bet no-one saw *this* coming http://forums.megatokyo.com/showflat.php?Cat=&Board=UBB8&Number=546119#Post546119 Sun May 19 2002 02:17 AM [!--OOC: A post from J.Random. Who woulda thunk it, eh? And yes, I do *some* character work in this post, but I'm trying to cut back a bit. Tell me what you think, if you feel so inclined, about my new "lite" style of writing. --] ----- [setting place="the hallway that Echo, Queslin & Kitty were attacked in" timesync="we're doing yet more *major* rewinding. Though I think it's pretty obvious where this stuff fits in, so I won't patronize you."] The two werewolves poked their heads into the hallway from a secret panel in the floor. It was no matter that the passage didn't really exist; so long as WolfDead said it did, it was good enough for them. Now that those heroes were gone, they could get to work. The pair spotted the heap of a wolf that Echo had left and slunk out of the open hatch. Already the creature was crackling it's recovery, as bones slid in to place and knitted themselves back together. They approached cautiously. Both were afraid of it, even when it was in a state like this. a deep voice trailed off weakly, still breathless. One of the two standing wolves held out two pints of whole blood, jiggling suspended in clear plastic bags. He didn't know why WolfDead wanted them to bring blood along, but he didn't have to wait long to find out. An arm reached out and snatched the bags away, raising them to the broken wolf's nose. It took a long sniff. it's voice trailed off weakly again. Then it opened it's mouth and bit ever so carefully into the first bag, so as not to spill any of the precious fluid, and proceeded to drink the contents. The crackling noises came faster now, but quieter, becoming nearly inaudible. More steadily, the fallen wolf raised the second bag to it's muzzle, and drained that one as well. Then it sat up. Somewhat painfully. The two smaller weres jumped back. They certainly hadn't expected this. The second were almost didn't believe his eyes. The big wolf grinned at them mysteriously. it trailed off, as though it were trying to decide. it smirked. Both of the other weres gave it a dumb look. It laughed. It stood, shaky and weak-kneed, and limped over to pick up it's sword, sliding it back into the sheath with a *shink*. Neither smaller wolf could believe it, it had been less than five minutes since the larger were was quite severely beaten. They watched in amazement as it now hobbled over to the trap door they had entered through, and began to enter. It had turned around in the entrance hatch, and was staring at them with one eyebrow cocked. The two wolves followed as it set a surprisingly fast pace down the passageway. ----- A well-built and very human figure strode resolutely and in utter silence along one of the corridors of WolfDead's tower, heading toward the central chamber. A pair of werewolves trailed about two meters behind. Their claws clicked lightly on the granite floor-stones, the only audible indication that anyone was even in the hall. At six feet even the man hardly towered over the weres, but neither did they tower over him. As the small entourage reached the giant door to WolfDead's lair, the man leaned against it to listen calmly. The two weres waited nervously. Neither one was happy about being here with him. While you would never suspect it from his his simple, efficient black jumpsuit, nor his unremarkable, yet very German face, this man was big trouble. Definitely the dominant male in the situation. The only thing that might've made him look like anything besides a simple secret agent (which are of course a dime a dozen in MegaTokyo) was the five foot sword that hung at his side. But even those were kinda common nowadays. The German man leaned back away from the door. he grinned. He opened the door with a loud *creak* and entered. ----- WolfDead stood proudly in his newly completed throne room, looming tall, dark and starkly contrasting with the rest of the decor. The white marble floors and walls glistened under the intense lighting. And WolfDead had to admit that the purple, orange, and green accents really brought out a fiendish feel in the neo-modern architecture. Yes, the Evil Interior Decorator had done well. Even though WolfDead had insisted on a more traditional theme for the rest of the tower, the decorator had managed to talk him into doing something "different" with his throne room. Not that he couldn't change it back with a thought, were someone to laugh at it. But for now he liked being avant-garde. He sensed something coming toward him. Two things, in fact. Yes, there was BG down on the... third floor by now. He grinned in anticipation of the climactic battle that would surely see him the victor. But there was also... Alek. The huge room suddenly shifted appearance, snapping from postmodern into something straight out of Transylvania. He didn't like being avant-garde enough to have that cocky little Mihoist bastard laughing at him over it. [!--OOC: Yes BG, I'm well aware that you and others have hinted that WD's throne room has been Dark and Brooding from the beginning. *Whine* I just wanted to use my gag. And I'm sticking to SimS' original characterization of the Decorator, too. ^^;;; --] The Evil Interior Decorator sighed and went to work adjusting the torches that WolfDead had rather hastily conjured, trying to position them for the best effect. These Evil Overlords, it was so typical. WolfDead turned toward the door he knew Alek would be entering through. Suddenly he was holding a glass of deep crimson wine. It had only taken a moment's thought to conjure, and would enhance the effect of the hall so well. The elevator doors blew inward and Alek landed in a crouch. He was oozing so much style that it created a momentary deficit elsewhere in the Universe. Somewhere on one of the floors below BG fell flat on his face, a victim of the shortage. WolfDead turned to Alek and swirled his wine dramatically, trying his best not to look impressed. "Greetings little Mihoist. So good of you to join me, we have much to discuss..." The door at the far end of the hall *creaked* loudly, announcing an uninvited guest. All those present turned to look. WolfDead turned to look *and* kill, angry fire flickering from his eyes. [!--OOC: See? We're not interrupting anyone *important* [grin] Heh, sorry Nightwalker, couldn't resist. Oh, and if you're confused, yes, NightWalker *did* say that Alek saw a big *werewolf* enter the room. But I'm going to interpret that as him merely finding out at some point that the newcomer is a were, and *not* that he was in were form from the beginning. This post also largely replaces the events described in Ari's last post. Hope all that made sense. ^^; --] The two weres that followed the German through the door winced. *That* was exactly the problem with this guy. He acted *way* too calm for a dead man, like he knew something you didn't. And indeed he did know something the two weres didn't. "Mr. Tod, now *nice* of you to drop in." WolfDead broke into a huge, but still menacing grin when he saw who it was. He knew that WolfDead actually *liked* him. Or at least appreciated his skills enough not to kill him on sight. [!--OOC: on a random side note, it's *really* weird for me to be writing about a "Mr. Tod". See, my dad has had a friend forever and a day who's name is "Mr. Todd", so... ^^; --] Friedrick Vaughn, or just "Tod", as he preferred to be called while working, had been born with a fascination and affinity for swords. Having mastered most European fighting styles by the age of twenty, he had traveled East to study. That had been ten years ago. Now a well respected master of the sword, even here in Japan, he rented out his services for roughly the equivalent of a hundred thousand dollars a month. WolfDead knew a good deal when he saw one. And even if Tod wasn't a particularly "good deal", given that he was a mere mortal in a city that seemed stuffed to the brim with incredibly powerful, superhuman fighters, WolfDead at least knew a cool-looking and essential "enforcer" archetype when he saw one. And he was still quite useful for dealing with "normal" humans. "I'm *not* happy about being sent after a foe that I'll bet you knew could beat me so handily," Tod growled. The two weres winced at this, expecting him to be consumed by flame at any time. That idiot was interrupting important business that The Master had with someone else, and here he was acting cocky! His luck was bound to run out sometime. They, of course, would be burned along with him, just for good measure. WolfDead, predictably, bristled. Until he remembered that the attitude was all part of what made a "cool" enforcer. He had to deal with it if he wanted to keep the guy around, so he swallowed the urge to turn "Mr. Tod" into a potted plant. "And...?" WolfDead returned the human's growl. "What do you want *me* to do about it?" "At the very least, I need another assignment. My work is my life." Tod studied the hilt of his sword, letting his offhand manner catch WolfDead completely by surprise. "At the most, I'd like something to compensate me for my troubles, too." WolfDead was absolutely fuming now. The trouble he had to go through just to keep these "cool enforcer" types around... He grinned a grin that dripped of syrup and turpentine. "What could I give you then that would properly repay you... and quickly?!" The words came out in a snarl. "You *are* interrupting some rather important business." Tod looked around the room for a moment. "The were-girl would be a fair exchange," he said finally, pointing. "Those little pet robots of yours, the ones whose 'net connections you were so giddy about cutting off... The one of them gave me a very thorough beating. The were is useless to you now that you have this new girl," he gestured to Yukiko as a horrible grin spread across his face, "and draining this one's blood would speed my recovery significantly." The mask of anger that had affixed itself to WolfDead's face suddenly shattered and fell away, leaving a very gleeful Evil Overlord in it's place. He was reminded, yet again, why he kept Tod around. The guy was *evil*! "Very well, you may use her to regain your strength." WolfDead tossed him the key to Rris' cage. "Enjoy yourself. I have other matters to attend to." [!--OOC: and you people were all thinking dirty things when you read Ari's post for this part, weren't you?! For shame. This ain't no H flick, just your standard horror movie. ^^; --] Rris cowered as the man made his way over to her cage with a fittingly malicious grin on his face. She gasped, because as he approached he was growing. Bones crackled as they shattered of their own accord and re-formed, longer and thicker than before (magic kept him walking during this part of the process). The shock of blond hair on his head turned a dark gray and his face contorted and stretched outward. Friedrick Vaughn, born to human parents who could trace their Germanic lineage back hundreds of years, had spent his first eighteen years of life as just that, a human. To the best knowledge of whatever friends and family he had left in Germany, as well as the sensei and fellow students he had spent his first seven years in Japan training with, that's all he was. The fur that was growing on his face and body, thick and gray like the mist on a moonlit moor, told a different story. Because not all werewolves are born that way, some are made. At the age of nineteen, Friedrick Vaughn was mauled by wolves, a ferocious, vampiric breed that could spread lycanthropy by wolf bite. The pack, which placed a high value on destructive and cruel abilities, had only spared him because his sword skills showed incredible promise. The transformation was finished in about seven seconds, just as he reached the door to Rris's cage (it took notably less time than this long-winded narrative would lead you to believe). From her place curled up on the floor, he was now so tall that his hand seemed to come straight down from the heavens. Like a fallen angel being cast out, that is. Fingers that dwarfed the key they gently held deftly played it into the ancient, tricky lock and popped open the door with a *click*. "Come on, let's go." The rough command, almost a bark, accompanied his other hand as he yanked her to her feet. "Wh-Whe-Where are you t-taking me?" Her voice was as rubbery as her knees, and the big wolf had to maintain his vice-grip on her arm just to keep her upright. "Somewhere more private." His grin was wide and feral, neatly displaying four knifelike, hollow canines. She followed obediently, strangely calm and resigned to her fate, as he led her briskly from the cage and headed toward the main door. As they passed Alpha Male, Tod turned to him and sneered. The hackles on the smaller wolf bristled up like a mane, and Tod almost drew his sword. But at the last moment his fur fell back into place and he retreated mumbling "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," to Rris. Under other circumstances she might have slapped him. Or at least cried. But the hand clamped around her arm, not to mention the terror that clung in her heart, kept her passive and silent. Tod closed the door quietly as they passed through. He lead her off down the hallway. Inside, WolfDead finished savoring Rris's fear and turned back to Alek. ----- Rris, having never been inside WolfDead's new tower except as a captive, was quickly lost in the maze of passages that made up the top floors. But Tod seemed to know where they were going, making his way in hurried, determined silence. She whimpered quietly. Tod stopped and spun to face her. he snarled under his breath. She jerked away, wincing, waiting for a fist to strike her. The sudden burst of adrenaline that anticipated her death left her energized, and she clawed at his arm and strained to break free of his grip. The massive hand did not open though, and he largely ignored her efforts. he pulled her face in close to his so he could sound threatening at a low volume. A puzzled expression was slowly creeping through the terror on Rris's face as tears abated and eyebrows raised. A tremor that made the top floors of the tower sway wildly interrupted her question. They both braced themselves against a wall to keep from falling over. he hissed as he yanked her into a barely noticeable side passage. After a few hundred feet they came to a flight of stairs so narrow that Tod could barely fit down them. He went first, drawing his sword in one hand and keeping the other clamped around her arm. About the stupidest thing she could do right now was run off, and he figured that the little dumkapft trusted him enough to do just that were she given the opportunity. he mumbled a clumsy explanation, not wanting to betray too much of what was going on inside his head.