Moon, Blood, and Wolf's Bane

Natasha, eh? But if Sara got involved, there would be more destruction and less healing. Noel stood and walked past Jason, knocking the bar with his knuckles. It was the universal signal for, "I'm going out. Harry's in the back." He grabbed a bottle of alcohol, whisky, vodka, rum (it really didn't matter), the first aid kit from under the bar, and was pocketing the hand held as he walked to the clinic. It was never wise to run around when you might need the energy for something more important later. And Natasha had done something stupid. A mountain lion? He'd use that excuse and better ones in his younger days.

Noel found Alex still blabbering like an idiot, pulling off the shirt covering Natasha. "Natasha, this is going to hurt like hell." He could recognize a bullet wound when he saw one. You saw--and suffered things--when you got around, so he told Alex to find something that looked like a big tongs. He hadn't found an exit wound behind Natasha so that meant the bullet was still in there.
 
"Gunny, Briggs, got a report of shots fired." Slater's radio chirped.

"God dammit..." the ex-Marine swore as he grabbed a handful of pretzels and choked them down. "Get me a bacon cheeseburger with fries, no onions or pickles, I'll be back for it later!" Slater was up and headed for the door.

"An' I want a BLT with onion rings!" Briggs shouted before bolting after Slater. The ex-Marine was at the wheel, already turning the key and getting on the radio. Briggs jumped up and slid over the hood, trying to imitate the Dukes of Hazard. Instead of landing on his feet he landed on his face.

"Briggs, get your ass in gear!" Slater shouted from the cab as his partner collected himself and got into the old pickup truck. He threw the transmission into gear and backed out of the space then threw it into drive.

"Punch that shit!" Briggs shouted as he hit the lights and siren, Slater throwing the truck into gear and burning out, the General Motors Corporation 3 Liter V-8 roaring out. Everyone on the road gave the sheriff's truck wide berth as it roared out.

"Gunny, Briggs, what's your twenty?" Dispatch called out over the radio. Slater grabbed the handset and keyed the mic.

"Passing the Post Office, East bound." he replied.

"Rangers have a suspicious individual in custody. Said he wasn't speaking English. How's your Pashtun, Gunny?" Dispatch asked.

"It's as useful as a shit flavored lolipop. Now what's his twenty?"

"They've got him at their check station. You got the pickup?"

"That's affirmative, we're driving 'Rusty.'" Slater replied, Briggs loading the M-500 with 00 buckshot.

"Alright, we'll have them drive him over. You can escort."

"Ten-04. Out..." Slater replaced the handset on the radio then looked at Briggs. "What in the hell are you doing?"

"Never know." he replied, cocking the shotgun.

"I'll give you that one. Now if you could, please load mine. My hands are full right now." Slater said. Briggs replaced the '500 on the rack and brought the LR-300 up. The ZM LR-300 was very similar to the M-4A1 carbine in use with the United States military, save for the fact that it comes with MIL 1913 rails already integrated on the barrel assembly and atop the upper receiver. The forward sights could also be flipped down so as to not interfere with the sight picture of a scope. Slater had an EoTech Holographic Weapons Sight mounted to the '300 he carried in the truck. Briggs brought the rifle forward and opened the glove compartment. Inside were six STANAG mags loaded with Black Hills .223 rounds. They were 77 grain Sierra Match King with a velocity of 2750 feet per second and 1293 foot pounds of force behind them. They weren't the M-855s Slater used in the Corps but these civilian loads were good enough.

The great thing about bullets is that one size fits all, especially when they enter the forehead.
 
Natasha whimpered and looked up at Noel, obviously in pain again. She bit her lip and a tear trickled down her face, remorse flowing through her quicker than the blood in her body. She hadn't expected Alex to call people in for help.... and she certainly hadn't expected this. She hoped, dearly that no one could smell Grace's blood on her, but at the same time, she wouldn't be surprised. She had tried, when she had clawed at her wound, to have dug the bullet out, but hearing that it was still in there made her beyond upset. She hoped Noel wouldn't say anything about the bullet, she hoped Alex wouldn't hear....

She hoped like hell that Zack didn't come in and see her like this. She knew for SURE that he would NOT miss the smell of Grace's blood. She trembled slightly, her shoulders shaking while she suddenly started crying. She had sobered up a lot compared to when she was stalking the cows, and found now that her judgment had been screwed up. All over the place. There were plenty of bad decisions she had made, and probably some of the little respect she had, if any, was now probably severely effected. She knew that she had a low tolerance, and had drank more than one anyways. She was at fault, she accepted that, but she couldn't get over how she could have stopped at any point. She could have stopped after one drink. She could have chosen to act calmly when Grace said that comment. She could have stayed in the bar after apologizing more. She could have gone home like she had said she was going to. She could have turned back at any point when she was at the ranch. She could have left right after she killed that cow. She could have run instead of biting Grace-Wait- No, she couldn't have. She only bit Grace to keep her from shooting her again....

"I fucked up...." She muttered weakly, Noel probably barely able to hear her as she started quietly crying. She hung her head, tears dripping into her lap, onto her denim shorts, turning the faded blue darker with every sparkling drop. She was in pain, remorseful, and just wanted to be left alone now. She wanted to apologize to Grace, but as she was now, she doubted Grace would even understand what Natasha was apologizing for. And you can't exactly talk to a human as a werewolf. Not that Natasha would try that. That would just be fucking stupid. Grace would probably just shoot her again. Not that Natasha blamed her.

She started crying in earnest, whimpering that she was sorry, over and over again.
 
Sometime later, in the Emergency Room.


Slowly, painfully, Charlie opened her eyes. The harsh fluorescent light above her bed seared her vision, and forced her to close them again. Her mind was working sluggishly, and her whole body was numb and heavy. Memories of crawling on all fours in the darkness, while a silent hunter pursued her suddenly appeared in her mind, and Charlie felt a brief surge of panic course through her veins.

She opened her eyes fully again and found she was in a hospital bed, her bandaged leg lay propped up on a stack of pillows and her ruined clothes had been replaced by a thin gown. She no longer smelled of earth and blood, but of soap and antibiotics. Sterile.

Realizing that she was alone and safe, Charlie relaxed back onto the bed, just as her senses began to catch up with her thoughts. The girl blinked groggily, and listened to the sounds of the world outside, hidden from her by a thin, blue curtain.

The girl grinned, feeling slightly giddy from all the pain medication they had given her.

* * *

Not far from where her friend lay, Grace sat in another partitioned section of ER! Her ruined shirt had been replaced with a gown; however, her jeans were in not so bad a condition, so they stayed. This allowed Grace to sit on the edge of the bed without embarrassment as she waited for the nurse to return. Her mauled shoulder had been cleaned and neatly stitched, before being covered with a large bandage!

The girl was staring at a jar of cotton swabs, wondering just what the hell was happening when the curtain opened swiftly, then closed again! In stepped Miss Brenda, an older black woman who had been a nurse at this hospital since as long as anyone could remember. This was not the first time she had tended to either of the girls, and she gave Grace a reproachful look through her rimmed glasses, obviously saying 'what kind of stupid shit have you gone and done, now'.

"I got your blood work back from tox'," the elderly nurse stood in front of Grace, now, one hand on her round hip. ""You're clean, so you don't need to worry about frothin' out the mouth, or anything."

Grace stared down at her shoes, feeling like a little girl who had just been caught doing something she wasn't supposed to.

""I don't even wanna know what was goin' through your mind to make you shoot at a frightened wolf," the older woman shook her head and busied herself with checking Grace's bandages. Brenda was a kindly, patient woman, but she was never known to take any kind of nonsense from anyone, and she had seen plenty of strange things tonight that made her irritable. First, that Natasha girl had come in all bloodied up, trying to tell her she'd been attacked by a mountain lion when she clearly had not. Then, a drunken stranger had burst into the ER, made a mess of one of the medicine cabinets, then shot off into the night screaming about something or other. If she ever saw that boy again, she would slap the skin right off of his face. No, Brenda was not having it, tonight.

""But you certainly faired better than that little friend of yours," Grace's head shot up!

"Charlie? How's she doing?"

""Fine," Brenda 'hmphed', ""You can go talk to her if you want, but she might not be able to say much back," the woman paused, her brow furrowing concern for a moment.

""I had to dope her up before they could take that bear trap off her foot."

"Bear trap?"

""Mmmhmm, seems little miss Charlie thought she could take on an armed, grown man in the middle of the woods all by herself. That girl's always been crazier than a can of cricket juice. She's lucky she's still got a leg, right now." If Brenda was going to say anything more, she was cut off as Grace stood!

"Where is she now?"

""Three sections to the right. But you better be quick, they're sending someone from the sheriff's department to get a statement from her as soon as she's awake."

Grace nodded, before she set off!
 
Yes, Noel could smell the blood. Yes, he knew whose blood it was. And yes, she had seriously "fucked up". "Youth is wasted on the young," he said, talking in a soothing voice while cleaned up the blood so he could get a good look at the wound itself. "But you're not dead so you have time to fix things." He took the forceps from Alex and dug deep into the wound. The bugger was deep! He even had to take a quick break to gulp some of that alchol down! "So ... Harry's got this idea to bake some special brownies for the Howling Hippo. He's got a real special ingredient in mind but he says that if it works out, there's no telling how much money he could pull in."

Noel grunted softly as he found it and pulled! "I told him he was nuts but he said, everyone thought Benjamin Franklin had been nuts, too. And look where it got him." He examined the bullet, then dropped it beside him on the ground. "But you know, Harry. He's obsessed with money. So I told him he might as well give it a try. Not that Benjamin Franklin was known to have a ..."

Noel paused. "Maybe you should have a drink. Eh, not that alcohol helps boost moods." He patched her up. "Come on. I have to get you back to your place before Zack arrives and makes an ass of himself."
 
Sara's snarling at Zack was cut off real quick with that flouncing boy popping in there screaming about Natasha being hurt. She frowned at Jason's suggestion to checking on her. Not that she wasn't worried about Natasha, but her sister just stormed out of here mouthing off and chances are she did something real stupid. There was just that sense you got when a family member was in a kind of trouble you didn't want to mess with.

Noel was going to check on her though, even if he didn't say he was. Sara thought he was a real dickweed most of the time, but he cared about the clan. That was more than she could say about a lot of their clanmates, teeth-flashing Zack included.

"It's fine. She's fine." Sara muttered.

"I take that shit back. I wish tonight was boring after all."





THE RAYMOND CLINIC- AFTER DARK

Thanks to Alex's panic attack and Noel's quick thinking, Natasha was taken AWAY from the clinic not long after the two other patients were admitted. The Doc was having one hell of a busy night.

A couple nurses were in the hallway talking about that Mountain Lion attacking Natasha and how that boy's outburst left everyone completely confused. None of the employees even got to take a look at the girl, so they were starting to think it was all a hoax

Grace was rolling her eyes as she headed to Charlie's room. She snorted to herself, thinking those two drunken loons could have at each other with all of their crazy nonsense. Her concern was now about her friend, Charlie. Grace didn't give it another thought as she knocked softly on Charlie's door and entered the room.

"Hey, Freckles, I hear you lost a leg in the war. Check out my arm, it's like we're sisters!" Grace's comment came with a cheeky smile and overly chipper tone as she stepped inside and sat down gently on the edge of Charlie's bed. "Jesus, you look like shit. What the hell were you doing out there?"



SUMMARY: Sara stays at the bar, worried about Natasha but not gonna get in that shit.

NOEL AND ALEX ARE TAKING NATASHA -AWAY- FROM THE CLINIC cause Noel can tell Natasha did something bad and he's gonna get her away somewhere before Zack hears about what happened to Grace.

Grace sits down with drugged up Charlie to ask what happened!
 
Natasha was soon back at her place, in pain from the movement, but glad to have that bullet out, regardless of the fact that it had hurt like hell to have it removed. she had tried not to whimper the whole way back home, she was, however, in a great deal of pain. Noel's offer for a drink earlier had been left without a comment, for the reason of Natasha not wanting to cause more trouble, plus alcohol thins the blood and makes it harder to clot. She wondered, faintly, why her sister hadn't come, then figured to take it as a good thing. Meanwhile, she was whimpering that she was tired almost constantly. Every time, she was told that it wasn't a good idea for a little longer. Every time her eyes even started to droop, it seemed like Noel was set on disrupting that course of action.

Her eyes wandered around her house for a little while every now and then, the concept of time in the last hour, and presently had become vague and almost meaningless. It felt like an hour passed by in minutes, but at the same time, what felt like hours was merely minutes. It was probably the pain in her shoulder. She whimpered again that she was tired, and that this time, it wasn't a joke, she NEEDED rest. Anyone would after all of that shit! She whimpered in a low voice that she would be fine. She pleaded to sleep, but the second her eyes suddenly shut with exhaustion, she saw Zack's angry face and jolted awake. And felt even worse about what all had transpired. She whimpered and then craned her head slightly to try and look at her shoulder. It hurt to move her head entirely over to see it, but it was enough to see it in the peripheral, and it was enough to see that the blood just wasn't clotting fast enough.

"I'm still bleeding like a stuck pig.... what the hell do we do now?.... " She whimpered softly, her skin pale, covered in a slight sheen of sweat, from when they were moving her and she was trying hard not to cry or whimper. She was trying to be strong, but even that was taking too much effort it seemed.
 
Noel stuck beside Natasha but then he stood to go looking for aspirin and water. "All you can do is rest and stop moving so much. Here are some pain killers." If Natasha didn't rest and stop whimpering so much, he was going to have to give her some tranquilizers. They worked pretty fast but she might wake up with a headache. And he was hoping to save the tranquilizers for when Zack appeared. The boy was more bite than bark and he wasn't the brightest when it came to dealing with other wolves. "You take them. I'll redress the wound and make the bandages a bit tighter to put some pressure. Hrm. But first, it looks like I'm going to have to stitch you up." He disappeared after leaving the aspirin and water on the table beside her to get the needle and thread.

Noel returned in a few minutes and opened the bandages, he cleaned up the blood, and went to work stitching. Most weres didn't need stitches, even after a bullet wound, but Natasha was different than most. He turned out to be quick and efficient when it came to stitching up gunshot wounds, too, then redressed her injuries.
 

"Molija! Ne! Slooshai! SLOOSHAI!"

"Shut the hell up!"

The three rangers manhandled the hunter through the inner doors and towards the cells. He was thrashing with every step, half from anger and half from the pain in his twisted ankle. "Ebi se! Shiban zadniks!"

One of the men threw open the cell at the end of the corridor, while the other two flung the hunter inside. Without the support of the rangers, the man's weight came fully onto his ankle and he crashed down next to the bed, grimacing in agony. "Molija..."

"Asshole needs a doctor," muttered one of the rangers.

"Let Slater talk to him first," replied the older one, smiling slightly. "No point calling the doctor till he's had the full treatment."

The cell door was locked and a single tear cut down the hunter's cheek as he curled up by the bed and awaited his fate.

 
Alex followed instructions, kept his mouth shut and stayed out of the way. He couldn't have been more worried and the amount of blood he saw scared him. He was genuinely worried for Natasha and just couldn't pass out, even though he wanted to numerous times. The fact that the man helping her had to pull a bullet out didn't even occur to him. It took both him and the other guy, Noel was his name, to help take Natasha back to her place. It was a slow process and Natasha seemed to come and go for a while there and Alex felt uncomfortable just sitting there being unhelpful.

"I'm...um going to go to bed, I'll come over tomorrow to check on her...I just, it's a lot to deal with ya?" He said to Noel as he patted Natasha's leg and went out, heading back to his apartment, being extra cautious for mountain lions.
 
[bg=#000000]This town sure as fuck isn't dull, so it seems.

The kid what just shouted me out and rapidly left comes bursting back through the doors, yelling that someone's been hurt. I pay little attention as a few of the patrons start scrabbling around and leave the bar sharpish, but I take a good note of the one named Sara as she leaves.

She's gonna be a problem, that I'm sure.

These folks are the ones I came to town looking for. Didn't think it'd be that easy. Guess weres aren't the most inconspicuous of folks, even at the best of times. Especially when they go and try to kill the livestock of a trigger-happy redneck.

They sound like weak stock, this bunch, but the Zack guy's got potential. Hell, I think I might just have met a man almost as dangerous as I am.

Funny how things work out.

I wait 'til the noise dies down, finishing the drink I ordered and slamming it down on the table.
"Hey barkeep, four shots of whiskey," I call over to the Jason guy, before turning back to Zack. "So, Zack was it? How long you been staying round these parts?"[/bg]
 
It took Charlie a moment to register the face in front of her belonged to her friend, and even now, things seemed to move before her eyes in blinks. The edges of her vision were blurred.

"I cut my leg shaving. What happened to you, Sara finally get hungry?" Charlie managed to slurr sardonically (a feat only the sassiest of redheads can achieve).

The two shared a quick laugh at the thought.

"Oh, you know, ran into a poacher, didn't notice one of his traps," a shadow passed over Charlie's face for a moment as dread sank into her stomach, and bile rose in her throat. Even now, she still expected to wake up, face down in the mud and he would be standing over her . . .

The girl blinked, then looked back up to Grace, her face once again casual, if not a little loopy.

"But what about you? What did this?" she motioned to her bandaged shoulder.
 
"Fucking poachers." Grace muttered with a scowl. Her comment was obviously appreciated by the slightly drugged, crooked smile Charlie rewarded her with. Grace mimicked the expression up until Charlie was rolling her eyes at her. Finally she smiled and shrugged her shoulders with a grimace.

"It's stupid. A wolf got one of my cows and I walked up on it without making sure it was dead first. It ran off and about took my arm with it." Grace held up her arm to show up the bandaged wrapped tight around it. Her fingers wiggled and she could feel that dull sensation of pain rolling through the skin and muscle. But damned if her friend didn't get the worse end of the deal. Grace would take a wolf bite over a bear-trap anyday.

"Too bad though. Here I thought we were gonna go out dancing next week and you had to go and become a cripple." Grace's snickering was interrupted by a knock on the door. That sassy nurse, Brenda, was giving her a disapproving look for such a bad joke, but it seemed she had something more important to say than chiding either of the girls.

"Gracie, I just thought you might want to know the baby's okay too."

"The what."

"The baby, Grac- Oh lordie! The doctor hasn't told you yet! Grace Colton, you're pregnant. Your hCG levels are so high, I'd say about 8 weeks along. But you better go have a chat with the doctor that. Don't you go tellin' slipped the news either." Giving them the evil eye once again, Brenda was shuffling on down the hall, leaving the tornado she just dropped settle.

Grace was still blinking dumbfoundedly at the door, several moments after the nurse walked out.

"...I'm what...?"
 
Whatever kind of drug it was they gave her, it was some good shit-because she was starting to hear things, now.

Like Grace being pregnant.

Ha. Ha. . .

Ha.

Uh oh.

The shocked expression on Gracie's face meant that she had heard it, too. So she wasn't hallucinating. Well, her friend was pregnant, so that meant there was only one thing to do.

Find Zack and shoot his nuts off.

Shit, did she just say that or did she think it?

"I think you'd better have a seat, Gracie, before you fall out," Charlie finally whispered, motioning to the free space on the tiny bed. Charlie watched her friend with growing sympathy, wracking her addled brain for the right thing to say or do.

What was there to say? Surely, she should say something helpful, since she was in no condition to do much at the moment. Not for the first time in her life, Charlie wished that she had had more of a female influence growing up, besides Grace. Heck, if she hadn't met Grace, she'd still be living with her father and being told every day how useless women were. She owed the girl, big time, for being there for her during the most tumultuous times in her life. She owed her friend that much, to be there for her's.

Unfortunately, all she could manage was:

"It'll be all right, girl. I'll look after you, anything you need. Zack will, too," he'd better, or I'll hunt him down, she added mentally.
 
The C-10 pulled up to the Ranger's Station, Slater cutting the lights and the siren. Briggs was out before Slater had put the truck in park and turned the ignition off.

"Whatcha got there?" Briggs asked as the ex-Marine pulled a box out from under the seat.

"The doctors at Walter Reed gave me a pair of ends for my prosthesis." he replied as he opened the box then pulled his pant leg up, revealing the thin, metal bar that was his artificial leg. He gripped a release pin above the top of the boot cuff then pulled the boot away. "I've got one that can fit in a shoe and another that's a straight up peg leg." Slater pulled a straight bar that resembled a shock absorber then inserted it into the end of his prosthesis.

"Nifty. So why the change?" Briggs asked as Slater rolled the pant leg up.

"For interrogation." he replied, getting out of the truck and slinging the LR-300 over his shoulder. Walking produced a unique sound, between the noise produced by his garrison boot and the 'tic' produced by his prosthesis. An ominous sound normally used to screw with drunks whenever they were picked up. For added effect Slater would wear a Davy Jones mask and a duster. It always scared the hell out of the addicts.

"Interrogation? How you gonna use your peg leg to interrogate him?" Briggs asked as Slater opened the door.

"Saw it in a videogame once."

"Really? I didn't know you played videogames." Briggs replied, surprised.

"In the 'Stan it's either watching movies, playing video games, or lots of masturbation, which gets old very quick."

"Masturbating or the video games?"

"Both... Now it's business time..." Slater said as one of the Rangers approached them.

"Gunny Rockwell, Deputy Briggs, we've got our suspect in lockup. Andy thinks the guy's speaking Polish." the Park Ranger said to the two deputies.

"You tenderize him any?" Slater asked.

"He jacked his ankle up at some point. Other than that you're free to show him some 'hospitality.'" the Ranger replied.

"Get your own car ready for transport. We brought the pickup today." Slater advised before starting down the hall to the holding cells. The echo produced by the walls brought out the sound of his prosthesis hitting the linoleum tile nicely. Slater and Briggs reached the cell, one of the Rangers standing guard with an M-870 shotgun.

"We got this, buddy." Briggs said to the Ranger. "Just give us five minutes." The Ranger nodded then opened the cell. Slater handed his carbine over then walked in.

"You're in a lot of trouble, y'know that buddy?" he said to the man. He replied in Polish. "English, motherfucker... I put up with enough assholes that don't speak English in the 'Stan." The man persisted. Slater picked him up by his shirt collar then slammed him into a wall.

"Start talking, pal. I'm known for my short fuze." The man failed to comply. Slater picked his pegleg up and drove it into the man's crotch, Briggs and the Ranger both cringing at the sight.

"Either you can deal with me or you can deal with Sherrif Robinson back in town and he learned a few things in 'Nam that make me cringe." The man still resisted. Slater pulled his pegleg out then kneed the man in the face before walking out of the cell. "Tag him and bag him... He won't talk to me." He then elbowed Briggs in the face, flooring him.

"Damn, what was that for!?" Briggs cried out.

"He resisted and assaulted Deputy Briggs. We responded in kind." Slater said to the Ranger.

"I'll make sure that's put on the official report." the Ranger replied as Briggs got to his feet.

"Didja have ta punch me so hard?" he asked as the Ranger locked the cell door.

"I elbowed you, Briggs. You get more force out of an elbow than you do with a punch at the cost of reach. They taught us that in Boot then proceeded to beat the shit out of us." Slater replied as he walked back to reception. Briggs followed him, handing the LR-300 back.

"Think Jack Bauer could learn a thing from you?" Briggs asked the ex-Marine as he lit up a cigarette.

"Doubtful. I've got a patch I bought online that said 'WWJBD.' 'What Would Jack Bauer Do.' Wore it on my flak jacket. Everytime something went wrong one of my squadmates would say 'What would Jack Bauer do?'" Slater replied before taking a drag on the cancer stick.

"Sounds like it." Briggs said, leaning back in the old seats of the station's reception area. They sat for a few minutes in silence until Slater's stomach growled.

"Ya got an MRE? Maybe that'd help." Briggs suggested.

"You want another black eye?" Slater threatened. The ex-Marine slumped over in his seat, trying to put his mind off the hunger by thinking about baseball.

Of course it would have helped if he followed baseball.
 

"Molya vi..." the voice echoed out of the cell behind Slater, interspersed with tears and painful coughing, "Az sŭm prosto edin turist...."

The man reached feebly for the cell door, as if trying to stop them leaving. "Tŭrsim za khotel. Toĭ me vze!"

He curled up again, his whole body wracked with weeping, "Az ne pravya nishto ... Kŭlna se!"
 
Before the girls could say anything more, the curtain opened again to reveal Ranger Kingsley. The older man had rushed to the hospital to check on Charlie as soon as the poacher had been detained. Now, he simply looked at the two friends with growing sympathy.

"Morris, now that you're awake, I need to ask you a few question. That bastard isn't talking to us, and we need to know what happened," he turned his attention to Grace. "Miss Grace, I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

Charlie swallowed the lump that had been forming in her throat, and cast her friend one last sorrowful look, squeezing her hand tightly.

* * *

Hours later, 2:04AM

The pickup pulled up the gravel road, coming to a complete stop when the small trailer came into view. The clearing was surrounded by trees, and since her home was eight miles outside of town, there were no lights to illuminate the area-save for the stars.

Kingsley had volunteered to drive the girl home, and help her to her door, since walking (even with the aid of the crutches they had given her) was painful.

"Now, you're sure you'll be OK by yourself, tonight? I can send Bonny over to stay with you, tonight," the man could not believe that after such a terrible experience, this girl wanted to sleep by herself.

Charlie shook her head and opened the screen door, " Nah, I'm OK, chief. Besides, Bonny snores."

Kingsley grinned, "I'll tell her you said that."

"You'd better not."

The ranger shook his head and turned to leave. "All right, miss thang, if you got it under control I'll leave you to it. But, please, call me if you need any help."

"I will."

Charlie waited for him to pull away before opening the front door and stepping inside.

Her trailer was a small, one room affair she had inherited after a disagreement between her father and uncle landed the former in prison. The disagreement being her uncle trying to defend her; so it made sense that she would look after his property while he was in the tank.

It was tidy enough; with only a chair, a bed, a table, a small bathroom and kitchenette to look after. Though the bed was unmade and the table was piled high with textbooks and assignments Charlie had been putting off.

But with all the time she was going to have to take off work, she supposed she could give it her undivided attention, now.

But first things first.

Charlie stumbled over to the cabinet over the kitchen sink and pulled out a bottle of whiskey, her movements suddenly rushed and desperate. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out the pain medication the doctor had perscribed to her. Her leg was throbbing with pain, had been since Kingsley had helped her into the truck, and it was getting increasingly difficult to hide.

Popping one of the pills into her mouth, Charlie chased it down with a swig of the harsh whiskey, trying to choke when her throat burned. She coughed and braced herself on the sink and waited for a few moments for the alcohol to dull the pain.

After a few long, painful moments, Charlie was finally able to stumble into the shower to bathe. It took her over thirty minutes to wash the dirt and leaves that had been stuck in her thick hair out, and the dried blood that flaked from her stitches.

By the time she had finished bathing, both the alcohol and medication had kicked in, and it took Charlie a few drunken tries to slip into her pajamas. Still wet and groggy, Charlie collapsed onto her stomach on the bed, and fell into a dreamless sleep before she could even pull the blankets over her.
 
[bg=#2F4F2F][Dash=#43CD80]
[size=+1]Zack[/size]

"Long enough to be tired of it, and the like." Zack said as he sheathed the silver knife into it's sheath. Letting his gaze shift to the whiskey on the bar, he turned to look at Clay "Jason... set me six." He called back to the barkeep, and fished another Marlboro out of his pack, and set it on the counter before flicking another match with his thumb, and lighting his cigarette. The welder then looked at the posse that Clay had with him, and simply went "Tch...." as if it was funny.

~Something's going to get ugly, and fast, I'll bet. Wonder what this old boy has planned.~ He thought to himself as he could smell the bad winds that had picked up with Clay's arrival... the scent was familiar to him, and made him twitchy... like back when he had been on a mission with the rest of his Delta Force, and Green Beret crew.

Something was certianly going to happen, and it was going to be a real clusterfuck... now all he had to do was figure out what it was... and how to funnel it in order to make something worthwhile of it.

"Where you from Ol' boy?" Zack asked as he took another long drag from his cigarret, and exhaled it in rings.





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Natasha winced and watched as Noel stitched up her arm, trying to stop herself from crying. It hurt, not as much as the original wound, of course, but still, damn, that fucking hurt. She kept looking around, she watched as Alex turned in for the night, choosing to leave, and meekly whimpered a goodbye and to be safe. The moments ticked by and she started thinking more and more on what might happen if Zack were to come in at this moment. She wouldn't blame him for wanting to kill her.

Then she noticed it, and stared at Noel as the gears in her head turned.

If Noel was there when Zack came in, Natasha was fairly certain that the other were would somehow end up involved. Sweat dripped down her forehead and her cheeks as her breathing got more labored, stressed. She Suddenly grabbed Noel's wrist with a fairly surprising amount of strength, considering the circumstances. Her eyes wild, feral, scared to hell.

"Get out of here. I'll be fine, I just..... I just need some rest, that's all. I'm sure He won't come tonight, he'll prolly be with Grace and come tomorrow. You can check on me on the morning.... I don't want to be a bother." Natasha spat out as quickly s she could, the lies burned in her throat. She wasn't fine, she wasn't sure that he was going to stay with Grace, she wasn't even sure there would be anything to check on in the morning. She was honestly scared, but she didn't want Noel getting involved. She couldn't stand to see him getting mixed up in this.

This was her fault. This was all her fault. Zack could take it out on her as much as he wanted, but it wasn't fair to Noel to let him get involved. She looked up at him, trying to calm down and finally smiled slightly.

"I'll be fine, honest...... please, you've done enough for me.... if you do any more, I'll have to spend the rest of my life paying you back."
 
"Kakav e kriv s ti horaaaaaaa?!!"

Ranger Lawton played another card then pulled the cigar from his mouth, doing his best to concentrate on the game. "Son of a bitch sure has a mouth on him."

In the opposite chair, Ranger Yates played his own card then sipped from his hipflask. "Yeah, he's doing pretty well for a guy who's been kicked in the balls."

The prisoner's voice echoed from the cells. "Az imam kam vikam my zhena tya shte bada ugrizhen! Molija!!"

"SHUT UP!" yelled Lawton, leaning from the table to glare down the length of the office, as if somehow the prisoner would feel his glare from the other side of the ranger station.

"Sheriff Bob ain't gonna like what we done to him," muttered Yates, taking the opportunity to peer at his partner's cards.

Lawton sat back and chomped on his cigar again. "Like Slater said, the Eurotrash resisted arrest." He played another card as the electric lamp flickered between them. "Besides, I'd rather have Sheriff Bob pissed with me than Slater. Y'know, I heard... when he was in Kerplikistan or whether the hell it was... that one time he--"

"TI IMAM OPREDELITELEN CHLEN KRIZ CHOVEK!" The bars of the cell rattled as the prisoner yelled at the top of his lungs.

Ranger Lawton flung down his cards and grabbed his shotgun from where it rested against the table leg. "Alright, that's it! Piece of shit's about to lose the other ball!" He stormed off towards the cells, Yates following behind and not even bothering to talk him out of it.



* * * * * *


It was around midnight when Charlie woke up, the whiskey still swimming around her head with the endorphins and pain medication. She opened a pair of bleary eyes, wincing as she heard the knock on the door of her trailer. Through the small window at its top she could see a ranger hat.

"Dammit, Kingsley," she muttered, "I said I was fine."

There was another knock and with a sigh Charlie pulled herself up from the bed, swinging her bandaged leg carefully onto the floor. Luckily she had left one of her crutches by the bed and she pulled it over, tucking it under the crook of her shoulder as she put her weight onto it. She hopped to her feet, still dizzy, and took the four steps between the bed and the door.

"You're a stubborn old coot," she said to Kingsley as she opened the trailer door, "You know that?"


"Yes," replied Cyrus, "I do."

Before Charlie could scream the crutch was kicked out from under her and she toppled forward, her throat coming into his waiting grip. The Werewolf Hunter picked her up and carried her into the trailer, slamming her against the kitchen cabinets. There was a crack of wood, her flailing legs knocking over cups and pans in a great cascade.

His gaunt face was caught in the moonlight, pale and haggard, but there was no doubting his strength. Beneath his ranger's uniform, the hunter's body was knotted and unyielding. With his other hand he slammed the trailer door behind him then released, half-dropping and half-flinging her from the kitchen. Charlie stumbled on her injured leg, crashing down onto the bed again.

His knee was on her back in moments, one hand slipping beneath her pyjama bottoms and locking around the ankle. Charlie yelled out as he squeezed the bear-trap wound, putting pressure on every single tooth-incision. And then she became suddenly quiet as she felt what he had in the other hand. The muzzle of the silenced pistol moved through her hair and touched the base of her skull.

"Now, Missy. To business..."



* * * * * *


"MOLIJA!" begged the prisoner, dozens of miles away at the ranger's station, as the two guards came into his cell. "...sŭm prosto edin turist!"

Lawton struck him in the face with the butt of his shotgun, laying the young man out cold. "Lights out, Son."

They left the innocent Bulgarian in the cell and locked it up again, returing to their card game.