, who is the opposite of an Alpha Canine. The other female... She laughed, and her raspy, but almost seductive laugh echoed in the freezer unit as she moved in and out of sight rapidly. Even when injured she was fast, and still highly able, she was beyond a predator. Jeremiah quickly grasped his pistol from it's under-arm holster on his left side, with his left hand, and fluidly stashed it into his belt around behind his back as she launched forward at him. He whipped his rifle, as if to take aim and fire, but she grabbed it and ripped it from his grip and then latched her hands around his throat and began to squeeze, cutting off his air supply. His mouth hung open as he slowly began to gasp heavier and heavier for air, but she only tightened her grip and began to lift him slightly off his feet with her shifter strength. He instinctively latched his right left hand around her arm trying to pry her grip loose, but to no avail, and then he reached around with his shaky right hand and gripped his pistol from his belt and then embedded the barrel in her laughing mouth, shoving the metal down her throat, before pulling the trigger several times and nearly eviscerating her entire jaw, throat, and esophagus. Blood and bits dripped and hung from the massive hole in the back of her head, while blood spray scattered the floor behind her and chunks of bone littered the way. Jeremiah released her body, as her hands released his neck, and he gasped for breath while spartan kicking her body backwards to the floor and then pumping her sliced chest with the rest of his clip. He snorted in anger at her lifeless body, and all the rest as he gathered his things and then exited into the alley way. He stood nearly dead, blood stained and blood soaked all the same, with his own blood pouring from his injuries and his jaw hanging shattered in a manner leaving him unable to speak. Once he passed the bloody carnage of a Hunter's Rampage and it's victims he was met with a black cargo van and a few men who quickly took the man and shuffled him into the back of the van.
Sam laced his lips around her's in return as she kissed him, the caressing nature of her passion gift to him as he pressed back with his own and then parted them as she pulled away and spoke. He listened to her voice, a slight discerning nature brewing in the back of his head as she spoke with such a sorrow sounding meaning. Before she could begin pulling away too much he gripped each of her hands with his own and held them warmly with care before curling his mouth into a slight smile and replying. "There is no need to sound so sad. You are just going inside, and I will be in there in a moment myself. You need to calm down first of all, now go on." He smiled releasing her hands while gesturing for her to go and smiling as he turned as well and strode back to the vehicle.
Once he made the trip, the whole thirty second walk, he opened the back of the SUV and pilfered around through what little bit of stuff he had stowed back there before he came upon a small traveling pack. He peeled it open and rustled around inside it before finding a spare set of clothes, albeit an incomplete set. He pulled forth a pair of boxers and a pair of jean shorts, alongside a belt and some socks. He dressed himself before laughing a moment at the idea of him running around without a shirt. He had thought about how ironic it was that humanity, prior to the truth of werewolves and shifters, had made all manner of movies and shows featuring werewolves that were cast by handsome men, paid to act while shirtless and here he was filling that stereotype out of circumstance. He made his way back up and into the new house while his chuckling faded and he rounded the doorway into the room Jaii was in, alongside Vera, Rhea, Kennedy, and then another male standing with Kennedy. The new guy set off a cautionary alarm inside Sam, but he knew if Kennedy was still ok, after meeting him, it would be ok for now. Sam looked about the room, surveying everyone, especially the unknown male, before realizing Kiara wasn't present, and neither was the other unknown male she had arrived with earlier. The situation was strange, dire, and pressing in many ways and Sam had no time to start questioning everything, he simply stepped back a moment as Kennedy mentioned finding the guy in the basement to Vera. Sam began to listen, not only to Kennedy, but also to Rhea, Jaii, and Vera. Everything seemed so surreal, to break away from the Claymore pack, to drop everything, to leave everything, to just ship out without a word, certainly lines would need to be dropped to family and friends within the Claymore Pack to ensure full closure, but it would be rougher for some to do so, then others. It would certainly take time more then anything if they planned to survive outside of the Claymore Pack. Jaii was now Alpha, and if word got out he could be challenged and the rag-tag group could easily be absolved into yet another Pack, or they could be simply attacked and wiped out by sheer numbers or force if another Pack had the gull to do so. The situations brewed in the back of Sam's head as he played out the varying possibilities, but few compared to the idea of losing Rhea.
