Afterthought (Silas, Tiffany, & Ionone)
Quote from Indy on April 17, 2020, 11:02 pmAtlas stood at the threshold, his expression widened and nervous. His scabbed over fingers occasionally darted to his face as if to rub away the worries -- worries that had long become thick, puffy scratches on his gaunt face. His hair fell in filthy, matted locks. His hollow eyes gaped nervously at the machine, at the implications.
The mountain had fallen eerily silent....
A creature struck is a creature not designed for ration. Once before that night he'd tried to attack the thing in the shadows he'd been certain was the hunter -- only to find it a case of mistaken identity. Moments before, he'd found himself compelled by a duty to save the delicate woman he'd come to know as Tiffany from the hunter's hold. Yet all that fight had fled him without so much as a whimper. Something else had taken its stead. He licked his lips nervously, a breath caught in his throat.
The same hand that had struck him before was the same hand he wished to please. If... he brought this werewolf to him, might he not reward him? Might he not praise him? Might he...?
He took a step forward into the lift, the gaunt, angled contours of his body folding up as easily into the enclosed space as if he were a match in a matchbox. He closed his eyes once the lift doors closed and the lever fell.
Atlas stood at the threshold, his expression widened and nervous. His scabbed over fingers occasionally darted to his face as if to rub away the worries -- worries that had long become thick, puffy scratches on his gaunt face. His hair fell in filthy, matted locks. His hollow eyes gaped nervously at the machine, at the implications.
The mountain had fallen eerily silent....
A creature struck is a creature not designed for ration. Once before that night he'd tried to attack the thing in the shadows he'd been certain was the hunter -- only to find it a case of mistaken identity. Moments before, he'd found himself compelled by a duty to save the delicate woman he'd come to know as Tiffany from the hunter's hold. Yet all that fight had fled him without so much as a whimper. Something else had taken its stead. He licked his lips nervously, a breath caught in his throat.
The same hand that had struck him before was the same hand he wished to please. If... he brought this werewolf to him, might he not reward him? Might he not praise him? Might he...?
He took a step forward into the lift, the gaunt, angled contours of his body folding up as easily into the enclosed space as if he were a match in a matchbox. He closed his eyes once the lift doors closed and the lever fell.
Quote from Adriana on April 18, 2020, 6:04 amSilas was humming. He was humming to the tune of Feeling Good, as he took his revolver from his hip and proceeded to empty almost all the bullets out on the floor of the lift. All but one.
"How's 'bout I bust you kids oudda this joint," he mumbled in his best Jersey accent, glancing over his shoulder at Twitchy. Then he turned around and met the man with a hard icy stare, even as his form moved from werewolf to man like liquid. "Do as I say. Don't stop me. Don't do anything but what I say to do right now."
"Don't speak. Just nod. You take Tiffany back up, tell her where the Puppy is. Get all of you out of this cave, you know the way."
He continued to hum, taking hold of the mans hand and putting the detonator in it. "Once you're out, and away - press the button."
The explosives were no longer in their original place, but above the elevator shaft. He carefully closed the mans hand around the detonator and nodded slowly, hoping any kind of understanding was reached. Putting all of his hope and trust into a crazed man, who might twitch the wrong way and ruin everything. Still, his eyes conveyed nothing but trust.
Then he turned around. He could hear the sound of the elevator slowing, feel the change of pressure in his ears. He lifted the revolver to his head and pulled the hammer back. His free hand was lifted in the air with the palm open.
"It's a new dawn, it's a new daayy... it's a new life, for me."
The elevator screeched to a stop..
"Don't shoot." he called into the darkness. Praying the hunter was close, the chase was over, and this would work. "I want to make a deal."
The gate didn't open. The lift was stopped short. He knit his brow and waited..
Silas was humming. He was humming to the tune of Feeling Good, as he took his revolver from his hip and proceeded to empty almost all the bullets out on the floor of the lift. All but one.
"How's 'bout I bust you kids oudda this joint," he mumbled in his best Jersey accent, glancing over his shoulder at Twitchy. Then he turned around and met the man with a hard icy stare, even as his form moved from werewolf to man like liquid. "Do as I say. Don't stop me. Don't do anything but what I say to do right now."
"Don't speak. Just nod. You take Tiffany back up, tell her where the Puppy is. Get all of you out of this cave, you know the way."
He continued to hum, taking hold of the mans hand and putting the detonator in it. "Once you're out, and away - press the button."
The explosives were no longer in their original place, but above the elevator shaft. He carefully closed the mans hand around the detonator and nodded slowly, hoping any kind of understanding was reached. Putting all of his hope and trust into a crazed man, who might twitch the wrong way and ruin everything. Still, his eyes conveyed nothing but trust.
Then he turned around. He could hear the sound of the elevator slowing, feel the change of pressure in his ears. He lifted the revolver to his head and pulled the hammer back. His free hand was lifted in the air with the palm open.
"It's a new dawn, it's a new daayy... it's a new life, for me."
The elevator screeched to a stop..
"Don't shoot." he called into the darkness. Praying the hunter was close, the chase was over, and this would work. "I want to make a deal."
The gate didn't open. The lift was stopped short. He knit his brow and waited..
Quote from Mae on April 18, 2020, 11:22 pmTiffany sat silently in a dimly lit earthen room. At the back of the room, Douglas Hampshire faced a shelf cut into the stone wall. The only entrance and exit to the room led straight to the abysmal elevator shaft. Tiffany had her hands tied behind her back and sat up against the right wall of the room. Her clothes were still damp from the humidity of the lower tunnels, and in the light of a small flickering candle her crazy blond hair looked red. Douglas wore a black leather jacket, the collar came up around his ears, and his short damp, black hair was glistening with the flickering light. The hand-chiseled shelf he faced was lined with old wood and had few items on it; just a small cardboard box with basic medical supplies; a handgun; and a rusty blue miner's lunchbox.
Tiffany laid her head back on the wall in the wild curls around her shoulders. She slowly blinked and watched the hunter with a calm world-wise gaze.
"You must've been surprised." She said, breaking the silence finally. The smooth rich sound of her voice was made all the more lovely by the candlight and close walls. The hunter did not at first reply. He completed his preparatory work and came to her side, kneeling down and tying a long strip of white linen cloth around her arm.
"I had an inkling." He said at length.
Tiffany watched his hands and eyes as he applied a cold wet cleaner to the inside of her elbow. Then he skillfully located her median cubital vein and employed a needle under the skin. Tiffany barely winced at it. Her dark charcoal brown eyes surveyed his countenance carefully. Douglas possessed many broad features, and in such close proximity he did not look the ghost she thought she saw before. He had a tarnished-brown complexion, a muscular brow, and a square jaw. His nose was short and his eyes narrow, with an iron-yellow sheen. Tiffany could smell the musk of the sweat on his neck, and the scent of the forest in his clothes.
"You know," Tiffany said quietly, examining his ear and watching Douglas' expression. "I never would've thought you, of all people, were wolf-born."
Douglas met her eyes. Then he looked down again.
"That is one term for it." He said. "Though not taxonomically correct.""All the times we sat down together..." She mused, "And neither one of us ever figured it out."
"I was expecting someone to slip." He replied. "You just weren't who I was expecting."
Tiffany watched as six glass phials slowly filled with her blood. When Douglas was done he removed the line and wrapped the wound with gauze.
"I won't bleed you dry." He said as he stood up and returned to the shelf. He prepared and stored the phials in the lunchbox, which was insulated on the inside and equipped with a rack to that purpose.Tiffany scoffed lightly and rolled her eyes at the door. "I'd be a fool if I thought I wouldn't lose a little blood coming down here." she said. "At least I didn't lose it on the rocks on the way down."
"It'll go to good use." Douglas replied, closing and locking the lunchbox.
Tiffany looked at the hunter again. "They told me you worked in medicine, " she said. "But that never sit quite right with me. Seems like an anesthesiologist would be in a laboratory, not behind a gun playing with werewolves."
"Science makes leaps in the dark," Douglas said metaphorically. He turned to face Tiffany. "If nothing science did was ever in secret, there would be no advancement to mankind. Everyone benefits from knowledge gleaned in secret. And the progress of science and medicine is too important to be bound by simple ethics."
Just then, the sound of the hoist engaged from the shaft. Douglas walked over to the door and listened up the line as he heard the sound of metal hitting the solid floor of the platform.
"Sounds like your friends are on the way down." He said. He took the candle back and set it on the shelf, then picked up the handgun and grabbed his rifle from the wall.Suddenly the hoist whined, and then stopped - two inches above the door.
"Alright!" Douglas called up through the shaft. "That's as far down as you go. I have a proposition of my own to make. - And since you didn't come down here to see your friend take a bullet to the jugular - I'd take it if I were you. Is the little man up there with you?"
Tiffany sat silently in a dimly lit earthen room. At the back of the room, Douglas Hampshire faced a shelf cut into the stone wall. The only entrance and exit to the room led straight to the abysmal elevator shaft. Tiffany had her hands tied behind her back and sat up against the right wall of the room. Her clothes were still damp from the humidity of the lower tunnels, and in the light of a small flickering candle her crazy blond hair looked red. Douglas wore a black leather jacket, the collar came up around his ears, and his short damp, black hair was glistening with the flickering light. The hand-chiseled shelf he faced was lined with old wood and had few items on it; just a small cardboard box with basic medical supplies; a handgun; and a rusty blue miner's lunchbox.
Tiffany laid her head back on the wall in the wild curls around her shoulders. She slowly blinked and watched the hunter with a calm world-wise gaze.
"You must've been surprised." She said, breaking the silence finally. The smooth rich sound of her voice was made all the more lovely by the candlight and close walls. The hunter did not at first reply. He completed his preparatory work and came to her side, kneeling down and tying a long strip of white linen cloth around her arm.
"I had an inkling." He said at length.
Tiffany watched his hands and eyes as he applied a cold wet cleaner to the inside of her elbow. Then he skillfully located her median cubital vein and employed a needle under the skin. Tiffany barely winced at it. Her dark charcoal brown eyes surveyed his countenance carefully. Douglas possessed many broad features, and in such close proximity he did not look the ghost she thought she saw before. He had a tarnished-brown complexion, a muscular brow, and a square jaw. His nose was short and his eyes narrow, with an iron-yellow sheen. Tiffany could smell the musk of the sweat on his neck, and the scent of the forest in his clothes.
"You know," Tiffany said quietly, examining his ear and watching Douglas' expression. "I never would've thought you, of all people, were wolf-born."
Douglas met her eyes. Then he looked down again.
"That is one term for it." He said. "Though not taxonomically correct."
"All the times we sat down together..." She mused, "And neither one of us ever figured it out."
"I was expecting someone to slip." He replied. "You just weren't who I was expecting."
Tiffany watched as six glass phials slowly filled with her blood. When Douglas was done he removed the line and wrapped the wound with gauze.
"I won't bleed you dry." He said as he stood up and returned to the shelf. He prepared and stored the phials in the lunchbox, which was insulated on the inside and equipped with a rack to that purpose.
Tiffany scoffed lightly and rolled her eyes at the door. "I'd be a fool if I thought I wouldn't lose a little blood coming down here." she said. "At least I didn't lose it on the rocks on the way down."
"It'll go to good use." Douglas replied, closing and locking the lunchbox.
Tiffany looked at the hunter again. "They told me you worked in medicine, " she said. "But that never sit quite right with me. Seems like an anesthesiologist would be in a laboratory, not behind a gun playing with werewolves."
"Science makes leaps in the dark," Douglas said metaphorically. He turned to face Tiffany. "If nothing science did was ever in secret, there would be no advancement to mankind. Everyone benefits from knowledge gleaned in secret. And the progress of science and medicine is too important to be bound by simple ethics."
Just then, the sound of the hoist engaged from the shaft. Douglas walked over to the door and listened up the line as he heard the sound of metal hitting the solid floor of the platform.
"Sounds like your friends are on the way down." He said. He took the candle back and set it on the shelf, then picked up the handgun and grabbed his rifle from the wall.
Suddenly the hoist whined, and then stopped - two inches above the door.
"Alright!" Douglas called up through the shaft. "That's as far down as you go. I have a proposition of my own to make. - And since you didn't come down here to see your friend take a bullet to the jugular - I'd take it if I were you. Is the little man up there with you?"
Quote from Adriana on April 19, 2020, 9:05 amSilas listened, glancing back at Atlas. "It'll be alright.." he said certainly.
"He is," he responded into the darkness, "He led me here.. you'll have to take my word for it, he doesn't exactly speak on command."
He waited a moment, "Is she hurt?" he asked, doubtful any kind of honest answer would be given. "Curls?" he called.
Silas listened, glancing back at Atlas. "It'll be alright.." he said certainly.
"He is," he responded into the darkness, "He led me here.. you'll have to take my word for it, he doesn't exactly speak on command."
He waited a moment, "Is she hurt?" he asked, doubtful any kind of honest answer would be given. "Curls?" he called.
Quote from Indy on April 19, 2020, 11:12 pmAtlas’ eyes bulged in the faint interior lighting, luminous like a silvered crystal, while Silas had spoke to him. His fingers closed around the device offered to him, vanishing it on his person, but he’d done so with the expression of one prisoner to his own body.
When he had become underground creature and cased to be man could not be exactly said. Had it been a moment, or a gradual thing? Surely it had been before he’d first heard the mountain’s voice — by the time he’d heard it, he needn’t question her guidance.
Yet regardless of the when, he had once been a man and the man had once thought there was a way out. On his first attempt, he’d thought himself clever when he emerged to a sun-dappled forest, certain death held at bay only by the grip of his fingernails. He’d been afraid, yes, but beneath that had come the joy of defying the odds. But such joy is like the sun — it is warm and lovely, but stare upon it directly and you are blinded for what’s to come.
When the hunter retrieved him, the man died slowly. The man thought of more plots to escape, each more desperate than the last and striking him like a dagger with their failure. The man’s strength ebbed. The plans became hazy, indistinct like gnats in the summer grass. And then the man vanished like the last autumn breeze, without the substance of thought to carry him any further.
Yet something lingered there after the man had left. The creature, equipped for such futility, had emerged from some vestigial self long-forgotten in a primordial past. The creature could hear the mountain’s council and could survive the agony of isolation because the creature knew no less. While the man had wept with each physical talent lost, the creature accepted it with glee. When the mountain told him to abstain from the food of men, he abstained. When the mountain told him to all but limit his movements, he became the earth. He’d survived only upon the stale air and dank water, his muscles atrophied for disuse, until his skeletal appearance outwardly reflected the thing inside.
The mountain’s plan had soon proven its merit. He was so thin, so light, no one was to notice the slightest addition of weight to that crate. He’d ascended up the hoist without a sound and crept out after many hours of silence had persisted. The creature emerged among his new terrain, surviving on little bugs and the putrid water, growing if not stronger than wiser.
He had many the opportunity to escape… but the creature had learned from the man’s failure. The man had wanted to escape, but the creature knew it did not exist. Instead there was only the law of the mountain.
And so the creature quaked in the back of the hoist, knowing not what had compelled him to disobey his lady’s command, nor what had made his fingers snatch up the transceiver or acknowledge the tone of Silas’ voice. Yet what he feared most was the ringing, empty, silence that had once been filled by the mountain… and how his tiny heart quivered at the hunter’s voice. He did not know what he would do once the lift doors opened.
Atlas’ eyes bulged in the faint interior lighting, luminous like a silvered crystal, while Silas had spoke to him. His fingers closed around the device offered to him, vanishing it on his person, but he’d done so with the expression of one prisoner to his own body.
When he had become underground creature and cased to be man could not be exactly said. Had it been a moment, or a gradual thing? Surely it had been before he’d first heard the mountain’s voice — by the time he’d heard it, he needn’t question her guidance.
Yet regardless of the when, he had once been a man and the man had once thought there was a way out. On his first attempt, he’d thought himself clever when he emerged to a sun-dappled forest, certain death held at bay only by the grip of his fingernails. He’d been afraid, yes, but beneath that had come the joy of defying the odds. But such joy is like the sun — it is warm and lovely, but stare upon it directly and you are blinded for what’s to come.
When the hunter retrieved him, the man died slowly. The man thought of more plots to escape, each more desperate than the last and striking him like a dagger with their failure. The man’s strength ebbed. The plans became hazy, indistinct like gnats in the summer grass. And then the man vanished like the last autumn breeze, without the substance of thought to carry him any further.
Yet something lingered there after the man had left. The creature, equipped for such futility, had emerged from some vestigial self long-forgotten in a primordial past. The creature could hear the mountain’s council and could survive the agony of isolation because the creature knew no less. While the man had wept with each physical talent lost, the creature accepted it with glee. When the mountain told him to abstain from the food of men, he abstained. When the mountain told him to all but limit his movements, he became the earth. He’d survived only upon the stale air and dank water, his muscles atrophied for disuse, until his skeletal appearance outwardly reflected the thing inside.
The mountain’s plan had soon proven its merit. He was so thin, so light, no one was to notice the slightest addition of weight to that crate. He’d ascended up the hoist without a sound and crept out after many hours of silence had persisted. The creature emerged among his new terrain, surviving on little bugs and the putrid water, growing if not stronger than wiser.
He had many the opportunity to escape… but the creature had learned from the man’s failure. The man had wanted to escape, but the creature knew it did not exist. Instead there was only the law of the mountain.
And so the creature quaked in the back of the hoist, knowing not what had compelled him to disobey his lady’s command, nor what had made his fingers snatch up the transceiver or acknowledge the tone of Silas’ voice. Yet what he feared most was the ringing, empty, silence that had once been filled by the mountain… and how his tiny heart quivered at the hunter’s voice. He did not know what he would do once the lift doors opened.
Quote from Mae on April 20, 2020, 6:03 amDouglas looked at Tiffany. She looked at him. With a nod of his chin he gave her permission to speak without danger from him.
"I'm down here, Blues." She said.
"Good." The hunter said. "And good boy, Arthur. Led him down here without being told, I'm proud of you. Sit tight. If you play your cards right you might go free tonight."
"As for you, Blues, you're not a traditionalist. You made that clear when we played poker in the woods the other day. We might've had a nice chat in the tunnels upstairs if you hadn't gotten dicey. So now I have Tiffany and you're stuck in the elevator shaft. Let's talk.
You want to know why I was in the woods that day? I was looking for a woman named Mercy. Mercy Danbrook. One of your people dragged her off, - she and her four-year-old son. I want to know what you did with her and where she is."
Douglas looked at Tiffany. She looked at him. With a nod of his chin he gave her permission to speak without danger from him.
"I'm down here, Blues." She said.
"Good." The hunter said. "And good boy, Arthur. Led him down here without being told, I'm proud of you. Sit tight. If you play your cards right you might go free tonight."
"As for you, Blues, you're not a traditionalist. You made that clear when we played poker in the woods the other day. We might've had a nice chat in the tunnels upstairs if you hadn't gotten dicey. So now I have Tiffany and you're stuck in the elevator shaft. Let's talk.
You want to know why I was in the woods that day? I was looking for a woman named Mercy. Mercy Danbrook. One of your people dragged her off, - she and her four-year-old son. I want to know what you did with her and where she is."
Quote from Adriana on April 20, 2020, 8:30 amSilas could still feel the bullets. The wounds were mostly healed over, thanks to the regenerative powers of his werewolf nature... but it had taken work for him to so much as lift a gun again. The pains were still there, not yet faded into phantom pains like the rest of the dozens of scars that disfigured the flesh on his back.
He lifted a hand to his face. In spite of the clammy, cool atmosphere of the cave, he was sweating, his pallor a sickly shade of pale. Fatigue, illness, and perhaps some level of fear were weighing on him.
Hearing Tiffany's voice helped. Physically she was well enough to speak. He rested his head against the door of the lift and tried to think. "Give me a minute... we didn't do anything with a woman..." he tried to recall the details of the encounter.
"There was a woman that night, with the shootout... she didn't have a child with her.." between the gunfire and the smell of Josh's blood, and his own wounds, Silas could only vaguely remember details of the scene. On top of that, his constant state of exhaustion lent him to a good, albeit short memory. He wrote everything down to help prevent his forgetting it. The night of the shootout, he never took a log of. There was another night, however, he had given more attention to..
"There was a previous encounter.. in a field... you hunters were orchestrating some kind of exchange with two of the werewolves from the Mountain," he tried to organize the way the events played out in his head, "I never saw a kid... I took out your weapons truck driver, and a couple of other men." he spoke slowly, knowing that he could misstep easily, say the wrong thing and make the hunter angry, "But I never saw a kid.. who would take their four year old to something like that?" he asked, mostly to himself, and still the words carried.
"Something bothered me when I left that scene... it still bothers me." he contemplated. "When we arrived, we had a vantage point and took note of all of the hunters in the field.. there was a woman located at the north end of the field.. with short, red hair and a long sniper rifle.. she had disappeared." he took a moment to catch his breath.
"She went into a field for cover I assume. I was focused on other things and couldn't pinpoint her location.. but later, just before the large werewolf disengaged the remaining hunters, there was a scream.. two hunters went towards the sound. One came back, the other never returned, not while I was there. The woman, likewise, never returned to the scene."
Now his mind returned to the present, and he lifted his head from it's slouched position.
"We never said her name." he knit his brow, "We never called her Tiffany. How did you know it?"
Silas could still feel the bullets. The wounds were mostly healed over, thanks to the regenerative powers of his werewolf nature... but it had taken work for him to so much as lift a gun again. The pains were still there, not yet faded into phantom pains like the rest of the dozens of scars that disfigured the flesh on his back.
He lifted a hand to his face. In spite of the clammy, cool atmosphere of the cave, he was sweating, his pallor a sickly shade of pale. Fatigue, illness, and perhaps some level of fear were weighing on him.
Hearing Tiffany's voice helped. Physically she was well enough to speak. He rested his head against the door of the lift and tried to think. "Give me a minute... we didn't do anything with a woman..." he tried to recall the details of the encounter.
"There was a woman that night, with the shootout... she didn't have a child with her.." between the gunfire and the smell of Josh's blood, and his own wounds, Silas could only vaguely remember details of the scene. On top of that, his constant state of exhaustion lent him to a good, albeit short memory. He wrote everything down to help prevent his forgetting it. The night of the shootout, he never took a log of. There was another night, however, he had given more attention to..
"There was a previous encounter.. in a field... you hunters were orchestrating some kind of exchange with two of the werewolves from the Mountain," he tried to organize the way the events played out in his head, "I never saw a kid... I took out your weapons truck driver, and a couple of other men." he spoke slowly, knowing that he could misstep easily, say the wrong thing and make the hunter angry, "But I never saw a kid.. who would take their four year old to something like that?" he asked, mostly to himself, and still the words carried.
"Something bothered me when I left that scene... it still bothers me." he contemplated. "When we arrived, we had a vantage point and took note of all of the hunters in the field.. there was a woman located at the north end of the field.. with short, red hair and a long sniper rifle.. she had disappeared." he took a moment to catch his breath.
"She went into a field for cover I assume. I was focused on other things and couldn't pinpoint her location.. but later, just before the large werewolf disengaged the remaining hunters, there was a scream.. two hunters went towards the sound. One came back, the other never returned, not while I was there. The woman, likewise, never returned to the scene."
Now his mind returned to the present, and he lifted his head from it's slouched position.
"We never said her name." he knit his brow, "We never called her Tiffany. How did you know it?"
Quote from Mae on April 20, 2020, 1:10 pmDouglas listened carefully to the details as they were relayed, but he wasn't quite pleased. Tiffany watched his expression warily.
"Oh, Tiffany and I go back to about a year and a half ago when she decided to get smart and play weasel. Guess no one ever told her what happens when a weasel gets caught looking like a wolf." He said. "Now, Mercy didn't disappear the night you're thinking of because I got to her and saw your black friend with the green eyes dragging her off through the field. She didn't go home that night either because of what your friend did to her. The kid was at home. He never left. Fast-forward two weeks later, their house is trashed and she and the kid are nowhere to be found. You want to explain that to me, Blues, or are you going to keep pretending you're unaffiliated?"
Douglas listened carefully to the details as they were relayed, but he wasn't quite pleased. Tiffany watched his expression warily.
"Oh, Tiffany and I go back to about a year and a half ago when she decided to get smart and play weasel. Guess no one ever told her what happens when a weasel gets caught looking like a wolf." He said. "Now, Mercy didn't disappear the night you're thinking of because I got to her and saw your black friend with the green eyes dragging her off through the field. She didn't go home that night either because of what your friend did to her. The kid was at home. He never left. Fast-forward two weeks later, their house is trashed and she and the kid are nowhere to be found. You want to explain that to me, Blues, or are you going to keep pretending you're unaffiliated?"
Quote from Adriana on April 20, 2020, 1:40 pm“We’re not all the same person, all friendly with each other, or one hive mind entity. I’m not affiliated with the wolves on Phantom Mountain. If anything there’s bad blood there, we’ve got... certain boundaries. We were there on business, attempting to reclaim some property we lost.. but other than that, I don’t know everything that happens within their unit.” he groaned inwardly, knowing this wasn’t going to help.
“Anyway, a black wolf could be any number of werewolves. That doesn’t add up-the story. There’s more there and I don’t have the answers... but I can get them. It’s what I do. Let Tiffany and Arthur go. I can help you find her, at gunpoint if it makes you happy.. you have nothing to gain from keeping hostages.”
He exhaled a long sigh, “All I have is my word, I don’t have any reason to keep information from you. I’m usually on the opposite end of this situation.. You’re playing a game I know well, and I know I can’t bluff.”
“We’re not all the same person, all friendly with each other, or one hive mind entity. I’m not affiliated with the wolves on Phantom Mountain. If anything there’s bad blood there, we’ve got... certain boundaries. We were there on business, attempting to reclaim some property we lost.. but other than that, I don’t know everything that happens within their unit.” he groaned inwardly, knowing this wasn’t going to help.
“Anyway, a black wolf could be any number of werewolves. That doesn’t add up-the story. There’s more there and I don’t have the answers... but I can get them. It’s what I do. Let Tiffany and Arthur go. I can help you find her, at gunpoint if it makes you happy.. you have nothing to gain from keeping hostages.”
He exhaled a long sigh, “All I have is my word, I don’t have any reason to keep information from you. I’m usually on the opposite end of this situation.. You’re playing a game I know well, and I know I can’t bluff.”
Quote from Mae on April 20, 2020, 1:50 pm"Hah! I know better than to walk around with one of you at the end of a barrel. But I can arrange something. You're going to have to make your offer sound real tempting if you want them both to walk out of here."
"Hah! I know better than to walk around with one of you at the end of a barrel. But I can arrange something. You're going to have to make your offer sound real tempting if you want them both to walk out of here."
