Difference between revisions of "4884/The Big Bad Wolves"

Latest revision as of 01:34, 16 December 2016

Heinkel Wolfe (Dropped) has posed:
  The priest pauses on her way back to the motorcycle. A glance is cast to the vehicle, somewhat longingly. Enduring the cold wind of a ride means getting back to a place that has central heat and air, or a fireplace, and she...

  ...gets a signal from Bigby, which she seems to hesitate over.

  "Excuse me," she mutters, frowning around her cigarette.

  One does not refuse the summons of a creature they acknowledge as their direct superior in terms of raw strength and presence. Wolves generally know their place in the wild, and violent disputes are actually comparatively rare... and Heinkel is no exception to this. She has a feeling if she resisted her throat would probably be torn out.

  Turning, the priest hobbles around her crutches toward the Big Bad Wolf, limping her way over. She's watching him warily the whole time; were she in her other form, her tail would be low, and her ears would be back, teeth showing ever so slightly.

  Half a glance is cast back to the others before returning her attention to Bigby's imposing bulk.

  "...You vant a vord?" she says, a little dubiously.

Bigby Wolf (585) has posed:
It wasn't one of those 'obey or I'll tear your throat out' matters, really, but Bigby can certainly understand why Heinkel's Wolf would feel that way about it. He walks a few paces down the pavement, far enough to have a quiet word in private but not so far as to make her hobble along unreasonably.

"I just wanted to let you know, I have no intention of eating you, tearing your throat out, or whatever else you've been imagining this whole time," he states simply and matter-of-factly, flicking ash from the end of his dwindling cigarette. "You know who I am. That makes me your alpha, not your enemy."

He studies her curiously, eyes raking her over with intense but not predatory intent. "I'm guessing you're one of those part time Wolves, three days a month and out? Otherwise -- why not change form to heal that wound? Or does it not work that way in your world?"

See? That's all. He's just curious. Now, as long as she answers all of his questions to his satisfaction she's sure not to get ripped apart.

Heinkel Wolfe (Dropped) has posed:
  The fact that Heinkel can't fold her arms is a personal annoyance, because she feels like the projection of mild annoyance and attmept at intimidation would be a comfort right now. She's used to being loomed over; Alex is a giant of a man, but there isn't much that can rattle the primeval half of her instincts these days.

  Heinkel settles for exhaling smoke, and glaring at Bigby behind those flat lenses. He can't see her glaring, but her body language probably suggests as much.

  Yes. Even with crutches. Don't ask how.

  She studies him for a long moment after he asks that question. The fact that he says he's not going to pound her into a fine red mist is not much of a consolation, because people can say all sorts of things, and that doesn't mean they're going to do them. Or not do them. So she puffs another wreath of smoke.

  Having some stranger she doesn't know from Adam declaring themselves her boss or superior out of the blue doesn't sit well with her, but even her instincts know better than to raise a fuss. For once, the Wolf shuts up and listens.

  Man, what she would've given for that kind of control the first few years...

  "It doesn't vork that vay in my vorld, in any regard you're assuming, und I don't like to do that trivially. It's not just 'turning into a volf,' you know." Heinkel scowls around her cigarette. "Besides, vhether I'm that or the other, I still heal faster."

Bigby Wolf (585) has posed:
"That's too bad," Bigby remarks, shaking out another cig and lighting it with the glowing remnants of the first. Because no, he doesn't know. For him it really is just a matter of deciding which form to adapt, or any stage in between. Natural as breathing. "Sorry," he adds, though it's unclear if that's meant as a sincere apology or if he's just expressing his condolences that she can't change at a whim.

"Look. You're a cop, I'm a cop -- kind of -- there's no reason we need to clash. You want to play the lone wolf, that's fine, I get that. I don't run with a pack myself. I just don't get to MEET people all that often who... share our condition," he smiles dryly around the newly-lit smoke. "Look, I just wanted to make sure that you and other-you both know where we stand. We're cool. I'm not a threat to you, you're... certainly not a threat to me. Since we both seem to be friends of Harry's, and that says a lot for your character, I'm hoping we can work together." Hell, maybe some full moon they could even chase down a bear. That'd be fun.

Heinkel Wolfe (Dropped) has posed:
  "Ja, vell, it ist vhat it is," Heinkel says simply, shrugging and contentedly puffing a cloud of smoke. To his apology, she only looks at him flatly. She's squinting behind those lenses, but they do a good job of masking her expression. In fact, they look like they're constructed almost like goggles, allowing no light to reach the eye beneath, and keeping it hidden from view. That's some pretty hefty, and definitely custom-engineered, protection. From what?

  To the rest, she only tilts her head. "Not alvays," she clarifies, reaching up. Hooking a finger into her collar, she gives it a sharp tug, pulling it just far enough to show a broad stripe of scarring at the juncture of her neck and shoulder. It looks like something tried, and mostly succeeded, in ripping a chunk out of her that by all rights should have included her throat.

  The scarring is old and faded, but the marks of enormous teeth are unmistakable. "Seven years. Almost eight. I didn't really vant it, but the stupid mongrel vouldn't take no for an answer, and by 'no' I mean 'I emptied two clips into its ugly face.'" Her mouth twists. It's almost a rueful sort of half-smile, and also sort of a grimace. She lets the collar go, and it springs back into place. "I guess it vas hungry."

  "Nein. I don't haf a 'pack.'" She reaches for her collar this time, pulling out the cross and dangling it by way of explanation. It's iron instead of silver, gleaming only dully in the light. "I haf something better."

  Her meaning seems vague. Religion itself? The support of her fellow clergy? It isn't immediately clear.

  "So long as you're not trying to kick down local laws, I haf no quarrel vit you." Even if he makes the Wolf inside gibber and foam at the mouth, even if just standing this close to him makes her hackles rise and the most uncomfortable sense of apprehension twist her gut. Heinkel has dealt with feeling unpleasant before, though, and she can ride it out just fine. "If you do, vell, tut mir leid. I might just haf to shoot you."

  He might smell gunpowder about her, this close; not to mention silver and steel. The former must be a real pain in the ass to carry around for somebody like her. "'Other-me' has no say in anything," she adds, flatly. "Most of the time I haf my vork cut out for me keeping it sealed in a can, vhere it belongs. It ist foreign, und it /knows/ that." That's right. Bad doggy. No eating people.

  His offer, however, seems to mellow her out a little. He seems sincere enough, and so far he hasn't tried to rip her head off her shoulders. It would be pretty trivial, and so she figures he would've done that by now if that were his aim.

  Heinkel balances herself against the crutches and sticks a hand out, offering it to him. "Heinkel Wolfe. Vatican Section XIII. Paladin, in more than von sense of the vord. I vas a paladin before I joined the Paladins." Her mouth twists. "Now I'm a Paladin paladin, I guess you could say."

  Her mouth twists even more.

  "...Ach. Nein. That just sounds stupid."

Bigby Wolf (585) has posed:
Bigby chuckles a little bit at the idea of her shooting him. Granted, silver would fucking /hurt/, but he's taken silver bullets before. "Well, I guess it's a good thing I'm a law abiding citizen then," he quips. He clasps the offered hand. "Bigby. It's short for Big Bad. So I think we're even on the funny sounding names.

On hearing that her wolf-part is less a part of her and more an intruder, his brow furrows. He doesn't have a wolf spirit, he IS Wolf. Lycanthropy just gives him a means to shift forms, since he never learned to do it properly as a child. Heinkel's condition sounds more like a curse. For both of them. The human trying to stay in control, the wolf struggling to be free.

"If there's anything I can do to... help you with that," he offers, cautiously, "let me know. I have a unique WAY with all things lupine," his lips twitch upward around the cigarette. "I'm on the StarkNet. I may be shit with most technology but I can work a radio, at least."

Heinkel Wolfe (Dropped) has posed:
  "Ach. There's nothing wrong with my name. It's not supposed to be a reflection on vhat I am." Heinkel huffs a breath, exhaling smoke, but there's no real animosity in the gesture. "That vas my name /before/ the Volf tried to rip my fucking head off. I had it first."

  The Wolf may or may not grumble something contentious, but the Wolf is also famously contentious for the sake of being contentious. She's learned to tune it out most of the time.

  Apparently she picks up on his furrowed brow. "Ja, it's a curse. I vasn't born this vay," she adds, gesturing nebulously at the scar across her neck and shoulder, neatly hidden by her starched white collar, and the high collar of her coat. "God knows I vouldn't haf been inducted into the church like this; ve make it our business to kill things like the Volf, because ten times out of ten in my vorld they're assholes who go around murdering entire villages because they feel like it." Her expression sours, and she rolls the cigarette to the other side of her mouth.

  Her tone might be completely and utterly androgynous, but Bigby has wolf-senses. He probably knows he's dealing with a woman, albeit one who hides herself very well. Heinkel shows her teeth in a humourless grin. "Danke. But I've spent seven years learning how to control it. I think I haf it in hand, at this point. If I ever lose control of it, I already haf contingencies in place."

  That is to say, she specifically asked Anderson to put a bayonet in her throat, because she knows she won't present a problem to him.

  Heinkel taps ash from the end of her cigarette, glancing down and watching it scatter across the slush underfoot. "Ja. I hope ve haf a chance to vork together some. You haf a name other than Bigby, or ist that it?"

Bigby Wolf (585) has posed:
"I mean the... paladin Paladin thing -- you know what nevermind." Bigby can imagine what kind of 'contingencies' she has planned, if not the specifics, and shudders slightly. "Okay, but if you ever decide you want to try a more /diplomatic/ approach, I'm here." Him, the diplomatic option. Heaven help us all.

"Just Wolf," he replies amusedly to the question of his name. "And to be fair, back in the day I WAS the murdering asshole. These days I try to stick to being a regular asshole though." Replacing little pig houses gets expensive when you're actually held accountable.

He glances toward Heinkel's motorcycle, and Seras if she's still hanging around waiting for a ride back to wherever they came from. "How about the vampire? She's new, right?" To be fair, 'new' is extremely relative to someone who's been around for centuries. "Some church you must have, there." This is Bigby, trying to make small talk. He shakes his head.

"--Anyway, I represent a small community now located on the outskirts of what they're calling the Quilt. You ever find yourself -- yourselves -- in the vicinity, drop me a line. First round's on me." God knows Fabletown could use the commerce.

Heinkel Wolfe (Dropped) has posed:
  "It's not a natural state of being like it ist for you," Heinkel points out. "It's a curse. An infection. There's nothing natural about it at all. I know there are actual verevolfs out there who are genuine freaks of nature und they vere probably created that vay. Genuine monsters. But I'm not von of those. I'm just an afflicted human."

  She shrugs one shoulder, gesturing with a hand while bracing against a crutch. "It doesn't listen to diplomacy. I don't think it has enough of a mind for that. It's like a virus in the blood. It's vhy ve exterminate things like that vhen ve find them. It's also vhy I haf contingencies in place."

  In a backwards sort of way, it takes bravery to arrange one's own death with full knowledge of what they're doing.

  "Draculina? Ja. She's vit the Hellsing Organisation. You can think of them as Iscariot's contemporary, und also ally." Heinkel pulls a face that suggests she's not really thrilled about it, but far be it for her to complain. She's not the zealot that Maxwell or Anderson are. "Actually, she ist pretty new. I'd say she hasn't been turned more than a year or so."

  Heinkel balances against a crutch, sighing and reaching up to scratch at the back of her head. "Still getting used to unlife, let alone the multiverse, but she needs to learn to put a lid on being incredulous at eferything. It's going to get her killed if she doesn't pay more attention." The priest snorts. "Dumbass." It's almost an affectionate insult. Seras' naivete is almost endearing in an aggravating sort of way, when it's not being... well... aggravating.

  Shifting her weight on her crutches, she tilts her head at him when he mentions the church. "It's like any other Catholic church you may haf heard of. It just happens to haf a formerly-secret division dedicated to seeking und destroying bloodthirsty monsters that prey on our flock, ja?" Heinkel shows her teeth. "Ve vent public after the incident. There's so many fires burning east und vest that ve need public funding to handle it all. Fortunately, the public seems to be taking it vell, so far."

  "Hunh. The Quilt. I hafen't been there yet, but I'll remember that. My vorld ist in the garden spot of the Contaminated Flatlands." Heinkel sighs, blandly. "God has a sense of cosmic irony, I think. Anyvay, it might be better if you let me know if you plan on showing up. I can vouch for you, or you might haf a few silfer bayonets sprouting from your torso. Some of my associates are..." She trails off. "Dedicated to their vork."

  Yeah. We'll go with that.

Bigby Wolf (585) has posed:
Bigby grins. "But I'm not a monster!" he declares, pressing his hand against his chest in a gesture of mock dismay at being so accused. "Well, no, hold that thought, I suppose I am. Just probably not the kind your church usually goes after. Still, I appreciate the warning. Silver is a pain in the ass to heal from. Same offer though, you need a hand with any of those bloodthirsty monsters, I'll never turn down a good fight." Even if she isn't a REAL volf. Er, Wolf.

Heinkel Wolfe (Dropped) has posed:
  "Not you." Heinkel plucks her cigarette from the corner of her mouth, gesturing lazily with it. "The things that eat people in my vorld. Those are. They don't listen to diplomacy, unless you count diplomacy as silfer bullets loaded vit vials of holy vater."

  She shrugs. "Ve don't haf anything that really compares to you. Oh, ja, I guess somevhere there's some kind of ancestral original verevolf that got the ball rolling, just like Alucard ist for vampires. But if there ist, I'fe never heard of it, or seen it." Thank God, she adds silently, emphatically. If it's out there, it's probably a monster on the same level as Alucard.

  "Ja. I might, some time." Heinkel sighs, looking over to the empty street. It's so peaceable and quiet! It's probably a good thing she can't see the Nevernever. "Ve haf more than ve can deal vit. Several nations haf declared a state of emergency. Ve can only help so much; a lot of them are on their own, fighting a defensive battle until reinforcements can arrive. Others, ve lost contact vit. Still hafen't heard anything from the Americas or East Asia."

  She shrugs. "Eh. Can't do much about it right now anyvay, I guess. Anyvay, ja. You'd be velcome." A grin, slightly toothed. "Chief might efen offer you a little recompense, too, if I guilt him into it enough."

Bigby Wolf (585) has posed:
"Wouldn't say no to that, either," Bigby mutters. Snow is always up his ass about operating expenses. Sure would be nice to pull out a nice fat sack of cash as a surprise for her some day. Although she'd probably assume he'd murdered someone for it. This plan needs more thought.

"Well, if you ever find it, I'd love to meet it," he grins, showing his teeth. Which are perfectly normal and human looking. "I'm not the FIRST wolf from my world but, well." Just the biggest and baddest.

Bigby takes one last drag of his latest cigarette and then snuffs it out on the sidewalk. Hopefully the Paladins won't silver-bullet him for a little littering. "Don't worry, I hear new areas are coming back online all the time. On the radio, I mean. Lot of stuff's been moved around but so far we haven't got any reason to think anything's been /lost/." He flips up the collar of his coat. "I'd better get back and report in, myself. You take care of yourself, Ms. Wolfe." So he definitely does know her gender, then.

Heinkel Wolfe (Dropped) has posed:
  "I know I don't, though sometimes I haf to eat it in expenses. Chief und I haf had some regular sparring matches about that." Heinkel sighs, reaching up to scratch at the back of her head again, idly ruffling her hair to straighten it out. "He seems to think money for ammo und travel is trivial... I haf to convince him othervise each time this comes up."

  She leans on one of the crutches, favourin the right side. Going by how she keeps holding that leg awkwardly, that must be the one that tanked a boulder. "Maybe. If I don't shoot in the face, first. If Alucard's any clue, it's probably arrogant as shit and thinks it has the right to go eat whoever it vants. Not so much. Ve haf our territory, it can haf its own."

  "And ne'er the twain shall meet," she adds, in a sour tone.

  Shifting her weight, she glances down at the cigarette butt, but doesn't seem to comment. Hey, it's not her city. And she'd probably be hypocritical if she said something about it, given how much she smokes.

  "Ja. Just can't find it, and there's a difference."

  "Auf wiedersehen." Heinkel offers a lazy mock salute as Bigby flips his coat collar up and excuses himself. "Keep in touch. I'm sure you can ask Dresden for my frequency if you vant to talk, or ask for me ofer StarkNet. I'm all for vays to keep in touch vit people, or at least keep an ear to the ground."

  There's a short pause, as he addresses her by title. Reasonably, she knows that he probably just used his nose. Or he's particularly observant in a way that most people aren't.

  "Not bad."

  Turning, she starts hobbling towards her motorcycle, cautious not to slip on the slush. Maxwell might strangle her if she went home with a compounded fracture on top of everything else. And so, the priest goes about stowing her crutches and powers up the motorcycle.

  Sure, she'll wait for the Draculina to catch up, sure, but she'll do it from the warmth and sanctity of a coffee shop somewhere in this miserably cold city.