Logs:Allies In The Fight
Allies In The Fight
|Characters:||Tucker Dale Luisa Dustin|
|Summary:||The Aces bring the Killer Instinc Alpha up to speed and he joins the fight.|
|Disclaimers:||Language, Alcohol Use, Drug Use|
Dale is sitting on the tailgate of an old beat-up truck. It's got a patchy paint job, but no visible rust at least. There have been dents and dings beaten out, and it looks like it's been through a lot, but it at least is well maintained. Mostly clean, no trash in the bed, and the inside is even vacuumed. He has a cooler next to him, and is drinking a beer as he waits.
The Witch sits opposite Dale on the talegate, her frame so slight in comparison to his that the truck actually lists a little to one side. She too has a beer in hand, drinking deep and often. Dressed in an off white teeshirt sporting Nirvana's old 'In Utero' logo (the sort of biology dummy with wings) that's clearly seen better days and a pair of beat up, oil (blood?) stained jeans, she swings her feet idly -- legs not quite long enough to reach the ground. Sometimes she mutters something like 'fuck' or 'this is stupid'. She's fancy.
Dustin doesn't give any response to the text whatsoever, but if it's got any notifications that suggests that he's at least read it, then it will pop up. He's not /that/ rude to not give it some of his attention, unknown number or no, and the name Katherine on the text should help to catch his eyes too. He doesn't waste a lot of time for any preparations, and just jumps into his Cadillac for the ride to the set location. He usually arrives on time, if not a few minutes earlier, but this time around he's about five minutes late to the meet-up.
The sedan pulls up nearby the gas station, matte black and sleek-looking, almost looking like a rich fella from the suburbs, which is obviously a contrast to how the dude actually is. The headlights turn off, and out comes a guy who looks like he's too young to be riding a car this fancy. He's dressed unassumingly, an all-black ensemble of an oversized tee, a pair of jogger pants, and worn sneakers. A bucket hat with the Saints logo on it, trimmed gold on its sides, is sat on his head. Tucking his hands in his pockets, he approaches the two people posted up by the beat-up truck.
Tucker's shitty truck is the antithesis of Dale's. There are growing rust spots and while it's not trash in the bed, it's definitely not clean. It's just junk. The cab is relatively clean though. Relatively. Tucker is just leaning back against the side of his truck with a bottle of something dark brown. He's also using a bowie knife to trim his nails and making some sort of small talk with the other two (mostly Dale). Jeans and a plain t-shirt is all he's wearing, though the white tee is not that clean either.
Dale is laughing at something Tucker says when the car pulls up, seeming like he is trying to explain it to Luisa and getting frustrated she isn't laughing too. His attention does go to the man that steps out of the car, or maybe hops down? Unsure. But regardless he is looking that way and offers a nod in greeting. He slides off the tailgate, letting the truck come to a more level rest. He's wearing jeans, a white wife-beater and a zip up thin hoodie.
"Evening. You Dukes?" he asks, not unfriendly but definitely a little on the dry side. There is a sniffing at the air as he gets close enough for such things, and he holds a hand out to shake the others, if it's taken, "Katt said we should meet. Thought maybe I'd make you less nervous." There's a slight turn at the corner of his mouth, not quite a grin as he looks the man up and down once, "Name's Dale."
Luisa doesn't laugh, no. In truth she seems content to keep her own company, by and large. The little brunette makes Dukes look damn near approachable; she might not have his swagger or his fancy car, but she makes up for it with an over-abundance of raw, unrefined 'go the fuck away' energy. If one has the sight for it, there are numerous small spirits hanging 'round her. If they don't? The air's just kind of... fucky. The other Aces have probably gotten used to this by now, in so much as that's possible, but it's got to be weird for a newcomer. She does not move from the tailgate, offers no greeting, just drinks her beer and watches this new guy openly with her hard hazel eyes. Silently judging.
It's quite possible that it'd look like he was hopping than gliding out of his seat, though it was probably more like edging his ass over to the side of the seat before tip-toeing on the curb, and then finally landing his feet. Yeah, he's quite the shorty. He does, however, make up for it with a nasty 'fuck you' look on his face, not that far away from Luisa's own vibes, and the confidence that never seems to seep away from how he brings himself. Even now, standing on uncharted grounds, in another pack's territory, facing three sizably larger Uratha, he still manages to keep himself calm and composed.
The hand is taken, shaken firmly, and then released. Guy's not too into any formalities, not when they're unnecessary at least, and judging from how this particular group look, he's betting that they don't give a fuck about any of that either. "Yeah, I'm Dukes. So you're Rude's brood, then?" He's met their alpha before. Nice guy, a bit on the odd and scary side; but then again, which nine-foot rampaging Werewolf isn't? He lifts his chin up to size the three others, dark brown eyes appearing just under the brim of his hat.
Mind altering substances are the closest thing Luisa has to a love language; she catches Tucker's corner-of-the-eye gesture, reaches out to take the proffered blunt, and does the traditional 'puff puff' before passing back. The beer's set aside so she can lean back, both arms moving to brace behind her as she looks up at the moon, then closes her eyes. Yeah. Whatever. Posturing all around. Then Dale comes over, starts to discuss the... situation. "He doesn't go in the swamps." Luisa murmurs to no on in particular. Loud enough to be heard, but not trying to be heard. One has to listen. It might be intentional. It might just be really good weed. "Not if he can help it, anyway. And that's fine -- not his thing. I don't go in the city if I don't have to. I get it." An easy, liquid sort of shrug works its way through the young woman's shoulders and she finally leans forward again, arms crossed, elbows on knees, hard hazel eyes fixed on Dukes. "But this is a big problem. A big enough problem it's not going to stay in the swamps for long. So he needs to know." This is somehow the most direct and least aggressive she's been so far. Go figure.
His eyes briefly land on Tucker, studying the unshaven man for a second, then shifting his gaze over to Luisa. The swamp witch is given a longer stare, her form given that blatant scrutinization from the much shorter man, though without much of a change in his facial expression when he does so. Silently judging for the moment as well. He turns and trails Dale from behind when he goes around to the cooler, however, taking that cold bottle of alcoholic beverage from him with pleasure. Dustin bites onto the cap with his molars and pops it open, knocking some of the drink back.
He waves Dale off with a hand regarding not having the chance to previously meet. "That's fine, we're all here right now anyway." His eyes travel to Luisa for a moment, and he nods. "What she said. I barely ever go deep in the swamps unless something calls for it. Last time I ever bothered was some years back, when we heard word of an unruly group of spirits that need to be taught its place. Never stepped foot in there ever again since." He wets his lips with a sip of the beer again. "Brief me in on what's been happening, though."
Progress is progress. Tucker receives the blunt back 'happily'. As Dukes walks by him, Tucker turns to follow, scenting the air a bit and taking a deep drag from the blunt. It's handed back to Luisa and he props himself against the truck near her so they can share. His bottle of brown liquid is taken up again and he takes a swig. Apparently he's not very verbose when it comes to meetings like this.
Dale does offer a slight smile now, the witch usually knows her shit. "Well, might be a good reason to go back in them now. We found some stuff out there. At first I was tracking something big. Seemed like a good fight, you know? It was pretty far out from our territory, but close enough to keep track. Got closer and then we found it." he says, motioning to Luisa. "Big, teeth, scales. Kinda like an alligator fucked a gorilla." He takes another drink of his beer, leaning forward and sighing. "Wasn't the one I was tracking at first. This one was smaller. Started fighting it and Luisa saw something else. I'll let her explain that bit, she's better at it anyways."
He slips down from the tailgate and heads around to the driver door of his truck, opening it up to fish something out from behind the seat. He comes back with a map. Yeah, they still make 'em. He unfolds it and lays it on the tailgate where they can all see. "Here is where we ran into them, and then a couple nights ago again near here." he says, pointing to two x's marked on the map in marker. He motions to Luisa to let her know its her turn to give the really good news.
Dale's got the face and the muscle; he can do both, that's why he's beta. Lusia's here for creep factor, and cause she knows shit. Tucker's the extra muscle, and he has good weed. Thankfully it's looking like the muscle will only have to tear up crocks tonight; Dukes is growing in the witch's esteem by the minute. No easy task. She continues to pass the blunt with Tucker, cause the girl has priorities, and one of them usually amounts to 'stay high or drunk' whenever possible (we don't ask too many questions, she's mostly functional).
"Spirit is a thing of rage and hunger. Maybe three feet tall, gaunt. Faster than it has any right to be. It has like... you know lampreys? Weird sucker mouths full of needle teeth? Like that, but on the end of a maybe three, four foot long tongue, like a chameleon or something. Can shoot it out at you, really fast." She mutters softly at the memory, reaching down to touch her side. "If it connects, it's like all your insides turn to acid and start trying to burn through your skin. A kind of hunger you could never actually experience and live. Just eats at you constantly." She shakes her head, a little frown pulling at the corners of her lips. "I killed it, and the burning stopped... but if I'd been in worse shape, got unlucky? Yeah. Don't think running away would have done shit." She looks over to Dale, adding, "There were pieces of Dale all over that wallow by the time it was over, too. The other... thing... is no joke." So yeah, she clearly has her area of expertise here.
"Anyway." She takes a swig of her beer, finishing it, and lays it down next to her in the truck bed. "I have some ideas about how to deal with it more easily than just fighting it, so hopefully that'll help. We can come prepared next time. As for crocodile-man, that's more... y'all's thing."
Tucker hadn't been there to fight the thing the first time around. He mostly just listens and when it's an appropriate time that he could fuck off, he does so.
Dustin is content enough to stand idle and enjoying his cold drink while Dale and Luisa do the explaining, though stepping closer to consider the map once it's rolled out into view. That bitchy look on his face turns even worse when he frowns, showing his clear distaste of the creature that he can only assume to be Spirit-Ridden. They are, quite literally to him, -the- worst of his enemies and prey that he's ever encountered, and it's precisely his task to hunt any of their kin down as mighty Skolis-Ur demands him to. "Sounds an awful lot like Claimed. Am I wrong?" Dark brown eyes linger on Dale for confirmation.
They turn to regard Luisa now once she's got to say her piece on the matter, and none of it is getting any better it seems, which is quite expected of course. Dustin takes a mouthful of his beer, making sure that his throat is all clear and smooth for him to weigh in on the topic now. "If this motherfucker is duguthim, I'll be more than willing to hunt it down. Are you suggesting that there could be more of these fuckheads, then? That they've been mating, fucking, and doing fuck-else in the swamps to multiply? What's the situation here?"
Dale leans against the side of his truck as Luisa explains her part, and there is a scowl on his face. Even remembering that his little sister got hurt is enough to make his skin hot. When Luisa finishes the story and the time for questions comes he shrugs at first, "Can't say for sure. It was clearly riding it when we encountered it, but seemed more like a parasite than anything direct control. It popped off the thing and attacked her and that didn't stop what I was fighting from being any less of a prick."
He leans over the map again, pointing out a few spots, "These areas are similar to where we have seen them already. I've come across the scent of at least three, and two of them we have killed so far, but the big one we haven't found. It might be some sort of mother and we're killing her pups. Won't know till we find the rest though." He looks over to Tucker as he heads out, tossing his brother a nod before looking back to the other two, "If they do multiply we need to knock 'em out quick though."
"No. Not 'riding' in that sense. Literally, though? Yeah. I saw it before it moved out of twilight; the sucker-mouth? It was buried in the crocodile-thing's back, deep. Like down to the spine, maybe." Luisa shudders; it takes a /lot/ to make the Witch shudder. "It barely grazed me and I was ready to eat anything to make that burning stop. Like... dirt. Rocks. Dale. Anything. And I doubt it would have made a bit of difference." She shakes her head once more. "I have no idea what it would feel like, if it got that deep. Don't want to know. So yeah, they're crazed, but not 'ridden'. At least what we've seen so far." She nods toward Dale, adding, "This big one we haven't caught yet? Who knows about that. It smells more or less the same, but that only gives us so much to go on."
"Shit. If it's not Ridden, then what the fuck could it be?" Dustin itches his chin, his eyes shifting away from the pair for a second as they bore deep into the darkness of the swamps, which isn't that far away from the gas station that they're standing in. "If they've got their mother-bitch around, then I say we should hunt her down first. Pronto. If we keep dealing with the pups, they're just gonna keep showing up and multiplying then, won't they? But fuck, I'm not really sure, you two should know this better than I do. All I'm saying is if you need some manpower in this, I'll be willing to help y'all out. I should be able to bring my own packmate or two, too; we'll have to see, though." In the end, Claimed or no, Dustin still has to make some good impression with Rude and his pack. Diplomacy. He wouldn't have bothered to come all the way here if he didn't have that in mind.
Dale nods. The grim look on his face hasn't really left since they had started talking about all of this. "Yeah, no idea. My guess? These were some deep swamp fuckers that got infected by these spirits. Ate everything around them and had to start looking further to put a dent in that hunger. Not sure if that makes it better or worse though." He pushes off the truck, walking over to the edge of the swamp, "We're tracking them off around our territory, but we're spreading the word too. If we can keep them back till we find the bitch then maybe we can stop it. Hell, maybe they'll just end up leaving... not counting on that one though."
"Nothing will end the hunger." Luisa offers. There is finality in her tone. "Nothing but the spirit's death or ouster." And I mean... she'd fucking know, wouldn't she? "They won't leave. Won't give up. Even if they're wounded, dying. Doesn't matter. This is something beyond reason." She retrieves another beer from the cooler, pops it open using one of the through-holes in the side of the truck bed in the manner of one who's done so many, many times. She's not old enough to justify that familiarity and ease, just a really committed drunk, and probably deep country trash besides. Takes a puff from the last dredges of the blunt from time to time, too. Of course she kept it when Tucker left. "If we don't kill them in the swamp they will empty it and come for the city. I promise you that."
There's about less than a quarter of beer left in his bottle, and Dustin has resorted to taking tiny sips from it to save the thing long enough to keep him occupied with it. "I hear you. Have the other packs heard of this? Or are we in it all by ourselves? I mean, shit, I suppose if it ain't troublesome enough to get all the packs working together, then y'all shouldn't bother hitting them up in the first place. Fuck knows if they even care about it." He cares, though, if only to gain the Aces' favor and whatnot. Again, diplomacy. He turns his attention to Luisa when she speaks, but will have his attention placed on somewhere else entirely when he responds. Like the swamps, for example. That deep pit of darkness seems to intrigue him greatly, it looks like. "Then we best make sure that they don't show up on the streets. So what's the plan here? Are we muddying our shoes tonight? Do a lil hunt, a bit of scouting around the swamps, or what?"
Dale lets a bit of a huff out. Might be a laugh if you were generous with the description. "We have been telling the people we know. Last folks we tried to, things got a little tense. Wouldn't count on their help in a group effort, but they might do something on their own. Not sure." he sees Luisa finish the beer and grab another, and he heads to a black tool box in the back, reaching over the side to get to it. He pulls out a bottle of something dark. No label, probably homemade. Walks over to where she is and sits it down on the tailgate next to her, "I can take you out and show you a trail, at least you'll know what the smell is when you come across it again. We'll probably go out on a full on hunt in a couple days. You and your pack are welcome to join us then too. I want to hit it deeper than we have so far, try and find the big one."
"Scent it, sure. Hunt it? He and I almost died dealing with the little ones. Or at least I did. Dale's a fucking monster. My skills lie elsewhere." Another of her oddly fluid little shrugs. Luisa humms softly then, appearing to second-guess herself in the moment; a rarity, that. "That's not some concealed dig, by the way. Just caution." she murmurs after a moment's consideration. "It wouldn't look very good for us if we all died on a fool's errand, would it." Not a question, a statement. She reaches out for the bottle in Dale's hand, wordless. If he hands it over she takes a swig, hands it back. Not clear what she's running from... but a fully functional brain is clearly a tool of the enemy. Yet she doesn't slur, doesn't hesitate over-much. Odd. "The Aces are, shall we say, 'well rounded.' Now. I don't want to give the impression I'm fishing for information, but... your People. Particularly those you feel most likely to show, should we coordinate. Fighters? More? I would not presume to give orders, but knowing the sort of skills we might bring to bear...." she trails off, looking to Dukes. Waiting.
Dustin will eventually finish his drink, being unable to stop himself from taking rapid sips from it. It's pretty much the same as taking gulps of it, just in a faster and tinier amount. He's quite the alcoholic as well. He loiters on the edge of the swamps for a bit longer when Dale decides to come back around the truck's tailgate again, finally peeling away once his morbid curiosity has been sated. He barely spends his time this close to the swamps anyhow. The steps of his shoes are as silent as they can get when he approaches the two again, almost as if the guy has mastered the art of walking about in dead silence. He notes the comment that touches on the length of these monsters' power, but doesn't talk further of it. "Life in the city is harsh. I was born and raised on the streets, I /know/ what it can do to a young mind like me, and how it can even wreck a fucking full-grown wolf. We're all warriors, each and every one of us. We may be small, but we make up for it with martial prowess. Two of my packmates revere the Destroyer Wolf, while I serve under Skolis-Ur. My sister and I are about the only ones who'd rather talk over breaking people's heads. She's only a Blooded."
Dale does give the bottle to Luisa, and it is a smooth drink. Once it hits its fire though. That deep burn that spreads to your fingers and toes and makes your eyeballs feel warm. He takes it back, also taking a big drink of the amber liquid and then holds the bottle out to Dukes, "We're bigger than most, so we have a lot going for us. Anyone that isn't too hung up on trying to negotiate can come, just make sure they know the risk. If we find the big bitch, or if there are a bunch of the little ones? Well." he lets that trail off. They live a life of violence and death. Nobody needs a big mouth bringing it up. "You have my number now. I'll let you know when we're heading out. I can meet your folks here and bring y'all back in. Sounds like you won't need to worry about running into 'em on your own at least. Something good about living in the city anyways." It might be a subtle dig, but Dale is fond of at least one city wolf himself, and there's a bit of a smile almost breaking through as he says that and thinks of her. "I trust you know what your people are capable of. You should know though... Both times I have fought these things I entered Kuruth." No more explanation is needed with that.
"And I almost fucking died." This is practically spat out, like the personal affront it very clearly is. No one makes Luisa bleed her own blood.
Maybe Dale's drink really is that strong, or maybe this was just the tipping point for her -- the little brunette finally slips off the tailgate, landing more heavily than a sober person ought, though she's steady. More or less. "Dale. Take me home, then go show him." It's like... half request, half command.
The drink is taken and given a quick, but fairly huge mouthful of gulp before it's offered back to Dale. The warmth that courses through his body manages to produce a breathy exhale out of him. A frown flashes on his face upon the mention of Kuruth, eyebrows narrowing even more than they aleady were, forehead scrunching up as wrinkles show. "I suggest we face those things with better caution next time, then. I don't always fight the opposition head on anyway; the New Moon shone bright on me when I first changed. Luna's made it quite clear that I -should- know better than acting reckless, if you catch my gist," Dustin shoots them a wink at that. Not that he's taking shots at them or anything, but he does believe that the Irraka wields the art of combat better than most of the Full Moons do. "Oh, and a request, if I may? If we're gonna be hunting them anytime soon, I'd prefer it much better if we do so with Luna's light shining upon us." Of course the Irraka would prefer hunting at night-time.
Dale looks over at Luisa as she finally comes down off the tailgate, and there is a smirk playing at his lips. He puts the cooler back in the bed of the truck, closing the tailgate, taking the bottle back from Dukes and then hands it to Luisa, not looking for it back this time. "Sure thing little sister. Get in." he says. He moves over to Dukes, "Yeah. Caution is good. They usually let me out when it isn't needed anymore. I'll keep it in check if things are under control, just keep in mind that might be a necessity and plan accordingly." He offers another hand to the man, "You can wait here and I'll be back, otherwise we can just throw you in the deep end next time. Your call. Swamp can be creepy this time of the night all alone." He actually gives a full grin this time, "And it will be at night. Some of us have day jobs." He then turns to get into the truck to take Luisa back. He pauses as he opens the door, "Oh, and Katt wanted to make sure she was understood last time. I know she's a cop but she's People first. You or yours get into trouble with the law let us know. She can make that go away for you. Nobody wins when the People start getting targeted by and law other than Mother's." "Honey, I'm barely ever awake during the day." Luisa murmurs, already headed to the front of the truck, slinging herself up in to the cab with a drunkard's practiced ease, bottle in hand. "If you ever call me before 6 PM I will fucking skin you." she calls back. An idle threat, obviously. A joke. Probably. Never mind he doesn't even have her number. The Witch is half-asleep mere moments later, leaning heavy on the door from inside. Thankfully Dale's truck is in better shape than Tucker's, and the lock holds. Plus she weighs like... nothing.