CoR Sting Shift

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illirica

illirica

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Undisclosed Warehouse, Lupaix

Lutetian Armed Response Department, March 21 2019, 3:12pm​


"Right. Sit down."

Around the room, there was the sound of scuffling and scraping as the team took their positions, eyes forward and faces a mix of grim determination, anticipation, nervousness. At the front, the speaker cleared his throat.

"Here's the intel. We have a tip-off that one of the lycan gangs - Bloodstone Pack - is going to be moving some stuff down at the warehouse off of Third. Some of that Nix stuff - it's got a dozen names, you all know, but it's something they use on the regular. Useless to normal humans, but it's got something to do with how they transform. What matters to us is that it's a restricted substance, and that means we've got a reason to come down on it.

"Why that matters is because we know they'll be sending along some of their enforcers, maybe even a high ranker or two to supervise the transfer. We have a chance to hit them, hard, all nice and tidy and legal. And, as we all know, any chance to hit the weres is one we ought to take."

A pause, and a glance around the room.

"Questions?"


Bloodstone Pack, March 21, 2019, 3:13pm​


"Right. Sit down."

Half of them were already sitting, sure, in various states of indolence, but the ones who weren't got themselves that way and the ones who were looked more attentive, though there was the usual mixture of determination to prove themselves, anticipation, nervousness about the operation. Some of them were still pretty young, but it was a routine operation, and everyone had to learn somewhere. At the front of the room, a woman propped on heel up on the desk she was currently sitting on, furniture abuse being somewhat standard in the Den at times.

"Here's the situation. We've got a load of meds coming in from one of our contacts at the hospital, some good shift-stabilizers that should help out with surgeries and early transformations with the kids. It's a pretty big shipment, so it's possible that some of the other gangs will try to get in on it, that's why we're going to be there.

Salem's going along to handle the records keeping side of things, the rest of us are there to protect the shipment. We don't want to attract unnecessary attention, so this will be a claws-in operation. Pack your favorite weapons, but nothing more than you can carry and run with. We don't want to spend a lot of time there. Get in, get the stuff, get it back to our people, do Baron proud."

A pause, and a bored glance around the room.

"Any questions?"


Lutetian Armed Response Department, March 21 2019, 3:13pm​



"What's to stop them from killing us all?"

It was an inexperienced question, but that didn't make it any less valid, and sometimes it helped to spell things out.

"They won't. The gangs fight each other, but they don't want to take on Lutetia. If they kill us all, then Lutetia has the excuse they need to wipe out the entire pack and make things easier for everyone else. You'll be a hero."



Bloodstone Pack, March 21 2019, 3:14pm​



"If one of the other gangs shows up, can we kill them all?"

It was an overeager question, but that didn't mean they weren't all thinking it.

"As long as we prioritize the operation. Killing rivals is all good, but the Baron needs the goods more than he needs the attention. If there's trouble, we make sure Salem and the shipment make it back, then it's fair game. Just don't jump the gun and get focused on the wrong thing. We don't need any heroes."


CCH LogiSolutions Warehouse, March 21 2019, 6:44pm​


Just over fifteen minutes until sunset. They'd timed it carefully, so that Salem would be able to handle checking things over and all the paperwork while it was still light out, but the transfer back to the Pack could happen under partial cover of darkness. The sun was setting already, and Rhetta Marin was leaning against the warehouse wall, the pack's truck waiting in the alley nearby, pointed west. Anyone who came up behind it would be fighting with the sun in their eyes. It was the little things that mattered, when it came down to doing things right. Rhetta had spent a lot of time learning about the little things. She'd always known where she would end up, as had her parents. She'd been preparing for her job her entire life.

She could only wish some of the kids they had with them had the same discipline. Young adults, she supposed - no one in their twenties wanted to be called a kid, but she'd started coming to the point where anyone under thirty seemed young. Sometimes she wondered what Ragenard must think about her and people her age, whether she was still a kid to him. He'd seen her grow up, anyway. It seemed like a long time ago to her - maybe not so much to him.

He wasn't here, of course. Salem was, though, and Sel, and a couple other core members who knew what they were doing, shepherding the pack through one of the usual business operations.

Rhetta glanced at her watch. Most Pack members didn't wear them, because they always broke in the transformation, but her transformation was slow enough that she could take it off and tuck it in a pocket. It had been a gift, from her dad. She'd been ten, which was why the band was purple and the fastening was velcro, extended with another bit of fabric, since she hadn't been ten for quite some time.

The drop was scheduled for 6:45.

Any time, now.
 
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Several members of the pack were already in the warehouse, with time to spare. The truck wasn't, but there was paperwork to do. Young members to give instructions to. That responsability fell to Rhetta, of course. Ziessel hadn't been all in about even coming along, because Salem probably shouldn't have. But they needed to know who was supposed to have learned what. What they were expecting Vs what they actually got. The spiel the older man had given her about duty and knowing better had shut her up fast. And now the younger, but not young lycan was at her designated spot. Five steps behind her mentor, always his shadow as long as the situation allowed for it. But this was a routine, it happend often, fast and easy.

"Are we almost done?" There were a few minutes left, barely, until the exchange would take place. Everything and everyone was and were appointed for. Ziessel didn't know most of the younger members, not well anyway. She would meet them in time when it was relevant. For now she knew their names and duties and that was enough. But the younger members were hard working and Salem had this handled. Her mentor could read her like few people. Like she was an open book, sometimes a broadcasted audiobook. So he made a gesture with his hand without even looking and waved her off. She could go be useful somewhere else, for all he cared. She was no good just standing there, so she might as well. And she did.

There were lookouts already, of course. But the material would arrive anytime now. So she went to find Rhetta outside, following her scent. The younger wolf and herself had become unlikely friends over the years. After a first violent exchange that turned out to be great fun for both of them. They found their differences more complementary than they imagined. Often, Ziessel would seek her out if they happened to work together. They hung out after work and shared exercise routines. Sometimes the older woman managed to drag Rhetta to a day at the spa, in the rare happenstance that they were both free at the same time.

A very low whistled tune would alert Rhetta of her presence and arrival, if her footsteps and scent weren't enough. A shared code between the two of them, low enough only they'd hear it. Common enough it wouldn't alert their packmates. Ziessel was discreet as always, in anything she did. Come out of a building in the shadows and turn a corner, support Salem as his apprentice or be a catty at a party. She came out and joined Rhetta in her wall-leaning without a word, taking out her red vape and bringing with it's vapour the smell of candied cherry.

From what they could hear, their 'date' had just arrived.
 
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Rhetta knew who it was, from the whistling, the footsteps, the familiar scent. She still didn't relax her guard, but Sel would be used to that. They were on an operation, after all, and Rhetta never let her guard down until it was over.

Still, she wasn't entirely uptight around Sel, unwinding enough to glance in her direction and give her a little nod - and if the glance in her direction was half just to confirm the identity she already knew, the other woman wasn't going to blame her for that, either. They went back a ways - not as long as some in the pack, but far enough, and Sel had been there at some of the worst times. She'd been there after that mess twenty years back when Rhetta had been a guest of another pack for a week or so and they'd ripped her fucking leg off at the end of it - sitting there with Baron and some of the others and pushing her through the damn shift she was too far in shock to reach for herself, in order to trigger the regeneration she needed to survive it.

With things like that, how well you knew someone stopped being measured in years and started being measured in things that didn't have a name. That was why she didn't do anything but wrinkle her nose at the vape. Anyone else would have gotten a very up close and personal if you want to dull your own senses, fine, but don't fuck with mine. For Sel, though, Rhetta would deal with the fact that it smelled like someone had left a lollipop in the car in the middle of August. She was probably nervous, anyway - no doubt she'd have rather been back at the Den, burying herself in Salem's paperwork. She was pack, though, and if the Bloodstones said she was going, then she went.

There was a hint of noise from within the building, their drop arriving. Rhetta listened, as much as she could, letting the people in there handle the transfer. It showed trust, for the younger ones, staying out of their hair - and she knew that it was more likely that if someone wanted to steal the stuff, they'd try it when the Bloodstones shifted it - or they'd try to surround the warehouse. That was why it was important to have someone in the alley who knew what they were doing and wouldn't be afraid to scrap it out if they needed to.

Her eyes moved along the alley, checking rooftops and entrance points. Her voice was quiet - not a whisper that would carry, but a murmur that would stay with them.

"You should stick with Salem and watch what he does." It was no secret that the man had been training Sel as an apprentice. Taking them both along was dangerous, but it was also the only way to pass on that training. This operation was low stakes, or at least low stakes enough. "I'd attack us in eleven minutes, if Salem takes his usual amount of time."

She hadn't picked up a spotter, yet, but there could have been one far out of range, watching through a telescopic drone, or just a telescope, ready to give the signal as soon as the Bloodstones signed off and started shifting the product into the truck. The skies appeared empty, but who knew? It was easy to hide things. Drones. People. Bodies.

"If something happens, we prioritize getting Salem out. Then the products. Then the pack." Sel knew this. They all knew this, they had talked about it on the way, but Rhetta had found that it calmed people down, hearing the plan again, being reminded that one existed. Everyone here had signed on for this when they'd joined up - they were all of them expendable, it was just that some were more expendable than others. Rhetta's glance flicked to her watch once more.

"Ten minutes."
 
Butterflies fluttered through Marie's stomach. 7 years on the force so far, and after jumping through so many hoops, she'd finally made it onto the armed response team. She'd responded to a couple of minor scraps with vamps before, but those always seemed to diffuse rather peaceably. And remarkably, the arrests never seemed to stick. But this was her first op against wolves, and she was eager and anxious in equal measure.

"... pump action shotgun filled with silver shot. Not all wolves are neutralized by silver, but a fair few are." Marie tuned back into the mission briefing, detailing the tactical equipment to be used during this operation. The lieutenant was holding up a specialized Mossberg shotgun with a magazine cartridge that could be removed. This cartridge was painted blue. "This will be our primary means of force. The shot in these shells are unlikely to kill the wolves outright. However, they should put the ones sensitive to silver on their ass.

"In the case you come across one who doesn't respond to the silver shot, we have these." He held up a green-painted magazine cartridge. "In here, you'll have high-powder double-aught buckshot. Again, against most shifted wolves, this will be non-lethal. Aim for the legs, though, and you should be able to immobilize them. For you animal-rights folks, never worry. Most wolves have enhanced regeneration, meaning that even the ones you put down with these will hobble around well enough after a few days' time.

"Lets say you get yourself into a scrap and it's kill-or-be-killed." The lieutenant held up a red-colored magazine cartridge. "When all else fails, filling their chest or head with enough 1-ounce slugs will put them down. Any questions on the firearms?"

After a couple of inane questions that added no real value to Marie's estimation, the lieutenant continued.

"Non-force control options." He held up a bandolier full of a selection of tube-shaped canisters. Again, these were painted in different colors. "White are standard flashbangs. Shifted wolves and even some in human form have enhanced senses, and as such may be disoriented just as easily or better by these. Clearing a room? This is the first step.

"Green are smoke grenades. This releases a high concentration of sulfurous compounds along with it. You won't like the smell, but most wolves will be sickened by it. This will likely give you strike-first capability on a room. It will also obscure visibility completely, putting us on equal sensory footing with them. They won't see you. They won't smell you. If you flashbang first, they won't hear you. And when you combine all of that with this..."

The lieutenant held up a helmet. The visor was opaque, and several cameras could be seen around the visor. He flipped it, so that the officers could see through the base. "This helmet has a viewscreen inside the visor which displays an overlay between night-vision, thermal, and a computerized three-dimensional blueprint model of the building. When equipped with this, you should be able to see the wolves even through the smoke. If you lose power to the cameras, the visor lifts up, allowing visual sight. At that point, you should consider bugging out. These predators are naturally superior hunters than humans.

"And now for these." The man in charge pointed to a series of round cartridges on the bandolier, painted red. "Standard fragmentation grenades. These are provided in case you need them; however, you will need to account for every one of them at the end of the mission. They are authorized in extreme cases only, and if you use any of them, you will need to justify them to a board. Any questions on any of this tactical gear?"

Marie raised her hand and when called on, she spoke. "You kept using qualifiers through all of that. 'Most' wolves this, 'most' wolves that. Does that mean that we could find some in there impervious to all of the above?"

"It's not out of the realm of possibility, sergeant." He held up a red magazine. "When all else fails, enough lead has brought any wolf we've encountered to its knees."

He raised his voice and addressed everyone, resuming his presentation mode. "These monsters look like you and me, until they don't. Do not let that deter you. Every being within that building is a killing machine. We're bound by moral high ground and red tape. They are not. We're limited by the capabilities of a human body. They are not. If push comes to shove, the city will not mourn the loss of a gangbanging monster. Use whatever measures you deem necessary to complete the mission. Dismissed."

Quartermasters commenced outfitting everyone with tactical battle gear, including kevlar vests, stab-, cut-, and abrasion-resistant over-armor, the tactical helmets, a grenade bandolier, the mag-fed Mossberg, sidearm and ammo, a standard tactical knife, and enough blue, green, and red magazines to bring down a herd of elephants.

Marie inserted a blue cartridge, then made sure the safety was on. She'd need to disarm the safety and pump the action to chamber a round. She familiarized herself with the order of grenades on her belt, and then the controls on the side of the helmet to control the viewscreen.

There were four teams of five officers formed for this raid. Marie was on team 1, who was designated as an advanced team. Her team leader was a young man, maybe a year or so older than herself. "Everyone green?" Reports of "Green," flooded back in from the other officers, and Marie offered one in agreement.

"Move out," her leader said. The advance team, shotguns in hand, advanced on the warehouse, keeping to cover where cover was available. About 100 meters from the target building, the leader held up a hand gesture which meant, "Go hot." There was an accompaniment of clicks and pumps as Marie and her team flicked the safeties off and chambered the first round of silver shot. Marie pulled her sidearm, chambered a round, reset the safety, and placed it back in its holster.

The advance team would be first into the building and their immediate goal was to secure a staging area for all teams within the building. Awaiting the go signal over radio, the armed response team stood by.
 
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Cherry flavoured steam dulled the senses a bit, but not enough that they'd be overly concerned. Ziessel was used to it anyway and could pick out anything that overly stood out from their surroundings with or without the dang smoke.

"I've been watching him work through these for over 20 years, Rhetta, I can time his actions from here." She answered her friend, not concerned about learning. What was she supposed to do, learn what another one of Salem's pens looked like by heart? the scratch and cadence of his writing against the paper, or the clickity-clack of his fingers on the keyboard? No, she wouldn't be learning much today. At least she did not think so. She nodded wordlessly at Rhetta's words moments later. Always a useful reminder, if unnecessary for her. They watched over their surroundings together with barely any idle chatter. Neither were huge on talking while on the job.

4 minutes later a whistle made them both stand straight and tense. Ziessel turned off her vape. It wasn't a howl, it didn't mean 100% they had to evacuate RIGHT NOW but one of the lookouts had called out because they thought they may have seen something. Rhetta and herself were outside though, they couldn't make themselves look suspicious without confirmation. And so, everyone was on high alert, Salem packed up inside fast as lightning. Most of the younger members shifted and got ready for whatever might happen. Got the meds ready to run, as well. In their defence, their reaction time and discipline were remarkable. They just weren't fucking ready for what came at them.
 
The aural sensors on Marie's helmet picked up the faintest whistle. From the look of the body language from her teammates, she wasn't the only one. More hand signals from the leader. "Move in." Even as they moved, she heard the leader's voice over the radio. "We've been spotted. They'll be bugging out. Recommend reinforcing the breach, and have a team flank the rear."

Marie and her team trained their firearms on the nearby windows as the leader laid some breach charges on the door. No one showing their faces, not that Marie could see, though a bloodcurdling howl resounded through the area, sending chills down her spine. "Ready for breach." Marie pulled a white grenade and pulled the pin, holding down the lever as she did. A man to her right pulled a green one and did the same. "3. 2. 1. BREACH!" over the radio, and the leader set off his charges, blasting the door off its hinges.

"Flash out!" Marie tossed her grenade in through the door and took cover behind the wall. A second later, "Smoke out!" as the man leaned across her and tossed his grenade as well, then took cover. After a time delay, the flashbang ignited, and the swat team entered, activating their helmets' displays.
 
The warning whistle came, from inside the building. That was unfortunate. Rhetta had hoped they'd wait until later, but no plan survived first contact. There was a point at which you started thinking in circles, trying to plan what your opponent was going to do and counter it before they could set it up, but then of course they'd expect you to do that, and so you'd have to counter what you thought they were doing instead because they expected your original counter...

It all got messy. At some point, you just had to make a decision and stick with it. Salem would already be moving the product, and he'd instruct the wolves closest to him to help him get it out while the rest of them played guard. He was solid - he just wasn't a frontliner, most of the time.

She checked the alley again - still empty - and then the scent of smoke erupted over the scent of cherry candy, and the sudden shrill noise from within the warehouse was seconded only by the howl of full alert.

"Shit." She knew the scent, the noise - that was military grade equipment. What pack had enough of that that they were willing to waste it on a skirmish? Baron would have known, but he wasn't here - maybe Salem, maybe-

No, she had to get in there. The back door was already propped open, and Rhetta shouldered it in the rest of the way. The haze of smoke lingered, tainting sight and sound. Movement from within, not fluid like bodies. Stilted, sounding off against itself. Armor?

Fuck.

The shooting was about to start.

"Hold fire!" She'd just have to hope they heard her in time. Not the others - they weren't going to hold anything, but her people. "Pull out, defensive measures only, evac plan six. Salem, get the fuck out of here, I mean it."

The name would be a tip off, if Rhetta weren't already fairly sure that they knew he was here - because they were human. They were a Lutetian strike force, and Lutetian strike forces didn't just drop in on routine transfers, which meant somehow they had gotten a tip-off, and they were probably gunning for the Secretary and as many ranking officers as they could get.

Unfortunately, wiping them all out would mean the Bloodstones would have taken action against the Lutetian government, and that meant-

-She couldn't think about that right now, but suffice to say that Baron would be incredibly pissed about it, possibly for a regrettably brief window of time.

Rhetta just had to hope her people followed orders - and that the strike force followed the sound of her voice as well. She could move quick, because there was going to be inevitable gunfire, and she could worry less about that than most, because her regen was strong enough that she just had to survive long enough to shift. She could soak a few bullets, if it meant getting things sorted out. She'd done it before.

Usually, she got to hit them back. This wasn't going to be nearly as entertaining.
 
With the warning whistle, the secretary had already stood and packed. Helped by two greener but capable members. He was the first person out. Maybe he wasn't a frontliner, not often. But he could disappear from a scene like the shadow he was often compared to. It was barely any time before they actually attacked, and they weren't a rival pack. Nor were they an occasional patrol of bastards in uniform. He barked orders at a third pup to come along so he could safely get to his getaway vehicle from the back of the building, through the darkest and most narrow alleys. There had only been two with him because the third person he expected as part of his team, he had allowed out moments before. That was a memorable lapse in judgement. It would be for a long time.

Salem only barely saw her taking her shoes off as he ran out, ready to follow his escape route from e to e. While Margaret told him to get out, as she should, and he did. He also noticed how the younger woman ran into the building while his protegé only partially shifted her hands and forearms and rushed off to their left. From where they were being flanked. Making their escape was a rush, but to Ziessel and the rest of his entourage's merit, the enemy never even got close. They were in the car in what was barely minutes if it was at all. After a tremendous, horrid noise of rusted metal creaking and falling over. He thought, he was pretty sure, that his apprentice must have climbed up one of the rusty towers full of containers and debri that surrounded the warehouse and used them to block the enemy's path. Hopefully without squashing them. They did not need the retaliation that would bring. But he was out, the other three were also out even if two had caught some bullets close to the end.

Ziessel was quietly re-entering the warehouse, knowing she had done all she could to ensure his escape and the truck's. The two ends were tied, tight. So all that was left was Thomas, Ginny, Jasper, Rhetta and herself to hold off the force that had come at them. She was pretty sure that Ginny and Thomas were already fighting to keep them away from the truck. So Rhetta and Jasper were the only ones she hadn't seen much of yet. Busy somewhere else, most likely.
 
Marie wasn't hit by the flashbang, of course. But the realism of the situation struck her, and she froze, even as the rest of the team started their infil. In her daze, her helmet picked up a cacophony of sounds.

Over the radio, other teams reported that they had engaged the enemy. The primary target was spotted in a vehicle, escaping toward the east. Those remaining did not seem to be attacking, despite carrying firearms; they were diversions, to allow the target to get away.

From the helmet's aural sensors, noises indicating contact with the enemy from within the building: rustling, banging, running, shouting. There was a female voice barking orders. The name "Salem" grounded the sergeant back to reality. The primary target.

How long have I just been standing here? She turned off all other comms outside her team on her radio, allowing herself to focus on the ambient noises. As she moved into the building, she ran through scenarios in her head. If Salem has already gotten away, why are they all still here? Of course, the answer was clear.

Diversionary tactics.

These wolves weren't a real threat. They were just here to keep the task force occupied so their precious officer could get away, and probably with the drugs. Marie expected the bust would go smoothly from here on out. Surely they wouldn't leave any high-value targets behind, so it was time to just mop up the remainder and call it a day.

Or so Marie thought.

Unfortunately even with the thermal vision on her camera, the officer still had not run into her team. The opening corridor stretched out into a main warehouse room according to the blueprint overlay, and the woman tread that path carefully. There's no way that they were so far ahead of her, right? She pressed her back against the wall as she got to the opening and leaned her head out, scanning for her team. Visually she had no contact, but audibly, there was the sound of a struggle. Marie advanced, firearm at the ready, and turned the corner around a stack of boxes only to see the forms of her team on the ground, loomed over by what she could only describe as a monster. Standing on two legs, the beast bore down on her team, taking shot after shot of silver to the torso with little impact.

The body armor was stab and cut resistant, but the beast seemed to have found a way around that; it was not throw resistant. Like ragdolls her teammates flew through the air, one by one falling still. Seeing that the silver had no effect, the sergeant switched for a green cartridge, and the pump of chambering the first double-aught buckshot round seemed to have captured the wolf's attention. She still had the luxury of vision, but it was clear that this monster hadn't been disoriented from the flashbang, since he tracked her footsteps easily in the smoke.

As soon as she had a shot lined up, she blasted one of the wolf's knees, eliciting a dog-like yelp from him. It slowed him down, but only just. Pump. Shoot. The next shot hit center mass, and still it did not slow down. As the woman backpedaled from the advancing wolf-man, she stumbled over some debris she couldn't see on thermal, and fell to her back. The lumbering beast towered over her, and she dropped the shotgun, pulled her sidearm and emptied the magazine into the mass of muscle and fur, futilely. It hit her arm with the back of its hand, knocking the firearm away and, she was pretty sure, broke her arm even through the armor.

As teeth bore down on her, Officer Palisade didn't see any other choice. Chink! She pulled the pin on a frag and shoved her arm into the maw, even as the beast bit down. If not for the armor, it certainly would have taken her arm. With the armor, she still felt the sharp searing pain of teeth digging into flesh.

Marie blocked the pain out as best she could, bringing out her combat knife with her free hand and jabbing it into the beast's eye. She wasn't that worried about the arm; she was far more worried about the frag that would, within moments, end both of their lives. She needed to free her arm so she could put distance between the grenade and herself. Thankfully, the pain seemed to have released the beast's jaws, and she took the opportunity to scramble away, even as her internal countdown reached zero on the frag's fuse.
 
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Salem was out. They'd managed that much. It was hard to tell, through the fog and the scent of sulphur, but Rhetta had heard his steps get out of there - she'd been listening for that much, using what identifiers she could in the moments when she was able to pay attention.

There weren't a lot of them, because she'd made herself a shiny target. Deliberately, but that didn't mean that she didn't have an awful lot to contend with. She kept moving, making them adjust their shots every time - you never let someone line up a bead on you if you could help it. Move, not in a straight line. Protect the joints. She could still stand if she got grazed, but getting her kneecaps taken out would put an end to that in a hurry, and she still had a job to do.

Something stung her calf, probably a bullet. It was a quick flash of pain, but she tamped down on it pretty fast. It was allowed to hurt later. Not now. She was used to getting hurt. Her regeneration didn't happen until she shifted, so she'd had to get used to dealing with things until then - and she'd had plenty of time to do that. She'd started scrapping with the Pack's enforcers when she was about seven, initially to the response of Emory Marin, explain your small sassy child - but she'd persisted.

A flicker up close: a grenade, that meant a quick twist to the side and a motion of her hand to bat it - no, to the left - not back at the person who'd thrown it; that would be an attack. She couldn't do that. Off to one side, an explosion of shrapnel - she coiled herself, and a few pieces embedded themselves in her side, but not enough of them. Off to the other side, one of the younger wolves - Jasper, she thought - had gotten his transformation complete and was tossing people around like ragdolls. She wasn't exactly thrilled with that, because it was too easy to get that counted as assault on an officer. She'd have to get over there and tell him to get the fuck out of here and stop making problems.

She couldn't do it fast enough - one of the officers had gotten there first, and there was a flash of teeth - shit. fuck - and then there was a mad scrabble and then there was... fragments. Bits of Jasper, from where the officer had gotten a grenade down his throat.

I'll have to remember that works. Rhetta could definitely see a use for that one, down the line. She tossed her head, loosening a stray bit of flesh from her hair, trying to get as much of a read on the situation as she could, given the chaos and the need to keep moving, keep blocking, keep remembering not to tear anyone's stupid fucking throat out.

The meds were out, or at least as much of them as they'd been able to move. There were still some of them left behind, but they'd gotten enough of them to help for a while. Most of the people were out - not Jasper, but Salem and the pack members who'd gone with him, as well as the ones who'd been tasked with getting the drugs out.

Out, but not clear. Someone had to keep the assault force busy while everyone got out of here.

"Hey, Maggie. Come here."

She was almost twelve, and there was only one person in the world who she still allowed to call her 'Maggie'. He was standing at the kitchen table of their apartment as she entered and dropped her backpack on the floor. The table itself was covered in weapons that he was carefully checking over, just like he always did before he went out to do a job for the pack.

"Dad. What is it?" His arm went around her shoulder, pulling her in from the side. Rhetta debated whether she was too old for this, but let it happen.

"I'm not coming back, after this one." He didn't soften it, didn't mince the words, didn't add in platitudes or anything like that. She was his kid, her mother's kid. Her parents were enforcers. Some day, she would be, too.

"...You're sure?" Rhetta wasn't sure if that was supposed to be a question or not, but he nodded anyway.

"I'm sure. Maggie - Rhetta." His hands turned her, and she found herself meeting his eyes, defiant to the part of herself that said she couldn't possibly do such a thing and wanted to look away. "Sometimes, the pack needs a sacrifice. It's not easy, but if you know - it gives you a chance to wrap things up. Say good-bye."

She knew that was what he was saying right now, even if those weren't the words. His hands were tight on her shoulders, squeezing.

"And... when it's your turn - you do us proud, all right? You've got a big job ahead of you. Support the pack. You listen to Mathis when you need to, but he won't be around forever. James is gonna need someone on his side, when the time comes."

"Not Ragenard?" He seemed like the obvious choice, as far as Rhetta could tell - at least, with all the experience and understanding of someone not quite twelve.

"James. Trust me."

"I trust you."

"That's my girl." His hug was too tight, but she didn't try to escape. Some things, you just accepted.

There was a gun pointed at her. Several, actually. Step aside, keep them busy, buy time. The sting only hurts for a second, if that's all you let it have. The blood was getting slick - some of it was Jasper's. Not all of it.

She could feel the seconds ticking away, one move flowing into another, reminding herself - over and over again - not to attack, only to keep herself going, as much as she could. Killing them all would have been easy. Or, at least, it would have been easier. She wasn't doing that. The Bloodstones didn't need a war on their hands - or if they did, that wasn't her decision to make. Baron didn't need a war he didn't ask for, anyway, and he hadn't asked her for this one.

Defend only. Bleed. She was moving slower, even with the adrenaline. Something must have nicked her worse than she would have liked. Time moved, the comforting sound of the tick of her watch, cheap and analog. Enough? She didn't know. It was going to have to be. She'd have to trust the others that they'd gotten out, trust Salem to smooth things over, trust Baron to handle whatever else got thrown his way from this mess. He'd keep the pack out of it - he was smart, as long as he didn't have to contend with his people being stupid.

Enough. Time.

My time.

"I surrender."
 
"We, surrender." Said another voice behind Rhetta, quiet, raspier than usual. One she'd recognise. Soft footsteps, because she had only shifted her hands into claws. Of human feet on concrete. Like this, she just looked like a terrified and shaky woman. Even over the disgusting smell of the smoke and what was left of Jasper. Ziessel reeked of horror.

At least the pup had barely had time to realise what was happening. At least he had died fast. Jasper Moore. She could hear Salem's words in her mind as fresh as mint. Promising young lad, he'll probably get far if he keeps his his head cold. He was, in fact, a bit hot headed. But he was barely an adult. He was younger than her own children, he was a pup until a minute ago. Now his insides and his skin and bones were all over the room. Ziessel was still looking the way that woman had ran off, that... That disgusting excuse of what was supposed to be a human being. She'd seen it. She had shoved the thing down his throat just like that. Opportunistic little rat... The rage almost made her shift further. He may have seen red if she hadn't heard Rhetta's words a moment later.

"I surrender" She had said, wringing Ziessel's mind back to the here and now hard enough for her to feel vertigo. Maybe she should be in the front lines more, to avoid these situations. She spoke up as well. She wasn't even hurt, but she had made sure everyone else was out and she wasn't going to leave Rhetta to die as well. Or worse, but-.

He had fucking exploded. He was all over the floor and the walls. On her. Shit. On her and Rhetta. Behind her friend, Ziessel bent down and heaved, and vomited on the floor. Then she slowly stood back up with a thin line of puke dribbling down her chin. Breathing fast, too fast, but trying not to smell. It was everywhere, the fucking stench. She couldn't stand it. So she covered her nose and mouth with her hand. What the fuck now?.
 
Marie was bowled over by the explosion behind her as she fled. Several frags plinked off of her armor, still more embedded themselves within. The armor's articulation at the joints provided less protection, and under the layers of viscera from the aftermath, several pieces of metal embedded themselves in her elbows and knees. She'd gotten clear of the explosion far enough to survive, but only just. As she crawled toward the bodies of her team across the room, she left a trail of blood behind her. Mostly Jasper's, sure, but she deposited some of her own, as well.

She made it to her leader and checked his vitals. He was alive. They all were. As the reinforcements surrounded the only two wolves left in the building--older women, at least by appearance--she took stock of her own injuries. Her right arm was definitely broken. The elbow was a mess that she dared not to bend. She tried making a fist and found that the third and fourth fingers didn't want to cooperate. The bite (or the shrapnel) had likely severed something vital. Hopefully they could recover.

The bite.

As the two wolf women acquiesced, realization set in on Marie's face. She probably would have gotten a medal for this, saving her team. Perhaps, if she played her cards right, she probably would have even gotten a promotion.

But the bite.

She knew that it was only a matter of time before she was diagnosed with the disease; she knew that it was only a matter of time before she was released from the LCPD. She made eye contact with one of the women across the room, vomit dribbling down her chin. They shared a look of horror. The wolf's horror was barely containing anger and hatred; the cop's was barely masking panic and fear.

There were a lot of things Marie Palisade would never forget on that lifechanging night: the overwhelming ferocity of the beast as he tossed around her teammates; the beast's jaws as they closed around her arm; the puddle that the beast became, that Marie made him into. But perhaps most of all, that look of horrified rage would haunt her for years to come.

The horror. The rage. The fear. The guilt.

It was over, and yet it had just begun. The policewoman finally allowed herself to weep.
 
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