[center][img]https://i.ibb.co/9r1Qgrk/Zeke-Banner.jpg[/img]
[color=bdbdbd][b]Location[/b]: Apartment > Maxwell Motors[/color] [b]|[/b] [color=bdbdbd][b]Mentions[/b]: [@c3p-0h][/color][/center]

[h3]The Apartment[/h3]
	Sleep never came.  With his associate snoring on the couch in the livingroom and Kiri being given her privacy in the man's bedroom, Zeke found himself sitting in a chair in the miniature dining area, just staring at the door.  His thoughts were going out in several directions.  He still wanted answers from Kiri, but knew the shock of their present circumstance was enough to overload anyone's grasp of reality.  He needed to give her space.  Let her come to terms with her new situation and then ease back into figuring out the mystery of how all of this is possible and what it truly means about Samael and what he may have brought with him in his escape through time.

	His other thoughts hovered around his mission.  Aldo has assigned him to a task.  It was a means of proving himself to the powers that be who controlled the majority of Duncaster's underworld.  Though the Red Hoods were officially no more, Zeke still lived by a code, even if he had to do it alone. With the recent appearance of Kiri, maybe that, too, will change.  One must keep the horses in front of the carriage, as it were, which means that the first thing was first:  It was time to abandon sentry duty start making some moves.

	As Zeke left the apartment, squinted at the rays of sun booming down from overhead.  He had lost track of time and the day was already well underway.  Part of that was good.  It means that there would be less to worry about in leaving Kiri behind, if only momentarily.  She was hardly helpless.  The Kiri he knew was a one woman army.  But he never knew a Kiri that had asthmatic fits...  With a small huff, he solidified his decision and began walking toward the street's sidewalk.  He never could find many vehicles that could comfortably accommodate his size so he had become accustomed to using what Nature... God... the Devil... he used what he was given.  

	[color=bdbdbd][i]Vance Maxwell[/i][/color], he mentally repeated the name to himself. He didn't know the man, but he knew the name.  Whole some modern werewolves tend to embrace independence, most with the curse have a natural urge to cluster together with those who share said curse.  It's a natural instinct, a method of survival used since the beginning of time.  They huddle together in packs to protect eachother and take on goals too large for any singular animal.  Duncaster had a variety of packs with all different motivations.  One that that is like to them all, however, is that they are led by a singular individual who was either born superior and have proven superiority with tooth and fang.  This leader was known as the Alpha Wolf.  While you could easily lose count of the werewolves that inhabited the city, the true Alphas could be counted on one's fingers with the assistance of a toe or two.  They are, by definition, the strongest, most ferocious of the bunch and come with an inherent notoriety.  Vance Maxwell was no exception.

	By day, he's just like anyone else.  A family man and small business owner, Vance runs Maxwell Motors where he sells and repairs used cars.  By night, the man was a leader of a cult-like pack of monsters who were just itching for a little chaos while also presumably doing their part to help their kin survive.  Where they met up at night to go over these devious plans, Zeke wasn't sure.  But nighttime was still a ways off.  Now, at this hour, the grand wolf had a fair hunch at where to check first.

[h3]Maxwell Motors[/h3]
	"I told you, sir, Vance is not in today," the lady at the reception desk said, trying to balance a stern tone with a soft delivery.  Her blue jeans and collared red shirt reinforced the casual atmosphere of the office, despite the fact that they were moving tens of thousands of dollars on a weekly basis.  Meanwhile Zeke stood towering in his plain black t-shirt and black slacks secured by an ebon belt with a gold buckle.

	"[color=bdbdbd]Who's his second in command,[/color]" Zeke let the question rumble out of his throat.

	"His what," she shot back, seemingly dumbfounded.  "You mean the vice president?"  Zeke stared her down for a moment as if trying to decide if the suggestion was a trick or a joke at his expense.

	"[color=bdbdbd]Sure,[/color]" he answered finally, his eyes narrowing into slits, showcasing his shrinking patience.  The receptionist then picked up her phone and pressed a few buttons before turning her back to the visitor and whispering into the receiver, covering her mouth as she did so to maintain some sort of confidentiality.  Little did she know he could hear every word.  The curse also came with some gifts.  When she was done, she hung up the phone and looked back to the giant.

	"Mr. Maxwell will see you now.  Please, follow me."  As she stood up and began walking away, Zeke's eyebrow raised up before he followed suit.

	"[color=bdbdbd]I thought you said Vance was out,[/color]" he reminded as he matched her pace down a hallway toward an office door.

	"I did," she admitted as she opened one of two doors at the end of the hallway.  "Vance Maxwell is not here.  This is his vice president and son, Mark Maxwell."  She stepped out of the doorway and Zeke peered in.  He found himself looking as a very lightly decorated office with bland white wall, a few chairs made of wood and fake leather, and a cheaply constructed desk make to look like it was built of oak. On the other side of it was a man in a three piece blue business suit.  He was trim and freshly groomed.  Definitely looks like he controlled more of the sales floor than the workshop.

	"Thank you, Carla," he said as he stood up before gesturing to one of the empty chairs.  "Please, come in.  I hear you're looking for my old man, but perhaps I can be of assistance."  Zeke turned his gaze to Carla until she took her leave.  He then entered the room, shutting the door behind him and taking an awkward seat in an uncomfortable chair.  "Name's Mark," he reiterated, extending his hand for a shake.  "How can I help you, uh..."

	"[color=bdbdbd]I need to see your father.  I need to discuss business with him.[/color]"  Zeke made no attempt to take the hand so Mark hesitantly brought it back to himself before sitting down once more.

	"I assure you I'm authorized to make business decisions in his absence," Mark tried to assure him.  "You've got a car you want to sell to us or something?"

	"[color=bdbdbd]No.[/color]"  After the word, Zeke let the silence permeate for just a moment, building power behind his next words.  "[color=bdbdbd]I have [i]other[/i] business with him.  Business he would likely be more comfortable dealing with [i]tonight[/i].[/color]"  At this Mark sat back a little further in his chair and began to look upon Zeke with increased suspicion.

	"Who are you?" he asked finally, almost accusing him of wrong doing with his tone alone.

	"[color=bdbdbd]Kin,[/color]" was the sole answer.  His lips bared back and he allowed his unnaturally sharp teeth to present themselves before hiding them once more.

	"I see..." The suspicion hadn't left Mark's voice.  If anything, it was amplified.  "Do you have a phone number... brother?"

	A phone call wouldn't suffice.  Zeke shook his head and leaned in.  "[color=bdbdbd]He needs to meet me.  If it'll make him feel more comfortable, he can wait until dusk.  Then I want to see him on the bridge by the River Dunne.  All I want to do is talk.[/color]"  Mark considered and was about to continue their conversation but Zeke abruptly stood from his chair and walked out.  There was nothing more that needed to be said.  He was sure Mark would deliver the message and even more sure that Vance's curiosity would get the best of him.  As he left the office and started down the sidewalk again, he heard a monstrous growl.  He looked down at his stomach.  It was clearly trying to tell him something.