2023-03-18 Assault on Veronica (High Hopes PRP)

Assault on Veronica (High Hopes PRP)

Participants: Brandon, Wren, River, Kateri, Simon, Savannah, Elyse

Storyteller: Elyse

Location: Outside of the High Hopes Needle Exchange

Date and Time: March 18, 2023 12:40 AM

Summary: Simon confronts Veronica as she exits the needle exchange and an altercation begins. The gunshots alert the other Garou and Kinfolk nearby, who rush to figure out what's going on.

Simon heard back from some of his contacts that the drugs being shipped into High Hopes Needle Exchange were largely on the up-and-up. The only catch is that there was one shipment of methadone -- typically not a drug sold on the streets -- which came through a surreptitious Chinese supplier, using the docks as a method of conveyance. This, combined with Felicity's report back, has made it quite clear that further investigation is required into this particular clinic.

It's roughly 12 AM, the morning of March 18. A woman fitting the description of Veronica has stepped out of the High Hopes Needle Exchange and locked the doors. The clinic is built into an old storefront, the windows have been covered over and boarded for privacy. She pulls the metal gates down and locks it tight, then heads towards the nearby alley leading towards the Toy District.

Veronica is on the other side of thirty, with dark hair shot through with silver streaks. She is Afro-Latina, with dark eyes and skin. A sedentary life has left her out of shape and a bit overweight. Despite that, she dresses well. She is wearing a black skirt suit and her hair is done up in protective braids.

+LOSE/+BURN> Simon burns 1 Willpower.
+ROLL/+DICE> Simon: Charisma + Subterfuge vs. 7 -> 1 success. (9 7 5 3 2 1)

Simon is naturally a person repellent, but he has two things going for him: that same aggression that draws people away, tends to lure Veronicas to him like a moth to a flame. He has that whole guarded aggression look going for him, and the swagger of someone who is not stranger to violence, who is used to taking what he wants, when he wants, if he wants it.

And that entire package makes it all too easy to draw on the power of the spirits of his ancestors to make himself more palatable for other audiences, one should say. As she walks out of the clinic, he stops close to her long enough to make eye contact.

"Hello, Veronica, I'm with logistics. I'm afraid there's been an issue with supply and your next shipment will be delayed. I assume the last supply of methadone has been enough?"

It's a dirty fucking lie, but he won't show any papers. Perhaps he should have gotten Francesca on the case.

+ROLL/+DICE> Simon: Manipulation + Subterfuge vs. 5 -> 0 successes. (5 3 3 2 1)

Normally someone with Simon's level of Rage would freak out just about anyone beyond people with spines of steel. Soldiers, mercenaries, criminals. Those sorts. Not usually office workers in medical clinics. Yet, Veronica seems to either be blissfully ignorant of Simon's Rage, or she's pointedly ignoring it. She tries to bypass him with a withering glare, and then he starts speaking to her.

"Logistics?" She repeats, quirking an eyebrow. "Normally you guys come during business hours, rather than waiting around and skulking at the end of the day." She has worked her keys into her palm, creating a little makeshift claw. "You here to rob me? None of what we have has street value."

Which is also a lie: everything has some kind of street value.

"The nice people in customs decided to ask for extra and so they're holding the container hostage. You know how it is with those stupid dockworker fucks; if they know you're selling, they're gonna be cutting in. I'm just letting you know ahead of time to expect it."

Simon notices that she's working her keys into her palm, taking a step to the side, one hand to the side, the other drifting close to his holstered pistol. He won't bother with the artifice of pretend he isn't if she's already getting her keys into her palm.

Of course, that part about the Rage tips him off that something is amiss here. So he'll start paying -very- close attention to any tell on her skin, teeth, eyes. That is -- if there is even time to do that.

"Rob you? I'm doing a favor for the guys in HQ and this is how you repay me?"

That gets Veronica's attention. She backpedals towards the door and watches Simon carefully. The keys are still in her fist, she is still staring at him with a serious look, albeit tinged with fear. There is definitely something about her, the way her skin looks. There's a light glint off of her throat as she sidles away from Simon and catches the light. Too shiny for sweat. Almost like her skin is metal.

Or a very well-disguised carapace?

She says, "Listen, young man. I'm just an office worker. I'm not trying to give you a hard time or hassle you. Let me just open the clinic, we can go inside and I'll get you your payment so we can clear up the problems at the docks. Maybe you can take that back to headquarters and tell them that we're sorry for the inconvenience?"

She reaches her hand over to the padlock on the gate, and goes to unlock it.

Nah, Veronica. There is actual malice in Simon's dead stare now, once he realizes what he is really looking at. It's in the AM, nobody's going to fucking tell anything out here. But inside there may be worse cameras, worse things. It's her field and not his.

So he powers his motion with Rage, and draws the pistol, pointing it at her. "The problem here seems to be you, Veronica. That's a big fucking carcass you've been carrying. Maybe I can help you unload it from the rest of your unfortunate fucking body, you god damn /monster/."

If given enough lead time, he'll definitely pop two shots at her, center-mass, instead of head, for now.

+ROLL/+DICE> Simon: 5 vs. 6 -> 0 successes. (8 4 4 3 1)
+ROLL/+DICE> Simon: 5 vs. 6 -> 3 successes. (9 8 6 5 3)
+ROLL/+DICE> Simon: 5 + 2 vs. 6 -> 6 successes. (10 10 10 10 8 6 3)
+ROLL/+DICE> Simon: Willpower vs. 8 -> 2 successes. (10 9 7 7 6 3)

The bullet slams into the woman's torso. The first one misses the mark and smacks into the metal frame covering the door behind her. It ricochets into the ground. The other strikes home, and she flops backwards, unable to manage the very brutal wound. A sucking chest wound. She takes in big gasps of air, the blood in her chest burbles. "No, no. I have a family," she whines, slumping down against the ground.

She looks up to Simon and opens her eyes wide, attempting to catch his gaze. When she does, her eyes... change.

Her pupils begin to dilate. Wider, wider, wider. Then, a slurping sort of sound as the lenses peel back and reveal black insectoid eyes that stare into Simon. The effect would be both terrifying and mesmerizing, were Simon not so resolute. She coughs up some blood and spits it on the ground. Veronica continues staring at Simon with those hideous eyes; black ichor begins to weep out of her tear ducts.

Simon doesn't pull his gun away from Veronica. He is not human, he will never be human. Requests for mercy are given the same two seconds consideration as his next order in a drive-thru restaurant.

When she transforms, the look never changes to pity. It is only the homicidal intent conveyed, the anger of everything that has been happening the past few months with him, coming to surface. Jilted interests, broken expectations, concessions of defeat and compromises. Those things are HARD for an Ahroun. Full Moons rarely accept defeat, everything is ALWAYS a challenge.

And now they come calling, asking for Veronica's pound of flesh.

"I'm going to kill you now, put you out of your misery. You've done a lot of harm already, but may your luck be better next time."

Yes, he intends to shoot the woman again. Two shots, both center-mass. There is no cruelty to what he does, other than the taunting.

This is how he started his 'career' and this is how he's going to continue to do it.

It isn't hard to shoot a woman on the ground. She holds up a hand to ward off Simon's pistol as he keeps it trained on her. The first shot splatters her hand back from her wrist, the bones snapping and popping with a spray of blood and viscera as the bullet continues to its target of her center mass. Her ruined hand comes down to flop against the street, nearly severed from her wrist. The other bullet slams into her chest. The blouse has been shorn away by the previous assaults from Simon's firearm; the black carapace that makes up her skin absorbs the kinetic energy from the bullet.

In a last ditch effort, Veronica lurches forward to try to grab Simon around the ankle, flopping forward and landing on her stomach. A black slurry and sludge comes up from her lips and splatters on the ground.

The vomited sludge smells like bile and shit.

The ruined hand snaps off as she pushes herself up on her shattered and destroyed wrist bone, attempting to grasp for Simon.

Wren slows as she hits a turn in the alley, and then reaches under the hoodie to pull and ready her own sidearm.

Veronica tries to reach out for that last ditch attempt to ruin him as she has ruined the futures and the health of many people in this clinic, and Simon steps back. The Ahroun checks his gun, counts mentally: 4 bullets left. Not that he needs to care about that. He will shoot again, imbuing his motions with rage and hatred for this pitiful creature of the Wyrm.

This inferior specimen that has dared to defile Gaia's beautiful creations as it has.

A small drone that is designed to look like a dragonfly arrives on the scene. Cameras and vocal recording are turned on. Anna is the one receiving the information. She is following her drone, but Anna moves very slowly and will not reach the fight as quickly as her drone, not by far. She limps and rolls slowly in this direction without an intention of getting super near even when she can. The dragonfly drone tries to zero on information that might be important such as if anyone in the sept is hurt or if there is still danger here.

+ROLL/+DICE> Wren: Perception + Alertness vs. 8 -> 2 successes. (9 9 4 2)
      <This is part of a group roll>
+ROLL/+DICE> Simon: Perception + Alertness vs. 7 -> 2 successes.

The last bullet plugs through Veronica's neck. A gurgle of that black ichor that the woman was weeping from her insectoid eyes wells up from the hole in her throat. She slumps forward and seizes once. A gasp escapes her lungs. A monster of the Wyrm vanquished with a tool of humanity? There is silence save for the passing cars, voices in the distance, a plane overhead. Mundanity. The banal press of an insomniac city.

Something is seeping up from the woman's corpse. The death rattle begins in earnest. Over the scent of bile and feces is the scent of sulfur and ammonia.

A green-yellow gas begins to billow out of the woman's face-down body. The visible skin around her lips and cheeks starts to melt away, joining the vomitous slurry with dripping flesh.

Wren slows, Sig already in her hands and ready to fire, carried muzzle-down as she jogs toward the conflict... and then stops a good distance away. She gives Simon a Look. "Askin' a receptionist some questions, huh."

To any newcomers, it appears that Simon has just shot a woman several times in front of a needle exchange clinic. To any newcomers, it also looks like there's sewer gas coming from the woman's body. There are few streetlights, but the area is deserted.

Alright. He had planned to get her cellphone, but this will not be. In truth it would've been worse if he had gotten in with her in the clinic. Less space for him to act on it, might have even gotten fucked by close quarters combat.

Simon does what anyone in their sane mind with prior warning does: he backs the fuck away, then is on a running start to get himself to a safe distance from the corpse. Single-minded in being coherent or sensate to do so.

The comment from Wren doesn't prompt any response from the clearly angry man.

River makes his way into the alleyway, preceded by Wren and the drone. He cleaves to the shadow, however, and takes a moment to just watch, as close to unobserved as the Uktena can manage, having already drawn the darkness of night itself already around him. He is here simply to observe at the moment.

Wren blows out a breath, holsters the Sig, and takes out her cellphone to call Brandon.

The dragonfly drone is still here flying around. Anna tries to study if there are any possible cameras or witnesses here? She tries to have the dragonfly drone check out windows and as if trying to to a scan for possible witnesses. Anna eventually arrives? But if she the tiny tinker hangs back.

Simon ejects the magazine, checks it for remaining bullets, and whispers something to the spirit of the weapon as he holsters it once again. He now knows it's good to go if he needs it. He'll take the long way around the clinic, hopefully there is a backdoor somewhere.

The dragonfly drone shows two cameras, one in front of the clinic that looks inoperable, and the other on the side. It's one of the LAPD's shot-camera initiatives. That also looks fairly inoperable. Lucky. As the drone hovers over the street, Savannah catches sight of a little kid shivering in another alleyway, hiding behind a dumpster.

Behind the clinic, Simon finds the back door. It's a simple thing, with a bolt and key lock.

River makes his way closer, still cleaving to the shadows. He moves a little nearer and crouches down, some distance from the visible gases wfting up around the corpse. He peers curiously, evaluating it from afar in silence for a moment.

Wren whispers a curse in Italian. Then she rasps, "Savannah, see if we got any witnesses hidin' anywhere, aright?"

Anna tries to get a picture of the cameras just in case even though they seem not to be operating. She then sucks in a soft troubled breath upon noticing the child. She gets a picture of the child as well and then looks to Wren with concern. "There is a child..." She says in a worried tone. "In the next ally, behind a dumpster, quaking with fear, likely saw some of this. I am not sure what age, but young."

The corpse of the woman has a black carapace that looks very well-designed to look like skin. It looks like it would be cold to the touch. The noxious and acidic fumes seem to be fading away as a bit of wind kicks up and disperses the cloud near River. The smell is immense. Just awful. There are police sirens in the distance, but nowhere near here.

River wave a hand in front of his face to try to clear the smell away from his nose. He glances over to Wren and he says, "Getting R.C.? Ask him if we should move this down below." He doesn't seem at all perturbed about the gunning-down of this creature.

+ROLL/+DICE> River: Perception + Primal-urge vs. 6 -> 1 success. (9 9 3 3 1)

Okay, now that is significant. Simon rubs his face, stopping when he looks at the bolt and lock. Pull cellphone out, text in caps: WREN. GET AROUND THE BACK. TAKE A LOOK. Did someone say a kid is a witness? Okay.

He knows what to do, because he has a Gift for this kind of fucking situation. And it is a situation. No kids need to die in this.

He heard Savannah's voice, so he walks up to her and says, "Lead me to the child."

Wren gives Savannah a looks of mild incredulity and makes a slight shooing motion that says, well, go get him! Then she says a few flat rasping words into the phone: "Incident. Need some cleanup. You got someone on call f'that sorta thing?"

Whatever the reply is, she looks down and clenches her other fist. "I guess you don't wanna get your shoes dirty, huh? Yeah. Shua. We'll report later."

Anna looks up to Simon and her concern seems to linger. Her cheeks are pale and her breathing is elevated. She nods in response to Simon when he asks to be lead the child and the tiny tinker just does that. Anna starts to lead Simon to the child. The drone moves faster though and heads tat way too. If Simon follows the drone instead of Anna, he will get to the child more quickly.

Wren pockets the phone and looks over to River. He's the only one likely to see the tight-jawed anger on her face. "Didn't ask about movin' it, there a reason? I was gonna run to the AMB, get some trash bags. And keep an eye out for something to, ah... Do the cuttin' with."

There is the sound of a starling winging its way down to land on the rooftop of the clinic. It stares down at the assembled Garou and Kin, the corpse. It makes a loud chirp and takes off into the night. The clear skies would show stars were it not for the light pollution. The heat of the day has cooled to a nice temperature. A pretty nice night, all told.

There is a loud metallic bang as a raccoon rolls into a dumpster, digging around for its dinner, oblivious to the drama nearby.

If the drone gets there faster, Simon might get in lockstep with it. He casts a glance back at the carcass, but moves in steady, clipped pace towards the awaiting child in the alley. Two things: he pulls out a wallet, grabs some money, places the wallet back in the pocket; he also focuses on becoming persuasive once again. Or try. That didn't go so well last time. Who knows this time?

"I'll check," River answers. He pulls out his own phone and taps in a quick message into it. He holds his phone loosely in hand while he remains in a squat, waiting for the reply. He glances up from his shadowy not-so-good hiding spot at the bird's arrival and departure, but says nothing about that.

Wren doesn't miss the bird, and in fact her hand twitches. But shooting a little starling with a sidearm would be... well, apparently that's below even Wren's paranoia line.

Although she /does/ look remarkably tense.

The kid looks up at Simon as he approaches. He's probably about eight years old. He looks between Simon and the weird dragonfly drone that's coming down on him, his limbs shaking. He's dressed in a pair of shorts and a short-sleeve t-shirt with a monster truck on it. "P-please, I d-didn't see nothin', I p-p-promise. D-don't hurt me," he pleads with the Ahroun. A dark wet spot appears in his shorts; he's clearly not kin, the Rage has him terrified.

Meanwhile, the raccoon back at the clinic clambers out of the dumpster and rolls onto the ground. It has a bagel in its mouth. Its eyes shine from a streetlight as it observes Wren.

River is having a couple of brief text back-and-forths with someone on the other end of his messaging. He looks around from his spot in the alley, seeming almost unconcerned as he deals with a little of the aftermath.

Anna fails to notice the bird, but she is busy focusing on other things and birds were not really on her radar. She keeps limps and rolls her way after Simon and her drone. Her sleek and fast little drone. She watches the footage from the drone being streamed her smart phone. The image of the child, concerns Anna and she might not know what Simon intends. The little tinker doesn't know him all that well and not all wolves would have mercy. She limps and rolls as fast as she can in their direction.

"Hey kid. Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you. Here," Simon kneels down beside the kid, offers the money. It's about a hundred dollars, more or less. For all his faults, he does have some compassion for the people of the streets. Abandoned children, especially. "I hope you enjoyed the show. We're shooting for a series called XCOM: Enemy Within, you probably heard about the game, right? Well, we're making the series. And that's one helluva prop. We're going to be cleaning up, so just take the money and go, right? And please try to keep it low."

+LOSE/+BURN> Simon burns 1 Willpower.
+ROLL/+DICE> Simon: Manipulation + Subterfuge vs. 5 -> 2 successes. (9 8 3 3 3)

"Text me, I'm gonna run for supplies, aright?" Wren says to River. She doesn't really wait for an answer; this needs dealing with. And apparently the Sept has no cleaner on call, which is a matter that needs dealing with NEXT on her list.

The Kin, who is not at all in the best of shape, will apparently get a little more jogging in today. Some of it will be accompanied by breathless cursing in Italian.

The kid reaches a trembling hand up and takes the hundred dollar bill. Those bullets and gunshots looked pretty real. That woman's hand blew off. He licks his lips nervously and nods, moving to stand up. "I'll," he says, "I'll keep quiet. Don't worry. I-I'll look f-forward to the sh-show." And with that he's off in a flash, fleeing down the alley with his new prize.

The corpse of Veronica sits on the ground. At least it's stopped pumping out noxious fumes. It's roughly 12:30 now. Not quite time for bars to let out, but getting on towards that. Clean-up should happen sooner rather than later.

Simon rubs his temple, rising to his feet. That problem may or may not have been handled. Either way, it'll become a tabloid matter if not. He texts a number: Francesca's. 'Bring car. Bring tarp. Bring yourself. Bring Enzo too, but I need a door unlocked and I need him to put a fucking thing in the tarp.'

River looks down at the phone when a final message is sent. He snorts faintly and then pockets his phone again. He pushes himself upright then. He leans back into the shadows and waits there for Simon's return. When he sees Simon, River finally offers a nod. "You need a cleaning for it?" he asks simply.

Anna reaches Simon and her drone just as the kid is running away. The tiny tinker seems more than relieved. The dragonfly drone then takes off a bit higher doing another sweep of the area, watching for people, for police for anyone who might be drawing nearby. For now Anna focuses on monitoring the drone.

"I do." Simon nods to River, glancing at the corpse. "That thing there was making people sick. Making junkies worse. We need this entire place cleaned up and that lock picked. There is a whole fucking shipment of suspicious, toxic shit coming this way."

Anna sees some people meandering down the street; her eye in the sky notes a man and a woman, clearly drunk, staggering up the road. They pass a bottle between themselves. The others can hear snatches of singing echoing off the buildings. The man and woman look like locals judging from their clothing and flagrant disregard for public intoxication ordinances.

River nods once more, allowing them to deal with making arrangements for the physical corpse. He rises and moves a short distance from the body. He draws a small bag from a pocket and pulls out some dried sage, neatly wrapped, plus a lighter. He lights the sage and glances down the alley. "I need a few minutes," he says, before he begins walking a slow circle around the body, murmuring a song of the first peoples, in a language all but gone, as he waves the smoking sage over the body, bit by bit, as he carries out his circumnavigation of that prone, tainted form.

The Ahroun stands in overwatch, letting River do whatever he needs while making sure to keep an eye out for anyone that might want to mess with this. The pissed off look on his face was replaced by something more intent, with just a tiny dash of anxiety. Like the lime wedge on a tall glass of sparkling water.

Anna tries to sneakily follow the couple with her drone. "Incoming..I think they are headed this way, they might change course, two drunks, a couple.." She says to those here.

A dead human woman lies on the ground. Her blood has stopped pumping out of her prodigious wounds and into the street. She is black with protective braids for her hair. Her clothing is fairly well-to-do, a kind of skirt-suit. She lays in front of a shuttered clinic called High Hopes Needle Exchange. River has finished making his rounds around the woman widdershins to cleanse her of taint. Simon stands nearby, keeping an eye out. Wren has rushed off to get some cleaning supplies, and Savannah is on overwatch with her drone.

Down the street, a couple is making their way in this direction. The group can hear a snatch of song. It's the song 'We Are Young' by Fun., which was a relative banger in the mid-2000s. They will likely arrive with their drunken slouching within the next five to ten minutes.

Wren jogs back to the scene of the incident, carrying a box of trash bags. They are, unfortunately, Tall Kitchen.

River has finished with the spiritual cleansing ritual. He tears off the smouldering ends and drops them into a storm sewer grate, scuffing his foot along the metal to brush it all down below. He tucks the remaining sage away and nods to the other Garou in the area. His task is done, it seems. He glances down toward the south and smirks at the sight of the approaching couple. He starts heading in that direction, trusting in his Rage to naturally repel the two anyway. He is not the sort of thing humans want to meet in a literal dark alley.

With a nod to River, Simon looks at the corpse with contempt. But he kneels down and, carefully, retrieves the cellphone and the keys of the victim. You know what they usually keep inside safe exchanges like this? Fridges. You know what goes into fridges? Corpses. And so he'll probably drag the corpse away from the presumable camera circuit inside, just enough that it falls to the peripheral so that he can open that door and grab a big fucking fridge.

Wren slows as she approaches River. "Etsa'a Onontsi. You know anybody's got a saw? That or maybe we play the 'I got a drunk friend' game to get to a pickup car."

Anna keeps watch on the footage streamed to her from the drone, trying her best to make sure that nobody is drawing near. She picked up the approaching couple of course. She looks between Simon and River who are still here. "I can try to stall them or distract them if you want." She offers, regarding the drunk couple she spoke about it. Anna keeps away from the body!

 *poof* There's the sound of two front tires and then *poof* the sound of two rear tires exploding against the tire spikes as a seafoam green Nissan Leaf with purple underlighting, spewing house music, clunks noisily through the alleyway. To the rescue. The motherfucking cavalry. Livid.

Meanwhile, perfectly (surprisingly) unphased in side passenger seat of that seafoam green Nissan Leaf is one Kateri, whom currently is occupied with a tamarind candy spoon within her mouth. That pregnant stomach isn't the only thing packing heat though! Tucked witin one of the over sized pockets, concealed for now is a pistol.

Wren hears that sound behind her and winces, shaking her head and saying something doubtlessly obscene in Italian.

The interior of the clinic is dark, quiet. This place was once a storefront that went out of business. There are some cheery decals adhered to the walls, and a row of chairs sits in that liminal space that exists in places like this when the lights are off and the clientele is gone. The feeling of being watched, but not by anything in particular -- watched by that entropic part of the brain that screams SOMETHING IS WRONG! The ghosts of all our dead coming back to follow us through darkened hallways; to lie in wait behind us in the dark, waiting for us to turn our heads so that we might see some ghastly face waiting in the dark.

And yet, it is just a clinic. It smells like a clinic. There is an antiseptic scent on the floor covering up the unmistakeable scent of human wreckage.

As Simon moves through the clinic, he can find a freezer on wheels used to contain drugs. Opening it up, he sees nothing inside. Odd. He's able to wheel that out as he was wont to do, the cord slithering away from the device and popping out of the wall. The freezer's hum dies, the machine's breath stilled and held.

River glances over to Wren and smirks. "Ask him," he says with a jerk of his head to the side. "I'll deal with these people." To Savannah, he shakes his head. As he makes his way down the alley, he moves on an intercept course for the drunk couple coming the other way. "'Ey, you two havin' a good time?" he asks, trusting the Rage to lend an air of menace to the question as he begins his approach. "What you got? Show me." Says the obviously muscular figure in the tank top walking through the shadows of the dark alley toward them, who ellicits memories from their primal brains, passed along through generations. This is one of the things that stalks them in the night.

"This entire fucking dump is suspicious as shit. Who the fuck makes a drug clinic without drugs?" Simon asks himself, shaking his head. Fucking liminal spaces, playing tricks on your head. Long hallways or those rooms that stretch out horizontally and are gradually darker instead of all dark or all illuminated.

This place, though. Creepy as shit, and then what is that smell? It smells like ruination, that's what it is. Granted, he just killed something that Cockroach would be very offended if he dubbed La Cucaracha, so whatever the fuck it is...

He wheels the refrigerator out of the clinic, but something does give him pause. He tries to stare at the floor, test it with a tap of his foot.

Anna looks to River, nodding in response to his words. She seems more than happy to let him deal with the incoming people. The small tinker looks to the car, but well she knows the car is Brandon's and is not concerned by such. She keeps the drone making a patrols overhead and over the area, watching and listening for people, police or well monsters!

The drunks hold their position in front of River, but it's clear they're shaken up. "H-hey man," stammers the dude. "We don't want any trouble. We're just walkin' here. We, uh, we don't have to go this way." He nudges the woman and says, "Cath, let's go."

"Bruce," the woman starts, but then she looks at River with all of his musculature. A shiver shakes her bones. Cath tugs at Bruce's hand and the two humans turn to retreat back in the direction they came.

Meanwhile, the dumpsters have been moved out of the way. Now all the animal activity in them makes sense. The barricades have been removed from the front of the alleyway, allowing that glorious Nissan Leaf to still bust up its wheels as it barrels into frame.

Wren stands still for a moment, looks down at her bag of trash, and takes a very deep breath through her nose.

Good thing River did that Cleansing.

Lifting her head, she heads for the little clinic - presumably River's head jerked thattaway - and comes to the door. "Yo. Let's do the carryin-our-drunk-friend thing. Put y'jacket on her, you and Etsa'a Onontsi walk her down the alley t'where we can get someone with a car. Fuckin' Warda just tried to drive in over the traps and busted his tires. Might hafta deal with a breach right /afta/ this shit."

Notably, she does not lift her head or show her face.

The Leaf, with Brandon and Kateri inside, blunders into wherever it can get to in this maze of streets, with its tires popped. It is clear when he comes out of the driver's seat that Brandon already feels like he has suffered more from this incident and is already more involved in it than any of the principals. His _tires_ are _popped_. His forehead is red. His blazer is ferociously unbuttoned. The Warder has been summoned. He is ready to solve this problem he knows nothing about in five seconds.

Even though the body was cleansed, that coppery-iron scent still lingers in the air, as well as the other scent of corpses. She has soiled herself; one of the bullets hit her in the gut, which has caused some of what she ate recently to spill out from the wound, along with the intestines. Even if the Wyrmy scent of bilious acid is gone, the very real scent of death remains. Probably something Wren is more familiar with.

A moment later, Kateri exits from the side of the car as she still is toting that black bag like it holds a small fortune inside of it. To her - it does. She begins to walk around to the front of the car as she looks down at the popped tires. The hand not hiding the gun within her jacket drifts upwards, pulling the spoon out of her mouth as she looks up towards Brandon's direction. "Do you have enough spares? I can change them out now." <English>

River is meanwhile being aggressive toward the passersby. "No no, come on back here. I wanna see what you got!" he insists, stalking after them to ensure they truly decide to go another way. He then pauses, takes stock of the surroundings, and then looks back at the Leaf that has made its conspicuous entrance up the other end of the alley. He glances back and, from some distance away, tries once more to cleave to the shadows and slip closer to get a better look. Maybe he'll have better luck for that better look, this time.

+ROLL/+DICE> River: Gnosis vs. 6 -> 0 successes. (8 4 3 1)

"She's messed up, Ren. This is no time to play this like Weekend at Fucking Bernie's," Simon lays the refrigerator down, glances at the incoming Leaf. His expression doesn't change much. Now there are three people with much Rage and a lot of anger. "Put the corpse in the fucking fridge. She won't smell like yesterday's lunch if the fucking fridge door is closed. We just to shove this in the back of the car; Frankie's standing by somewhere close."

When Brandon arrives, he stares at the Warder, then hikes his thumb at the clinic. "Bad shit in there. And whoever's behind this is peddling it to more people."

+ROLL/+DICE> River: Dexterity + Stealth vs. 6 -> 4 successes. (10 9 8 8 5 4 3 3)

Of course Wren gives the corpse only a cursory glance, to see if her 'carry the drunk buddy' scheme will work. (Maybe the place has medical tape? Or maybe someone has duct tape. Note to self: from now on, ALWAYS carry duct tape. Contractor trash bags.

Possibly a bone saw?

She's not quite run *over* by the refrigerator, thankfully, since she backs up pretty damn quick.

"Point fuckin' taken, though I don't /think/ that thing is gonna fit in anything less than a pickup or a child-molesta van..."

The Kin looks at Simon and then takes in Brandon as well. "Stow it in the freeza, leave the freeza in the alley until we can scrounge up a van, aright?"

Wren gives a little jerk of her head. "We got drone ovawatch. She can keep an eye out, so can you guys."

Anna has the breaks to her walker on and the small tinker leans into such. Her smart phone is out, sending her feds of images that the dragonfly drone keep sending to her. She is quite dutiful and focused on playing overwatch lookout. She doesn't look too often to the body and maybe it bothers Anna not everyone is used to such. The smell gets to her as well. "Liam said he would have trucks fromy cleaning party in two days, he might already have them? Maybe..."

Anna adds to Wren. "I can bring more drones. I have more in my shop."

Brandon storms out of his car in a very bad mood. He had been happy! He had been arguing with this one very precocious Bone Gnawer Ahroun. Then he got messages, and his tires got blow out, and he has had to do work, and now he is unhappy.
He barks commands angrily, having scanned the scene.
"I'm not putting a _whatever_ in my baby!" he shouts, with affront. He doesn't care that the whatever has been cleansed. He points at a stormdrain nearby. "We gonna put it in there. Dead-Eye, lift it, put the body in, you're in charge of that body. Van, scout. New York, you and me, we gonna figure out how to clean up."
Kateri gets perhaps the easiest command: "Uh keep being preggers I guess."
River was doing what Brandon would've wanted him to do anyway, shepherding people.
Brandon takes a moment to see if anyone objects to his managerial acumen, but be warned, he is already _pissed_.

River remains where he is, just watching the proceedings with a small smirk in place. He is a little ways from the group and nearer the alley's mouth on the south end, able enough to intercept anyone that comes that way but otherwise content to just watch - taking time to assess the performance of those more directly involved.

Anna looks to Brandon when he gives orders, nodding in response to him. She keeps up her watch duty.

Kateri's order brings a loft of an eyebrow towards Brandon's direction as she continues to glance down towards the direction of the tires. A foot slides out, poking against one of the rims momentarily until she glances towards Brandon's direction then the rest in sight. The spoon is taken out of ehr mouth, and she dead-pans says. "You know it would be easier to remove if you break it down. It's rather easy if you follow the joints, and use the momentum of the blade to make the bones dislocate from the sockets. From there, it's a quick cut with the grain of the muscles." Again. Deadpan. STraight face. Talking about breaking down human bodies like she's explaining the weather to someone. <English>

Wren might be almost as angry as Brandon. Save for a hint of tension in her posture, it doesn't show, of course. "Don't think I brought my giant fuckin' knife today," she says. With her usual lack of inflection, of course.

Anna does her best to block out the conversation at hand as she is troubled by the idea of a body being chopped up. Her cheeks are pale and her small form is drawn taut. She continues to keep her focus on her overwatch duties.

The corpse of Veronica has no say in the matters of its disposal. It is merely an object now, a thing. The spirit has vacated its body, if indeed a spirit survives past the invasion and possession of a Bane spirit.

Looking from one side to another, if Simon went from pissed to sizzling-stoic in the aftermath of shooting a Fomor about sixteen degrees into dead, well, one could now say he's back to pissed as he stares at Brandon after orders were barked out. "I don't have time to spend here and argue with your bullshit, so I'll take the fucking storm drain into consideration and go along with the suggestion. Thank you, Roller-Coaster." He lifts the corpse, dumps it into the refrigerator, closes it, and then starts cartwheeling it to where the Warder indicated. He opens the door, stares at the other Ahroun, and lets the body slowly descend into the depths of a fucking manhole.

River smirks faintly at his mate's offhand suggestion. He remains where he is, keeping an eye on the alleyway to the south but dividing his focus to following the goings-on in the alleyway.

The body descends, by which it falls unceremoniously down the ladder into the cavernous sewers that exist below Los Angeles. Thankfully, judging from where they are right now, there are no not-sees in this part of the sewers. They could likely reach the body from the Inner Bawn proper, through the tunnels.

What remains of the corpse is a pretty rough looking stain in front of the clinic. This isn't entirely out of character for this area. Simon has acquired Veronica's keys and phone for later perusal. There are no people coming now, but the local bars are going to start kicking people out soon. California bars are open until 2 AM, but with the way people drink in this neighborhood, there are plenty of people who get thrown out before last call. There is a scent like coppery-iron still. The viscous ichor that spilled out of the woman's wounds and was vomited out of her mouth have dissipated, leaving regular mundane blood and vomit on the sidewalk. Just another manic Monday in Skid Row.

Wren stands quite, quite still as she watches Simon and Brandon. Mostly the former. She starts toward Simon only after the job's finished.

Kateri casually looks over towards Wren's direction, "Smaller knives work better for the work. Fillet knives often used for fishing do wonders." She's quite unaware of her mate's presence lurking within the shadows because he's just that good. As she watches the body be dumped into the manhole, there's a twist of her lips. "Has.." She pauses for a moment before continuing. "A cleansing.. would of probably been wise before dumping it." A glance is made towards the clinic. "And of this area." <English>

Brandon doesn't take Simon's insubordination, his bridling, his transparent claim that he's only going along with Brandon's idiotic plan because he doesn't have the time to argue with him, easily. It bugs him! His eyebrows go up! His teeth clench! But Simon does ultimately do what Brandon told him to do. And he even says 'thank you' however ironically. Nevertheless Brandon doesn't calm down. "A'ight you're _in charge_ of this woman," Brandon tells Simon. "I dunno if you already did her pockets or whatever. But it's out of sight now and you're in charge." "New York you're with me," he says. He does not care in the least that she had been gravitating towards Simon. They have some investigation to do, inside wherever it was. Brandon honestly does not know what the heck even happened here.

And Brandon is open to explanation, except from Simon, whom he is being mean to for petty reasons.

Halting like the Warder has literally jerked her chain, Wren takes a deep breath in through her nose. (Thank you, Etsa'a Onontsi). Simon is thankfully the only one to see the brief tightening of her jaw, the flicker of anger, before she ducks her head aside and down.

River remains in the shadows for now. He watches as Brandon does his Warder thing, tapping Wren for the job. Simon has his task as well and that leaves Kateri and Savannah in the alleyway. So it is here that River emerges from the shadows to approach.

Anna is quite focused now on the scouting duties. She takes this all very very seriously! The drone keeps flying overhead, making patrols that cover the perimeter of the area they are in. It circles around, focusing on any paths and sidewalks that lead this way, but also looking into the windows of the nearby buildings and especially into the windows of the clinic.

That starling wings back down and lands on top of the single story building that serves as the clinic. It looks over the larger assembled party and gives a twirly tweet. Head tilts to the side curiously. It hops a few steps and grabs something from the gutter, then wings off into the distance once more.

The raccoon moves to stand up in the alleyway, one of its little hands resting on the side of the alley wall as it observes the Garou and Kin with glittering eyes, mirrored in the dark. Maybe a smile curves its lips. Why would that happen? How?

In the distance, a bar lets out and closes early. This area is about to get a lot busier.

Wren lifts her head to look at Simon, the anger dissipated. "I'd like to find out what happened," she rasps quietly. "Maybe you can run it down for us?" And then, because the chain has in fact been jerked, she paces in Brandon's direction.

Quite content is Kateri to simply move that tamarind spoon back within her mouth to suck on. While it seems that the chance of danger has passed, the pistol is removed from the pocket and slides into the hidden holder beneath the jacket. The racoon gets a brief glance at but then there's the sight of River. The shift of her features soften, but there's a *look* that he's getting, the kind that led them to tis particular situation in the first place.

"Sure." Simon glances down at the manhole, then back to Brandon. "I bet I can put her on the Hollywood Express to become a fucking diamond for someone like Gigi Hadid in ... I don't know, three weeks." He surmises. He upnods to Wren, as if telling her to go with the Warder. She doesn't need to deal with /two/ Ahroun who are pissed off. "Tell me how much the tire people quote you for."

"Alright, so, you see the woman who just went down here?" He closes the manhole. Intent on going down there later. "She was a Fomor, working with the Needle Exchange guy. Felicity got a nice tip from the guy about this woman's weird behavior and I decided to investigate. She didn't buy my bullshit, and wanted to trap me inside. Does she really think I'd fall for someone offering me /money/ inside a fucking clinic?"

River sees Savannah being dutiful with her droning and so just moves up to Kateri. He glances toward the clinic and shrugs slightly before side-nodding back in the direction he came on foot. "Well, it looks like it's all handled here. Ready to go?"

Kateri clears her throat as she breaks off the staring of her mate. Her eyes lift up towards the direction of the sky, watching it for a prolonged moment then back to River. She tips her head in a silent 'yes' gesture'.

Wren disappears into the clinic with Brandon.

Anna keeps watch for Brandon and Wren while they are inside! She is a good cousin like that.