"Honey, where have you been all my life."

Her feet padded across the slick wet floor, tacky red sticking to the tile beneath them, the excess squishing out from between her toes to run down into the drain below. You lost track of time in the meat locker, or at least Michelle always did, and that was how she liked it. Nowhere to be, nobody to see, nothing but her and her toys and that snarling beastie who was trying so very hard to be big and bad when she'd ripped his wolf rug out from under him so fast he still didn't quite know what had happened. She'd had some close calls in her younger days--what, she was still learning, cut a girl some slack--but these days she really had it down. Industrial cable, the kind you found in old construction projects or at discount workman stores had been threaded through his arms long enough ago for his healing to have locked them in place, joints popped out of socket and kept there by the metal in his system. Same for his legs, the knees bent back until dislocation and secured with a length of metal just long enough to keep them out of position. Garou were strong--fucking strong--so you had to figure out how to keep them from using that strength if you wanted to keep them for any length of time.

And she had an awful lot of questions for Mister Kakhram.

He was snarling something about how awful he was, how his name meant Choker of the World Bitch, how he was going to turn her into his personal meat sack when he broke free, all that jazz. It was the same drivel she'd heard before from the lunatics but somehow it was always slightly endearing, all that hope that 'the Wyrm would save them' or 'kill me, Gaia will still drown' or whatever the hell they decided to say this time. She kind of tuned it out, honestly, by bringing a ballpeen through his teeth. He snarled past the slurry that was dripping down his chin and bubbling up from under his lips, white flecks of bone dripping through pulped muscle and fresh blood as she continued like she hadn't heard him.

"Nine times out of ten you fall apart before I even get to know you, you know that? Someone sure did a shitty job of putting your fucked up little family together." Her voice was flat and atonal, unpleasant to listen to--it sounded bored, venomous, harsh to the ears. Whether she was insulting them or cooing to them it stayed the same, her eyes dead as a doll's and black as a shark's, pupils swollen as she swayed slightly and paced around them. She was doped up, she had to be when she dealt with them because if she came at them normal then her fingers started shaking and her heart started pounding and her teeth stretched into these lovely little killing--

He was saying something. How long, she wondered idly, had he been talking? This big crinos voice, half growl and half snarl. Disgusting, she found herself thinking without feeling, looking at the massive, misshapen shoulders from the back. He was patchy, mangy, his hair coming off in tufts and sloughs even now, his lips curling back from shattered teeth already starting to heal. It almost wasn't important what he was saying--it took an awful lot of force o break a crinos bone, but even in Homid Michelle was a little bit more to deal with than a normal girl. She shattered one of his ribs with a well-placed strike from the hammer, rounded head delivering a body's worth of wind-up and force to a single point. The crunch and the coughing whimper that came from it calmed her down a little, and she leaned down to press a knee into the creature's back, leaning down onto it as she watched. She moved like the recently drunk or the intimately aware, flowing through the air with willowy, almost gentle purpose. "I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you over the sound of how much I wanted you to shut up. Try again, I'm listening now."

Rolling his eyes back to look to her as best he could, Kakhram's voice was like a guttering candle through the slurry of blood, spit and fragments of his teeth that had already begun to heal. "Do what you want with me, bitchling. I am Kakhram Bane Dancer, I have split your Gaia's skin and raped the wound until--" Until he howled in pain and rage again, apparently, as this time she swung the hammer into his temple. No way he didn't have a concussion after that one, a tap like that would have cracked skull on a human and even in crinos is must have seriously rung his bell. He was losing strength, his roars becoming more like whimpers and his body beginning to shake. She'd give it to him, he was lasting longer than she thought he would. 

"Really, please, tell me more. You know how much I like hearing you talk about yourself." She drawled as she walked around him once more--the garou body was really a remarkable thing. The raw abuse it could stand was fucking impressive, but even it had its limits. And speaking of limits, she really was drawing close to hers--she could feel her last hit wearing thin, evaporating under the rage that boiled up under her skin. The muscles in her forearms were already starting to ripple and change, her fingers curling into claws, hair beginning to sprout from the shaved dome of her head. She'd better finish this up then. "I'm sorry to say I'm losing my temper, baby, so here's what's going to happen." Leaning down, she smashed him across the mouth once more with a spray of teeth and broken jaw--she was stronger now, oops, she needed to be a little more careful--and grabbed him by the muzzle, raising his massive skull until he looked into her shark-dark eyes with his own sick yellow ones and saw the changes beginning to make themselves apparent in her. 

"I'm going to start hitting you, because I can't stand the awful fucking sound of your voice. And you're going to start telling me exactly where your Hive is so I have somewhere to bring your lifeless, disgusting body back to. And if you're very, very smart, you'll tell me quickly and I'll end your miserable fucking life before I [i]really[/i] lose it. Because if that happens you better just hang on, sugar." Looking down to him now, she could see he was really beginning to get it, just how fucked he was. Those yellow eyes were starting to shake, his tongue was starting to loll out the side of his fucked up mouth, and he was panting blood and dribble down to the mess at the floor that ran with a plit-plit-plit into the drain. She was almost seven feet tall, now, her body rippling with wiry muscle that tensed as she readied the hammer and smiled.

"It's going to be the night of your life."

----

It was almost an hour or two when Michelle came too, lying face down on the same chilled meat-locked floor she'd been at not long ago. The smell was awful, charnel and raw, filth and blood and excrement and anything else that could have been beaten out of the putrid little shit staining the walls and the floor. She could still taste him, that awful, sick taste of corruption and decay, like formaldehyde and stomach acid, and as she pushed herself to her shaking hands she doubled over once and vomited to the floor, homid stomach struggling to keep up with a few crinos mouthfuls. It hurt like always and by the end of it she was panting, doubled over and sweating even in the cold of the locker, but as memories of it all slowly came swimming back to her she got to her unsteady feet to hose herself and what was left of the corpse down. It hadn't been pretty, and he hadn't been smart, and in the end she hadn't gotten anything out of him, but hey. Another dead Spiral. 

When she was as clean as she thought she was going to get, she turned off the hose from the wall spigot and made for the door, unlocking it from the inside and tugging it open into the light proper. Shaking, chilled to the bone, she stepped out from the locker onto the packing floor of R. Lambert & Son's Fine Meats and dropped the hammer like a punctuation mark. The three men outside looked like they were trying very badly to play cards and pretend nothing had happened, but the way their hands shook and they didn't look at her meant they could hear at least some of what happened in there, and would see at least some more when they cleaned it up. Good Get Kinfolk, salt of the earth. She didn't so much as look at them as she padded her way up towards the shower, shivering, arms wrapped around her chest as she grabbed the pack of cigarettes from her table and lit up the first of many.

"Thanks for sharing, Rob. Made my fucking night."

All she knew was that she was tired and out of gas. She'd need a refill soon, much as she hated it. 

And a meal, now that she tossed her last one.