Chains of Retribution Bloodstone Medical Center - Part 4: Some Heart to Hearts

Tiko

Draconic Administrator/Mentor
Administrator
Mentor
Nexus GM
The med center had grown much quieter with the dispersal of the pack members that had been holed up there the past few days recuperating from their bloody skirmishes with the Scions of Aodhan. Some still remained though, either wounded still requiring medical attention, those tending to the wounded, or those tasked with protecting the premises while Baron remained under critical care. In particular Desmond, Bastien, and Ulrich have largely been holding down the fort while Brendan has been left to the task of keeping the place supplied with whatever they require. Chloe too has remained close at hand, while the rest of the Iverians have been left to come and go. Occasionally others turn up for news, but for the most part it has been a quiet afternoon. Especially for the moment as Bastien had departed with Sophia to pick up some changes of clothes, toys and books for her from home and Brendan was out on a shopping run. Chloe was resting leaving Desmond and Ulrich to the grounds while Jesse and Reinhard tended to the wounded.

Baron’s room was still off limits, pending further developments into who had betrayed the packs and Desmond sat diligently outside until it was Ulrich’s turn to take watch and he could rejoin Chloe for some much needed rest. His wounds had healed up pretty well from the thrashing he had endured in his scuffle with Ragenard, but rapid healing came with a cost. All that energy needs to be replenished with food and rest.
 
The scent of burning ganja and a weary sigh preceded Ragenard’s walk up the corridor towards Desmond’s vigil in front of Baron’s room. It had been a very long day, and it was far from over yet. But putting to rest the doubt of who had betrayed them buoyed Ragenard’s spirits somewhat. But only somewhat, betrayal from family still stung even when it was done by a particularly disdained member.

“You still look like shit,” commented Ragenard as he neared the sitting Desmond. He took a quick two puffs off his joint, and motioned to pass it over as he slid down the wall near Desmond to sit.

“Any developments here?”
 
Desmond took a few puffs himself before returning the joint to Ragenard. The effects would be unfortunately short-lived consequence of his highly enhanced metabolism, but they where pleasant enough while they lasted.

“About as well as can be expected after last night,” Desmond replied with a chuckle. “Last I ‘eard from Reinhard, Baron was stable but he was keepin’ ‘im out still. Don’t want to risk ‘im shiftin’ yet while he’s still ‘ealin,” he explained. “Carlisle’s pretty critical, ‘is condition ‘as only been gettin’ worse. Ricin Reinhard thinks. Renard isn’t doing too ‘ot ‘imself, but ‘e seems to ‘ave taken on less of poison than Carlisle. You’ll need to talk to Reinhard for the details. Vanessa’s on the mend though, so there’s that.”
 
Ragenard gave a terse nod to the news as he listened, taking deep drags on the joint. He spun and weaved plans in his mind as he held his breath, letting the cooling smoke suffuse him as it quieted his mind.

Part of him was full of concern and hope for his packmates to pull through, but a new and cold part was taking into account how their conditions and expected recoveries would factor into his plans. The fact that he now had to think differently from his new position on top dulled the pleasant desire to get lost in stray thoughts considerably.

“Yeah, I’ll corner Reinhard when I get a chance,” he said. He took a second to inhale some more of the weed, but it did little to calm down his next statement. He barely managed to keep it from coming out as an outright snarl.

“It was fucking Jacques,” he spat. “Motherfucker probably thought selling out Baron would end up with him on top of things. Instead, we found a large bloodstain and some bits of flesh.”

Ragenard cracked his knuckles absentmindedly, and took a quick puff before passing the joint back to Desmond. “About what you would expect from Rowan, reward wise. Fucker should have known,” he said with a shake of his head. “Anyhow, that’s taken care of. You’re batting up, I didn’t manage to kill you last night, so you’re my second now.”
 
as written by Tiko and Dashmiel

“Oi, you serious?” Desmond asked with a grimace. “Why not Julienne, she’s been pinin’ for that job for as long as I’ve known ‘er.”

“Because she’s likely to make it so I return to a city on fire every time I need to step back,” he explained, before spreading his mouth into a feral grin and wagging his eyebrows at Desmond.

“And also because it’s gonna be your job to lean on her and treat her as a sort of “third” while I’m gone and actually channel her into usefulness.”

“Gone?” Desmond inquired, his curiosity perked. “You ‘eadin somewhere?”

“We’ve been a peace for a while out here. Or so we thought. I’m taking some folks with me to Iveria for a few days,” Ragenard replied, pausing to wave at Desmond to quit hogging the joint and pass it back.

“We’re gonna hit up one of my old buddies there. Stock up on proper instruments of mayhem, renew some of the packs old connections. Business.”

“Well, if you want me ‘oldin down the fort while you’re gone, ‘ave to ask somethin’ up front,” Desmond asked. “What’s your plan after Baron’s back up on ‘is feet again?’

“You missed it this morning when I addressed everyone...We’re gonna hit back. Hard. I’m putting the Blood back into the Bloodstone name, and I want every gangbanger from here to Anaar to shudder when they think of the cost of doing business in our city without our leave,” Ragenard replied, his tone of voice slowly ratcheting up in vitriolic passion as he gathered steam.

“I want the very fucking name Scions of Aodhan to be synonymous with dread for the lengths we’re willing to go to in order to keep our business. This stands, now and forever. My brother will either realize his way just isn’t gonna work and follow me or…” he left the sentence trail on.

“You know Baron’s got me back if it comes to that, right?” Desmond asks. “But till those cards are laid, we can play it your way. That’s the best you’ll get out of me.”

He took a last hit of the joint before passing it back finally.

Ragenard chuckled as he took the joint back and used it to point to Desmond before taking another drag. “And that,” he said good naturedly, “Is why you’re my second. Need someone who’s willing to stand up to me if I get out of hand, however futile it may be.”

He took a final drag of the nearly extinguished joint, letting the last embers of it’s glowing tip sizzle his fingers. “I’ll make sure he knows he’s got you in his corner, but I wouldn’t worry much. I think my brother is ready to wake up from his dream,” he paused and added the last a bit wistfully. “However beautiful it might have seemed.”
 
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as written by Dashmiel and Faithy

Ragenard sat alone in his borrowed room at the back of the med center. His large frame stretched out crosswise on the small cot, his back to the wall.

He pinched a generous amount of ground marijuana and tobacco from a small grinder at his side onto a piece of rolling paper and expertly prepared himself for what he expected to be a trying call.

After striking a match and lighting his spliff, Ragenard reached for his phone and dialed Aimee’s number.

“Hey kiddo,” he began, not waiting for her acknowledgement to the received call. “I need you to pack up for a couple of days, you’re coming with me and some of the pack to Iveria for a few days.”

Aimee was processing the betrayal and death of her father the only way she knew how; beating on an old punching bag with her good hand that was hooked up in one of her extra rooms and drinking. Unlike normal however, she wasn’t getting completely sloshed. She knew that wouldn’t solve anything and if she was drunk and there was another attack, she would be dead. Her father would not be there to save her this time. That of course brought up a bunch of questioning that would never be answered and instead of focusing on the thoughts whirling through her head, she just hit the bag harder.

“Fucker… why’d you betray us…?” Aimee muttered before flopping backwards onto the mat with a heavy sigh. Her gaze shifted towards her phone at the specific ringtone she created for Ragenard and she grumbled and shoved her sweaty raven hair out of her eyes. Reaching for her phone, she flipped it open, not bothering to greet him. Why were they leaving to go to Iveria? Slight paranoia swelled up inside of her before she she pushed it back down again.

“Alright. When are we leaving?” She questioned softly, wondering how much time she had to get ready.

“Tomorrow morning, be at the abandoned station warehouse at ten,” he replied calmly, the mix of weed and tobacco carrying him dreamily into a state of lightly spinning thoughts. “Bring a gun just in case, but we’ll be getting more so don’t pack too much,” he added before disconnecting the call.

“Alright, I will bring a gun. Always have a gun on me anyways.” Aimee muttered the last part more to herself than anything before hearing the call disconnect. Grunting as she slid back to her feet, she grabbed her phone and the last of her whiskey. Tossing it back, she made her way into the main part of her apartment and started to pack up what she wanted and needed. She still wanted to know why Ragenard was taking her with them, since she generally wasn’t included in stuff like this and couldn’t help but be paranoid that she wasn’t trusted thanks to Jacques. Shrugging off that thought, she flopped on her side onto her bed and ignored her injured parts as much as possible before succumbing to sleep.
 
Ragenard set the phone down, and twisted to lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling as a cloud of smoke surrounded him in the still air.

“That wasn’t so hard...now to figure out how to keep the daughter from growing into the father...fucking Jacques, we could have figured things out...bastard,” he muttered to himself as he smoked, his mind jumping lightly from thought to thought as he planned what they’d have to do in the next few days.

“Bennie better have kept those rocket propelled grenades stored right...hmm who’s left on the list...Draaven, Snow...uh what’s her fucking name Lisa? No Eliza yeah, can’t let her out of my sight...Aimee I just called...hmmm,” his thoughts drifted as he pondered and was distracted.

How to handle the fuzz, wouldn’t do to have them stop them from...hmm train was still running a quick thrown switch at the change over whatchamacallit. Someone would have to make sure the tracks were cleared…,” he dreamily smiled to himself pieces of the puzzle of blood shifting and moving into place. He went dreamily on for a few minutes, riding his high, enjoying at last a quiet moment of piece.

After the last few days, it was nice to finally relax, to not have to stare at the four walls of the room and think of the prison of obligations his life wa--.

“FUCK,” he roared, sitting up with a jolt. In a rush, he felt his high wane as he struggled to focus his mind, trying to recall what he knew he was forgetting.

“Shit, Nadel. What’s today, fuck, it was today,” he muttered, quickly throwing his jacket on and stuffing his feet into his boots.

It wasn’t always easy keeping track of your appointments, but it was in pretty poor form to leave your just released from prison packmate standing around waiting for a ride.
 
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