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Captains (Uno, Lyra, & the Shepherds)

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It took her a second, then her jaw visibly dropped. Process that. So many more questions. Now was definitely not the time to ask. But so many more questions. 

Focus, Lyra, focus.

Get it together.

Val. Val is on the force. Val is a werewolf on the force.

There are a lot of werewolves on the force.

And Val is one of them.

So are Clay and Reggie. Currently brawling in Rock's. And leaving hair and blood everywhere, probably.

Wave of nausea. Cool. Don't black out. Now is not the time for that.

Chapman.

Wait.

Does Chapman know about all this? Is Chapman a freaking werewolf too?? Who isn't a werewolf now??

All of these thoughts crossed her mind in less seconds. None of them passed her lips. She sputtered a bit. Blinked a lot. Squinted and tried to process how she felt, or if there was even time to feel.

Then Chapman's cruiser pulled up.

Tara was the first out. She ran up to Lyra and Val. There was a look she gave both of them. Oh no, was the exact look.

The sound of a hundred glass bottles shattering could be heard. A look into the window. More oh no.

Chapman got out slower. There was a shadow in his gaze, seldomn present. He began to move around to the side of the building and around back, immediately closing the space between himself and Roger, who was leaning against the door and trembling. Bob gently took the gun from Roger’s hands,

“I want the names of everyone still here.” His voice was low and commanding. Roger nodded, and immediately went to work, approaching the crowd. He scanned it and approached the first, and then each after.

Bob opened the back door and slipped in quietly.

Inside, the odor of alcohol was strong, dozens of broken bottles of it spilled around the bar. Chairs were cracked, a table knocked over.

Clay was over Reggie with a mass of Reggie’s neck clamped between his teeth. Reggie lashed unfruitfully among the glass, alcohol and blood beneath his jaw.

Clay’s knee was pressed into Reggie’s back, with his large arms held tightly behind his back. Both had taken many blows in a short period, their chest’s heaving from the intensity at which they fought.

The bar was in no better shape. It looked as though one had been drug along the shelves of alcohol and glasses behind the bar. Their fur and blood certaintly did mark the floors, along with the many marks where their claws had dug in.

Bob casually walked up to the two, and Reggie almost broke out from under Clay’s body-Clay pressed harder into Reggie’s back.

Without any perceivable malice, Bob reached into his pants pocket and removed a large needle and a bottle of fluid. The needle was filled and Reggie lashed more. The needle was inserted into Reggie’s neck and the plunger pushed in.

- —

Tara stood with her shoulder to the window, switching between looking in and glancing at Lyra’s reflection in the window. It was loud and then silent.

“So…”

Across the street from the chaos, amid a crowd of agitated people, was one man who stood completely calm. Leaning casually on the wall, with his face as solemn as the grave, the man held a cigarette between two fingers that supported his cheek. He tossed his cigarette into the street as Bob Chapman pulled up, and his bright yellow eyes flashed as he turned away, then he was gone.

Lyra was just staring. Watching what was going on, clearly. Also thinking very deeply. Sometimes she would just nod. Sometimes it was a processing "yep, well that just happened" nod. Other times it was a ironic "yep, that just happened too" sort of nod. And on occasion it was an "oh, I get it now" sort of nod.

I was only slightly comforted Tara was as unnerved as I was. If this was just a Tuesday for her, I would have left right then and there and told Bob to forget this whole idea.  Apparently having an entire bar destroyed by an interpersonal werewolf-style conflict was a point for concern.

I looked between Tara’s concern, Lyra’s professional air, and back towards the unearthed chaos of the restaurant.

“Yeah….”

I nodded- what else was there to say?

Several blocks down the road, a car pulled over due to the commotion seen up ahead around the restaurant. Brown eyes watched the scene behind the windshield, before the sight of Chapman seemed to make the corners of her lips pull upward.

Although she did not expect to be noticed, she grabbed a book on the seat next to her and opened it to appear distraction as if she was simply waiting for someone to arrive where she was parked, but her eyes continued to watch the scene in the distance from her black Audi S2.

------

0:21, Tuesday morning, September 9th, below the Middlecrest courthouse.

Who even knew the Courthouse had not one but two floors beneath it?

Yet that's where they were. Two floors beneath the courthouse, Reggie had been secured by Smith and Chapman. The next floor up from them was where they currently resided.

They included Chapman, Smith, Mercer, Randall, Val, Torres, and a couple of other figures who had manifested at some point between Rocks and the courthouse.

The room in which they sat was mostly bare except a large, simple table and chairs that filled the center. It was presently arranged to seat twelve but could be expanded to seat more. There were three small adjoining rooms, all on one side, and the elevator.

There was a kitchen (the door of which was opened, and it smelled of freshly made coffee). It had of course, a coffee maker and fridge-indicating that this space was well used, possibly for long periods of time. Another room contained a desk and multiple filing cabinets.

Tara sat with one arm draped over the back of the chair, a cigarette in her hand, as had been a constant since leaving Rocks. Chapman stood at the head of the table with his arms crossed; he hadn't uttered a word since arriving. Mercer leaned forward with his elbows on the table, having been the last to arrive.

Roger looked nauseous, sitting across from Tara.

Clay had been tended to and had changed into a white tee shirt and jeans and he sat nearest to Bob. He had been laying with an arm across his chest and his head craned back. His arms were heavily bandaged, and his breathing was labored, but looked better than one might have expected. The other two men sat in quiet attention.

"We have everyone who will be attending this meeting."

Chapman began, moving the chair and sitting. He observed the disposition of each member of the room with a sweeping glance.

"Delgado will not be able to hear us from below, so I expect everyone to speak freely and ask questions openly." his eyes rested on Lyra and Val in turn, perceiving their unrest.

"For forty-six years I have worked in Middlecrest as an officer. My father and his father did the same work before me. Thus, the Chapman name has been prevalent in Middlecrest since nearly it's establishment. These incidents from rogue's and loners are not unprecedented. Thus was the nature of our existence, to protect the peace between mankind and werewolves. This is the first time we have had a public incident involving one of our own. I can make an educated guess as to what set off the events following up into yesterday evening, and I intend to have those thoughts confirmed, once Reggie has recuperated."

He spoke slowly and intently but did not leave room interjection presently.

"These events began months ago, when we lost a valuable member of our force. There were four human witnesses - two of which we have been unable to find. The other two being former officer Cooper, as well as Officer Lyra. Both are present."

He looked at them both and finally fixed his gaze on Lyra.

"You have long been suspended precariously on the threshold. We know this has been a source of unrest for you, as Kimberly was not only a coworker but a close companion of yours. That you would come to know in time was not a matter of if but rather, of when, and yet the time never seems right for such a revelation. The cost of this knowledge often outweighs the benefits."

Another sweeping glance of his steel-blue gaze before returning to Lyra.

"You have caught the inconsistencies in the reports, and that is because we have duplicate files for such events. If it will bring you closure, you may review the original reports in time." he inclined his head.

"I thank everyone for their quick work in evacuating the bar-to Val, for being able to assess the danger and act in a manner that demonstrates why we have singled him out for our force. To Officer Torres, for being able to operate efficiently in the light of such a heavy realization - and to Officer Smith, who put his life on the line to protect our secret. I am ashamed to say Randall and I caught a false trail placed by Delgado earlier in the day which delayed us. This informs us that this was premeditated. Other details Officer Smith provided tell me that this may have been an intended attack on Mr. Cooper."

He leaned back and exhaled.

"There is a lot of work to do after tonight, and as we are currently down a Captain, we will have our hands full over the next few weeks to clean up the mess. I would also like to remind you all - that we have neighbors in Pinerich, and I have every right to believe that there were witnesses to tonight's episode. We must be mindful that they do not tolerate these lapses of control well and we will have to conduct ourselves accordingly going forward, knowing that we may be watched more carefully for a time."

A pause at last.

"Officer Lyra. I know your questions are many. Your position as the only human on the force who knows of our existence, surely creates concerns for the men and women that serve me. I assure you that your safety is always our first priority-and yet we also have a duty to our own." he gave pause and glanced to Roger. "When we ran into this months ago, I spoke with Roger and discerned he was of no threat. Your work on the force has been greatly valuable." his gaze intensified. Tell me what assurance you can provide me. 

Lyra's eyes stayed level with Chapman's. She'd long admired and respected him, ever since she joined the force. She could say the same for most of the people in this room. And now, with the exception of Roger, knowing they were all werewolves, she could not help but see each of them in a new light.

Werewolves.

She had followed the trails for months. She'd reviewed the evidence. Some part of her knew it was leading up to this. But there was another part of her; the part she'd always felt was the more rational part of her, the part that entertained the idea of werewolves and conspiracies being real only because the thrill kept her motivated to find the real answer, the closure: why Kimberly died that night... That part of her was still reeling in disbelief. But as it reeled, it shrank. It shrank like the bothersome voices of doubters in her head. The ones that told her she could never be an officer. A K-9 handler. The one who discovered that werewolves were running the police force of Middlecrest.

It was another conquest. Another self-doubt she'd laid to rest. She wasn't crazy. She was right. But it still didn't tell her why Kimberly was dead.

"I've always been on your side, sir," Lyra said unflinchingly. "You know that. But I've only ever had half the picture. That's all any of us have had, and I can't help but wonder if that's fair. This 'threshold' you're talking about... Knowing that you're werewolves, I guess... Would..." Her voice faltered. Her heart was pounding again. She wanted to deliver this message good and strong. But...

No buts.

"If we knew, if Roger, Kimberly, and I had known, about werewolves, about you, do you think he would have fired his gun that night?"

She turned her gaze to Roger. "Would you have fired that night, if you had known?"

Roger looked at Lyra, pale and gaunt. A ghost of his former self. The wedding ring that once adorned his finger was no longer present, and all that was to show for the battles against himself were the many lines along his face that indicated a downturned disposition. He rubbed his hands together.

”Yes.”

He said, with a trembling sigh.

“Torres,” Chapman said, to bring her attention back to him,

”The more who know, the more grave the danger that we place ourselves in. It is a delicate balance, and regardless of title or rank, we try to keep these matters safeguarded among our own kind-whether they be loners, or a joined force. It is both a silent and spoken oath. Everywhere that we exist, we are the hunted as much as the hunters. If Roger knew, he might have come that much more equipped. This is why we try so hard to keep what happened from happening in the first place.”

Lyra was shaking her head. "I don't believe you would have."

She looked at Chapman again when he spoke. "With all due respect, sir, who's we? How does not knowing protect us? How would it have been a bad thing if he'd been prepared? What were werewolves even doing out there? I heard you at her funeral. Even then, you were defending them. Not us. 'Don't hold them in contempt.' Who were they? Was Delgado there? What about those women? Were they werewolves too? And the IRS man and the woman in the suit? What about them?"

Her face scrunched up like a sudden headache had come upon her. Or maybe it had been there a while. She swept her hand through her hair, as if that could sweep the pain away, and shook it off with a terse sigh. She focused on Chapman again. "Yeah, I wanna read those case files. I want to know what really happened. What's really going on here. None of this makes any sense. The fact that you're all freaking werewolves is just icing on the freaking cake."

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