April 2018 Featured RPG
THE RECKLESS KIND is a modern supernatural site based on werecreatures and set in a fictionalized small town.
Within the territory, are 7 groups who protect the land. Recently, sacred grounds around the world are being destroyed & it looks like Somerset is next. Will you help stand against the evil or help win its victory?
07/08/2018:
KEEP AN EYE OUT!
Something is coming to Somerset & it's going to change things temporarily for our residents. It's also a great chance to earn another badge!

Somerset, Pennsylvania
July 2018
FORECAST: Summer is here. Take care to stay hydrated & wear sunscreen. The high is 82° with a low of 55°.
What's New
Featured Canon
Featured Canon
Featured Wanted

Latest Shouts In The Shoutbox -- View The Shoutbox · Rules -  


 
Add Reply
New Topic

 Lost it to Trying, tag:Troy
Quote
47
Police Detective
He/Him
HUMAN
ex-hunter
protected
Rook
PRONOUNS: They/Them
TIMEZONE: Mountain Time
POSTS: 58
TRIGGERS: Child and Animal Abuse

The devil's going to make me a free man

Reevaluating life choices wasn’t something Wolfram did on the regular. He was reactionary. He ran on instinct and he hardly, if ever, thought anything through. That go-with-the-flow approach to life was what landed him in Somerset, a town where he was surrounded by the creatures he was raised to hate and to kill.

He couldn’t lean on the excuse of ignorance to explain away his current situation. Wolf knew what the town was long before he stepped foot within its borders. His woefully lacking decision-making skills aside, there was no logical reason behind his accepting the transfer from Seattle to Somerset.

When the Chief in Seattle suggested the transfer, Wolf thought ‘Why the fuck not.’

And so there he was, a city-slicker, ex-hunter new to a town crawling with the creatures that went bump in the night. The best part of it all was the fact he was there to uphold the law. Wolf wasn’t sure if that was irony or just the universe laughing at him. He’d put money on the latter.

All things considered, Wolf figured this was probably one of the stupidest things he’d done – and that was an achievement in its own right, considering his track record.

“Somerset is small compared to your previous assignments, but believe me – we got our own shit going on.” The Chief peered up at Wolf from where he was sitting behind his desk, files stacked in one corner, papers strewn about at the other. “You must know about the Street Festival.”

It wasn’t a question, but Wolf decided to answer anyway. “I’ve heard some things, yeah.” His voice was smoothly dismissive and it was evident that Wolf wanted to get the initial bullshit out of the way so that he could start settling in – and start snooping around his new place of work.

He was hoping they had an Espresso machine. The break room might be the only thing he’d miss about Seattle.

The Chief’s mouth formed a thin line. The expression coupled with the dark circles under his eyes was indication enough that the Chief was keen to get through the initial bullshit just as much as Wolf was. Maybe more.

“Find Troy Howell. He’s around here somewhere – he’ll be handling your introduction to the town and what we have going on. You’re both city-boys so you should get along well enough.” The Chief grabbed one of the files and started to leaf through it. Wolf took it for the dismissal it was.

“Depends on which city he’s from,” Wolf quipped as he turned to exit the Chief’s office.

Wolf employed his impressive detective skills the sleuth out Troy’s location – by reading the name plates stationed on each officer’s respective desk. Sure enough, he found the man in question.

“So, you’re Detective Howell, huh?” It was a graceless introduction but it wasn’t unfriendly. “It’s either that or you’re sitting at the wrong desk.” The corner of his mouth quirked into a smirk.

“I’m the guy you’ll be babysitting for the next couple of days.” Lucky him. Wolf grinned. “Lucky you.”

~

&

--------------------
RECKLESSRECKLESSRECKLESSRECKLESSRECKLESS
Quote
44
DETECTIVE
HE/HIM
WEREWOLF
ULRIC
BETA
QUEL
PRONOUNS: SHE/HER
TIMEZONE: CENTRAL
POSTS: 58
TRIGGERS: HARM TO CHILDREN, PEEPS ON A PIZZA

With the devil you know you never alone.'Cause better to know the devil you know, then devil you don't
Detective Troy Howell idly sat at his desk staring in a daze at the computer screen in front of him. He fantasized about how much he missed his bed. The last time he had more than four hours of sleep was days after the festival attacks where he'd crawled into the supply closet down the hall. Uncomfortably cramped and cold, it was probably the best nap he'd had in weeks. Had he the strength to move, the werewolf would probably have already been back in the closet for another undisturbed nap.

For the last two weeks, he'd pulled double duty as both a cop and as a beta. If he wasn't at work, he was on patrol, and if he wasn't on patrol he was in a meeting with the pack leaders or the guard. Troy might have been impressed with the reaction time and the persistence of everyone in town trying to figure out how the hell a bunch of kids got a hold if the weapons they did; however, said persistence meant he got further and further away from his bed. It was at the point where his body naturally just started to slowly rock in a way that almost put him to sleep right there.

The only reason he knew he'd shut his eyes was that they'd snapped open at the slam of a door somewhere on the floor. He blinked and grabbed his coffee mug to take a drink, then choked on the bitter icy contents. His tongue lopped out of his mouth and he quietly gagged. Well, that was one way to wake him up. Good thing, too. An unfamiliar male voice jolted the wolf awake even more. Troy's brows quirked as he went from staring down at his mug disappointingly to cautiously looking up at the man talking to him.

This was one sick joke. The universe was fucking with him again. He inhaled and turned fully towards the new guy. Troy guessed he could count his lucky stars at least. The stranger wasn't a rookie still wet behind the ears. "Who hates you?" It was meant to be a joke, but lacked the usual grin or chuckle he often offered up. Troy discarded his disgusting coffee and stood with his hand out. "Troy is fine. You are?"

TAG:@Wolfram Marx
NOTES: Welcome to Somerset!

Quote
47
Police Detective
He/Him
HUMAN
ex-hunter
protected
Rook
PRONOUNS: They/Them
TIMEZONE: Mountain Time
POSTS: 58
TRIGGERS: Child and Animal Abuse

The devil's going to make me a free man

Any detective worth their salt never turned off their time-earned habits and talents. Wolf was assessing Troy the moment he laid eyes on him. He took note of Troy’s posture, of the way he startled, and of what Wolf surmised was his slower-than-normal reaction time at being addressed. All evidence pointed to one conclusion –

Troy Howell was tired as all hell.

Wolf could sympathize, especially given the current events within Somerset. That empathy did not show on Wolf’s expression; his face wasn’t built for it. His features were too sharp, too angular, too weathered by the kind of experiences that curtailed a man’s ability to be vulnerable.

“I could compile you a list, but it’d take a couple of days,” Wolf deadpanned, suggesting the statement wasn’t complete hyperbole. He tilted his head slightly, observing as Troy tossed away the cold brew he’d found so offensive. “Wolfram Marx.” He looked up from the bin, and meeting Troy’s eyes, shook the man’s hand/ “Wolf is cool. Marx works, too, if you wanna make things weird.” He shrugged. “Your call.”

The smell of stale coffee was enough to bother Wolf with the ghostly promise of caffeine. Troy, by the looks of him, needed a pick-me-up that much more than Wolf. “Hey, just so you’re aware –“ Wolf leaned closer, as if to share a conspiracy. He waited a beat. “ – you look like shit.”

He popped a lopsided smirk, standing upright, though his weight favored his right leg. “How bout we get some coffee of the non-shitty variety. Then you can tell me what’s inspired your latest stint of insomnia.” His best guess was the Street Festival and Wolf was confident he wasn’t far off base.

~

&

--------------------
RECKLESSRECKLESSRECKLESSRECKLESSRECKLESS
Quote
44
DETECTIVE
HE/HIM
WEREWOLF
ULRIC
BETA
QUEL
PRONOUNS: SHE/HER
TIMEZONE: CENTRAL
POSTS: 58
TRIGGERS: HARM TO CHILDREN, PEEPS ON A PIZZA

With the devil you know you never alone.'Cause better to know the devil you know, then devil you don't
"Wolfram. Marx?" Troy tested the name on his lips while shaking the man's hand briefly. It wouldn't be the first odd name he came across and it certainly never would be his last. His tired brain tried to make a funny with the name Wolf and then his last name Howell. Quite the pair these two were. "High school mascot here is a wolf," he said aloud and then wished he hadn't. He'd meant to just think it but the brain was slow to register and process things. His facial expression said as much right as humiliation set in. Either way, this would be weird for him. "Wolf it is. You can just call me Troy."

The detective wasn't sure what was happening then, barely unable to decide if he was going to lean in too or lean back at the close proximity. Though he snorted at the honest remark. Troy hadn't seen himself in the mirror lately, but he had no doubt that he looked like the life had been sucked out of him. "Give it a week, Rambo. I'd like to see how you look. Low profile small town, my ass." Ah, there was that funny bone he'd buried in that last cup of cheap coffee.

A real cup of coffee sounded amazing and he could do with a break from the station. Fresh air and all that. The summer heat would likely suck out the remaining energy from him, but at least he had someone that looked like he could drive on the way back should Troy pass out on the car ride. "That list is about as long as the one you have for people who hate you." The werewolf grabbed his badge and gun, putting them in place while tossing Wolf the keys to the patrol car. "Where you from, anyway? You don't sound like the normal country bumpkin."

TAG:@Wolfram Marx
NOTES: Welcome to Somerset!

Quote
47
Police Detective
He/Him
HUMAN
ex-hunter
protected
Rook
PRONOUNS: They/Them
TIMEZONE: Mountain Time
POSTS: 58
TRIGGERS: Child and Animal Abuse

The devil's going to make me a free man

Wolf was waiting for the comment about the oddity that was his name. He owed it to his father and the Marx patriarch’s desire to hold onto their German roots. Wolf never understood it; none of his immediate family had even stepped foot into the supposed Fatherland. The comment didn’t come but one about school mascots did, and Wolf went so far as to lift a brow.

Troy was the special kind of tired where the stream of consciousness thoughts that typically stayed safe in your head tumbled out of your mouth. “If that’s you telling me I should make it to the home games, I gotta tell ya – I have this thing about not hanging around high school-aged kids.” He gave Troy a look, one that suggested that hey, Wolf got it, the whole can’t-control-the-words-coming-out-of-my-mouth on account of all the tired. No harm, no foul.

The Rambo comment earned a sharp laugh from Wolf. There it was, a glimmer of humor alive and well beneath all that fatigue. Wolf could work with that. “Hey –“ he said abruptly, feigning offence, “I’m way more of a Rocky than a Rambo, get it right.” His expression sobered and he shook his head, one veteran sharing his exasperation with the other. “Yeah, and my old Chief sent me here cause’ he thought I could use the peace and quiet. Funny how shit works out.” He paused, thought over it. “Or doesn’t.”

“Shit, Troy, we just met and you already want to compare list sizes? Wolf grinned, easily catching the keys tossed in his direction. “Let a guy buy you a coffee or something first, sheesh.” He turned and sauntered through the station, heading out the front doors to the lot where the squad cars were parked.

Wolf tossed a look over his shoulder when Troy asked about his origins. “Brooklyn,” he answered proudly, laying on the accent a bit thick just because he could. “Chief says you’re a city-boy, too. Seems to think we’ll be holdin’ hands and singin’ Kumbaya because of it.”

He stopped short of the asphalt, lingering on the curb of the sidewalk. Wolf turned an expectant look onto Troy and waited a second before asking, “So, uh, which one of these cars is yours?"

~

&

--------------------
RECKLESSRECKLESSRECKLESSRECKLESSRECKLESS
Quote
44
DETECTIVE
HE/HIM
WEREWOLF
ULRIC
BETA
QUEL
PRONOUNS: SHE/HER
TIMEZONE: CENTRAL
POSTS: 58
TRIGGERS: HARM TO CHILDREN, PEEPS ON A PIZZA

With the devil you know you never alone.'Cause better to know the devil you know, then devil you don't
Troy wanted to agree with Wolf's choices to stay away from the school-aged kids and was just about to make the comment about some of them being temperamental enough to bite. It was a long-running joke with the pack when it came to the newly transformed pups and how the change too often messed with their behavior on top of the hormones. Fortunately for them both, the other man saved them the awkward conversation topic stemmed from the werewolf's exhausted brain with a sharp laugh. He loved hearing how outsiders believed the small towns would provide that easy cop life and then shit went topsy-turvy for those who'd moved here.

Depending on how the new guy handled his first week in Somerset, especially have the stresses of their latest cases, he'd either buy the guy a red bandana or boxing gloves as a joke. Maybe he should write that down in case he forgot. The latest jab from Wolf forced an uncontrollable laugh out of Troy, one he wasn't sure where it came from or how to make it stop. "I'm not cheap, Wolf. It's going to take more than a coffee before I start comparing...lists." Another round of laughter ensued until they were outside and faced with the line of squad cars.

Both his brows rose in recognition and the accent suddenly made sense. A person may be able to dull or cover the majority of their original accent with time away from home, but there'd always be that touch of their roots hidden away. "Pittsburgh," he noted. Not as popular or famous like Brooklyn, but it sure as hell wasn't Somerset. "If we're singing anything it's gonna be the theme song from Cops." Troy stumbled to a stop, remembering a second too late that Wolf didn't know where they were going. The detective looked up at the cars and squinted. "Eh..." He reached down for the keys in the other guy's hand and pressed the unlock button.

A flash of lights and a sharp beep alerted them to the car's location. Troy pointed in the direction. "That one. Gonna take Center Avenue and then take a left towards Main. Old Market and some shops are down there way." The werewolf started to head towards the car. "If you ever get lost or turned around, just drive until you find Main Street. You can get anywhere from there since it's one long strip. Eventually, it turns into Glades Pike on either side of town. East is the country club, brewery, and all that other fancy stuff. West is bars and restaurants."

TAG:@Wolfram Marx
NOTES: Welcome to Somerset!


Quote
47
Police Detective
He/Him
HUMAN
ex-hunter
protected
Rook
PRONOUNS: They/Them
TIMEZONE: Mountain Time
POSTS: 58
TRIGGERS: Child and Animal Abuse

The devil's going to make me a free man

There was a gratification that came with making someone laugh. Wolf grinned, lopsided and pleased, as Troy found whatever energy he had left to trade jokes. It helped that Troy was easy on the eyes. Yeah, Wolf had a shallow side, so sue him.

“I’ll have to keep that in mind,” Wolf quipped as a throwaway comment, keeping his flirtatious (and often inappropriate) nature under collar and leash. He spun the keys within his hand, the sound of jingling metal a cheery undernote to their shared laughter.

Whiskey-gold eyes turned to observe Troy, taking in his features and the way he carried himself, as if doing so would add credence to the detective’s claim. “Pittsburgh,” Wolf nodded, committing that particular detail to memory. He huffed a laugh. “I know it’s hard to tell, what with my dulcet speaking voice, but I’m not much of a singer.” He sent his attention over the lot, following Troy’s line of vision. “Get enough drinks in me though, and who knows.”

Troy reached for the keys and Wolf felt like an idiot the second he saw what was going on. “Ah, the key fob.” Shit, that was obvious. He should’ve thought of that. “Detective of the year over here,” Wolf deadpanned, heading towards the squad car that had just revealed its location.

Wolf affected a demeanor of idle interest out of habit, the sort of blasé attitude one might expect from a Brooklyn boy come to a small town. In truth, he was listening to what advice Troy was offering, filing it away in his mind. That mind was something of a steel trap, a trait that was as much an asset as it was a curse.

He slipped into the driver’s seat, adjusting it for his comfort. “Country Club? Shit.” Wolf snorted, turning the key in its ignition. His arm braced against the back of Troy’s seat as Wolf looked out the rear window, backing out of the parking spot. He put the transmission in drive and with both hands on the steering wheel, headed out for the main street. “Imagine me in a polo shirt, sippin’ tea and eating those fancy little finger sandwiches.” Troy didn’t know Wolf but Wolf knew himself. The image was ridiculous.

“Pittsburgh.” His fingers tapped against the steering wheel. “Steeler’s had an alright season last year.” Better than any of the New Yorker teams, but Wolf decided not to admit as much. “So what brings you out here?” His tone was casual, but the look in his eyes was assessing.

Wolf liked Troy. So far, so good. He wouldn’t easily stop liking the guy, either, but Wolf knew what Somerset was. Suspicion was often rooted in logic and though Wolf knew Troy wouldn’t outright admit to not being human, the detective was ready to look for clues.

Hell, he might be able to use to guy’s fatigue to his advantage. It wasn’t nice but it was practical and the hunter’s habit was still alive and well in Wolf’s blood.

~

&

--------------------
RECKLESSRECKLESSRECKLESSRECKLESSRECKLESS
Quote
44
DETECTIVE
HE/HIM
WEREWOLF
ULRIC
BETA
QUEL
PRONOUNS: SHE/HER
TIMEZONE: CENTRAL
POSTS: 58
TRIGGERS: HARM TO CHILDREN, PEEPS ON A PIZZA

With the devil you know you never alone.'Cause better to know the devil you know, then devil you don't
Troy wanted to make another comment about what little to do in a small ass town, but to drink and maybe hit up the gym. Though he knew better than that, he just wasn't sure he wanted to give any suggestions that might end up harming the human than provide entertainment. The werewolf chuckled. "If it weren't for that thing I'd be just as lost. Spend about ten minutes wondering why the damn key won't unlock the car."

His lips spread wide at the country club bit. Rich folks always had to have their special little clubhouse with their special expensive food. The only reason he knew what the place looked like on the inside was from clan meetings being held there and the latest crime spree. "Unless you go on the day where someone is mixing red coloring in the sprinkler system. Golfers came in off the course looking like they just finished a Blade movie." Troy didn't have much to do with that case, but when the call came in he just had to check it out. "Happened this March," he nodded confirming it was indeed a real incident.

Like he said, quiet and peaceful small town his ass. With so little to do without traveling, people got creative real quick. The detective shrugged when the Steeler's were brought up. "Want to see what they do with this rookie quarterback this seasons," he replied. He looked over at the driver and then contemplated on how short he could go with the story without giving away too much. "Buddy stationed near me was from here. Talked about home a lot and we'd take trips any time there were some sort of festival or some shit going on here." Troy touched Wolf's arm briefly. "Somerset does a lot of festivals by the way. They got a celebration for everything. Any excuse to bring out the food and the music."

Where was he going with that?
Ah, right.

As if finding his train of thought again, Troy adjusted in his seat. "When he was transferred elsewhere, asked if I'd stop by every once in awhile to check up on his old man and family. Ended up feeling more at home here than I did in Pittsburgh if you can believe that." He shrugged again. "It's different here. You just feel like you can do more good than anywhere else." The detective directed them to head down another street since that one looked like the parents were heading to pick up their kids at the lower grade schools. "What about you?"

TAG:@Wolfram Marx
NOTES: Welcome to Somerset!


Quote
47
Police Detective
He/Him
HUMAN
ex-hunter
protected
Rook
PRONOUNS: They/Them
TIMEZONE: Mountain Time
POSTS: 58
TRIGGERS: Child and Animal Abuse

The devil's going to make me a free man

Sports were easy. Wolf could shoot the shit with the best of them when it came to player stats and upcoming seasons. Sports, he could feign interest in, but that wasn’t what he was focused on. He was focused on Troy because while Wolf wouldn’t spend every moment of the day looking over his shoulder and mired in paranoia, he liked to know who – or what – he was working with.

He listened to Troy speak, parsing through the detective’s words for any hint or indication that he wasn’t among the human populace. There was nothing exceptional, nothing that would make anyone think twice, of course. It wasn’t as if Troy was going to come out and say, ‘hey, by the way, I turn into a bear sometimes – it’s great.

Wolf sent a sidelong glance at Troy. Nah, he wouldn’t be a bear if he was one of the weres. One of the cats, maybe, or the birds. In Wolf’s experience, they tended to be the prettier ones.

“Oh boy, I love a good shindig,” Wolf interjected a little flatly, taking down the road as Troy had previously instructed. He had a feeling he’d eventually be forced to make an appearance at one of Somerset’s festivals as part of the police station’s community outreach program. As long as the food and drink were free, Wolf wouldn’t complain too much.

Oh, but he would complain. Enough to rile the Chief up, at least – because it was fun.

“Small-town hero instead of another cog in the machine up in the big city?” The statement was Wolf’s best guess at summarizing what Troy had shared. He got it, on some level. There was a time that Wolf had been convinced he was a hero off slaying monsters. The brutality of realizing he was the villain in the story was a cold reality that refused to so much as thaw, even over the span of twenty or so years.

Troy returned the inquiry and Wolf didn’t answer outright. He ran his thumb over the steering wheel, finding distraction in its textured skin. “Just needed a change of scenery,” he offered as a poor trade to the amount Troy had shared. “And this was the first door that opened up.” And so Wolf had stepped through the threshold without so much as a second thought.

Leaping before looking. It’d likely get him killed some day. Forty-seven years and counting, and his luck hadn’t run out, though, so Wolf figured the odds were still in his favor.

“What’s this place we’re headed to called? If it’s a Starbucks, I’m packing my shit and leaving.” Wolf shook his head exaggeratedly. “Don’t ruin my small-town delusions. It’s too soon for that.”

~

&

--------------------
RECKLESSRECKLESSRECKLESSRECKLESSRECKLESS
Quote
44
DETECTIVE
HE/HIM
WEREWOLF
ULRIC
BETA
QUEL
PRONOUNS: SHE/HER
TIMEZONE: CENTRAL
POSTS: 58
TRIGGERS: HARM TO CHILDREN, PEEPS ON A PIZZA

With the devil you know you never alone.'Cause better to know the devil you know, then devil you don't
"Just wait. Next time, have a deep-fried Twinkie. You'll drool every time you hear one of these shindigs comes up." The detective had felt the same way and then his friend introduced him to the fatty drug of choice Macon was so addicted to. It was like crack to everyone, especially wolves. The one thing the Ulrics splurged on when it came to funding these events. The summary of his story made him grin and he made an agreeable hum. There was so much more appreciation and gratification you got here than in the big city where you were just a uniform and a potential threat to certain neighborhoods.

Wolf's own answer was no different than the many he'd heard over the years since moving to Somerset. He took the words at face value and nodded. "I get it, man. Sometimes you just need to get away from that old life," he glanced out the window. There was some static coming through tot he radio and he adjusted the volume to make sure nothing was being said while they were talking. Troy snorted. "Nah, you won't find any of that kind of stuff here. Locals are big about keeping big businesses out of here. Uh, you're looking for this uh-" Troy snapped his fingers looking for the word. "Blue mug paint thing in the window. Uhm...Mama Odie's Cafe! Yeah. That place.."

Mahna Mahna
Do do doo doododoo

Troy's brow creased at the weird music being played in the small space of the patrol car. He didn't know where it came from at first, turning to inspect the driver beside him and then himself. He turned down the car radio and only when he leaned forward did he realize the music was coming from dispatch's side of the police radio. He glanced at Wolf and then back at the radio and then at Wolf again as if somehow the new guy could provide answers.

The detective cleared his throat awkwardly and reached for the mic and tried to figure out what was going on with dispatch. The three channels he tried, all had the same song going on. Troy tapped the mic with his index finger in thought. Nothing he said, no excuse, nothing, would explain away what they were listening to right now. Troy also knew he couldn't turn it off in case the dispatchers did regain control of the channels and needed to get a hold of both men.

So they sat there. The annoying repetitive song flowing out of the speakers for the patrol car's radio. After it faded off the airwaves, a DJ voice came on with some smooth fast talk and then radio silence. Troy looked at the radio and then back at Wolf again, opening his mouth to say something, but finding nothing he could say. The werewolf turned his gaze to the scene outside their windows. And then it happened. Without consciously realizing it, Troy began to hum the tune of the song they'd heard previously. "Is it Manana or is Mahna Mahna?"

TAG: @Wolfram Marx
NOTES: Welcome to Somerset!


Quote
47
Police Detective
He/Him
HUMAN
ex-hunter
protected
Rook
PRONOUNS: They/Them
TIMEZONE: Mountain Time
POSTS: 58
TRIGGERS: Child and Animal Abuse

The devil's going to make me a free man

Deep-fried twinkies. Wolf had thought those were a thing of legend, some tall-tale that inspired thoughts of small town weirdness. Like Bigfoot. Except, you know, less hairy and slightly more edible. He’d never eaten anything deep-fried and in strict juxtaposition to the ridiculous amount of empty calories he imbibed via various forms of alcohol, he was a stickler about what he ate.

Troy didn’t have to know that and Wolf didn’t want to rain on his twinkie parade. “I’ll take your word for it,” he returned through an easy grin.

He said nothing in response to old lives and wisely avoided the topic altogether, instead focusing on lighter conversation. Wolf could put aside his hunter-bred paranoia if he made the effort and Troy – Troy was nice. The kind of nice that deserved the effort.

“Mama Odie’s?” He laughed, not bothering to hide his delight. “Now that’s the small town shit I was hoping for.” Wolf was ready to inquire about the Café’s selection and how it held up against the typical city-fare, but then it happened.

Mahna Mahna.

What in the ever loving fuck, came Wolf’s initial, eloquent thought. He sent a bewildered glance at Troy, ready to ask the other detective if this was all some sort of haze-the-new-guy deal the station had going on.

Troy looked just as perplexed, though that wasn’t much of a change. He’d been wearing a fatigue-borne confusion for most of the morning. Wolf saw the look etched into the slight, perpetually-there knit between Troy’s brows. The guy needed a nap like a starving man needed a meal.

Wolf shook his head when Troy started to hum along to the song, grinning despite himself. “Depends on your accent.” He possessed the uncanny ability to state bullshit as fact, and maybe Wolf liked to see how far he could string the gullible along before they caught onto the game, but with Troy it was all in good fun.

Mostly good fun.

Like, 95% good fun and 5% being an asshole and taking advantage of Troy’s lack of sleep.

The blue mug in the window appeared in the immediate distance and shortly thereafter they were parked in Mama Odie’s small storefront lot. Wolf cut off the ignition, killing the radio along with the engine. He sat there in his seat, tapping at the steering wheel while nodding his head as if he was parsing through evidence collected at a crime scene.

“So, uh,” he began ineloquently, turning to look at the other detective. “Should I expect this kind of shit often? You know, vengeful spirits of the Muppets taking over the airwaves – that kind of thing.”

Wolf’s eyes scanned the tree line in the distance. He half-expected Bigfoot to stick his head out and flip him the bird. Fuck you, welcome to Somerset.

Home of fried twinkies, werecreatures, and Bigfoot.

Our theme song? You guessed it, the timeless classic.

“Mahna Mahna,” Wolf uttered in answer to his imagined scenario. “Fuck me.” That song was going to be in his head all day.

He’d wanted a change of pace. He supposed this fit the bill.

~

&

--------------------
RECKLESSRECKLESSRECKLESSRECKLESSRECKLESS
Quote
44
DETECTIVE
HE/HIM
WEREWOLF
ULRIC
BETA
QUEL
PRONOUNS: SHE/HER
TIMEZONE: CENTRAL
POSTS: 58
TRIGGERS: HARM TO CHILDREN, PEEPS ON A PIZZA

With the devil you know you never alone.'Cause better to know the devil you know, then devil you don't
"That makes sense," Troy accepted without question from Wolf about the accent when saying the name of the song. 1...2....3... "Wait, what?" He turned to look at the driver with a raised brow. His utter confusion lasted for another long moment before a smile cracked and lightly smacked Wolf on his arm. "Asshole," Troy said with a laugh and went on with humming the Muppet song without thinking about what he was doing.

Mama Odie's Cafe came into view and he could practically smell the coffee beans from the parking lot. The prospect of caffeine within reach jolted the detective awake even just a little bit. He was going to get an extra large with triple shots of espresso. Troy wanted to run the risk of tasting colors and seeing sound before he ever thought about closing his eyelids.

Wolf's inquiry about the town's unique qualities was met with something of a devilish smirk all in good humor. This time, it didn't take the werewolf a minute to think of his answer. He was well prepared since this was a question asked too often by newcomers. "You haven't even begun to scratch the surface," Troy said and it was hard to tell if he was being serious or if he was mimicking Wolf's method of joking. The detective opened up his door after undoing his seatbelt.

He barely caught the human's words and chuckled more to himself. They made it inside, their entrance made known by the little bell above the doorway. An older woman setting out a fresh batch of bagels in the display case looked over at them with a bright smile until she noticed Troy and frowned. "Troy Howell you turn yourself right around. I won't sell you not one more cup of coffee." The werewolf embarrassingly chuckled and then motioned to Wolf. "Now that isn't any way you treat a newbie is it, Ms. Becky? What happened to that small town hospitality?'

If looks could kill. Becky Odie stared at him beyond the top of her glasses and Troy just chuckled like a scolded schoolboy. She turned her stare at Wolf. "Don't you go giving that boy not one drop, you hear me?"

TAG: @Wolfram Marx
NOTES: Welcome to Somerset!


Quote
47
Police Detective
He/Him
HUMAN
ex-hunter
protected
Rook
PRONOUNS: They/Them
TIMEZONE: Mountain Time
POSTS: 58
TRIGGERS: Child and Animal Abuse

The devil's going to make me a free man

Wolf released a good-natured laugh, warmth spreading over his features. Maybe there was something to the Chief’s theory about his getting on well with Troy. Wolf didn’t think it had anything to do with their shared city origin’s and everything to do with Troy’s innate and amiable disposition. Some people were just easy to like, and Wolf was ready to toss Troy into that category.

“At least things will never get boring.” There was no telling what a town full of werecreatures might get up to. It was a sobering thought and Wolf wondered if he should seek a Peacekeeper out and ask for their opinion on the matter. His train of thought was about to be derailed and directed down darker, unfriendly routes, but Troy kept him grounded simply by being there.

Inside, Troy was immediately addressed by an older woman and Wolf didn’t bother stifling his chuckle. He sent a look at Troy, lifting a brow, silently mocking him for inspiring Mama Odie’s ire. Wolf took note of the fact that it was well known that Detective Howell was in dire need of rest. That either meant he made a regular habit of neglecting to sleep, or he’d been at the insomnia thing for a concerning stretch of time.

“Don’t you worry, Ma’am. After we’re done here, I’ll personally tuck Troy in. Might even read him a bed time story.” His claim was only half in jest. Wolf made the decision during their ride over to the café. Troy was getting sleep, one way or the other. “I’d like a large coffee for myself, please – and whatever it is Troy typically eats here.”

He turned his eyes onto Troy. “Can’t have you going to bed on an empty stomach, y’know?” Wolf chose to spare Troy a lecture on mission effectiveness while working on sleep deficit. He surmised Troy had heard it before, if the local Chief was worth anything at all. “We can go over what you’re doing. I can cover for you in the interim. I know I might not look it, but I’m somewhat competent.” Wolf cracked a grin, “I won’t light anything on fire while you’re catching some Z’s.” He sniffed, eyes glinting mischievously.

“Probably.”

~

&

--------------------
RECKLESSRECKLESSRECKLESSRECKLESSRECKLESS
Quote
44
DETECTIVE
HE/HIM
WEREWOLF
ULRIC
BETA
QUEL
PRONOUNS: SHE/HER
TIMEZONE: CENTRAL
POSTS: 58
TRIGGERS: HARM TO CHILDREN, PEEPS ON A PIZZA

With the devil you know you never alone.'Cause better to know the devil you know, then devil you don't
The detective gawked at the exchange between Mama Odie and Wolfram while he stood there. He couldn't decide if they were treating him like a child, dog, or both. He shook his head and cut the older man a glare. Though, the look barely did its job since his stupid face couldn't get on the same page. His eyes said one thing but his smile said another. Troy took it in stride and ordered a chai tea with a couple of roasted turkey and avocado BLTs. He pulled out his wallet and pointed to a few muffins that were fresh from the smell of them. "I hate eating alone so pick out what you want because this is likely the first and last time you'll eat before the shift is over."

When it came to Somerset, the police station either had random and idiotic calls comes in and then there were days where it started out quiet and shit went down pretty quickly. It was a game of chance each day and never the same thing twice. Troy thought about protesting the idea of napping while the new guy did some of the paperwork, but damn did sleep sounded good right now. He paid for their order. "Wouldn't be the first time," he replied and again, it was one of those comments that could be taken as a joke or halfway serious. Somerset was a small town after all. There was plenty of time to waste somedays.

He pointed to a table on the other side of the room and headed that way. His head was bent back to rest the aching muscles in his neck. The wolf was grateful for the A/C hitting him from this position and it kept him awake for the most part. "Might have heard about the attacks that went down at the beginning of the month. Some of our local boys and girls decided to play terrorists. No evidence points to the usual suspects. Middle East, Russian, China, North Korea, they were all checked off." Becky Odie brought them their drinks and the muffins. She eyed Wolf one more time and then switched he glare to Troy. "Not one drop," she warned them again and walked off.

Troy chuckled and scratched his forehead. He looked confused for a moment as he tried to retrace his steps on the conversation and find where he left off. "Uh...right, so no terrorist group that we know of. Tracing the make and model of the masks they wore, the weapons, the food truck, all that. So far we've got a few leads but nothing that's making any sense." The wolf licked his lips right before he tested the heat of the tea. Still too hot so he'd have to wait a little longer. "Anyway, I'm homicide so I'm in charge of the ones that died. Track down how they went from small-town boys and girls to masked murders."

TAG: @Wolfram Marx
NOTES: Welcome to Somerset!


Quote
47
Police Detective
He/Him
HUMAN
ex-hunter
protected
Rook
PRONOUNS: They/Them
TIMEZONE: Mountain Time
POSTS: 58
TRIGGERS: Child and Animal Abuse

The devil's going to make me a free man

“Whatever makes you comfortable, Troy,” Wolf quipped, always erring towards humor, especially in a new area. Troy was right, of course – shifts were long and could get incredibly busy. Many detectives didn’t even remember that food was a thing their body required. Wolf was no different. He prioritized his work over his health.

That didn’t mean he gave into the draw of high-calorie, low-nutrition foods. He scanned the display and frowned, mostly at himself, wondering if he was being too picky. Beggars couldn’t be choosers and eventually Wolf settled on an oat-bran muffin. It would hardly be enough to tide him over for the entire shift, but he had protein bars waiting for him within his new desk. He wasn’t in danger of wasting away, despite his high metabolism.

“Arson is a thing here. Got it.” Wolf couldn’t say he was surprised. People were messed up. He learned that quickly after leaving academy and joining the actual force. The realization that monsters came in all shapes and sizes, was what woke Wolf up, so to speak. Some of the most heinous scenes he’d responded to were committed by human hands.

He nodded during Troy’s explanation of the festival, pausing to flash Odie his best ‘good-boy’ smile, sealed with a wink, before turning his attention back onto the other detective. Wolf took his coffee black and sipped at it, smiling against the cup at the taste. Becky Odie knew how to make a cup of brew, good to know.

For the time being, he left his food untouched, instead taking the opportunity to assess the man sitting across from him. Homicide was rough. Seeing that kind of violence and gore on a regular basis could ruin a man. Wolf was desensitized and that was partly owed to his father, and Wolf’s own actions in the past.

“Not the usual suspects.” Wolf repeated, looking down into the black, liquid void of his coffee. “These attacks have motive behind them. Beliefs and ideals warped by hatred. The need to do harm to a certain group of people.” He was talking around his suspicion, uncertain of how much Troy knew, and how much he wanted to give away concerning his own awareness.

“The question I have is – who were they trying to hurt, and why?”

~

&

--------------------
RECKLESSRECKLESSRECKLESSRECKLESSRECKLESS
1 User(s) are reading this topic (1 Guests and 0 Anonymous Users)
0 Members:

Topic Options
Add Reply
New Topic


 


 


sknned by vanessa of shine and caution