Chains of Retribution Bloodstone Medical Center - Part 1: The Aftermath

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as written by Tiko

"You tryin' to get me face punched in?" Desmond asked with a quirk of his brow as Ragenard moved off. He seemed more amused than angry though. All's well that ends well as far he was concerned.

He turned about so Chloe could get at the wound on the back of his shoulder, and curiously the scar from Raphael's knife was still visible in an angry line down his back.
 
as written by Tiko

Julienne looked up at Ragenard's shout, and her expression was one of curiosity before she caught sight of Chloe at his back and her expression darkened venomously.

She stood up, one hand gripping her shoulder as she grimaced through grit teeth.

"What's that bitch doing here?" she hissed as Ragenard approached her.
 
as written by Knosis

"No." She answered honestly, watching Ragenard leave the pair of them alone. "Baron's brother, huh? Where's he been all this time? You'd think I'd at least see him once before tonight.." Her face soured as she saw Julienne, so she turned back to her work patching up Desmond. She dabbed the gauze with the rubbing alcohol and noticed the scar on his back. Her fingers traced it lightly. "This hasn't healed well..?" She asked quietly before dabbing the new gauze on the wound on his shoulder. "I thought it would have.."
 
as written by Tiko and Knosis

"Eh, I 'eal when I sleep," Desmond explained. "If I don't sleep, things start to scar."

He didn't seem too bothered by it either way as he let Chloe go about her work.

"Then that's my fault.." She muttered. "You didn't get to sleep until the next day because of me." Her shoulders slumped slightly at that. "Sorry."

"Your fault eh?" Desmond asked. "Ow do you figure that one. I don't recall you stickin' me wi' a knife, or lockin' us up in a cell al' night."

"Yeah well. You also didn't ask to be locked up in that cell with a wraith burdened werewolf that could rip your throat out while you slept either." She answered. "And though I can't really help that, it is still my fault you lost sleep that night."

He turned about as she finished up with his shoulder and lay both his hands on her shoulders to get a good look in her eyes.

"There isn't nothin' about what 'appened that was your fault," he told her. "Some things just are the way they are, an' there's no one to blame but the one who put us in that situation. You understan'?"

The dark rings around her eyes made the green in them stand out more. She was tired. "Alright, alright.." She finally said, looking away. "I think you're pretty much covered now.. You probably should get dressed."

He quirked a brow before glancing down at himself. When he looked back up he offered an apologetic grin before turning away to pull the spare shirt on over his head. Sometimes it was easy to forget that not everyone grew up in this life, and weren't as comfortable with the pack's optional stance on clothing.

"Why don't you get some rest," he said as he got dressed. "Nothings gonna 'appen 'ere wi' the whole pack 'roun'."

The red haired woman waited for Desmond to get dressed before answering. "As long as you promise me you'll wake me if you're planning to leave this place.." She murmured. She knew she was sounding silly by this point. Desmond was no long unable to take care of himself. Worry lines kept on her brow.

"Promise," he told her. "Now go on. There's plenty of spare rooms. I'll come find you later."

She nodded quietly and looked at him for a moment more before finally giving in. "I'll be in the storage room that we just came from.. Less likely to have my throat cut there.." She muttered as she passed him by.

"Ah... that's less of a storage room and more of a closet," Desmond told her. "People will be going in and out of there all night."

"I'll take my chances." She said. As exhausted as she was, she could probably sleep through the dead rising and not know it until it touched her.
 
as written by Dashmiel and Tiko

Ragenard approached Julienne, worried for a second that she was about to try to maul his groin again when he noticed her dirty look was directed beyond him. Hearing her tone when referring to Chloe made him wonder if having Chloe around wasn’t going to be a mistake he’d regret later.

“Desmond’s pet on Baron’s orders or some shit. Fuck if I know, it’s weird but apparently she saved his ass and I got bigger things to worry about if she’s not a problem. What’s got your non-existing panties in a twist? Is she trouble?” asked Ragenard as he set the box down near the wall and shook out a cigarette to offer to Julienne.

"Bitch nearly killed Desmond," Julienne growled as she took the offered cigarrette. "Everyone seems to not give a right fuck about that though."

Ragenard arched an involuntary eyebrow as he regarded Julienne. “Uh, Desmond seems pretty alright with her for someone who almost killed him. Am I missing something here?” he asked as he lit another cigarette and tossed his lighter to Julienne.

"Yeah well, Desmond's a fucking idiot," she spat as she lit the cigarette. "She's dangerous."

“Desmond is an idiot a good deal of the time, but that ain’t news to you. Come off it, what’s the story there? If she’s going to stay and she’s dangerous, I need to know how and if I need to kill her” he casually asked as he bent down and began unpacking electronic components out of the box.

"Bitch might as well have lunentia for all the control she has," Julienne growled. "Shifted in the middle of a fucking street and attacked people."

“Huh” exclaimed Ragenard as he began attaching dusty bundles of cables to their respective slots and moved the apparatus closer to a boarded up window. “Past me that antenna, will you?” he asked motioning towards the box, his thoughts only absentmindedly on his task.

He couldn’t fathom why Baron would trust her. Lack of control and and Ardelean? The irony of it was almost painful. Almost. He supposed he’d give his brother the benefit of the doubt until he could talk with him. If he would ever talk again, he thought grimly.

Julienne all but shoved the antenna into Ragenard's hand as she kept her eye on Chloe and Desmond.

"Did she piss in your cornflakes too?" he asked as he began to deftly manipulate the contraption around and looked at the boarded up window, trying to decide how to attach the antenna to it.

"Oh go fuck yourself," she told Ragenard.

"Why do that with you around?" he asked with a chuckle at getting a rise out of her. "I've heard you. I'll keep my eye on her, now go fuck off and let me finish setting this shit up" he added as he got up and starting messing around with the antenna.
 
as written by Dashmiel and Tiko

Ragenard was rewarded by a flurry of LCPD dispatcher chatter after finishing his work of setting up the old but still highly efficient and highly illegal police scanner the Pack kept at Reinhard’s just for situations like this. He spend a few minutes hearing about the usual public intoxication and domestic dispute calls before muting the machine.

It was thankfully still too early for the police to be all over their territory and investigating the night’s carnage, but that window of time would soon be closed.

It wasn’t until he finished with this little side project that he had to force to admit to himself that he was stalling. He didn’t want to do what came next, because deep down it meant admitting that his brother wasn’t the indefatigable force he always found easier to assume he was. No, it was time to step up.

Ragenard closed his eyes and scented the room, literally smelling the cocktail of anxiety, fear, anger, and worry in his family. He reached into his pockets and lit up another smoke, inhaling deeply and stilling his mind.

”Yo, everybody. Gather up if you’re able to, and shut the fuck up and listen if you can’t!” roared Ragenard as he walked to the center of the room. He immediately felt the Pack’s attention upon him, and found his worries evaporating. He was a man of deliberate action. A Guiscard.

He allowed himself an idle drag of his smoke while he waited for the room to settle down.

Once the room settled down and he had his attentive audience, he continued with his speech.

“Some of you know why I’ve called for the Pack to gather here tonight. Some of you don’t. We’re here tonight because our old enemies tonight have sunk to the deepest of lows. Baron currently lies in surgery next door, cut down by a cowardly Scion ambush orchestrated by Rowan himself. Vanessa also suffered extensive injuries, and we've lost Nieve during the ambush”

He paused for a moment, taking another drag of his cigarette and gauging the expressions around him before continuing on.

While Ragenard spoke, the door opened and Carlisle entered bloodied and unclothed. He was on his feet though, and there was a grim look upon his face as he caught Ragenard's eyes. He said nothing though so as to not interupt Ragenard addressing the pack.

Ragenard caught Carlisle’s eyes as he came in, and he knew whatever news were now awaiting them would not make the trying soon-to-be morning any better. Nevertheless, he decided more bad news would have to wait until everyone at least was caught up with how much shit had already being rained on them in what was shaping to be not a shitstorm, but a fucking shit hurricane.

“I wish I could say the cowards stopped there, content with the limited success of their cowardice ridden desperation. But they did not. It would not be enough for them, we all know how they are. They had to go further, and literally beard us in our Den. The cowards also…” he paused mid-sentence as he quickly reigned in the anger that threatened to spill out of him.

“The pox-ridden sons of bitches burned our Den down” he stated flatly as he took another drag of his smoke.
 
as written by Sokka

'The Fuckers tried to raid my shop!" Renard spat from his spot in the corner. He met eyes with Carlisle and noticed that Marc wasn't there, he considered asking Carlisle right there but decided to wait and ask later rather than now. There would clearly be a lot to explain in the time to come so for now he left with just mentioning that for the time being deciding to give Carlisle a brief nod instead.
 
as written by Script

After tending to Aimee, Snow had returned to his seat against the wall. When Ragenard yelled for them to gather, he heeded, stepping to his feet and moving over. His countenance remained coldly grim throughout the speech. His only reaction upon Nieve's mention was to close his eyes for a moment longer than a standard blink, taking a breath in. Anger boiled in the pit of his chest with every passing word, a blazing bonfire hidden behind an icy mask.

"They're working with bloodsuckers," he added in the lull of Ragenard's words, his voice laden with hateful disgust.

In the meantime, Seri had remained in the background, not wanting to draw any attention to himself. He'd picked up on the atmosphere very quickly after walking in, and his curious interest in the events of the night had turned to fear. Cass was nowhere to be seen, Baron was indisposed... and he was alone in a room full of very angry werewolves, none of whom held any love for him.

He'd been tempted to bolt. But they would only take that as betrayal.

What had he gotten himself into?
 
as written by Tiko

While Regenard addressed the pack, Julienne had caught sight of Carlisle's entrance and she approached him. It would seem she had no intentions of waiting until after Ragenard was finished to find out what had happened.

Carlisle's expression remained grim as they conversed lowly off to one side so as to not disrupt Ragenard and the rest of the pack.
 
as written by Dashmiel and Tiko

Ragenard nodded animatedly whilst he smoked as some of the pack came forth with their own outbursts damning the Scions. “The cowards think they can move upon our territory with impunity. But not because they think us prey, oh no” he paused for another drag before roaring on “For there is no low too low for them. They fear us, you see. They are so certain they’re too weak to do the job themselves that they had to outsource it. The fucking pussies are indeed working with bloodsuckers. It wasn’t Rowan’s strength and skill that laid low our Baron, no. It sure as fuck wasn’t, not by a longshot.” Ragenard finished roaring as his speech lulled again for a beat.

He cast a glance about the room while he fished the pack of smokes from his pockets.

Noticed the gloomy face that was Carlisle was off to the side with Julienne as he ripped the filter off another slightly bent cigarette. He reckoned he could scent a whiff of brewing trouble mingled with the burning tobacco as he lit his smoke and cast his last glance at the pair.

Face that gloomy could only mean one thing, couldn’t it? Wolf down brother, tally one up for the number of shots to pour later. Only where would he get shots with no fucking bar?

Ragenard’s thoughts only briefly turned to how things might have been different if he had been there from the beginning, but that was the wrong kind of anger to tune into tonight. He let out another cloud of smoke upwards before continuing his address.

“They’ll get what’s coming to them, brothers and sisters. Take my word on that. Bloodsuckers think they rule the night, but I got their scent, and that the Scions will be crushed again as always might as well be implied. But it is now a new dawn. We need to hunker down and lick our wounds. We need to rest” he proclaimed as he paused for another drag.

Before Ragenard could continue, Julienne's angered outcry pierced the room. It was a strangled sound somewhere between outrage and grief as she grabbed and overturned a nearby cart full of medical utensils to the floor with a loud clatter.

Carlisle stepped towards her, but she backed up and pointed a warning finger at him.

"Don't. Don't fucking touch me," she growled.

The snarl of her words was more wolf than woman, and with that she threw open the door and stormed from the building. The door was left standing wide open behind her and Carlisle threw an apologetic glance Ragenard's way, followed by a questioning nod of his head towards the door as if asking if he should go after her.
 
as written by Dashmiel

Ragenard shook his head towards Carlisle. "It'll cause more harm dragging her back than it would avoid. We'll let her be for a bit, I'll check on her myself if she's not back tonight" he called out before moving to close the door and turning back to address the rest of the pack.

"So. Fucking rest. Get some of that. We'll be hunkering down for the day, y'all know where the bunk beds and cots are. I want the Center on lock-down until sunset, no coming and goings. The police will soon be all over our turf and I don't want one of you dumbasses leading them here" he said as he finished off the last of his cigarette.

"Quiet time for a couple hours. I'd suggest getting some winks or subtle fucks in while you still can, there'll be work to do soon enough" Ragenard added as he walked off towards the operating rooms, speech finished as abruptly as it had begun.
 
as written by Tiko

Outside...

The dumpster in the back lot took the brunt of Julienne's aggression as she drove her foot into it over and over again until the side was dented in, and the wolf was spent enough for her to sink down on the pavement and sit with her back leaned against it.

She would linger there only a short time though before getting up and walking away.

She never saw, nor smelled, the pair of werewolves lurking within the shadows of the unlit street about three-hundred yards downwind from the pack. The pair of them were both lounging unobtrusively against the wall of a nearby building and talking quietly between themselves. Neither of them seemed to pay the med center any obvious attention.

The shadows would cloak them from view from the center itself, and if anyone walked by their location they would likely be overlooked as one of any number of shady dealings known to go down in this part of town. That is, unless someone caught the scent of Nightroad on them.
 
as written by Script

With Ragenard's speech done, Snow turned to survey the room. There were enough people here now to deal with the injured without his help. Most people were already being seen to, or had already been seen to. Quietly, he slipped from the room out into one of the vacant exam rooms.

He sunk down onto the bed with a heavy sigh, leaning back to prop himself up against the wall, tilting his head back to rest on it. The plaster was cold against the skin of his back. The only light in the room was that of the moonlight shining through the small window, casting it in a faint silvery glow. For the first time since they'd left the Den, he allowed himself to relax.

In the meantime, Seri was rapidly coming to the conclusion that he really shouldn't have come here. No leaving? He didn't want to be trapped in here all night! At some point, someone was bound to call into question why he was here and the other runts weren't.

He settled for continuing to shrink into his corner as best he was able, golden eyes watching the room warily.
 
as written by Lialore

The flare fed by Ragenard’s words disappeared quickly, and Brendan returned to his place near the door, rifle across lap; where he’d been since his arrival, not long after his drop offs had entered. The room’s vibrations were actually sending him to sleep, as they filtered through the tiredness to create a monotone hum.

Not far away, paws sped across concrete as a lithe, dark wolf charged through the backstreets. It flew about, this way and that, backing up on itself and jumping walls in what appeared to be confusion. All in a quiet that seemed impossible for the amount of movement. The she wolf was lost. She’d been running for a long time, having raced the outskirts of the city to get here. But then she smelt it, heard it, felt it; the thrum of awake life. The wolf slowed, her body lowering, and then, as her senses spoke to her clearly – she stopped, dropped the fabric that she was holding between her jaws, and changed.

The cracking and tearing was the loudest sound she’d made tonight.

Cass straightened up as silence fell again, saliva stained clothing in her hand. The oncoming, almost overcoming scent of the gathered pack diminished. She started again, pulling herself into her clothes as she went.

She rolled her sleeves up as she passed the man on the door who she recognised from the last time she’d been around the pack, at ‘fight night’. Her first step into the center brought the reality of the situation crashing down on her, and her eyes hadn’t even left the floor yet. Her bare foot had found itself in a patch of blood.

Brendan jerked awake at the sight of Cass in the corner of his eye, his hand closed on the rifle, making her own gaze swerve and her body tense; just as his relaxed.

“You’re early” he said, so sleepily that he slurred.

Cass did not answer. She raised her head and observed. And in that instant, she only seemed to see Seri, although it looked as though he was trying his very best to be invisible.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded across the room, uncaring as to whether she was about to cause a scene or not.

Her phone had been useless since it hadn’t been credited. She hadn’t been able to get hold of anyone. That meant Seri must’ve been out and about. And that, wasn’t what he’d been told to do. That familiar, protective feeling crept back up on her. It had been visiting her less and less lately. That wasn’t her job any more.
 
as written by Script

"What's it look like?" Seri replied with a hiss, keeping his voice as low as he could while still being heard, "Not causing problems. I suggest you try it."
 
as written by Lialore

Cass growled.

There had been an ever-growing rift between them ever since he'd sought help for the runts. She still wasn't sure how she felt about it, but she was sure that she still cared. Without her connection, she could see Seri's time with the pack being even more difficult. Not that - in her eyes - he'd been making it easy for himself anyway.

"Interesting attitude you've got there" she said bitingly. "You might want to save it for someone who hasn't been looking out for your ungrateful self for so long."

She stepped out of the stain, wanting to drop it. He was probably right. More problems was the last thing they needed.
 
as written by Script

Seri's scowl faltered for a split second, an almost imperceptible flinch that was swiftly banished when his glower returned with renewed vigour. He said nothing, simply pulling his knees in closer to make himself even smaller. He wasn't going to hold a conversation shouting across the room. He didn't want any attention. The more he drew it to himself, the more trouble there would be for him.

It hadn't taken long to slip back into that attitude. With the Runts, he'd been cocky - acted superior because he knew they wouldn't hurt him. But old instincts died hard, and he'd spent his childhood learning that the best way to survive was to not get noticed in the first place.
 
as written by Tiko

No one really seemed to be paying Seri much mind. It was almost as if he was invisible to most of them. In part that could have been because of his habit of lurking, but more likely it could be credited to the fact that most of the pack didn't acknowledge him as pack. In most of their eyes, he was nothing more than Cass's pet.

Carlisle gave the two of them a frowned glance, but the dispute seemed to have ended as swiftly as it began and he instead gestured for Cass.

"You know anything about cleaning wounds?" he asked.

He was still unclothed, and the deep cuts and bee stings that adorned his skin were well evident beneath the drying flakes of blood.

He was already rummaging over a supply cart for some alcohol and swabs while he awaited an answer.
 
as written by Lialore

The look that she gave Seri was filled with both warning and relief.

Cass turned as Carlisle addressed her, and with a nod, went over to help him. She stopped at the supply cart and held up a hand, indicating for him to stop.

“You should sit” she said after running her eyes over him. She didn’t meet his own gaze, it was something she’d avoided doing more often lately. Most looks she got these days weren’t pleasant to analyse.

Picking out a bottle, she unscrewed the cap and poured a small amount into her hands which she then rubbed up to her elbows. The disinfectant stung at every opportunity; a paper cut, a small patch of eczema, nails that she bit too short.

She fumbled and almost dropped the bottle as she tucked it into her arm to pick up what else she needed. It wasn’t exactly a reassuring sign.
 
as written by Dashmiel and Tiko

When Ragenard reached the make-shift operating room, Reinhard was washing his hands over a small basin sink. He had already sent Alfred and Valentino to relocate Vanessa, and Ragenard passed them both by as they were wheeling her to another location. She had yet to regain consciousness, but her color was vastly improved from when she had been brought in.

Baron too was still unconscious, hooked up to IV drips and monitors that beeped quietly through the room. There was a bloody tray of utensils nearby, and several fragments of silver that Reinhard had dug out during surgery.

Ragenard’s stomach lurched at the sight of his recovering brother. The carnage before arriving here was as normal to Ragenard as breathing, and it was the mundane specter of convalescence gathering around Baron that actually shook him.

“Hey old man. How’s he doing?” he asked Reinhard with a simple nod for a greeting, his voice tinged with weariness and his shoulders slumping a bit. Now that he was away from the others he could drop some of the bravado off and allow himself to feel the gravity of the situation.

Reinhard shook his head in response.

"Alive, that's all I can say really," he told Ragenard. "This isn't exactly a state of the art trauma center. I've done what I can for now. What happened anyways?" he asked. "There's not many people alive that know about his silver allergy. Even the knife wound, the blade was silvered. This wasn't luck, it was deliberate."

“It was” Ragenard replied darkly. “We have a rat among us.”

"A rat?" Reinhard asked with an arch of his brow. "You're certain?"

“He seemed to be, before going lights out” Ragenard replied with a jerk of his chin towards Baron’s prone form. “Fuzzy on the details, too fuzzy to hazard a guess. Getting details out of excited mongrels is not easy. What little I’ve gotten I don’t like the sound of. It’s been a hell of a night, old man. A hell of a night.” He added with a deep sigh.

"Shit," Reinhard muttered.

He fished out a box of cigarettes and lit one up. Smoking in a hospital was one of the perks of their entire operation being highly illegal. He glanced over at Baron before shaking his head.

"He's sedated right now," Reinhard explained. "Can't risk waking him and wind up with him shifting while he's still critical. I'm not a veterinarian," he added with a snort. "Why don't you get some sleep. I'll let you know if there's any change in his condition."

“I could use a nap” Ragenard said as he suppressed a yawn. “Not sure I’ll get much of one, but I’ll try for one all the same soon. Before that happens however, I need James’ phone. Seems he got some fishy tip that got this chain of dominoes falling last night” he added as he followed suit and lit a cigarette of his own.

"His things are over there," Reinhard answered with a nod of his head towards the nearby counter. "Everything he had on him anyways.

It wasn't much. His wallet, his keys, a half-empty box of cigarettes, his cell phone, and the remains of his leather jacket that had been cut away to get it off from him.

Ragenard moved to the counter and gazed at Baron’s effects. He hefted Baron’s phone on his hand for a second as an inscrutable look played across his face before pocketing it. After a moments consideration, he also grabbed Baron’s keys and cigarettes (the latter accompanied by a look at his brother’s condition and the rueful thought that they would do him more good now than they would his brother) before turning back towards Reinhard.

“I’m too tired to give you the proper run down, Reinhard. But you should know it’s bad. Hasn’t been this bad in decades. We got a handful of dead so far, and they even burned the Den down.” Ragenard said wearily. “I’m not sure how the near future will hold out, but I don’t think we’re out of work for you yet old man.”

"Scions?" Reinhard asked.

“Scions.” Ragenard confirmed. “Worse, Rowan decided working with bloodsuckers was easier than waiting for his balls to drop” he added.

"It's always the fucking Scions," Reinhard growled with another shake of his head as he took a drag of his cigarette. "Alright. You can fill me in tomorrow," he said. "Get on out of here so I can get back to work."

“Alright. Let me know if something comes up with James.” Ragenard replied as he waved and made his way for the door, the weight of Baron’s cellphone heavy in his mind.
 
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