201003288 - Wolf Man Meets His Maker


Wavecrest Island: State Park Woods

The woods rise up from the soil below, the roots of the trees digging down through the loam and into the concrete pylons far below. A few creatures stir, scamper, and fly through the woods, almost masking the distant sounds of lake-faring vessels and the even more distant sounds of the nearby city. The forest floor is covered thickly by dense brush and grasses, huge ferns and mosses, occasionally showing the bulge of a rock or stump.

A light rain falls from a grey sky. It's cool and there's a mild wind from the southeast. There is about fourteen and one quarter inches of snow on the ground.




Thornbushes tangle around the campsite, the first hints of greenery showing through in the gentle rain. The towering trees watch over the site, majestic and ancient. There's a couple of brightly-coloured dome tents, each big enough to sleep six (according to the packaging, at least - four is more like it) arranged around a small stone-edged firepit. Jack sits on an upturned log, feeding pinecones into the fire with care. (re)

Robert's SUV has been parked the other side of the ferry, the men traveling over on foot. Robert carried a backpack and is wearing the flak jacket beneath his light shirt, as they walk towards the campsite. His pace is easy, comfortable in the woods and he snuffs the air lightly. "Anyone home?" The call is aimed to send to the camp as they approach it, but not to carry too far.

All gillied up and with nothing to shoot, Riley sits quietly in his perch ovrlooking the encampment. ompletely and utterly unmoving. He's been there fore days, much to the chargin of his mate. His scent masked, and remasked, and masked again by the musk of different animals ranging from doe to beaver. completely and utterly hiding anything related to his being. The rifle masked just as completely as the man wielding it and gazing down the sights. Riley is a complete and utter shadow in the pattering rainfall of the forest. The armor fitting him quite soundly and of military grade, he is at home in his element, the Forest no differne than the streets of baghdad for the soldier in this moment.

Monty follows Robert, keeping an eye on the area around them. He has a duffle over one shoulder, his own vest on which he's still not entirely comfortable in and a faintly restless quality to the energy that he tends to have difficulty subduing completely.

"Nope, no-one here at all," an English voice replies at normal speaking volume, the owner apparently confident that it'll be heard regardless; by the time Robert and Monty actually arrive, Jack is nowhere to be seen, the small fire the only evidence he was ever there.

Robert chuckles, the man's good humor perhaps a little out of place but he moves into the campsite, dropping his bag near a tent and beginning to unpack into the tent, keeping the items out of sight. "Excellent. Then Monty and I can have a weekend alone without interruption." His comment holds that odd humor, the relish showing.

As the group gathers, there is activity elsewhere on the island. With Robert's admission of his plans this weekend, it was an opportunity that couldn't be passed up. For two Ulfrics to be lost in months, the shockwaves would ripple through the therians world. There is no military grade gear amongst those that are arriving, mostly average men and women bearing hand held weapons pistols, though a few carry heavier rifles and shotguns. Two men stand among them, speaking softly as if discussing their plans. one of of them a larger black man, apparently the one in charge of the group. He wears a pair of khaki cargo pants, and a tight fitting t-shirt, his dark eyes full of fire as he point away from the island. His companion bows his head, turning and leaving with a pair of the others. The dark man turns towards the group, and whispered instructions are given.

That odd humor makes Monty stumble just noticeably and then he's clearing his throat and glancing at Robert briefly as he sets his duffel down. The area around them becomes rather more interesting after that.

In the entryway of one of the tents is a pair of large coolboxes. Jack may have vanished into the surrounds like a wraith, but someone brought them here and left them.

Preternatural senses watch the surroundings better than any human's could hope to possess. Riley remains completely uperturerbed as his mind centers itself and focuses, years of training instantly washing over the Lukoi soldier. Civilian life folds away, civilian mentality departs. In this moment he is simply the man he was so long ago.

Robert looks at ease as he moves to explore the coolboxes, glancing towards Monty with a broad grin that is rare for the man, apparently enjoying this. "I hope you know this is not my choice of drink." His comment is to the disembodied provider of coolboxes as he takes out two beers, tossing one to Monty, as if the two of them were truly on a weekend trip. He moves towards the fire, to settle there, looking relaxed and calm.

A little more than a dozen men moves through the brush, few of them having any clue about true stealth. The leader and a few others hang back, these ones among the best armed of the bunch. The larger black man stands unarmed though, dark eyes burning through the trees. There is a grim smile as his nose flares, and he looks to one of those with him, nodding his head. "It's time… but he's not alone…" This group follows several others, staying much more carefully and quietly through the trees.

Monty's attention pulls back to Robert when he speaks again and he catches the beer easily. He takes a moment to look at the label then opens it up as he moves toward the fire but doesn't go so far as to settle down to enjoy their comfortable little campsite, instead pacing slowly around the fire. "Maybe you should've brought your own. I considered it," he admits. But he likes this well enough so he's not complaining about the beer fairy.

Within the thorns, Jack rests, his scent camouflaged by the rain. He's dug in with a .50 calibre rifle, and he's camouflaged himself with a ghillie net. Beside him is his spotter, small and Asian and female, and both of them are barely breathing.

A deft subtle geture activates the thermal sighting upon the scope on the rifle as the world is suddely cast into black whites and grays. The silencer upon the end of the carbine hidden away within, beside him Logan sits with a monoclular held at ready for range and target prompting. The two of them working on the same hand signals even though they come from different schooling. The Navy seal likewise camoflauged and masked as Riley is. Soldiers of fortune, they are a hydra of disagreement more often than not but in this moment they are a team and work in beautiful harmony.

Robert doesn't move, casually talking to Monty, "It is something I did not think of." His heavy bag had contained more weaponry than alcohol and he glances up at Monty. "Sit down and relax. We're meant to be kicking back and relaxing, remember?" His voice is low enough to keep it for Monty's ears only, as he opens the beer, taking a swig casually. His body is relaxed, his legs stretched out towards the fire, at ease.

Brush crashes, and forms pile through it. The men range from teenagers to their fifties, mostly dressed in street clothes with jackets against the water. The group that is following them pauses, allowing the others to be a sacrificial distraction. The shifter fairly roils as he waits, but he knows that Robert is not as weak as most of the prey that have hunted. The men ahead aren't paying attention as they near the campsite, many at almost a full run.

"I know," Monty says out with a sigh. He finally does settle down, rather close to Robert, and he repeats even more quietly, "I know." He takes a drink of his beer and his gaze goes toward the area around them, listening.

The banks of thorns act as an effective funnel for people making their way to the campsite, carefully arranged to look natural while being downright annoying. Jack's bank of thorns in particular is huge, and some of those thorns look downright vicious.

Riley and Logan sit and wait quietly, they know the particulars, military cadence has droned into their beings the stoic impassive nature. They are not weapons free, but they are tracking their targets, watching and waiting with a voyueristic lust to their actions. Monoculiar exchanged by Logan for Carbine as the white masses funnel into the sights of their silenced weapons.

The sounds of the men nearing the campsite is heard by Robert but he doesn't respond, trusting to the others entirely at this moment. He takes a quick swig of the beer, glancing at Monty, one eyebrow lifting slightly. "Sounds like our hunting might be good. I got us a tag for one beast, no more. Split it with you?" His words, easily mistaken for hunting talk, is designed as a light reminder to try and avoid harming the humans. If possible.

The thorns do funnel them well, and the group begins to bnuch as they near the campsite. A few near Robert's SUV, and begin to come arouund it, and one of them screams out. "There he is… damn wolf!" There is a very poorly aimed shot as the man runs, missing both men and striking the nearby tent as they crowd begins to flood forward.

"Sounds good," Monty says, managing casual much more effectively now that his mind is focusing on what's actually going on and not things that have been bothering his outside of work, so to speak. Fired shots make Monty shift defensively. Maybe not throwing Robert down with him on top but that might be what he'd like to do.

Robert rises to his feet, his hand sliding to his back, to draw his own weapon. He handles it comfortably, aiming it just over the heads of the crowd, and firing one shot. Aimed to discourage, into the sky, rather than to harm. "I am armed and prepared to defend myself." His words of warning are loud enough to be heard as the crowd moves forward. For the moment though, he holds his weapon pointed away, to make it obvious that he is not the aggressor here.

One or two of the group slow as Robert and Monty move before them. Most of the crowd doesn't though and weapons are raised. Careless shots are fired towards the pair, oblivious to anythign else that might be about them. Far behind them the black man pauses, and his group drops to a low squat, hearing the firing of weapons ahead of them.

Monty draws his gun almost as an afterthought. He's not really a gun sort of guy. But he doesn't know how to hold it and aim it and look like he has an idea of what he's doing at least. His threat… or warning or whatever that was is more along the lines of a pissed off growl.

Riley as ever, the most impatient of the lukoi, takes advantage of his silenced muzzle and sightings. He opens fire with a quick three round burst, disabling two those hiding behind the truck by turning their hands into grizzled mess. His power and emotions kept in check, he responds only with enough force as nescessary and without giving away his position.

Robert releases a slow huff, a noise of faint irritation, before he glances at the crowd, picking the loudest, the bravest and aiming a shot at his kneecap. His expression doesn't change from the neutrality that he wears to drink his morning coffee. His gun then moves, seeking the next loudest, to take aim. He makes the aiming obvious enough, lifting it slightly this time to aim for the groin. He fires. Coolly. Discouraging people advancing on him.

The shots have their effect, and most of the crowd slows. Those that have been shot drop loudly, screaming in pain. The final one shot doesn't make a sound, just drops to the ground as he bleeds out very rapidly. A few still have guns raised, but their grips are shakier, obviously able to tell that Robert wasn't the only one shooting. Eyes shift and a gun goes off, this one a lucky shot that slams into Robert's flackjacket.

Monty takes careful shots meant more to graze than seriously injure but, well, bullets and moving targets aren't the most predictable of companions. He seems a little more worried about making sure no one gets too close to the other man since there's only so much he can do about the bullets.

And Jack's thornbank remains silent. Nothing to see here, move along.

Riley opens up with another series of threee round bursts as does Logan, both are exceptionally accurate with their carbines and put them to good use. Those that don't outright stop are readily and quickly disabled with shots fired at their weapons, hands, and kneecaps. With militaristic precision they work as only a sniper team can to disable the bulk of those still advancing, or slowly moving.

Robert takes the shot, the flackjacket hurting but not giving him up. He and Monty are in the middle of the campsite, with a crowd of humans moving more cautiously towards them, mostly stopped by gunfire. Robert's own handiwork is bleeding out, a single shot to the groin making a point. In the trees, Logan is spotting for Riley, and Pierce for Jack. Beside Robert, Monty is holding a weapon and Robert has his out, and aimed as the nearest member of the crowd, another shot eased off with that utter neutrality, as if he is shooting at targets. Another kneecap.

More members of the main group are cut down, the damage to Robert apparently negligible. Between Riley and Logan's shooting from the shadows though and the Ulfric's precision, it is enough to break them. Most of them begin to turn and run, the wounded and dying being left upon the ground. With the smaller group the black man growls, shaking his head as they rise from the brush, the rifles of his companions aimed steadily at Robert, Monty and the section of brush that's been erupting fire. Dark eyes stare at Robert, and his head shakes his presence unmistakable as he makes no effort to hide who he is. "The wheat falls quickly before the scythe does it not my brother?" The voice is deep, gravely, and one fist clenches tightly. "Your companions, mine… none of them are of interest. Do you have the courage to face me before your pack… to let them watch as I rip your throat out personally?" The clenching fist pops… the bones in it breaking as he allows it to shift into claws.

Monty aims his gun toward the man that growls but he doesn't fire. There's a growl of his own, low in his throat, and his beast's hackles rise against the energy of the other.

Jack's rifle shifts minutely, but that's the only movement he makes as the mastermind reveals himself. The old soldier waits with the patience of a stone.

Robert tilts his head as the man emerges, ignoring the other's companions as he runs a weighty gaze over the other, slowly. The curl of his lip speaks loudly enough of scorn and he replies slowly. "I am Ulfric here, and you have no name among the Lukoi. Your voice is only the wind outside our cave." The phrase is formal, informing the wolves around them where this man stands. "You asked me for courage, who beats up the weak and vulnerable, and uses my name to try to harm." There is clear scorn in his face as he moves to put his gun away, a movement stating that he does not need it with this man. "You are a coward. I should have you put down, and let your body rot."

With the flick of a trigger, Riley switches to full auto and completely and unabashedly fires at the Rogue's companion's. Malice showing in his eyes as he responds with military precision to take out those with the rifles, Not seeing to even be paying attention to Robert or the wolf, letting them handle their scuffle as he shoots to kill, signaling wiht a hand gesture for Logan to do the same so they can end the threat such rifles pose.

Logan shifts in his perch near Riley, silent as a ghost as he switches from the carbine he's been using to the barrett rifle that he brought along with him and had left to the side for now in favor of the higher rate of fire that the carbine has. Tracking his sights to each rifle that he can find he begins to clear a path one fifty caliber shot at a time in a widening circle out and away from Robert and behind the man that addresses him.

"Perhaps you should have, as with the rest of our kind." He takes a step ahead of his men, a deep growl emerging from his throat. "Your cave will go dark when you join the others that have been cured." His eyes shift towards where Riley begins firing from. Both arms tense, and slowly, in complete control he allows the other to show it's beastial nature. Behind him some of the riflemen go down, and the others begin moving, firing towards Riley and and Monty… these ones much more accurate that the earlier crowd. With the guns blazing about him, the wolf shifter continues forward, openly walking directly towards Robert as his face begins to change to show the fury of his nature.

Being a fairly easy target at the moment, there's not much that Monty can do to avoid being shot at. Fortunately his vest is likely to deter anything too vital from being actually hit but the scent of blood hits the air as the Skoll falls backwards after managing a poorly aimed shot toward the shooters.

Between Preternatural abilities and his armor, Riley does little more than drop to a knee to steady his ai as bullets slam into him in rapid succession. The flak jacket and kevlar giving only so much ground to the assault of the smaller arms fire as he contineus firing, dropping one target then the next, the thermal scope giving him a far keener advantage over his prey. Robert's personal defense is left in the hands of Monty as Riley maintains his position, completely and utterly unabashed as he becomes the spotter, calmly and quietly calling out targets that are within some form of cover or another for his own rounds. Letting Logan take them with those palm sized rockets he fires from his Barrett. Even as a bullet catches him above the brow and scrapes through the helmet's defense RIley fires. A second catching him closer to the eye, the burning of silver catching hi flesh while blood soaks his vision and basks it in a red hue.

Logan stays low in his perch, almost mechanically servicing targets that come in to sight and continually concentrating on removing those closest to Robert and his attacker. A stray bullet here and there manage to tag him and leave several long wounds where one or another might find a gap in his armor. The huge bullets from the barret against unarmored targets tend not to want to slow down when only confronted with one body.

Robert's upper lip curls and he narrows his eyes, the other man finally getting to him. "My cave will have life and wolves well after you and yours are dried bones." But his hands shift, sliding into the claws that add the advantage, their Ulfric's power flexing in the campsite, a lash of it aimed at the other wolf, used rarely to discipline, now used to hurt and distract. "You will feed the earth with your blood tonight, coward." His voice holds that rumble, the low growl of his wolf as he prepares to meet the other face on.

Around him his men drop, holes torn through them by the fire from Robert's commandos. It's obvious that they weren't expecting this type of resistance, but those that were with the wolf were fanatics, willing to give their lives to remove the stain of shifters from the earth. Their fire slows as the numbers drop, but the shots are still accurate, focusing more on Logan and Riley's bushes than on Monty, even as one does attempt to keep him pinned. The rogue shifter extends his own power, one that is nearly the strength of Robert's and his head contorts, his human mouth gone as he begins to run towards the Ulfric. There is a roar of beastial fury, and claws move through the air.

Robert meets that charge, seeming to brace himself, his own partial change sliding over him, the thick gloop falling from his fur as he waits for the other to come to him. And then he steps aside at the last moment, aiming a blow at the other's head at the same time, turning, aiming to land on the other's back, his bite aimed at the wolfman's neck.

Energy subdued, it might be obvious that Monty has lost consciousness for at least a moment or three. But it starts to spark back into existence as he comes around again, probably a lot less happy. He doesn't try to get up entirely but he does reach for the gun that he dropped to curl around and aim toward the one still on him.

Riley is fast, too fast for the eye to keep up truth be told, and uses the fully automatic rifle to a beautiful precision as his movements quite literally blur and at times he seems to just turn from facing one direction to another. firing and adjusting …. Firing and adjusting as he moves. Bullets pinging off the ghillied up exoskeleton though occassionally one finds a chink in the armor to push deep. Blood flowing freely as he is caught in the neck by a stray bullet that then exits out the other side. Never the les it does stagger his armored fform as one hand comes up in an attempt to staunch the bleeding fro the silver wound. A growl of anger seeping from his lips as he does soemthing very un-Rily llike.. He calls for asistance.

From Jack? Nothing. Silence. That is, if the Marshall is even there.

A claw rakes Robert's foe's back as he turns, teethh tearing into his shoulder. The wolfman arches slightly, the forms closeness remmoving any advantage the men may have of reach. From below one of his claw raise, moving towards the Ulfric's side, tearing towards the body armor that protects him. The scent of blood raises about the two as fight and the older beast tries to draw his jaws about Robert's own throat.

Logan continued to take down targets, some times managing to get two at once with the powerful shots from his rifle. When bullets start to concentrate more on where he is and one pings off his helment he decides it's time to move. Moving away from Riley in the low comparatively slow movements of any sniper he's brought up to a halt as Riley takes a hit and signals for help. Muttering under his breath, the mutter turning into a snarl as a bullet hits him in just the right spot to knock him into a roll and come up with a bleeding shoulder he continues towards Riley while using his preternatural strength to fire the barrett without a proper brace resulting in less accuracy which he trades for a slightly higher rate of fire.

Robert slides his arm around the other man, his claws curling into the other's belly, aiming to grasp and rip, an unsubtle movement as he bites down on the other's shoulder, his teeth sinking in deeply, tearing at muscle and tendons. The other's jaws do graze his throat, leaving marks that will heal human slow without intervention, and that seems to speed Robert on, his own jaws moving from shoulder to neck, aiming to snap it rather than rely on bites and claws.

The other wolf leans in with Robert's movement, taking a claw in the gut as he does. Blood flows freely as he's torn open, adrenaline rushing through the man-beasts form. A growl defiantly escapes his thaot as he feels Robert's teeth close on him, and both claws rake at the Ulfric's chest and sides, moving as if to throw him to the ground as he tries to tear him open.

Robert doesn't let go, keeping his grip but he growls, deep and harshly at the raking, his sides bleeding fiercely. The wolfman does succeed in the throw but the teeth around his throat do not release and enough of it comes with Robert, tearing a hole large enough to rip the artery out as he lands, rolling away with a snarl, coming to his feet. At that moment, the Ulfric does something both practical and out of character. A signal to the thornbank, as he hits the floor, rolling and bleeding.

The moment the signal is made, another Barrett Light .50 opens up, this one aimed at the rogue Robert was fighting. Jack, sniper-trained and once sniper trainer, having had plenty of time to line the shot up, uses the high-calibre rifle and the silver bullets it's loaded with to best effect.

Trying to maintain his control, Riley spasms on the ground slightly in pain as he holds the entry and exit wounds. The burning sensation of the silver filling him as his face beanth his helm and bullet proof visor a mask of blood as the crimson fluid flows out around his fingers that try to keep it in place. His heart beating faster, causing the blood to flow more rapidly as he gurgle another call for help, spitting up blood against the inside of the mask as his Therian physiology works against him b this oment as it tries to heal the unhealable wounds.

And with that… it's over. Chunks of the rogue's head spray, showering the Ulfric with blood and bits. The rest of his form collapses, his nervous system still firing as the body twitches, bleeding bleeding from the wounds by both Robert and Jack's shot. The remaining gunman pause for a moment as they watch the fall, the brief smile that they thought was going to be victory turning to defeat before their very eyes. Almost as one they turn, firing a last series of shots as they try to disappear into the woods, attempting to make escapes.

Logan reaches Riley and utters another low growl as one last stray bullet smacks into his side, the armor protecting him from direct injury but the kick at this range makes it .. more than a little uncomfortable. There's a glance at Riley's situation and his hands move quickly, a knife appearing in one hand to cut the strap of Riley's helmet free and then the helmet's removed. Logan's right sleeve is then turned into a wrap for the handful of gauze he pulls from one of the many pockets in his suit. Glancing up and watching the enemy run, Logan tightens the bandage around Riley's neck as tight as he dares and then calls, "Dammit..gonna need to get him to a medicaa really damned quickly." as he hauls Riley up into a carry over his shoulder.

The big rifle hidden in the thorns doesn't speak again. Instead, Jack emerges, eeling his way out of what looked like a solid and particularly spiky barrier with the Barrett slung across his back. He pulls a first aid kit out behind him, the strap around his ankle; once he's out and upright, he heads for Logan and Riley, ripping the kit open as he moves. Something garbled comes over the comlinks - either that, or he's speaking a foreign language.

Monty is reaching to pull apart his vest now that the immediate danger of being shot is more or less gone. The bruising behind the vest is already disappearing and that hole in his arm is kind of a pain but Monty isn't in too much immediate threat of bleeding out or anything at the moment. He even manages to sit up, then stand. Give him a few minutes and he'll be good as new. Or close enough.

Robert rolls, climbing to his feet, a hand to his side for the deepest cuts, glancing first at Monty and then Riley. "I'll get the SUV…" He turns, stepping towards it, his hands and face sliding, shifting back to human, the change helping heal some of the injuries. The SUV arrives with a wheelspin, roaring to a halt near the others, and Robert emerges, opening the back, flattened seats to carry their injuried home.

The bleeding from the scrapes to his head and above his brow aren't too bad, thogh the one to the brow has burn marks let in the flesh and hair, clearly the bullet is still within but its helping to keep the blood from flowing as opposed to the other with entry and exit wounds at his neck. He does n't esist or assist in his carrying or being manhandled by his companions save to try to hold his rifle up in an attempt to give cover.. Not that he could really see or shoto anything accurately at this point. Most of his willpower and energy is spent elsewhere, keeping himself from turning into a wolf and making his wounds that much worse.

Logan carries Riley slung over his shoulder towards the SUV, blood that's his own starting to soak the fabric of the sleeve he didn't turn into a 'bandage' for Riley's neck. "Jack, the bad one's his neck..I've got the bandage and compress on there pretty tightly, but my hands are a bit shaky at the moment…make sure I'm not strangling him." Logan growls out as he sets the injured man as gently as he can into the back of the SUV.

Apparently whatever unit wears black coveralls and teaches concealment in ludicrous places is also quite keen on combat medicine. Jack gets to work, taking off Logan's bandages and doing a more thorough job, the scent of scorched flesh apparent with tiny flares of power as he works. He can't patch Riley up properly, but he can get him safe to travel (and cauterise the worst of the wounds without anything hot). Pierce eels her way out after Jack, bringing the camouflaged blanket and the rest of Jack's nest's contents.

Once Jack starts on Riley, Logan takes a moment to go 'police' up the spot he and Riley had taken, picking up his barrett along the way as well as the extra ammo and his own bag of tricks that he left behind when he started his own movement from the concentration of fire. Favoring his left side a bit as he moves he begins to carry it back towards the SUV as rapidly as he can manage.

Warehouse 69: Main Room — South Side Outlet - Halsted Street: Bridgeport

The interior of this 50,000 square foot warehouse is done in subtle shades of green, brown, and black. The floors are hard wood, and look to be freshly done. There are a few windows facing out, and spiral staircases on all four corners of the warehouse, which lead to the catwalks and second floor offices located in the two of the four corners. Fire escapes hug the sides of the building, and a stairwell leads up to the end of each floor, accessible by heavy fire doors. Though this place is not new, it is still well taken care of, and looks to be freshly renovated. A person must be buzzed up, have a keycard, or catch a ride with someone else entering to pass the security doors.

The main area takes up the first part of the warehouse. It's not designed like an upper penthouse, but it's not exactly in the poor taste either. It is a spacious enough space to fit four rooms within in, all with hardwood flooring except the foyer, which is inlaid with marble tiles. The living room and the kitchen take up the same rectangular space, with a single, granite counter island separating the living room from the kitchen. The living room's focal point seems to be the large, plasma TV mounted up on the wall, along with several state-of-the-art gaming systems. A loveseat and three leather couches take up the rest of the room.

There is a corridor branching out from the main area, where the door leading to small sleeping rooms could be seen at the very end of the hall. Another door on the right-hand side leads to the training hall. Across from the corridor is yet another doorway leading to the stairs that go up to Jake's office. It is a social club, with shelves filled with books in the corners of the main area. A small hallway off the hall that leads to the training hall leads to the stairs that go up to the Medical Bay.

Once all are loaded into the SUV, and all their injured are in, Robert drives with a turn of speed that is rare for the sensible man. He makes it through the streets, drawing into the garage with a screech of tyres, and a repeated blast of his horn. Once stopped, he moves around to the back, his own injuries healing by themselves, the blood still enough to alarm at a glance.
While Riley's wounds are severe, there are bandages holding his blood in and someone has cauterised some of the more badly-damaged blood vessels. Nothing that won't heal in time, but still odd - neat, precise and without any damage to the surrounding tissue. Jack's first aid kit is slung over his shoulder, the black-clad man helping Logan.

That done, Robert settles on the back of the SUV, sitting leaning against its side. "Welcome to our inner sanctum, Jack." His tone is dry, soft as he glances after his brother in law, and then to the other wolves. "Monty, if you are injured…" There is a light instruction in the Ulfric's tone.

Jack lets Logan handle Riley once they're out of the SUV and on the way to the medical bay, returning to lean against the truck. "Thanks," he says quietly, as calm as though he hasn't just shot a werewolf in the head and then helped another werewolf cling to life for the journey back. "So yeah. Any questions? There's some I can't answer, but ask away." He fishes a pack of baby wipes out of a pocket and pulls one out, offering the pack to Robert before starting to clean the camouflage cream and blood off his skin.

Robert takes the packet, his face impassive if tired and battered. He removes one of the wipes, rubbing it lightly across his face. "Will we need to meet with the police?" His question is low, steady. He pauses, adding quietly. "Thank you for that shot, Jack." A silent admission that there was a moment there where the Ulfric wasn't sure he would win.

Logan steps out of the bay after he's certain that MJ has what she needs and takes off his helmet and smiles just slightly as he sees Jack pull out that pack of baby wipes, his own hand reaching into a pocket for a couple of wet-one packets to use for the same purpose. "Wet ones and condoms, an operator's best friends." he says somewhat offhandedly.

"I'm fine," Monty says dismissively, voice only sounding a little bit strained. "You sure you're okay?" he asks, though, glancing at his Ulfric. He's quiet about it, not really trying to get between the conversation between the other two.

"No worries," Jack replies amiably. The baby wipes get the worst of the muck off, and that seems to be the whole idea. "The police might want a word, but I suspect that a lot of the casualties will have records, and I'll vouch for you. The wolves weren't yours, so I couldn't care less about 'em." He looks over at Logan, then. "Don't forget Mr. Barrett, or Messrs Heckler and Koch," he points out with a grin. "Or any of their friends and allies."

Robert nods slowly, reaching up to remove his shirt, and the flack jacket, checking himself beneath that. The wolf's claws left a deep mark, but it is healing slowly, as is the deep bite on his neck. He glances down at them, lifting an eyebrow. The four men are huddled around the back of the SUV, Riley being in the sick bay with MJ. Robert begins to wipe his hands and arms with the wipes, removing some of the blood. "I am willing to speak to them. All of my people are."

Ricci was passed out cold in one of the bedrooms. The noise of those wonderful wolf like creatures draws her attention and the petite Vargamor steps into the main room. However, she pauses just inside of it, silently, to view the room and the people with her golden eyes. Sadly, she's smelled.

Logan gets his face clean and with a chuckle at Jack's comment he nods, "Or of course the explosive personalities of Miss C4 and her sister Claymore. " He reaches into the SUV and pulls out his gear and his barrett, moving them over to the trunk of his car before taking off his combat jacket and the armor beneath it. "Hmm..this is shot..quite literally." he says, dropping the kevlar vest onto the floor near the car.

Ricci is really walking down to the motor pool. Oh lookie! There is she. Her golden eyes spotting the all too familiar SUV.

Monty just nods to Robert and he starts moving off. "I'm gonna go get some coffee if you don't mind," he offers, trusting Jack not to suddenly turn on the Ulfric or something.

Jack's outfit, by comparison with the others, is completely unscarred. There's blood on it but it's presumably someone else's, since all the blood on his skin is coming off. He retrieves his own Barrett from the SUV - matt black, to go with his coveralls - and slings it muzzle-down across his back. "I'll give you a shout if needed," he says. "I'll be making a full report anyway."

"Get me some." Robert's voice is weary as he replies to Monty, glancing at Logan. He slides from the SUV, moving across to greet Ricci. He reaches out a hand to lightly touch her hand as he speaks softly, despite the others being able to hear. "Riley was shot. MJ has him." He doesn't soften it, never having softened news for the woman, his gaze resting on her face. "She is healing him now."

Logan's gear is loaded into the back of his BMW X5, the Barrett and extra ammo all put into a locking case in the trunk. He takes a few larger wet wipes from his trunk and cleans up most of the blood and dirt on his arms and chest and pulls on a well worn long sleeved sweatshirt, there are several short wounds on one arm that are still fading, and one on his side that seems to be more burn than anything..which will likely take a while to heal. Looking back up to catch Robert's eye he nods slowly in turn and once he's spoken to Ricci he says quietly, "I'm going to go check on Maddie and the house, unless you need me here."

Ricci turns a bit ashen beneath the mocha of her skin. "Shot?" Her eyes fly up where Monty just left for coffee and where the med bay would be located. Robert can feel all her energy start to shift in that manner, before she makes herself stay put. "Are you hurt? What of Monty and the others?" Now her eyes case over Jack, Logan, Monty and her brother. At Logan's comment, she touches his arm, "No, please. Be well as I am sure she is nervous." Her eyes again fall on Jack as if just realizing the new face. It is there that her attention holds.

"He's going to be okay," Jack says quietly to Ricci, firmly, in an English accent. "Or he bloody well should be, anyway, after the amount of work I put into getting him here." A pause, then a sudden grin. "If he ups and dies on us now, I'll kill him."

Robert's hurts are relatively obvious, the bite on his throat, and the claw marks on his sides. "Go, Logan." The words are a casual command, Robert's glance towards Jack given with a nod. "I am certain he will be fine." There is certainty in his voice as well, and he dabs fairly uselessly at some of the blood splatters on his face with the wet wipe. "He is in excellent hands."

Logan nods at Robert's dismissal, a slight turn of his head in a respectful manner before he turns back and starts toward his car. Before leaving though, he offers Jack a hand and a nod in thanks, "Thanks for the help…good shooting there as well."

Jack takes Logan's hand and shakes it; his handshake is firm, but neither test nor challenge. "Always was good to work with one of your lads," he replies. "Your shooting wasn't so bad either. Take care."

Ricci watches Jack. "I'm sorry, can I ask whom you are? I see you are friend, but I am afaid that I am not aware of your name." Her voice is calm as she looks between the two. "I am sure that he will be aptly taken care of." The girl just sort of stands there, without showing her emotions.

"Ricci, this is Jack Green. He is the Rat King and an executioner. Jack, this is Ricci, my sister and our Vargamour, our wise woman." Robert glances after Logan, giving him a brief nod of approval, the Ulfric's movements tired. "If you wish to see him, he is in the infirmary with MJ, Ricci."

Logan's own grip meets the same standards as Jack's, one apparent operator to another. The grip's released and he nods slightly as he opens the door to his car, glancing from Ricci to Jack to Robert and then back to Jack once more, "I owe you at least one beer at some point, Robert can get you my info," he says as he drops into his seat and closes the door. The engine of the BMW roars to life a moment later and he pulls out at a relatively sedate pace.

Jack nods in reply to Logan, then looks to Ricci. "Pleased to meet you," he smiles once they've been introduced. "I'd offer to shake your hand too, but, well, I'm a bit of a mess." He pulls another baby wipe from the pack and attacks his neck with it. "Seriously, your boy should be fine."

"I am sure that Riley will be well." Ricci offers before she steps forwards and holds her hand palm up towards Jack. "Allow me to assist?" She then looks towards her Ufric, "You seem undamaged. How is Monty? I did not get a good look when he went for coffee."

Robert glances down at his body and then back to Ricci, one eyebrow lifting slightly. "Monty is mostly unharmed." He murmurs softly, tossing the wet wipe into a trash can. "Jack, may I drive you home?" The offer is given in an oddly formal tone as Robert straightens.

Faded there due to 3am!

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