CoR Klaxon: Rise

[illirica]

Location

The Railyard

Sunrise was a good time to see what people were made of. That and sunset. People knew how to fight when it was light, and they knew how to fight when it was dark. The change in light meant having to adapt on the fly, and Rhetta wanted to see how the prospects handled it.

She hadn't told any of them that, of course, so they probably thought she'd just gotten them up before dawn because she was an asshole. Which, to be fair, she was also an asshole, so she'd even be willing to give them half credit.

The whole sting that had gotten her and Sel in prison had been at sunset. Rhetta kind of wondered if any of them even knew that. It'd also been sunset yesterday when all that fucking mess with the magic had happened, which...

Eh. Not worth thinking about. Baron was here this morning, anyway, which meant that she wasn't worried. He could have been running the show here, with the whole Sergeant-at-Arms title, but he'd decided to be an observer, which was possibly because he thought he'd get more out of watching, or possibly because Rage had told her to do it and following through on that was important right now or possibly because he knew she was still would up after the whole prison stint and he wanted to keep an eye on her.

It was, she was well aware, all of those and quite possibly some others. He'd made it out this morning, though, as had the prospects who were serious enough about this to get their asses up before dawn. She'd spent a little time on basic questions so far, mostly asking them how good they thought they were in a fight and how good they thought their regeneration was. Having also gone through the same questions about all of them with both Ragenard and Desmond meant that she had some outside opinions on the subject, but finding out where they saw themselves was just as important, if not more so. Usually they were wrong, the question was just how much and in which direction.

Rhetta had her answers, though, and now it was time to pair them off and let them go at it and see what they knew and what they didn't. At least at this hour the Railyard was pretty empty, although it was possible they'd attract spectators at some point. Fucking Xandre might sit there with popcorn or something. They were outside, with only the gravel crunching underfoot and a few weeds to soak up the spills.

"Okay. Rules are: one on one, stay in this area, don't kill each other, no weapons or improvised weapons." Because someone was always a wise-ass. A little smile touched her expression for a moment, recalling her earliest times getting to fight with the prospects. "No throwing kidneys at people in practice."

That one was her fault. She had tried to argue that she'd even checked to make sure her opponent still had both of them, but that hadn't gone over well. She'd been seven, and hadn't yet learned about other people's regeneration. It was one of the few times her dad had gotten really pissed at her, too.

"You're out if you're unconscious." Also standard practice.

"No tapping yourself out." That one was different, but she wanted to see where it went. "You're responsible for tapping your opponent out if they need it."

Why that way? Because they were a fucking Pack and they needed to be aware of each other, even when they were fighting. Because they needed to learn early to watch out for each other and know when to step in and make a call and when someone had it covered. It was a bit of an experiment, but if she was going to experiment with it, better to do it with Baron here to call her on her bullshit if she needed it.

"You, Liam, you're with me. If you're gonna solo gate guard duty I want to make sure you can do it properly." Soloing it hadn't been his choice - but not calling someone to inform them immediately had. From what Ragenard said, he could handle a fair bit - but he didn't know it yet, which meant he needed to learn.

"The rest of you, pair off and make space. Baron has the final call, if he or I tell anyone to tap out, they're out. Try not to go past anything you can't regenerate enough to fight with in four to six hours."

That was going to mean something different to each one of them, Rhetta knew, and she was also watching to see what they did with that information - and which ones had even the slightest idea what it meant to her.

 

[Tiko]

Baron offered nothing further while Rhetta addressed the prospects. Instead he remained nearby, seated on the ground with his back to the wall of the warehouse building. One knee was bent, and the other leg extended in a relaxed posture. In the murky pre-dawn light, one could almost miss him there. He seemed distracted, or indifferent to the happenings going on, and that's how he preferred it.

The prospects would be largely focused on Rhetta, and would more than likely try to put on a show for her in an effort to impress. The less anyone paid him any mind, the more he could observe and watch for those subtle changes with the flow of her attention.

Meanwhile Liam paled slightly at the prospect of pairing off with Rhetta. Her reputation was well known. To his credit though, he didn't shy from it and instead stepped forward.

"Uh... question before we start," he asked somewhat sheepishly. "Is this standard hand-to-hand, or do we need to choose forms?"

 

[Script]

It was early -- earlier than Snow would normally have been up, if only by an hour or two -- but the previous evening's events hadn't lent themselves much to getting a good night's sleep. It wasn't every day you saw someone you knew was dead claw themselves out of the bowels of hell, and it was hard to keep it from spinning through his mind.

Of course, that probably wasn't what had happened. Broch was younger, for some reason, and didn't recognise any of them. He hadn't literally returned from the dead. People still didn't do that, no matter how tough they were.

He watched from a second storey window in the side of the station's barracks as Rhetta put the prospects through their paces on the other side of the yard. He could hear her drill-sergeant like instructions as clear as if he was stood with them. Having her back was good for their sake -- she'd been a good example to learn from back when he was still learning the ropes.

But that didn't change the fact that it felt wrong to see her down there instead of his mother.

The thought almost made him growl at himself. It was a stupid thing to get hung up on. Someone had to step into those shoes, especially with the other enforcers stretched thin as all hell. There was no one better for the job, and the world wasn't going to wait for those kinds of irrational feelings to fade. If they ever did.

He needed to stretch his legs. There wasn't any point lurking up here any longer; if he was up, he might as well make use of the time to hit the gym over in the warehouse. It would be a distraction, if nothing else.

After pulling on a tank and some sweats, he slunk his way down and out into the yard, ignoring the gathering of prospects as he made a beeline for the warehouse building. His eyes lingered briefly on Baron as he drew nearer -- they hadn't spoken more than a few words since he'd recovered. But then, Snow hadn't spoken more than a few words with anyone since then, so that didn't mean much.

He had no plans to change that trend this morning, either, and so after a moment he returned his focus solely to the warehouse door he was heading to. With any luck he'd avoid having to give much more than a nod of acknowledgement to the others on his way past.

 

[illirica]

Ohkay, so werewolves were, like, intense.

Despite being one, Islet Corre didn't have a whole lot of experience with other werewolves. Mom had been one, sure, but she'd gone and died when Islet was six, so Islet had spent most of her life keeping that stuff under wraps. It wasn't like it was exactly Mom's fault she'd died, but there was a part of Islet that still blamed her for it anyway. Maybe if her stepdad hadn't been so weird about the whole wolf thing - but then again, she couldn't really blame him. Anthony said it was less about the wolf thing and more about that he'd married her mom and then ended up solely responsible for an unexpected stepchild, which was probably right but also, like, not super-helpful.

Of course, without Anthony she wouldn't be here. Islet wasn't really sure if that was a good thing or not, at this point. Her brother was her rock. He'd been the one who'd helped her keep all the wolf stuff under control and helped her deal with all the stuff with his dad and school and everything else. And also, he was sitting over there watching all this and playing games on his phone, because he didn't have to participate in intense werewolf action because he was a weird human.

Apparently intense werewolf action meant fighty stuff. Islet was not a fighty stuff person. Islet was the sort of person who was hoping to hide while fighty stuff happened, preferably in a different room or a different country. Islet got squeamish at the sight of blood. She'd almost passed out once changing her stupid earrings.

Anthony had suggested this might have been due more to 'that cheap silver plated shit they sell at the mall' or something. Islet was just annoyed she had to keep them in all the time so the holes didn't close. Anyhow, the point was this whole fight scene was, like, so not her vibe, and her stupid brother was definitely laughing at her. Not, like, out loud or anything, but she knew. Siblings knew these things.

She was going to have to figure out how to get out of this one somehow.

---

Werewolf training, man. What a riot. Anthony Corre was there for moral support, which meant he was keeping an eye on his sister and pretending he was there to give her shit, but also he was absolutely there for her and she'd know it. He still felt a little bad about pushing her into this whole wolf pack thing, but it was starting to get weird. She didn't know what to do with herself any more, and she was getting restless and if they didn't find someone to work with, they were going to end up getting in trouble.

They'd gotten in a little trouble already, they just hadn't gotten caught. Islet was good at lockpicking and getting in just about anywhere. Anthony was good at paperwork, from a certain perspective. Islet called it 'guerilla accounting' which sounded a whole lot better than, like, larceny or fraud. He was really good at paperwork, though. A lot of it was on computers these days and he'd had to figure out some computer stuff, but he liked the physical documents, the way the different weights of papers felt. He'd started out figuring out how to make fake IDs because he and Islet were stupid teenagers, and then it had kind of... gone from there. He didn't really know if the Bloodstones needed a documents guy, but they were (according to the definitely reliable media) a horrendous criminal organization, blah blah. They probably needed fake IDs or something, right?

Mostly he just wanted Islet to find somewhere where she could fit in, before she bugged him into amping up the fraudulent activities to the point of getting them both sent to jail. That would have been freaking horrid. Islet was too much of a weenie for jail.

He just had to hope she wasn't too much of a weenie for the rest of this stuff.

---

This all felt about right. Rian had expected pretty much the same when they'd decided to settle down. They were still feeling a little bit restless - they weren't used to being in one place for more than a few days or a week, and they were definitely itching to get back on the road and trying to tell that part of themself to settle down and deal. They were going to miss it, but Granddad wasn't as young as he'd used to be. He was starting to have trouble on the long hauls - those eight or ten hour sessions in the truck were hell on his back, Rian knew. He didn't complain much, but Rian could tell. It was time for him to get off the road, find a little apartment somewhere and live out the rest of his years puttering around painting random things, or whatever it was old trucker guys did when they retired.

Rian needed to stick around too, to keep an eye on him. They'd probably pick up a few long distance jobs here and there, but they wanted a home base where they could check in - and, honestly, they wanted some other people around who they could trust to look in on Granddad once in a while, just to make sure he was getting on. That meant other wolves, that meant a Pack. Rian had never really felt the need for a pack before, but that was because it had always just been them and Granddad. The two of them had sort of been their own little pack, out there on the road all the time. It had worked, for a long time.

It was just time for change. The Bloodstones felt right, they thought. It was a good mix of wanting to protect what was theirs and also wanting to take care of what was theirs. Rian had looked around a bit before settling on them, because it wasn't just about what sort of pack would take Rian - it was about what sort of Pack would extend that in-status to Granddad, who could be around to check on him when Rian couldn't, even if Granddad wasn't really going to be contributing much to the pack itself.

Getting a couple fights in this morning would be good, they thought. It'd help run off the restless energy, the feeling that they needed to be somewhere else, needed to see what was over the next horizon. Give them a way to find out what everyone else was made of, too, and whether they'd be there when Granddad needed them.

---

Liam had guts, at least. Rhetta could tell he knew what he was in for, and he was doing it anyway. That was two good things, from her perspective - one that he wasn't a fucking moron, and two that he wasn't a fucking coward. His question wasn't a bad one, either, but she met it with a shrug.

"A lot of the time in a real fight, you don't get to choose forms." Sure, sometimes if the Bloodstones were on the offense, doing something on purpose, they'd set things up ahead of time. Usually that meant having a few people transform ahead of time, keeping others unshifted, maximizing the potential to handle different outcomes. They weren't always fortunate enough to have that time, though. Even just yesterday, that bullshit with the sky and the werebadger - that could have gone really fucking wrong in an instant, and no one would have gotten a chance to pick forms. You fought when you needed to, whatever that looked like.

"That said, if you think you can get a shift off and you want to go for it, you're free to go for it." Shifting wasn't always a good idea, though, especially in a one-on-one combat. With a group for backup it could be different, you could have a few people guard someone while they shifted, usually one of the heavy hitters whose shift didn't take too long, and then they could engage and cover whatever needed covering. Without a group, though, shifting meant that an opponent had time to capitalize on that shift time, and Rhetta absolutely knew how to capitalize.

The rest of the prospects were sort of pairing up and sort of looking around trying to see if anyone else wanted to be partners, like this was some sort of grade school science project - not that Rhetta had ever actually been to grade school. She'd been homeschooled. Still, the metaphor seemed to work, right? Were all prospects this-

Her phone made a little sound - not very loud, but it didn't have to be for her to hear it, and it was the separate tone she'd set aside for the important Bloodstone shit, you need to get on this right fucking now chat. Baron's had gone off, too.

Fuck?

She didn't look at him, just stepped back half a pace to where she could check the gate and make sure it was secure, pulling out the phone and glancing at the message on the screen.

[Priority Group Chat Message] Ragenard: Wake the fuck up, Bloodstones. Find a buddy, and stay with them. I don't care whose house; the Rail-yard is open for any (so help me god, Liam you better not be alone at that gate). I want everyone accounted for within 15 minutes. I'm sharing a text from Xandre below. I'm taking Julienne and going there myself, everyone else stay cool and wait to hear more.

[Priority Group Chat Message][FWD][From: Xandre] Trouble at pup's place. She's gone, reeks of blood. Wolfing out, will track. Will inform when I know more.

Ah. Definitely fuck. Aimee - Rhetta hadn't even had a chance to see her yet. She'd been off with Baron for a bit, and then she'd been... well, who knew. Rhetta hardly knew her any more. Arguably, she'd hardly known her before the whole prison stint, but she'd always tried to... be around. Jacques was a friend. He was also a friend who usually needed an outlet, and she'd tried to provide that when she could, so that didn't end up spilling over elsewhere. She still regretted not being here for him, these last five years. If she had been, maybe he wouldn't have-

And now his daughter. Maybe he'd betrayed the Pack, but that had been - she hadn't been there for that. Rhetta still categorized Jacques as friend, just like he'd always been, and that made Aimee her friend's kid, and that meant someone was about to get very, very fucked up.

Her eyes shifted, a ripple of bronze, though it didn't go further for that and only for an instant, because they also turned towards Baron, because he was there, exactly where she needed him to be, because she might have been absolutely willing to throw down on this one in an instant, but Baron was-

...not exactly First, any more.

And in this instant - and every instant - that mattered not in the slightest. Her head tilted, just ever so slightly. James Guiscard, would you like me to go batshit? Because she would do that, at a word. Also at a word, she would not. He knew it. That was why he was here.


Her phone made another quiet sound, another channel, just enough to attract her attention, not enough to divert it.

[From: Ragenard] Not you. I want you on the Railyard no matter what. No matter what, Rhetta. You're in charge if you don't hear from me in 15 minutes, I'm headed to Luskonios to back up Xandre.

Ragenard.

The man who was First.

And that did matter. Baron had decided to step aside, and that meant the Bloodstones needed a unified front behind him. Rhetta drew back from the precipice, coiling herself back in until it was needed - until he told her it was needed. One breath, steady, because she was a fucking bastion of rationality.

[Priority Group Chat Message] Rhetta: Understood.

"You heading out? You'll be better for her than I will." Her voice was modulated, neutral, but he'd know she was holding it that way on purpose - he knew where the edge was, and how close she was to it, and how wouldn't it be nice to just fucking jump. But the Bloodstones didn't need an uncontrolled monster, and so there was always, always control. Some from within, some from without, but the controls had been built in just as the monster had been.

Baron was familiar to Aimee, certainly more so after five years. She'd need a familiar face, after whatever was going on out there, and that meant not her. It was the right decision, she knew, and it helped not at all.

"Bring her-" A hesitation, an awareness of the Railyard around them, the place that wasn't exactly - she made herself say it anyway, because saying it was the first step to making it happen. "- Bring her home."

 

[Tiko]

Meanwhile Baron was texting his own replies back.

[Priority Group Chat Message] Baron: The Prospects are at the Railyard.

[To: Desmond] Wake the fuck up.

[To: Ragenard] Chloe will keep him safe until I get there.

They both knew Desmond was strong, but vulnerable if caught unaware.

Baron looked from his phone to Rhetta, recognizing the turmoil of emotions playing out within her. There was a time that he would have been the one taking point. And his first instinct was still to do so. But he had made his decision. He stood up and put his phone back in his pocket.

"They'll bring her home," Baron assured her. "I need to get to Desmond's place. Keep the prospects here. No one leaves."

Nearby, Liam and the other prospects had not been privy to the texts, but from the exchange of words and the tension that surrounding Rhetta and Baron, it was clear that something serious was afoot.

Liam restrained his impulsiveness and kept quiet, but one thought overshadowed the rest. Who was 'her'?

With only a few people at the Railyard this early in the morning, that left a lot of the pack unaccounted for. Finally he couldn't hold the question in any longer.

"Who?"

 

[Script]

Snow had only just reached the door to the warehouse when his phone went off in tandem with Rhetta and Baron's. He stopped on the spot, immediately pulling it from his pocket to check the message. He'd muted the regular group chat a while ago (it was almost constantly making his phone buzz, just for half of the messages to make no sense to him anyway) so the fact that it had gone off meant that this was the other group chat. The one reserved for when shit was hitting the fan.

His grip tightened on the phone when he read what had been sent, and he had to consciously relax it to avoid crushing it in his hand before quickly tapping his reply.

A cold fury rose in his chest, but there was no surprise to go with it. Their blood was in the water. It had only been a matter of time till the scavengers came to bite. They'd just have to demonstrate they were still more than capable of biting back, harder.

[Priority Group Chat Message] Snow: At the Railyard. I'll arm up and watch the gate.

Message sent, he turned to immediately reverse course back towards the barracks to retrieve his weapons, only giving Baron and Rhetta a stiff nod of acknowledgement as he jogged away.

He'd gotten about halfway across the yard when he pulled his phone to check it again after a few more messages had come through, including one from Lark.

[Priority Group Chat Message] Lark: fuck. omw to railyard eta 20

 

[illirica]

Rhetta gave Baron a nod of acceptance. He'd do what needed to be done, as would she. Snow slipped by a moment later, and she gave him a little nod as well, trusting his judgment on getting things done. People were starting to report in on the priority message, listing locations and ETAs.

Liam asked the question, the one she'd known was coming. The prospects weren't on the priority chat, so any information they got was going to have to come from someone else. In this particular case, that apparently meant her.

The actual fuck was Ragenard thinking there?

She'd ask him. Later. In exactly those words, and perhaps a few others. Brush up on her Iverian or something.

For now, answers. Answers, and decisions.

"Aimee Chevrier." Did the prospects know her? Did they know Jacques? Had they known him before, or was he just the guy who'd sold them out, to them? None of those questions were her problem right now. "She's gone missing. Looks like there was a struggle."

Were any of them going to say something fucking stupid about her? Hopefully the flatness in Rhetta's tone was enough to imply that this was not a good idea right now. She'd made sure to mention the struggle, though, hopefully to head off those fucking stupid ideas before they got started.

Another text, Ziessel:

From Ziessel: Jesse needs a utility room repurposed as a secure location where Ethan can be moved to so he isn't in the infirmary for his first shift, and so Jesse can monitor him. Can we get that done, ASAP?

It was not the fucking time. Of course, Rhetta knew just as anyone else that first transformations happened when they wanted to and not one anyone else's schedule of convenience, and given the way things had been going lately - yeah, someone was going to need to sit on that for sure.

To: Ziessel I'm sending you the shit combatants, have Jesse put them to work getting that set up and keep them on the interior so they're out of the way.

"Ragenard wants everyone accounted for and here as soon as they can get here, so we're changing plans for today. Snow's got the gate. Corre kids, head down to the infirmary, your job is whatever Ziessel and Jesse tell you it is. Stick together."

Rhetta moved over to where she'd laid her cut aside in preparation for getting prospect goo all over herself, picking it up again and checking inside before putting it back on - the sheaths sewn into the inside of the lower back and the knives stuck in them, and, less practically but still importantly, the two name patches sewn into the inner lining: Emory Merin and Lacey Summit Merin, tucked away and hidden but still there with her, just like the careful and all-but-invisible black-on-black embroidery below them: Madeline Summit Merin, 22-03-1979.

She zipped it up again, checking the position of the knives along her back and the ones in the pockets. She still had Baron's patch on the back rather than Ragenards, but it had been less than two fucking days, and they'd been fucking busy. She'd have to do something about that soon, though - maybe move it inside, with the others.

First she just had to survive getting stuck in charge of something, which she'd been successfully evading most of her life.

"Liam, Rian, I want you where you can keep an eye on Snow at the gate and keep an eye on the Rage Cage." The werebadger might have been sleeping it off, but the way things tended to go, having him wake up pissed off about the situation in the middle of everything else, would probably track. "Any activity from either of those and you let me know immediately. I'll float but I'm staying where I can back up Snow for now, I want to be there as people are coming in the gate so I can check them off. I'm close enough if you have any questions. Use your best judgment."

She considered, briefly, who she was telling this to. "Liam, that means don't do anything Desmond would have done five years ago."

He was better now, but she still remembered him as a fuckin' idiot.

"And the rest of you, don't do anything I'd do."

 

[Tiko]

Liam shook his head. "Well, I mean a little. She hasn't been around much since... well since her dad died."

A massive understatement regarding Jacques' untimely death, but it was an awkward topic. How do you hate someone at the same time as feeling sympathy for his death? Liam was glad for the change in topic as Rhetta was giving out instructions.

Given how much maturing Desmond had gone through in just the past few months, that left Liam quite a bit of room for questionable decisions. He wisely kept his mouth shut though. Now didn't feel like the time for jokes.

"The roof of that storage building that we have been using for construction supplies has a good view of them both," he said.

 

[illirica]

Rhetta shifted her mental image to the rooftop building, considering the view from up there. Of course she'd already gone and checked it out - figuring out the vantage points and blind spots of the Railyard had been one of the first things she'd felt the need to do when she'd gotten back. It had been one of those activities that was good for feeling like she was doing something and burning off energy.

"Should do," she allowed, with a nod. "From what Desmond's said, you can make the jump down from there without too much of an issue. If you have land hard and you don't think you can stick it, tuck yourself and hit the ground shoulder-first. That'll let you keep moving." With Liam's regeneration, that meant keep moving while your shoulder fixes itself. When Rhetta did it, it just meant easier to fight with a broken shoulder than a broken leg.

Different styles, equally viable in their own way.

[Priority Group Chat Message] Ragenard: We're at the pup's house. I...can confirm violence happened here to the pup. Not lethal, but she was moved. Xandre is outside. Juls is gonna nose from here, we're legging it. This stinks. Stay alert and stay tuned, but I see those stepping up. Take care of each other.

They hurt her.

Ragenard was using a whole lot of passive voice, there. Rhetta had a feeling he was doing it on purpose - distancing himself from the situation a little bit, because if he didn't, he was going to lose his shit, and they all needed to be in control now. Rhetta would have been very happy to lose her shit right about now, but - again, they all needed to be in control now.

Equally importantly, reading between the lines, was the meaning that whatever had happened with Aimee had been deliberate, and done with some sort of purpose in mind. Moving her meant this was bigger than just whatever dumb shit Aimee had gotten into. If it had just been something like that, they'd have roughed her up and that would have been all, or they'd have killed her and that would have been a different sort of end, but if they'd moved her - they expected the Bloodstones to be on her trail.

Undoubtedly, Ragenard already had figured that out. He'd probably be walking into a trap, but that was the thing about Ragenard - he walked into traps, and then he walked out again, and fuck the poor trap that got in his way. Xandre'd be there with him, and Julienne. Solid backup.

Of course, the other thing about shit like that was that if whoever had set it up had known they could bait some of the heavy hitters away from the Railyard...

She watched the gate, where Snow was keeping guard. He was solid. She could leave that to him.

[Priority Group Message] Rhetta: The pull's too convenient. I expect we're going to get hit. Arm up and high alert if you're here. If you'd rather fight fuzzy, have someone cover you and get shifted now. Going to set up a basecamp chat so we're not distracting Rage.

Ragenard was going to have enough to focus on without having to manage everything going on at the Railyard. He didn't need his phone going off every five seconds. That, and she needed a chat with the prospects on it, too - she didn't even know if she had all their numbers.

That sort of shit was what a Pack Secretary was for, wasn't it? She could feel Salem's absence in the thought, but Bloodstones stepped up when they needed to, and Sel would be there.

To: Ziessel: Can you get a group chat set up for me with everyone here? Prospects too. Add people to it as they come in. Put Desmond on it too, so he can keep track of the situation.

That'd be a start on getting organized - and that left her to getting armed. It was possible that they could go half an hour without any trouble, but she didn't trust it, and someone had to provide that cover. She'd stay as she was, though she was definitely sending some of the prospects to bring out some more knives.

There wasn't really such a thing as too many knives.

 

[Script]

Snow had beat feet back into the barracks at a jog, ignoring the flood of messages long enough to grab his jacket and gear up. A rifle for longer range, a sidearm for backup, and a belt of wickedly sized knives fit for dismantling anyone that got too close. Hopefully he wouldn't need any of them, but after what had happened with the Scions, complacency wasn't an option. They had to assume the worst -- a move on one of them was a sign of a move against all of them.

He was back outside and approaching the gate in a matter of minutes, taking up a post in the guard house where he had a clear view of the road approach, as well as cover if he needed it. Judging by the exchange he'd overheard between Rhetta and the prospects, they'd have eyes on the rooftops that would provide a higher vantage point as well.

Only when he was in position did he take his phone out again, propping it up where he could see the texts as they came in without taking his hands off of his weapon. Rhetta seemed to share his opinion that they should expect this to be more than an isolated attack on Aimée. That was good -- they'd be ready, then, if it came.

He spared a moment to send one more update, before settling in to watch like a hawk for any sign of trouble.

[Priority Group Chat Message] Snow: In position.

 

[Azra]

Nessa had only been given her cut three nights ago. She'd come home two of those nights with different choice in company. Yesterday being some drug dealer from her old gang a decent guy who had moved away and up in the ranks. And today with a stripper from the fight club, the two had liked how the other moved. Marcus didn't mind except for one thing, his bitchy (used endearingly) daughter was late. So a boot bashed the tent over collapsing the structure on the two. The stripper leaving first, Marcus letting his eyes trail the blonde dancer so he didn't see his step daughter exposed.

A moment later he was met with a "what?!"

"We camped only a few miles from the Railyard why?"

Yellow eyes rolled in annoyance "cause some old shit can't wake up on time and because I've places to be."

"So get before I instead decide that piece is company instead of someone to see home." It was an empty threat he wasn't over her mother and he was to good to not make sure the dancer got home safe. Still the threat was made and Nessa decided to take it serious. Wasn't told what the training would be so she tossed her duffel bag onto the back of the bike before heading out. The camping supplies could stay there, but with no info on what toys to bring she decided to bring everything.

The drive was short, aided by the fact Nessa favored going fast. Speed limits were stupid and they were away enough she need not concern herself over such trivial shit. Along the drive she got a text, and being the responsible adult she wasn't, she checked it. The sight got a smile from her. She wasn't in any group chat, she didn't know what the drama was. Nessa still didn't know almost anyone, she was already in a ride or get maimed for them camp. Thar was default, ride or die was yet to be earned but perhaps this morning some could become that to her. Her mood lifted as well by the fact sure she was wait for practice, but she would mend such fuck ups by doing a tactic that always worked. The punk would come willing to share her toys.

A motorcycle drifts into stop front of the gate. Instinctively while hoping off Nessa doing a turn so that her cut would show to the others first. Not that it would have much beyond "prospect" on it. She wasn't a Bloodstone for even a week, was no time to have earned much of anything. Besides the cut she just had leather pants torn a plenty and a bra on. What she lacked in clothes was made up in arms. A karambit on her left hip pistol on the right two large knives on each thigh. A machete being pulled from the duffel bag before she chucked it over the fence. It clattered on impact having two more machetes a tomahawk three pistols and a dozen more knives. It also had her tattoo gun in a case...that probably wasn't helpful however right now.

"Mind if I come in? Know late, dad does say a Bloodstone steps up though when needed though." She looked at the gate, probably wasn't that durable if things got real. "Unless need another gate, I'll play first wall if wanted." Her eyes had gone back to green on the drive. It was obvious however the pup almost got off to violence she would gladly take a beating and dish one out if needed. After all someone late to class deserved punishment why shouldn't she suffer some for her screw ups? Waiting her eyes looked at the duffel bag "I'll want those back by the way." She was all for sharing when time called for it, but they were still her babies.

 

[illirica]

Oh. Good. A fucking bonus.

Snow was guarding the gate from whatever murderous assault force decided to attack, but even Rhetta wasn't heartless enough to leave him alone to deal with some fucking kid who thought she could waltz in here like she owned the place when she didn't even have her patch yet.

"I got this one, Snow," she stated, not exactly reassuringly. The pause after the phrase, in which she gave the kid the I'm not looking at you, I'm looking through you to see if there's anything on the other side of you that might be more of a threat than your sorry ass looking-over. It usually set people on edge, or at least gave them a few minutes to contemplate their life choices, or someone else's life choices - usually Rhetta's.

"So." Conversationally pleasant, which the people who really knew Rhetta would know was not a good sign. Of course, most of them weren't here. "You're Marcus' shitbrained attempt to make a mini-me. I heard about that one."

Even in fucking prison - not from her Bloodstone contacts, but some of the others. Rhetta had spent a fair bit of time in the idiot arena when she'd been a kid. Jacques had started taking her. It remained one of the few places she'd actually seen her dad just about throw down with him, actually. There was nothing like the sudden interruption of 'Chevrier! Where the fuck is my kid?' to really put a damper on a matchup. She'd been... what, nine? They'd done a lot of doubles, back then - more, even, after her mom had died and she'd been in that stage of wanting to prove herself with nowhere to do it, angry at Mathis for refusing to give her the patch she thought she was ready for, with all the wisdom of being fucking fourteen.

"I'm going to rip his kidneys out through his pisshole." A contemplative statement, one that surpassed anatomical complexity with the sort of calm assuredness that implied a rather intimate knowledge of the term prolapse that went beyond the standard textbook definition.

"You, you're going to sit your ass down on the ground where I can see you. Then you're gonna sit still, in one position, until we get attacked or I tell you otherwise." The kid was obviously ready for a fight, which was why Rhetta wanted to give her the opposite. "In the meantime, you can think about why the Pack might want you to show up when they told you to in the first place."

 

[Azra]

She screwed up being late as she was every ounce of reprimand she figured was deserved. She was as fresh as they came to things as well had a cut but no patches on it really besides the rank of prospect. Nessa understood she about at the bottom of the totem poll if lucky, under it if they disliked her. So for most the backlash the punk endured, the only thing to really spark a reaction was the insults made toward her step dad. Her hand balled in anger, her lack of control had claws growing which dug nails into flesh enough to draw blood. The warmth such provided to Nessa was almost comforting. "All do respect speak ill of my dad and I'll rip your tongue out from your pretty neck. Save the insults for me."

Odds were if they survived this might be a night of kicking eachothers teeth in. Nessa wouldn't mind though. She understood higher ups and rank. She was supposed to endure, she was also though apart of a pack. Even before she was turned she knew those her's she had to bleed and fight for. Besides she figured her odds were probably okay in that fight. Had a height advantage, she figured they were probably about the same weight give or take. That was a reminder to hit the gym as well. Though she wasn't as sure of her odds in skill, that choice of violent threats sounded well edgy. Which Nessa was understanding in her new world was usually something a person could relatively do not just a boast.

At any rate Nessa was given instructions. Instructions that didn't come with opening of a gate so when it did open she rather abruptly just took a seat. Crossing her legs as she parked herself relatively close to the gate and in the wide open. Turned enough to see down the road opposite of the side she'd come from. Nessa understood it was, tell a dog to sit and shut up orders. She also though knew needed to have guard up. Expecting to deal with boredom she placed her pistol on her lap and proceeded to clean her nails with one of the knives unscathed from her hip. An old human habit for her. During her first heist around fourteen where she was told to be look out she'd used her knife under the nails to help stay awake. It'd become a habit sense then.

Rest of the instructions well those bored her. Thinking on stuff wasn't what she did really. At sixteen Nessa dropped out of school her time up to then was probably one half skipping school one half sleeping through the classes did make it to, and one third in juvy unable to go to classes anyway. Sure one could take time locked up to reflect on life's choices, but she favored instead learning how to do tattoos or picking fights. Right now the pack wanted her to show up for team building. She was late because mornings were gross and nights with company after a cage fight were appealing. It really didn't require a lot of thinking. Probably a good thing on her end, that'd be a headache that she didn't find pleasure in.

 

[Script]

Snow was quietly grateful for Rhetta deciding to handle the new arrival. He didn't have the patience to handle a prospect with attitude right now, and even if he did, Rhetta was better at it. He preferred to let other people manage the process of grinding down the annoying jagged edges of the newcomers -- or the opposite, sharpening their softness to a point. The most he got involved was occasionally helping teach them hand to hand; usually to humble the ones who were too cocky about how strong they were, or how well they could take a punch.

"Not there." He stated flatly from the guard house's window, unamused. "Inside."

He figured he'd let Rhetta handle the girl's attempt to throw her weight around in defense of her father. He could respect her boldness, even if it was misplaced. While it was clear enough from the way she held herself that she knew her way around a fight -- maybe even well -- he was still confident either he or Rhetta could put her on the floor in short order. Another time, when they didn't have more pressing issues, Rhetta probably would have already.

A buzz in his pocket had him checking his phone again and tapping out a one-word reply, just barely resisting the urge to roll his eyes at being micromanaged.

[To Ziessel] Snow: Rhetta.

 

[Tiko]

The next few hours passed uneventfully, but everyone remained on high alert. The few updates that had come in via Ragenard kept them informed that they had not yet managed to locate Aimee, but that they themselves where okay. The only other pack member not yet accounted for was Bastien. He had been out on patrol when the messages went out, and he had not checked in, nor answered calls.


With one pack member missing, and one unaccounted for, no one was taking any chances with security. The less combat able prospects had been redirected to support assignments, while the remainder helped to bolster how many sets of eyes they could have on watch to better free up those out on the streets to keep looking for Aimee and Bastien.

There hadn't been much movement within the warehouse after the initial flurry of activity. Islet and Athony had done a decent enough job of getting one of the holding cages moved to one of the empty storage rooms in the warehouse, and getting the door reinforced in the event that the cage didn't hold. Jesse had redirected their attentions to the infirmary afterwards. He had given them a tour of the supplies, and gave them enough direction to hopefully allow them to perform as impromptu assistances if necessary. It would keep them busy, and help to free up the more combat experienced pack members if trouble arose.


--


Things remained quiet outside of the main building as well. To Liam's credit, he was taking his lookout job very seriously. Despite the lack of eventfulness, he stayed on poiint. It became something of a personal challenge to study their surroundings for possible points of blindness, or places that an enemy could move unnoticed. It wasn't good enough to simply identify points of vulnerability though. He worked to create scenarios in his head of how they might be utilized by an opponent. It was a practical enough way to keep on task, though perhaps a bit too influenced by action movies.

"Have you found anything?" Liam asked.

He had decided to try and coax Rian into joining in a short while ago. The two had divided their attention with Liam largely focusing on the front gates, while Rian had watch of the train cart and its surroundings.


--


Down on the ground Jimmy's arrival at the front gates had caused a momentary stir, but he was known enough to the pack and in bad enough shape that Rhetta granted him entrance to the railyard. Draaven had been texted to take over Rhetta's watch, and he was on the way. Snow whom had stepped out momentarily was arriving back at the front gates as well.

 

[illirica]

"Seems pretty much the same."

Rian had been doing what they'd been told to do, keeping an eye on things. Liam was a reassuring presence - familiar enough, anyway. Rian had always been able to make friends relatively easily - it came with the territory of spending most of their time on the road - but at the same time, it meant those friendships were generally shallow things, hanging out for an evening or two, maybe catching up the next time they ran the same route a few months later. The only person they were really used to being with all the time was Granddad. They supposed that was why even though they had only been doing this whole prospect thing for a little while, it felt like the connections were coming on faster.

Or maybe it was just that Liam was a pretty all right guy, even if the rest of them might pick on him a little. A lot of people seemed to regard him as some sort of boy wonder, Rian had noticed - which came with the side effect of both expecting a lot from him and trying to make sure his head didn't get too big, and Rian sort of wondered what that was doing to the inside of Liam's head and whether he was okay in there. If there was something, he hadn't mentioned it, so Rian wasn't going to mention it either.

Still, they weren't really upset about getting partnered up with him. The two of them had gotten their watch divided up, with Liam keeping an eye on the gate and Rian keeping an eye on the area including the train cart. The cart itself was not particularly interesting. There was a werebadger in it, but he wasn't doing anything except sleeping. That was fine with Rian. They were used to boring watches. Long-haul trucking was a pretty good introduction to looking at things that were pretty much the same for hours and hours at a time, while still having to stay alert enough to react quickly if anything happened.

"You think anything's going to happen? Here, I mean."

 

[illirica]

Three weeks.

Of all the problems Rhetta was expecting to have to deal with today, a three-weeks-bitten werewolf had not been among them. The kid probably should have been under Jesse's ministrations with the other guy, except the first they'd found out about this one had been when he'd shown up the other day to give Xandre and Lark issues, mainly by setting things on fucking fire.

Not that there weren't plenty of the Bloodstones who knew a few things about arson, but that was more of a planned thing and less of a mystical hopped up on designer magic drugs thing. At least he'd already transformed and she didn't have to deal with that right now, though who knew if he could control it in the slightest.

She'd kept an eye on him, made sure he'd had a chance to get changed and get some fluids in him, and made sure that the cops weren't following him. His story was as full of holes as someone who'd gone up against a machine gun, and his memory of everything seemed more or less shit. In short, he was scared, confused, angry, and undoubtedly more trouble than he was worth.

Just how Baron liked 'em, really.

She kept him sitting down for a little bit, which might give him a chance to start healing or might just stop things from getting worse. Rhetta had an eye on that as well, just to see where he was at on regeneration and whether he was going to need Jesse or just a juicebox. Since he wasn't in any danger of expiring and the whole site was under lockdown, she didn't really want to pass him through without caution, just in case he'd gotten more of those drugs, or in case the Jackals he'd gotten them from had perfected a sleeper version.

Now, that was a great thought to be having.

Snow's footsteps were nearing, and Draaven would be back soon as well. Rhetta checked the area, then checked the time. She had one other problem child, who she'd left sitting where Rhetta could see her. A couple hours ought to have been enough for her to cool off and start thinking more than five minutes ahead. Time to do something about that, as well.

"Okay, kid - Jimmy." She couldn't keep calling everyone kid, it was going to get confusing. "Cops aren't here, so it looks like I don't have to give you the how to get through being in prison talk today. Get up if you can - slowly, so you don't pass out. Snow, you got the gate? I'm staying close, call if there's an issue. Jimmy, we're going to head in and sit down again. Lean on me if you can't walk." It didn't make sense to be an asshole to him right now - he would probably just think he deserved it and be a sad puppy about it. Besides, Bloodstones didn't kick people when they were down.

Unless it was Rowan, apparently, but fuck that guy.

"Nessa! Arm up, buttercup. This is Jimmy, he looks like shit. If you were in that arena I'm sure Marcus taught you some basic first aid." And, Rhetta did not say, if she liked knives all that much, she better damn well know what to do about the injuries they caused. "Get those basic cuts bandaged. Keep an eye on how fast he's regenerating, and if you need to, we'll send him down to Jesse, but I'd rather not do that if I don't have to."

No, she wanted Jimmy surrounded by people who could fight, not people who were shit at it. She didn't say that, either.

"And if he starts spitting fire, give him a tracheotomy."

Let them both make of that what they wanted.

 

[Faithy]

Looking away from Madam SCARY, Jimmy eased himself into the pants or at least he tried. Hissing loudly at his left shattered kneecap, he frowned and stared angrily at it. Fucking body. Still giving his knee a very dirty look, he slipped the shirt over his head, sighing as blood slowly seeped through it thanks to the multiple cuts and stabs given to him via his aunt's sharp knife. Who knew she could do so much damage with something he used to cut up steak.

"Nn..." Despite how shitty he felt, Jimmy clenched his mouth shut, doing his best to keep from throwing up anymore blood.Maybe it was out of his system. He definitely hoped so.

Grinding his teeth, he forced on the pants, yelping at the pain the action caused. No longer naked, he was more able to focus on Rhetta and the situation around him. The world was still kind of topsy-turvy, but not as bad as earlier. Too bad he was barely healing. That probably wasn't a good thing although it could be dealt with later. Or he'd die. One or the other. Finishing off his drink, he found himself nodding in agreement that no, the cops were not coming. He was glad because jail would be bad. Hell, the Jackals might find and kill him anyway.

Shit

His fingers ran through his bloody dark hair and he groaned at her words. Was Scary Spice serious? She wanted him to move inside of the gate. Well, it made sense, but still. He didn't even know if he could get up. His gaze shifted from her to the white-haired male that was approaching and he finally decided heading inside was better. There was an issue though and that issue was, he wasn't sure he could get up, let alone walk.

"I'm not healing much... my ... I need help walking." Jimmy slowly stood up, making sure he didn't put any pressure on his left leg at all. The pain was oddly enough not dulling like normal and that was a very huge concern. He frowned at the other female that was Nessa, not so sure about her either. He wished Xandre or Lark was there. Not Ragenard though, he was almost as scary as Rhetta.

"... hi, Nessa." He barely greeted her before he was giving Rhettaa look of disbelief. "Please don't give me a tracheotomy even I do spit fire. I can't control it."

 

[Azra]

Soon after finding a spot to sit and wait she was redirected inside the gate. Far more sense then waiting out front but she'd been told to stay put. Had to stay in view so she settled for an old wood box not that far away from the gate itself. Which was the epitome of boredom of soon after. Being outside had nice air at least and felt like she could keep watch. Was no real conversation to start up, and nobody coming to merit guard being to up or focused.

Eventually in her boredom she began carving. Her knife going to work against the paint along the wood box she had settled upon. By hour one she had a pretty good rendition of a werewolf portrait. The knife digging into the old wood wasnt her go to source. Sjhe wasn't as good for line work with carving as she was with actual ink. Leaned a little more expressive than clean lines. The time between direction and showing up though was hours however. Soon the portrait was working its way into a more violent image. A second portrait of a random guy. Not that one could tell who the face was as the art was also the werewolf ripping the head in half. anyone asked, she wouldn't admit that the split head might have been a rendition of an ex boyfriend. There was still nothing to do, leading to Nessa starting to consider trying to add color.

Morbid as her thoughts went though the implications it lead to was cut short by someone showing up finally. Ravaged clothes and a even more fucked up body. She wished it was her, that had to have been a fun time. He didn't look like he was enjoying it though. He had bit more muscle then her, she had a bit more height. She was quick to close the gap between them, a few quick steps and she was at the guy's side. It wasn't violence but at least it was something to do.

"New to things, boss me around if it'll make you feel better." An ice breaker hopefully, Nessa didn't think herself the best at bedside manner but she could at least try. "I'd recommend hopping on back, but I'll help you walk if would rather." She figured a piggy back ride would be quicker. She knew her own strength especially following a change would allow it. Pride though might not be as generous. Either way though Nessa thought one of the buildings around the railyard was more ideal. Better chance of actual supplies, elements less likely to get in wounds etceteda. She may have never been a doctot but they probably worked in clean places for a reason. "Anyone have or, find a med kit? Could also use two bottles of water if possible. " While trying to help Jimmy inside she tried to consider her other options if necessary supposed a different rotting wood crate, maybe a rail car?

Supplies wise she wasnt sure they were in a good place if came down to ripping up shoe laces and trying to use a karambit in place of a needle and thread. Hopefully it wouldn't come down to that.

 

[Script]

This was apparently a day for poorly timed problems, was Snow's first thought when he emerged back out from the station building, having ducked inside to use the bathroom at apparently the exact time trouble had decided to show up. Thankfully, at least, 'trouble' in this case was of the broken, pathetic kind rather than the kind that was trying to kill them.

He jogged back over while Rhetta was in the midst of giving him and their other unexpected arrival instructions. He picked up enough context from the exchange to gather that this was the same kid that Lark and Xandre had encountered yesterday, before packing him off back home. That apparently hadn't gone well for him.

"I've got it," he responded to Rhetta's question plainly, before shortly after stepping back into the guard house long enough to grab one of the first aid kits from the cupboard, which he tossed over to Nessa after returning outside. "Here."

____

In the meantime, across the yard, Lark had jogged around to get a view on the front gate after he'd picked up the stink of blood on the wind from where he'd been keeping watch on the rear approach with a few of the prospects. It was hard to make out exactly what was going on, but thankfully it didn't seem like any kind of attack. So what..?

Even as he was asking the question, the familiarity of the scent clicked, and he swore under his breath. "Shit. You guys hold here, looks like things are fine, but that's the kid we met yesterday... fucking hell."

Leaving the others to keep watch, he jogged his way over, approaching just after Rhetta and Nessa had managed to help Jimmy in through the gate, and were leading him across towards the warehouse. "Hey! Shit, kid, what the fuck happened to you?"