The mountains of the land, wreathed in their seemingly ever present damp mist, peered high over the valley and city that laid nestled between them. It was these peaks that sheltered a strange focal point, one wherein light was never quite bright enough and day never seemingly long enough. Not for lack of either, but more that every day between the frequent and pouring rain, they existed as a boundary to the outside world and contained it from the restless, peering eyes. A surprise it would not be to anyone who expected those strange others to seek out a place like this, or rather that they merely existed here all along, but it mattered little which it truthfully was; this place, this darkly forested and rigorous terrain, concealed from all others deathly and grim secrets.

Here shadows of men existed, trapped by their own doing or that of others. The downturn had not been kind to this remote place far to the northwest, its once more densely populated and growing industry laid bare now. Those who had not escaped it found it ever more difficult now and with each passing year more and more people and businesses seemed to vanish. Entire swathes of the already grey, wet industry and its concrete now more hollow than ever. Crime flourished from these things, born of desperation and ever increasingly fewer means to enforce the law of the land, but in large part that there was so much open to it now. The peering eyes and resistances had fallen to the wayside, these troubles becoming just another piece in the greater puzzle and accepted as much.

The further north one drew toward the border, the more remote and desolate things became. Driving through these mountainous passes, one could find only the rare town of no more than a few hundred at best. Commerce and trade along these routes, once frequented by rolling convoys of trucks, had become more quiet than most any era those alive now could recall. These people however, did not envy those to their south - those of the sprawl. As while they knew life was more difficult, more problematic, their communities would persist with some semblance of consistency.

The west, beyond the mountains, laid the sea and with it some coastal gatherings that remained. Once, these fisheries and their fishermen, often plunged into the cold waters, but few ships stayed today; many having abandoned the profession. These ghost towns dot the coast, remnants of the earlier days when legality and industry were more favorable. Now? Now they stand as testament to how far the world has fallen...

It took wars and foreign powers conflicting to unsettle the global power, but really more than anything it was the darkness in the hearts of men - the greed and want crushed their economy and industry. As was proof in this city, the wooded area of Silverstone; its name having been inherited from prospectors countless years past. But even these shadowed souls paled in comparison to those of darker things yet that dwelled among them, hidden in plain sight. True fiends, true monsters, more than men call this place home as well. Not that they had no others, but that this situation of isolation and misery is easily exploited.

These things, these others, are not numerous but they can be varied.

Some feed on the lifeblood of their victims to grasp at what was once their own life, others wander restlessly without definitive purpose or reason to exist, cursed for eternity to feel a drive that they cannot answer and cannot find. Others yet are shells of their former selves, furiously grasping for any tie to humanity they can maintain. These terrible, terrible few falter often, evading their own destruction by sheer myth - by being legend; things of mockery and joke.

But they are very real.

A real enough threat that the surrounding land to the north of the city of Silverstone, in the town of Jennings, has come to witness in small part. No more than a thousand-five-hundred in its population, it was formerly one of the most stable regions in the state. Protected by its great granite mountains, surrounded by passes, filled with fresh water and lumber, it had few wants or worries short of harsh winters and winding roads. That has changed however, as a recent incursion of unusual attacks by the wild life have surged beyond any expectation.

There's no doubt its wolves, but there's no explanation as to why or even how.

Yet...

@RedXCross@Kidd

Sweat beaded down Piper's face as she sat up in bed. Her chest heaved up and down as she took a very long few minutes to collect her thoughts, her sanity. "Shit," she groaned as the headache and nausea hit her hard. Wincing against the pain and hand on her head, she eyed her cell phone-- to find it dead. Frustrated, she tossed it to the other end of the bed before groggily climbing out, gripping the bottle cluttered nightstand for balance. The dim sunlight streaming through her window was both a relief and trigger for panic: what time was it? For a normal woman working full time during the day, this unknown element would push her into hyper-drive. Piper Flynn Holmes, however, lazily put on pants and shambled out of the room to prepare for the day, leaving the light on behind her.

Bun up, black coffee drank, teeth unbrushed, cigarette leisurely smoked, and phone still in her room, she threw on dark sunglasses and stepped outside. She left the bottom half of the duplex, which she rented from an older couple with rose colored glasses, and hopped on her motorcycle. It was a small, old thing, but its size suited her and she had little trouble keeping it running. With a kick and a roar, she was off-- On another day, she may have raced through the small town, but on this day the hangover was particularly bad. She rolled up to Jimmy's and sauntered to the garage, almost ready to get to work.

"Holmes, I've been calling ya," came a voice and Piper immediately tensed up to narrow her eyes at Jimmy Jr. through her sunglasses.

"Phone died. I'm here now." He was a clean cut guy in his thirties, but ran the shop well enough. He had bright blue eyes and his close shave kept him looking young, attractive. Piper hated him.

"This guy's here for his car and said you--Jesus Christ, Piper, is that you?" Jimmy stepped back, wafting the air away from his face. It earned him only an eyeroll, so he continued. "Okay, whatever. Could you handle your damn customer? You didn't leave us with much paper work, but I was about to pick him up myself." He shoved a clipboard at her, the pages blank and ready to be filled out. Maybe he knew Piper would bite back, but he scurried off right after, as if the garage was busy.

Piper threw her middle finger at his back and scanned the lot in front of the garage. There were two people. Rolling her eyes again, she placed her sunglasses on top of her head and approached the one she vaguely recognized. He was tall and may have scared another woman, but Piper was difficult to intimidate even with her small stature. Besides, he had a dull look to his face, and she wondered if he even noticed her approach. "Hey..." she started, but her voice trailed off. What was his name? Well, she knew his car, and she knew it was ready because she had stayed late the night before fixing it. "You're here to pick your car up." It wasn't a question, though one thing was still bugging her: "What time is it?"

@RedXCross

Chris’ ideal week was simple. He would get up each day, prepare for work in an orderly fashion, go treat family pets and other animals for extended hours each day, then go home. That was the best way for him to satisfy his own needs to do a good job as well as to keep him as a functioning member of society.

So it was easy to tell this week was beginning to grind at his nerves. He’d never been more relieved for Thursday to come. It was back from his third drive to Jennings in the past week that his car decided it would give up on him. The stupid thing had been his for a couple years now, and truthfully he had bought it used, but he assumed that the small- enough mileage meant that he could at least get three or four years out of it. Now there was a small part of him that wanted to drive back to where he’d bought the vehicle in the first place and beat the shit out of the man that sold it to him, but that would be wrong. He may have been a shoddy salesman, but that didn’t mean he deserved Chris’ wrath, unfortunately.

So Chris managed to call in a mechanic, found a cheap motel nearby, and reluctantly called his practice to tell them he couldn’t come in the next day. It was the only option he had really. His practice and home were on the other side of Silverstone, and there was no way he was making it through the city without any friends to transport him.

The mechanic told him it’d be ready by about 9, so Chris was ready by then. He showered around 8:15, changed into a collared shirt and slacks around 8:25, had a bagel and cheap coffee in hand ten minutes later, and was standing in front of the mechanics shop by 9 after the man in charge had picked him up, leaving them a few minutes of leeway for them to get his car ready. Unfortunately, it appeared that wasn’t the case. The man in charge said the mechanic working on his car wasn’t there yet and, after complaining about this employee for much long than he should’ve, told Chris to wait around until it was ready.
This left Chris with time to think, unfortunately. About the anger that was bubbling beneath his skin, and the violence through which he found his satisfaction. It had been ages since he’d felt bones crack beneath his fists, and that thought alone was enough to make him shudder with anticipation. That, plus the fact his work was being interrupted by damage even police couldn’t understand (that was clearly animalistic, but not from any animal Chris had ever seen) was sending his blood into a boil.

The world was always feeling different, and the number of people who were dark and impure was always growing. He was pensive and stoic as the girl whom he assumed was his mechanic walked over to him.

He raised an eyebrow at her appearance. Based on the total disarray of her appearance, it was easy to tell that she’d only just woken up a while ago and hadn’t put any effort into looking professional at all. Chris was unimpressed. He’d seen her briefly the day before, but he could barely remember what she’d said, or what she’d looked like.

“It’s closer to 11 than it should be,” he said grimly as he stared down at the expensive watch on his wrist.

“So, is it ready? Or does your incompetence know no bounds,” he growled, “I would hate to wait her longer when I was told it would be ready two hours ago.
Today is not a good day to try my patience.”

The last sentence he said through gritted teeth, glaring down at the mechanic in front of him. Did she deserve the anger? Probably not, but he had no time for lazy people.

Eleven. "Damn-- Darn," Piper commented, following his gaze to his watch. She cleared her throat, looking down at the paperwork for the first time: it was requesting information she should've gotten from the customer before even starting the work. The dread set in as she supposed the man would be stuck even longer than he'd like. She opened her mouth to speak, but he went ahead as she looked back up at him. And even though Piper should have at least considered he might be a little grouchy after waiting two hours, she also grew frustrated.

"Your car is ready," she said, nearly snapping the words, but she found raising her own voice made her headache even worse than someone else yelling. And in that moment, she didn't want to explain he would be further delayed. "Just-- Chill." Exasperated, she rubbed at her head and dropped her sunglasses back over her eyes.

Then she turned on her boot, only waving at him to indicate he should follow. Piper would lead the tall man into the front office, adjacent to the garage, and she would set up behind the counter. She flipped through the clipboard of papers, removing forms she needed to deal with and handed him the rest and a pen. It wasn't a lot, but the nature of the questions would no doubt contribute to the man's anger: they were clearly supposed to be done when he first arrived. "The owner is a little behind the times," she said, explaining the literal paperwork. She failed to point out the chairs for his convenience as she took a seat behind the counter to quickly pencil in what she could: work that "had" to be done, work she did do, and how much the total job would cost.

Through the cloudy windows of the aging autoshop, the silhouette of an older truck drifted by, proving to soon turn in to the gravel lot that made up the parking area. Off the pavement as it was, the faded camper's green paint and white hardtop was nothing out of place for the region or the people; most took pride in this in an era where a single loan was a nearly unobtainable goal. Accounting for this, it spurred little attention, as did its driver who stepped out from its open door. The man himself, tall and fairly built with rough and dark, short kept facial hair, could pass for any local to the uninitiated, but he certainly was not. There were plenty who came through the town even these days and outsiders were just something one from Jennings was accustomed to.

He spent little time outside in the overcast, adjusting his rolled sleeves and kneeling to secure one of his boots, but soon approached the shop itself. The worn drab ballcap he wore was a dead giveaway that he wasn't any of the regular wanderers one would get; certainly no hunter, no logger and no city folk. It wasn't ominous, just... odd.

Hand to the door, not more than a minute or two behind Chris and Piper, he proved to invite himself in to the office. The garage however, started to life - if one could call it that - as work resumed. The other mechanics likely hadn't ignored the aggravated man or his introduction to Piper; probably a conversation that would keep them snickering in private throughout their day today. The stranger meanwhile seemed content to stand off to the side, just out of reach of the taller man who seemed to emit an aura of frustration; in a town this calm and bored, it could be felt just as the fog could.

Doing little more than crossing his arms, his eyes presumably watched Piper as she wrote, concealed by sunglasses.

@RedXCross@Kidd

Chris rose an eyebrow as she waved him over, and, albeit frustrated, he really had no choice but to follow this rather irresponsible mechanic. He stepped through the door to the office and essentially grabbed the papers from her hand the moment it was passed towards him. He was fuming, though the muscles in his face did little to show the present frustration that pumped through him. He was only half-listening as she explained what was happening, instead just filling out the questions as they were asked quickly and efficiently.

At one point, the thought did come to him: Was she supposed to give this to me when I got here? But that seemed to be the end of it. He expected that this kind of mistake wasn’t uncommon when it came to this particular mechanic.
He would save final judgement for when he actually saw his car. Already he was itching to get back to work, and that was only causing his rage to build even further. God, if it kept building like this he’d have to start hunting for reasons to start hurting somebody, or at least a difficult-enough file to keep him occupied for a couple days. There were times where he dreamt of going overseas somewhere, just to get a chance to operate on some more exotic animals. Like everyone else near here, however, he was stuck.

“There, is that all?” He snapped as he dropped the papers back on the counter loud enough the whole office could hear it.

“Honestly, why would you bother doing anything at all if you’re going to half-ass it. I hope for this company’s sake that they are a little more perceptive when it comes to hiring employees in the future.”

The comment was pure venom from his lips. Words like sickening ichor stained the space as he took a deep breath. He was losing it ever so slightly. He could feel blackness scratching at his white morals the longer he stood here.

Weren’t his morals stronger than this? What happened? The question at this point had been answered millions of times: People. People were the problem, and he would continue to remind them of this until they proved otherwise.

Piper paused in her writing to grab a nearby calculator. The dark screen had her setting her sunglasses to the side again, but after punching in some digits and writing down a final amount, she sighed. This is stupid, she thought, irritated by the customer and his irritation with her. The paper-and-pencil paperwork did not help the situation. She was just pushing the papers aside when the clipboard was slammed down on the desk in front of her. Now, she gasped and flinched away from the man for the first time, her head throbbing in response. It had been a while since she dealt with such an explosive customer (and her co-workers would agree: she should be thankful for that).

"For fuck's-- Do you want your piece of shit car back or not?!" she threatened, stepping back to the table, small hands smacking down in front of her as she glared up at the man. Despite her defensiveness, she was shaking slightly: she knew he was right. It had been a while since she's been confronted about her lack of professionalism so aggressively.

Co-workers were peering into the office from the door into garage and she felt her face grow hot and red in embarrassment, her mouth suddenly dry. And for the first time, she caught sight of another in the office: he had been standing there silently. How long has he been there? she thought, eyebrows furrowing together. "I'll be--or someone will be--with you in a minute, sir," she told the man. She was suddenly flustered. "I have to key his car--I mean give him the keys to his car.

"Here's your bill," Piper said, suddenly quiet as she placed the receipt on the counter, hazel eyes avoiding...Christopher she learned after glancing to the clipboard. "Cash or credit?"

The new addition kept keen attention on Chris, namely the moment the man dropped the clipboard loudly upon the Asian looking woman's desk. She jarred, a bit more pale than one would expect; it wasn't subtle she was plenty hungover even now, owing to whatever hobbies she had that involved that much alcohol. The pair seemed to exchange aggravation without much resolve, the mechanic stepping back and palming the table. Despite the differences in size and build, she had the boldness to not be so easily pushed over.

The quiet man, nodded slightly at first to the woman's reply, his expression having changed. It wasn't the blank slate it was before, unsurprisingly, and seemed a bit more skeptical if not outright defensive. He intervened when the woman proved to get just as hostile back with her words, drawing up a hand with his palm up.

"Hold up for a moment," He started, his head canted slightly as he assessed the pair - both of whom were perfectly willing to square off with one another still, especially after the keying the car remark, "Can we just settle?"

There was a sternness to his voice, the sort of gruffness of a man not quite into his thirties but verging there, but it wasn't condescending or worrisome. He looked over his shoulder to the few others present, one who seemed to be dressed a bit more well off - either the manager or owner - and a man in an oil stained jumpsuit. His attention turned forward, again addressing Chris and Piper; the latter more than the former first, given she seemed to have only made things worse.

The man waited for a brief pause before continuing on, adjusting the bill of the battered flag emblazoned hat a bit further down his brow.

"Now that we took a breath, I am looking for someone; the local deputy sent me, officer by the name of Pierce." The man, in his brown cargo pants, looked to the other man and continued, "You must be Chris, the guy they're looking for."

@Kidd@RedXCross

Chris was moments away from grabbing something and slamming it over the counter as the woman in front of him squared off against him. Yes, he was fired up, and in another, less civilized situation there was no questioning what his next action might be. The quick announcement of the other person in the room – the slight acknowledgement that someone else was there; that was enough to snap Chris away from the surface-level rage that was ready to crash down on the woman like a tidal wave. The man called out to them as though they were children on the playground Right. This was a work space, a place where other people came. It was not the place to display his anger.

He bit his tongue figuratively as he pulled his wallet from his pocket with one hand and adjusted his glasses with the other. Now he could see the way she was shaking… it wasn’t fear, of that he was sure, but he could tell that something had gotten to her.

He dropped a credit card on the table. The kind of card that showed he had no issue paying his bills as he side-eyed the other man. He quickly took stock of himself and adjusted his collar despite the veins that looked ready to escape his hands. Eye contact was broken.

“Credit’s just fine.” He grumbled right before he heard someone call out his name.

At the mention of the officer, Chris rolled his eyes before tilting his head over to the man. Goddamn it, now what did they want?

“What is it now?” Chris growled. He couldn’t get the ferocity out of his voice at this point if he tried with all his might.

“Look, I gave him the best profile I could,” Chris stated, “and I don’t think it would be best to share that information in a public space. I’ve spared enough time for that station in the past week.”

Chris had developed a habit of being insensitive to the space around him. It was always a conscious thought in his head during conversations that some things shouldn’t be said in an open space. Most likely, this was just a side-effect of his whole opinion of the space around him

It felt like this town bred incompetence.

The man seemed to hesitantly take Piper's word and kindly butted out--until the fight grew too heated. He was unfamiliar to Piper--strange for a small town--though so was Chris save for his first visit. Still, he stepped himself into the argument and Piper, ignorant to how close she came to violence, did settle if only slightly. She still glared, but she didn't have the energy to stand up against his commanding presence. Besides, she was thankful for the silence that came after. However, she couldn't stop the small mischievous grin when he turned on Chris, who was wanted by the police.

"Big surprise there," she muttered to herself. And as the men exchanged words, she took Chris' card. It was heavier than the standard plastic, but she paid it little mind before sitting down. Cards were a bother: they were the small computer's sole purpose, but it was still a slow and tedious process. So, went ahead and started entering the card information, wondering when they would get something to swipe the cards. Still, her gaze would curiously glance between the men every now and again.

@RedXCross @The Harbinger of Ferocity

"It is a bit more important than that - how often do you think they send someone out to fetch people? Not often I take it, right?" The stranger continued, emphasizing the oddness of it all.

The sort of thing that so slightly raised the hair on the back of one's neck. He wasn't worried by the confrontation, if anything it seemed like he might have leapt into the fray himself - perhaps even broken it up. The man hardly had the looks to him of a marshal or the like, too. So what interest did he have? Deputy Pierce was one of only a couple law enforcement members in the area. Pierce also was pretty, for lack of better words, cowardly. It all just felt off... weirder than it needed to. Fortunately Jimmy Jr. and the other mechanic saw themselves out before the conversation carried on any further, lending a bit less stress on the tightly strung nerves of Chris - or so the man seemed to hope.

"Point being, there's something different they need you for. Something odd, you tracking?" The man folded the thick of his arms, some fading tattoos visible further up just beneath the rolled sleeves, "So, are you going to take them up on your hunch or not? I don't know the details of what you've been telling Pierce, just that you keep disagreeing with their assessments."

Shaking his head side to side slowly, watching the woman as each press of the computer's keys clicked loudly. His attention on her seemed to speak silent volumes, the sort of expression that went along the lines of, "As for you, try to lay off the boozing on work days." It was an equally strange scorn, a bit hostile, almost patronizing, but in the same sort of coming from an angle that wasn't too upset about it all, maybe even understanding.

"I'm Carver, by the way." He said, directing the words toward Chris, but being obvious enough about it so as Piper was acknowledged.

@Kidd@RedXCross

A level of stoicism returned to Christopher’s face. His gaze gave the man a once-over, and he suddenly had a feeling that this man was probably a little less connected to the police than he assumed. At the end of the day, Christopher assumed that staying around was the right thing to do.

Maybe it was for the best that he was forced to stick around for another day, otherwise, he’d have to make this drive all the way back again the next day. With a heavy sigh, he rubbed the back of his hands and regained a solid composure. It was almost like a change in gears. A shift from the everyday frustration to his more “work-business” composure. He hid the fire from his eyes as he made one final glance at the woman across the desk, mostly to keep track of his credit card before he turned back to Carver.

“Well, I suppose I can’t blame Officer Pierce for what he believes he sees, but I’ve been saying that the biology doesn’t make sense,” Chris stated, shaking his shoulders ever so slightly as the space aired out.

While still talking to Carver, he side-eyed Piper for just a moment, “If you’re willing to wait a few moments, then I can follow you out of here with my own car. I suppose that it’s only right that I offer whatever information I can.”

He tugged at the end of his sleeves and cracked his neck ever-so-slightly. Quickly he ran a mental checklist as ran a hand through the bag at his side. All of his paperwork should still be there, as well as the observations that he wrote down himself from before. He hadn’t really said as much as he could have at the last chance, but there was a small part of himself that related the event to something he’d seen a long time ago.

An image of protruding fangs and blood flashed through his consciousness for a moment as his fingers touched the edges of his notes. There was definitely some uncanniness at play here.

@Kidd@The Harbinger of Ferocity

Piper hesitated in her typing, feeling the weight of the man's stare. And when she slowly returned the gaze, she felt judged, but only hardened her glare in response. Had it been anyone else, she might have childishly stuck her tongue out at them for staring. However, he seemed to be much more than the average townie and much more perceptive. And with that in mind, even through the hangover, her curiosity was triggered. Her typing resumed, but slower than it was before as she slowly looked back to her work, listening to their conversation.

The man introduced himself as Carver. It was a less than pleasant sounding name, but it fit him. She suddenly worked quickly, confirming the numbers--now she would just have to wait for the card to process. "I'm Piper," she said, inserting herself into the conversation to kill the time with the recent...animal attacks suddenly in the back of her mind. "What 'assessments'? What hunch? Why isn't Officer Pri-- Pierce here himself?" She leaned forward on the desk, gaze flickering between the two men. Neither were from the small town as far as she could tell.

Maybe if an officer stood in Carver's place, she might've butt out. Though, within the confines of her workspace with two strangers, she felt more emboldened than usual. Like Chris, she was picking up on something...more, but she couldn't quite place it especially as an outsider to the details.

@The Harbinger of Ferocity@RedXCross

Carver's palm rested on the skin of his arm, just below the sleeve's cuff, overtly paying Chris' response the most mind. It wasn't subtle, but the man himself didn't even come across that way either; it was clear he could care less if the ornery man across from him had to feel about it. There was work to be done after all and that seemed to punctuate his interests. He proved to nod once at the notion that what Chris had seen contradicted the official statements they seemed to be talking about.

They were wolf attacks, said to be rabid at that, residents even being warned to carry firearms now if they ventured too deep into the forest. There was some talk of the federal government sending in professional members from the various disease control agencies, but that was just hearsay. Baseless talk of skeptical and unsettled townsfolk really. Jennings wasn't worth that much money as there'd only been two deaths, the rest were just unfortunate pets that seemed to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. That did little to change the discomfort it all had about it though, especially with the truth of at least two outsiders being involved, both of which were apparently working with the sheriff's department here.

"I'm Piper." The woman spoke up, looking away from the computer at last and leaning forward on the desk, seeking answers between them both it seemed.

"Well, Piper," The man acknowledged, "You seem to be from here, given you work here, so I suppose it is only fitting I ask to learn what you've heard."

His attention left the office for a moment, fixating on a logging truck that had began rumbling down the main drag; the huge vehicle audibly whining in the thin mountain air. Carver seemed unconcerned about it, prying Piper with his inquiring expression following after; it was though he was a bit paranoid. Distrusting of this unfamiliar place, not so much its people. Something else was on his mind, building off the exchange so far.

@Kidd@RedXCross

Piper frowned a bit, eyeing Carver. So much for answers. Still, she played along: everyone needed an oil change every now and again, and Jimmy's Autoshop had its fair share of local customers. Piper and her co-workers had heard all sorts of stories. "I've heard to stay outta the woods," she summed up before continuing. "That there are rabid wolves or hungry bears in the area. Teenagers. Government cover-up of bigfoot--or something." Her eyes dropped to feign interest in the scribbled paperwork, lips pursed. "Could be anything, I guess." She did honestly pass on the rumors, but she had no opinion herself quite yet. Or at least none she wanted to share.

"All's we got around here is gossip from paranoid townies with big guns. What are you guys thinking?" she questioned, gaze raising again. Her expression had changed into something yet to be seen on the woman's face, even when she should have been sympathetic with an angry customer: she had already expressed her curiosity but now she seemed concerned. Or maybe her head was throbbing again, who knew?

The computer beeped at her and she flinched, suddenly on edge again. Sighing at herself, she turned to crouch at a cabinet behind the desk. There she would comb through a few sets keys until she found the set to match his car. Piper placed Chris' card, keys, and a receipt at the edge of table for him to retrieve. "Because unless you're confirming something the rumor mill is dishing out, I don't see why the police need a second and third opinion." She looked from one man to the other, indicating the unnecessary two and three.

@The Harbinger of Ferocity@RedXCross

Chris wasn’t surprised that the information was being passed around wasn’t quite accurate. A lack of accurate information resulted in speculation and rumors. It was the same with anything. People needed conclusions and answers for stability. Without them, they would try to make their own in order to comprehend the situation.

Christopher walked back to the desk and gathered his things as his attention turned back to Carver. Gossip. Chris’ hand held the keys in a tight fist. That would only cause some level of paranoia to waft through the already superstitious area.

“In situations like these, Piper; sometimes a professional needs to be called in to apply their own specific knowledge,” Chris explained with a condescending tone, “and when it comes to animals, there are few that can match my knowledge.”

In a few careful gestures, he slid his card back into his pocket and tested the button on his keys. He could hear a click from the other end of the garage. “Bigfoot may not be too far off the mark…” he mumbled under his breath as he stepped out towards the garage. He stopped beside Carver for only a second.

“I’ll follow you to the station, I suppose. If it’s possible, I’d like to get this fixed up as soon as possible. I have another surgery set for Saturday, and I’d prefer that my office doesn’t reschedule it.”

He started walking to his car, and he was well aware of the snickering that was coming from behind his back. Part of him was begging desperately for one of them to do something… anything that could warrant him kicking their asses. But they were smart. They kept the snickers and the judgement to himself as Chris walked up to his car.

It wasn’t anything special. A used car with boring paint and an average mileage for a car is age. The next investment would have to be a little pricier. He would much prefer to get something with a longer lifespan to prevent interruptions like this in the future.

@Kidd @The Harbinger of Ferocity

Piper scowled at Chris' back as he walked away to retrieve his car. He would definitely find it in better shape than when he left it, but he'd also find a few extra small fixes--if not now then later: a sticker suggesting at how money miles he should get another oil change, coolant leaks fixed, and other small tuneups. In spite of her people skills, she always went the extra mile as a mechanic. Her competence was the single thread that held her to her job, and she hung onto it for her life.

"So what kinda animal is it?" she asked him, stepping out from around to desk to follow him out of the office. She glanced to Carver as she passed--his presence was hard to ignore--but ultimately continued after Chris. "If you're such an expert, why the disagreements between you and Pierce? Is something going on?" For all her curiosity, she lacked tact; and in a busier place, she might have been making a scene.

@RedXCross

Turning at the chest to only keep track of Chris as the other, taller man left, Carver said nothing further about the matter. The two stood there for a moment, then the latter resumed walking and excused himself from the building. Each step Chris took was purposeful and dedicated, as if he had other places to be. Truthfully he did, but the town of Jennings was seeing to that by continuously throwing ever more new and odd factors in. The man seemed temperamental enough as it was - Piper just seemed to brought it to the forefront, probably even now as she slipped herself around the cashiering desk.

She followed, exchanging a glance with Carver who she soon stood beside by the door, but directed her efforts towards Chris. He watched her for a moment, hearing out what she had to ask of her aggressive customer. Carver gave a chortle to that; it seemed safe to say wisdom wasn't the strongest of her suits - that man had just been willing to beat senseless her, a much smaller woman, just for his car being late. Pursuing the veterinarian turned coroner, pushing on a topic he was touchy about... it just seemed like bad news.

"In case you're curious," Carver said, attempting to distract the still visibly dazed but overwhelming curious woman as she leaned out the old metal framed glass door, "Cutter is the reason."

Cutter.

Cutter was some old crazed, drunk woodsman with more tall tales to tell than anyone else who wandered themselves happily into town short of the fishermen. Anything and everything odd or strange, he had some sort of rumor or hearsay on, but the man was a walking crackpot. The only reason anyone kept the bastard around was because if as liquored as he was, he could hunt or track about anything - man or animal. The sheriff kept him out of jail, the worst Cutter found himself in being confinement for days at a time, but that tended to be when he needed some sobering up.

To Piper however, Cutter's name inferred something a lot more sinister about this all.

Cutter was pretty adamant there were stranger things afoot in the wilderness here and the world. Undoubtedly he was about us unreliable a source you could get, but the fact he had any interest or involvement? To any outsider, Cutter's "aid" was about as good as calling for a professional psychic to do an object reading; it was out of its fucking mind. But the local folk didn't care, he might be the iconic drunk, but at least he was theirs.

@Kidd@RedXCross

Piper stepped away from Chris to frown at Carver. It didn't quite hit her right away, and she mused, "Carver and Cutter. You related?" Though after a few moments, the weight of the news started to her. Her eyebrows knitted together and the nauseated feeling in her stomach rose. Luckily, she tended to skip out on anything the average person would call a breakfast, so she was left with a dazed, sick feeling. Sure, to the locals, Cutter was the town drunken idiot. But Piper was always one to disapprove of the gossip, but even she could never bring herself to actually stand up for the guy. She didn't want to be lumped together with him--though she found herself teetering a little closer to that edge everyday.

"Let me come with you," she demanded, turning fully to Carver now. She surprised herself and she felt her throat tighten, but this felt like the right decision. The sun suddenly seemed too bright on this dim day. Her fists were clenched to keep herself from shaking, her mind falling back to the nightmare she woke from that morning. She wanted answers about her childhood; and for the first time in her life, her gut was shoving her in the right path. Or maybe it was the alcohol.

Realizing, though, they didn't have much reason to bring along some second rate mechanic with a bad attitude, she pursed her lips for a moment. "I--.. I can keep an eye on the car," she said, demeanor changing as she tapped at the hood of car and turned her attention back to its owner. "It's a piece of shit car, ya see. It should make it home but I better make sure it's not gonna fall apart on you."

@The Harbinger of Ferocity@RedXCross

There was no reply to Piper's remark about the relation and either the fairly gritty outsider did not find it funny or he wanted nothing to do with the association. All the same, it wasn't appreciated or even acknowledged in his expression, of which seemed to frown for the first time; the woman could almost feel the narrowing of his brow, but the sickness in her stomach got the better of her between the two. Carver's expression relaxed for a moment, briefly at that, as it was far from long lived as Piper snapped about and demanded her accompaniment. This strange man seemed as if he were expecting it, which while as odd as that could come off, it fit her character at this point; impulsive, commanding, hotheaded.

She quickly backpedalled in the conversation, almost seeming to shrink for a moment from her previously clenched fists and internal shaking. The outsider, to this and probably her surprise, only gave the same sort of silent nod he had when she first acknowledged him today.

"You're a local and not some old kook either. If I am to do my job, I need information. You get me the things I want to know about, I get you involved in this." The man remarked with a strikingly calm, collected demeanor about what sounded like a shady operation. Certainly no local or federal representative, that much could be sure. If anything the man was a hard customer type investigator, probably hired by one of the families in the area that lost someone to these wolves.

That much he fit the bill for between being built and dressed as he was. His trustworthiness however seemed... fair, maybe debatable, but reliable enough. There wasn't a doubt to be had about any further options to his offer either as he peered back from his dark sunglasses. There wasn't money to be made in this deal for the woman, not in the slightest, but he might offer insight - maybe even closure. He spoke, once more;

"You go outside of me about this with anyone, it's off."

The man preyed off the cues he could scrounge up from the woman's overt interest, looking into the depths of her eyes, reading her emotional investment, her pathing dialogue. Carver even then refused to deny what he was doing in the way he handled the conversation the two had going.

"That work for you?"

@Kidd@RedXCross