Nyxvira's golden eyes steadily grazed over Chase's face; her plump lips formed an amused smile. The werewolf shifted in his seat, uncomfortable with the attention. His eyes darted back and forth rapidly as he pretended to appraise the decorative appearance of the Golden Dragon's interior.
Behind him, Johanssen had sidled up to be closer to the assembly. He could feel the heat of her smaller body against his back as she came to a stop just before his chair. The warmth was comforting in the AC chilled environment, and Chase accepted it gladly. A gentle sense of calm seeped through Chase's clothes, and with some concentration, he tried to ward it away. Now was not the time to feel rainbowish.
"The lads tell me she's parading around Dawn Peek Heights, stomping about on some fountain." The old man's voice broke the brief silence that had blanketed the tense and awkward group. His thin wrist signaled to the smartphone clutched in his other, equally withered, hand.
Dawn Peaks, Chase thought, grimacing ever so slightly. It was a district of Somabra that Chase had infrequently visited. Maybe once or twice in childhood, when his parents had been feeling particularly generous and in the mood to spoil their brood of two, but never as a werewolf. It's noisy climate and posh, flashy, businessmen were the neon highlighted markers that warned away people like Chase; average Joes whose average-ness would only become inflated when they arrived, poorly dressed, to a high class supermarket like
Whole Foods.
“Make your way discreetly through the back entrance, keeping your arms where we can see them." The skeletal undead's spoke, his ivory white dome as impassive as ever, the small cracked indents in his skull stiff and unmovable, his voice strict, and unfriendly, "We’ve got a taxi to take you where you need to go. The driver will give you a Python with silver bullets. Ameilkas is built like so many brick shithouses, but silver should still stop her in her tracks.”
Chase nodded methodically as the instructions were doled out to him like a well recited grocery list. Silver bullets...silver
anything...made the werewolf nervous, and rightly so. He had almost instantaneously decided to defer possession of the killing weapon to Johanssen, whose venomous, revenge stricken mind would have no problem pulling the trigger when the time came.
“If you’re planning on trying to sneak your way in to her little group, then forget it.” The Asian woman's raspy voice piped up, “She’ll be able to smell the city on you, and the Hunters despise city wolves.”
Chase would have liked to believe the woman's rederick was aimed more so at Johanssen than himself. If there was one thing Chase knew, it was that country werewolves loathed city werewolves. And while Chase didn't count himself as an active participant in the flourishing city life around him, he still stuck close to its tightly built neighborhoods and tall, towering, skyscrapers. The city's heavy metallic scent would reek from his fur.
Chase glanced back at Johanssen, whose face was the spitting image of painted steel. Her eyes looked cold and indifferent. Piercing blue in color, and presently with pinholes for pupils, they slowly settled on Chase's face and a silent preparedness passed between them.
“I’ll have my people drop Ann off somewhere out-of-the-way, once we’ve had confirmation that you’ve held up your end of our little bargain. Make sure you’re nice and thorough, or you’ll get your lady love back in pieces through the mailbox.”
Johanssen blanched, and in a brief moment of weakness, the steely facade dropped. Her eyes flickered frantically to Ann, curled in a fetal position at the feet of her captors. Her body shuddered ever so slightly, and Chase knew she would need to vomit before they left. The small palpitations on her smooth long neck told Chase she was swallowing frenetically, and her paled skin tinged green ever so slightly. Then she focused on the back of Chase's head, and the green melted back under her bronzed skin.
Nyx's stare rested on the two undead and the sly goblin that had slipped in at the very last moment.
“You two and your…little green friend get your arses over to the Red Lights district. Some prozzies, and a good slice of my weekly income, need saving.”
For a moment, she seemed to appraise the goblin, and Chase thought he could understand why. The wily creatures were adept spies; he would be a handy asset if ever one was needed.
"Now, if you'll all excuse me; I have a hot tub that needs my attention." She leered at the group, and her lusty gaze lingered longingly on Chase, "I'll have my guys text you the address."
Chase gave a strained smile.
Chase didn't bother with the unneeded phrases, the "are you ok"s and the "it'll be alright"s. Maybe in another situation, those would have worked. But not here, not now.
We made our way to the back entrance in silence, our hands clamped by our sides dutifully, afraid to move a finger an inch out of place, terrified it would place a bullet in the center of Ann's forehead. Behind us, we were leaving two zombies, a goblin, that nasty beast of a woman and her posy, and most importantly, the person I loved.
Outside, the warm air felt uncomfortable against my already clammy skin. Chase moved forward, but I raised a finger for him to wait.
I ebbed slowly towards the dumpster leaning against the Golden Dragon's brick wall backside. Prying its heavy, green, debris splattered lid up, I peeked my head over its edge. Then I let out most of the contents of my stomach, along with some bitter tasting yellowish green bile. Chase allowed me to retch uselessly for a few seconds, before gently take me the arm and guiding me to the front of the Dragon, where our taxi awaited us.
A black, privately hired taxi, rested ominously by the sidewalk. It's back door was flung open, flanked threateningly by two of Nyx's darkly dressed muscle men. Their guns, shining black rifles cradled comfortably in the crook of their arms, glinted maliciously under the glare from the walkway lights.
One of the men's wide palms gestured in a big swooping side arch, pointedly resting on the entrance of the black taxi. Chase and I piled in, Chase sparing a backward glance for their nastily carved faces. The door slammed shut behind, and in no time, the car was jetting off with a pronounced screech.
The driver, an Arabic man with a sharp, hawk nose, and a stiff black mustache, groped around haphazardly in the passenger seat for something, his other hand balanced precariously on the driver's wheel of his taxi. When his hand came up into our view, he was holding the silver tinted barrel of the Python Nyx had promised us.
We stared at for moments before he snapped in a thick accent, "Well take it, one of you!"
My hand jerked forward and I snatched the weapon from the man's flat, calloused, brown hand. Next to me, Chase shifted away. He had always been particular about silver. It all made sense now.
I holstered the gun on my utility belt, as I liked to think of it.
The flurried drive went by in silence, with me and Chase occasionally exchanging worried, tense glances. Towards the end of our speedy adventure, our driver began speaking to us quickly in his low, accented voice.
"I'm going to drop you at Dawn Peeks, entrance," He said, gesturing to where the buildings began to become increasingly official looking, "You walk."
The taxi came to an abrupt and jolting halt where our driver seemed to mark as far as he would go. It was very near to Dawn Peeks' entrance; he had done us the courtesy of driving a few feet beyond the big green sign that indicated we had arrived at "Dawn Peek Heights". We were hurried out, and then in a puff of gritty brown dust, our taxi had sped away to safety.
"How do we find her?" I asked, looking around at what was a relatively empty street.
"We listen for the screams, and watch for the people. Besides, one of them mentioned she was at some fountain. So let's look for a fountain."
Chase's super hearing dragged us along in our endeavors. Eventually, we were greeted with sparse flocks of people, screaming and running, dragging comparatively heavy feet away from the source of their distress. In the distance, eerie howls pierced the air, sending chills down my spine.
Chase and I weaved through the loose rushed crowds with as much speed and vigor as we could muster, but sometimes there's just no easy way to get around a frenzied crowd.
At some point, we converged, and managed to make our way to a secluded alleyway; our meet up before the confrontation.
"They can't be too far away from here." His handsome face was covered in sweat, and I wondered if his nerves were getting to him. Chase, if you knew him, wasn't typically a nervous guy. A little bold, pretty stubborn, but also very laid back. Watching him squirm at the idea of confronting werewolves...his own
kin...was both, sadly, amusing and nerve wracking.
My hand traveled the gun strapped at my waist. This was our Hail Mary (and if I believed in religion, maybe that would have given me a stronger push).
Chase had always been a smart guy. Sure, we'd done some illicit stuff. Sure, we'd hooked up with some pretty dirty guys. We'd taken frequent trips on Somabra's sprawling underground railroad of unlawful activity. But he had never let us get close to danger. He didn't like the idea any better than I did. I mean, really, who out there wanted to needlessly throw their lives away?
He grinned at me, and it took me so forcefully by surprise that I felt tears welling up on the side of my eyes.
"Don't cry," He said, snorting. His lips trembled, wanting to say something else. Maybe, this was the time for the "it'll be ok"s. At least, in some cliche movie, it would be that time. That time where the characters sentence themselves to death by uttering that one sealing phrase; "it'll be ok."
So I can see him zipping his lips shut and throwing the key away. We won't silence ourselves to that faith.
"Can we hug," He muttered. Oh god, he's so corny. I wanted to say, "This is no time for hugs, Chase." But I didn't. Instead we embraced, briefly, but tightly. He patted my head like an old grandpa, and I snorted dumbly into his tear stained blue shirt.
"I have a plan," He said, as we broke apart.
"We use the buildings," He motioned to side entrance of one of the buildings flanking our alleyway, "Get a high vantage point, see if we can take her out from there."
"And what about her lackeys," I said nervously, the howling in the background growing louder and more pronounced. Chase's eyes seemed to zone out, look off into some faraway world.
"I'll deal with them, as best as I can, I promise." I hadn't felt like such a little kid in a long time. I wasn't cut out for this business. He wasn't really cut out for this business anyway. But he was willingly to sacrifice himself if it meant one of us came out alive. And by one of us, he meant in his mind, me.
"Remember, don't turn on the lights."
"I know," Johanssen scowled, her pretty face contorting into a look disbelief.
"I'm not doubting you," Chase said, smilingly teasingly. She rolled her eyes. In an eerie silence, they carefully picked their way through the cluttered remains of what looked to have been a pretty respectable office. No blood smears, or splattered entrails. Just the telltale signs of the rush for freedom.
People had heard the call of the Hunters and fled. Chase didn't blame them.
"They're close by." He muttered. They were on the fourth floor of a glassy skyscraper. The building overlooked the plaza where Ameilkas and her lackeys could be seen gallivanting around on the plaza's semi-crippled fountain.
"She's ugly," Johanssen said, her nose crinkling at the sight of the white furred she-wolf, her lips lopsided in a half-amused smile. Chase grinned back. Because, the very opposite could be said to be true. It wasn't so much Ameilkas's big rippling muscles that got to Chase; rather it was the beauty of her white glossy fur, blanched to an almost heavenly white by the soft moonlight.
"How many bullets?" Chase asked, jerking his head in the direction of Johanssen's hips.
"Three," She was looking out of the window skeptically, and her lips began moving without sound. Praying. Johanssen had never been a big believer in religion; and neither had Chase for that matter. A lot of the city was without religion, or God for that matter.
"What if it misses," She whispered, leveling the silver revolver ever so slightly, her line of sight zeroing in on the target.
"Then we have one big fucking problem."
Member
I think in the time we knew each other, we went on quite a the RP journey together. Kind of sad she just disappeared one day. Guess it happens 