Wild Hunt

September 28 2014: The Wild Hunt comes to Gotham.

Gotham City Street

Deserted and beset by thick fog, Gotham is creepier than usual tonight



  • Erlking
  • Goblins and monsters

Mood Music:
[* None]

There's something in the air tonight. The moon is hanging low and bright and the Gotham streets are quiet, even for Gotham. A fog bank rolled in about ten minutes ago, up from the sea out of nowhere and it's thick as pea soup out there right now from the street up to the rooftops. A dog bays in the murk, somewhere. Cars trundle along carefully but they're few and far between. All of the gothic grandure of the city seems starker, somehow a creepier than usual. The gargoyles leer from their buttresses and even the ever present lowlifes seem a bit on the absent side. It's altogether eerie.


Sometimes you just need to get out of town for a little bit. And sometimes you have obligations. There was a benefit in town tonight which Derek Bishop couldn't make, so Kate was tapped to at least go and represent the family there. And she did. For the hour or two that were absolutely necessary before she could come up with a suitable excuse to go do something more interesting. Which is why, three hours after the benefit started, she's sitting on a fire escape in her Hawkeye uniform, going through the arrows in her quiver as she looks for action.


If there's someone who is attuned to the strange phenomena, it is Vorpal. Slipping out of his apartment and leaving the sleeping inhabitants behind, he moves across the rooftops. It is hard to explain exactly what is going on or what moved him to investigate. All he could say that it was rather eerilie similar to episodes of Madeline where Miss Clavel gets up bolt upright in her bed and declares: "Something is not right!"

Something is odd, something is wrong, somewhere. He runs through a rooftop a few rooftops away from Kate's fire escape.


Jason walks along the sidewalk, a slow stride in his step. He knows full well what the more dangerous residents of Gotham can do to a man, but he's here for a reason, and it's obvious from the way he's walking he doesn't care who tries anything. Things might seem odd to a person who's been to Gotham before, but so far Jason's not really noticing a thing, having not been there in lord only knows how long.


Something else bays in the night… and it's not a dog. Before long it's being answered. Two… three… six… eight… more than a dozen canine calls answer back and forth through the thick mist. Not all of them are on ground level either… and not all of them are stationary. The first time Jason might notice anything amiss is when a dark shape, indistinct in the fog but way bigger than a regular person, bolts past him and into an alley. It's silent on the street level again. In fact it's silent now everywhere, but it's not peaceful. No. It's that eerie kind of silence that resembles a forest when a big, bad predator is on the move. Everything is scared.


Wolf howls, that's new and interesting. Kate looks up at the first of the calls, clipping her quiver back into place and testing the string on her bow. She's not inclined to go down to the wolves, but she climbs back up the fire escape, searching through the fog for the source of the howls.


Vorpal stops in mid-run, ears swiveling. Wolves. There are no wolves in the city.

"What… the hell?" He starts walking along the roof, trying to find the nearest source of baying…


By the looks almost anyone could tell you Jason just perhaps hasn't noticed the creature that just passed him by. However with a flick of the wrist, and a subtle motion he tries to pass off as just switching his briefcase to the other hand this scarred man in his suit is armed with a boot knife. In theory at least it should be enough to take down a normal dog, but he's almost certain it's not just a normal dog.


There are no more howls. But there is… something moving out there in the mist. Strike that. Lots of somethings. Ground level, along the roofs, inbetween somehow. It's all coming from the same general direction, toward Kate and Vorpal. Lucky? Well his luck holds. It's much closer to him. Much, much closer. In fact… he's not alone. There's something looming behind him. Something very, very large.

Kate can't see much from her perch. Even if she had IR goggles, there's something about this murk that is simply impenetrable. She can, however, see the ivy crawling up the buildings and coming toward her. Some section of the city in front of her, and getting closer, somehow is and isn't Gotham anymore.

Vorpal's not alone either. As he walks looking around, a darkness looms to his left. The mists clear just enough to reveal quite possibly the largest wolf he's ever seen. twelve feet high at the shoulder and at least half again as along with fur black as midnight and eyes like red coals. It's lips are skinned back in a silent snarl as it looks out onto the city… Then it looks at him.


Kate stops moving toward the strange area of Gotham, taking a moment to assess the situation and checking behind herself as well. Reality warping. Always fun. Quietly, she draws a simple arrow from her quiver, nocking it against the string and holding it loosely ready as she takes her bearings.


Out of the blue Jason just starts calmly whistling a tune close to his heart. It's rather weird but it's just one minute nothing and the next the Andy Griffith theme is being whistled aloud. He shifts his grip on the briefcase slightly sliding the knife ever so slightly into better positioning, not missing a beat of his song, and not looking too effected by anything.


Vorpal senses the ripples in reality. As a creature born of chaos magic, he is attuned to these changes. He turns around to face the wolf, and his blood freezes.

That thing… is huge. For a moment, he wishes he hadn't snuck out of his apartment but instead woken Gar to come with him. Gar could turn into animals, change his size, his mass. Vorpal was five foot six.

"Hello… grandma. What big teeth.. and all that cliche," the cheshire mutters, his hand moving to his side and visualizing the vorpal blade, but not creating it just yet. Just in case.


Vorpal isn't far from Kate, so when the wolf near him speaks in a deep rumbling voice, she can hear it "The Wild Hunt has been called." He says, looking down near as greenery transforms the city into an urban thorn hedge for the space of several blocks. The voice… well Kate knows that voice even if it is deeper than the last time she heard it, and Vorpal may remember it as well. "Brace yourself. They're almost here."

Lucky finds himself face to face with a giant. There's no other word to describe the hulking figure, dressed in furs and pelts and leathers with a horn at his side, an enormous blade at his back and antlers protroding from the helm that conceals his face but for the glowing eyes. Behind him a small army of werewolves and real wolves and mastiffs and other predators great and small gather. "Hunt with us." The Giant says to Lucky. "Or be our Prey."


"Mister Wolfson?" Kate's brows furrow, and she jogs a few steps through the mist, coming up short when she sees a giant wolf rather than the park ranger she was expecting. And Vorpal! "Okay. Wolf who ate Mister…Oh, come on, seriously, Wolfson was the best you could come up with?" she asks indignantly as she puts two and two together. She even lowers her bow, giving him a dry look before turning her attention to Vorpal with a tip of her chin. "Hey. Fancy meeting you here. Wild Hunt, huh?"


Jason looks towards the figure for a few moments, before finally stopping his whistling. "You make a good offer, but there's one problem" He flicks a switch on the briefcase, the mechanisms inside auto assembling it into one hell of an odd looking rifle. "I'm already on my own hunt," He doesn't back down, or even really sound all that interested in the situation, more so just speaking like someone on a mission. ", and I'm the bigger fish,"


Vorpal speaks, but his voice is very different. "Fen-dweller." It speaks with recognition. And then the cat frowns. "What the fuck was that?" he hisses, to nobody in particular.

Or, rather, to no-one the others could see.

+++The Wild Hunt. Our peril is great.+++ The Cait Sidhe speaks. It had been the spirit's memory that had tinged Vorpal's voice. And it knows more than it usually tells Keith

+++The Cw^n Annwn hunt presided by Gwyn ap Nudd.+++ And then the images come to Vorpal's mind.

The Cheshire starts, and looks at Fenris. And then, he looks at Kate as she addresses him, taking him out of his reverie. "Kate?… you're here too? oh god. Kate, this sounds bad…"

Keith O'Neil may have heard of the Wild Hunt while reading tales. It's a theme that repeats all throughout mythology in several cultures, but the spirit of the Cait Sidhe, now a part of his own soul, knows the Welsh variant: The hounds of Annwn. "We need to get ready." How? The Cait Sidhe doesn't say anything. It may well be that it had a brush with the Hunt at some point in his millennary life… but he's not telling. Great.


Rather than irked by Lucky's refusal, the Giant seems pleased. Even more so when he seems to have a weapon worth carrying around (it's really nice, by the way). "Excellent. You shall make a fine start to the hunt." The Erlking grins. He lifts that horn to his lips and blows and the hornblast resounds around the entire city. As though a damn had broken the crowd of predators surges forward. It's now clear that many of them, in addition to the werewolves and great hounds, are goblins of various description. And no few of them are bearing down right on Lucky.

"It worked on you, did it not?" Fenris smiles. "You may call me Fenris, if you wish. Though I will still answer to Jeremiah." Vorpal's sudden worry is met with a simpele but grave nod. "Yes, Cat. Bad indeed, for the wild hunt will hunt whatever crosses its path: Man, woman or child, unless they join the hunt themselves. Their king, the king of goblins, revels in this. They are early, though. Ordinarily they cannot be summoned until much closer to All Hallows Eve. If we can defeat the King though-" He's cut off by the blast of a hunting horn in the streets below.

"Fire and ice…" Fenris swears. "They've found prey already. Quickly! On my back if you've the nerve! We've no time to loose!"


Kate hesitates for a moment, brows furrowing, until she hears the horn. The hunt calls to those with a hunter's heart, and her own hunger for the hunt is what drew her out of the safety of a glittering benefit already. Her hand tightens on the grip of her bow, fingers curling around the string, before she gives herself a shake. "That's…Wow. So, I can see where this is a dangerous thing." Again, she hesitates, but the temptation of the hunt - even if she only partakes in hunting the hunt - is too much. "Sure, why not?" she says as she vaults up onto Fenris' back. "You're not exactly a pony, but it's not that different, right?"


From deathly silence to the sudden roar of heavy caliber weapons fire, the muzzle flash shining out in the darkness. He may be doing short controlled bursts towards his targets but that doesn't make the jolt any less jarring to anyone waiting in their homes. He was trained for combat his entire life, and it really shows in just how well he handles that rifle when he's got both eyeballs in his head.


Vorpal growls in frustration. He doesn't feel the temptation of the hunt- he feels the need to outsmart it. To be the prey that gets away and laughs in the face of the king.

And suddenly, it becomes clearer.

r~What the heck did you DO?~


~I hate you. So much.~

~I hate him too.~

~It's getting way too crowded in here.~

Vorpal shrugs. Heck, why not? He's ridden a green flying Luck Dragon. A giant wolf is not that unusual. He sprints and climbs up.


Bullets do in fact work on goblins. The first few fall as they rush Lucky. Bullets work on werewolves too. But they take a lot more and just get back up a minute or so later. Depending on how much ammunition Lucky brought, he may need to switch tactics soon.

Not that he'll have long to wait.

"Just don't fall off." Fenris grins as he takes a running leap off the high rise and land on the street below with a thud. As the rush begins to thicken around Lucky Fenris blurs past him and smashs into the Erlking with a snarl, knocking him back.

"Old Wolf! Hah! I thought I sensed you near." He sweeps his gaze about and, forgetting Lucky for the moment, focuses on Kate and Vorpal. "Hunt with us." He intones, pushing the magic of the ritual phrase on them. "Or be our prey!" Behind him more beasties gather, including some savage looking hobgoblins. Champions of his own, perhaps?


The magic of the hunt is a powerful temptation, ancient as the weapon Kate prefers. "I dunno, I kind of like big game," she counters, loosing her arrow directly at the Erlking. It's enough to lessen the pull of that hunger, but it doesn't make it go away. "I'm going to go out on a limb and guess these guys don't really discriminate when it comes to who they hunt, am I right?" she calls back to Fenris as she nocks another arrow, searching for targets.


Well Lucky wasn't exactly planning this when he got on the plane to Gotham, but to be honest with how weird life has gotten since he woke up he really should have. The bullets don't seem to be doing quite as much to stop his enemies, as much as just slowing a few of them down, but heck that's part of the fun. What's not part of the fun is that he's only got the one mag in his prototype rifle, and he's not too keen on testing out the Infrasonic systems after the last misfire.

The more he thinks about this while just firing away, and smacking back one goblin after the next the more it occurs to him just how damn silly this whole thing is. Using company resources for a personal vendetta against werewolves and goblins standing between him and his godson's funeral just doesn't quite seem natural. He's not natural, and it creates a small internal conflict, as he slams a goblin to the ground with the butt of his rifle squishing bits everywhere.


The cheshire cat narrows his eyes. He licks his lips and lets out a low growl.

"You know what? I have half a mithd Cait Sidhe is no-one's prey and to tell you … shut. UP." Vorpal hisses, clearly irritated at the fact that the usually quiet part of his fractured soul wasn't content with a front row seat anymore, it kept slipping into the driver's seat. "No deal. You want me? Come for me."


The Gotham streets are pea-soup murky for blocks in every direction and the buildings are covered in ivy and thorns that definitely didn't used to be there. On a deserted boulevard a giant god-wolf, a brave mortal archer, a cheshire cat and an immortal stare down a small army of predators, goblins, werewolves and other supernatural nasties intent on rampaging through the city, hunting everything they come across that does not join them. Fenris takes a step forward, eying the horned giant leading the Hunt. The Erlking.

"No, Kate, they do not. They will hunt and tear apart man, woman or child. It matters not to them. There is only predator… or prey."

"As it should be Old Wolf. And if you and yours will not join…"

The Wolf tenses, eying the hordes and the nasty, armored hobgoblins that are now eyeing his companions.

"Banish the Erlking, and the Hunt will depart." He mumurs as he tenses for a spring…


Kate sighs, a note of regret in the sound. "Too bad. Kind of sounded like a good gig there for a minute." She glances to Vorpal with a flicker of concern as he argues with himself, but there's no time to focus on what's going on there. And Lucky…A frown furrows her brows as she recognizes the man. "What if we hunt you, creepy dude?" she tosses back to the Erlking, sighting down the shaft of an arrow.


"We only have to kill him?" Jason asks while slamming the back of his odd rifle into the face of yet another goblin, knocking it to the ground. It's now or never with this damn thing. Rather out of the blue Jason just runs into a silent charge gun held at the ready as if he where about to just slam a bayonet into him. He flips a switch on the side and his rifle starts to charge up covered over by the sounds of combat.


Usually, the Changeling is not particularly involved with magicky-wagicky-mysticky-wysticky stuff, except in the more meta of ways. Like, getting a thing by trading in the Night Market and using a note from the Needless to purchase it (TSK TSK!) … but here, the Red is being invoked in an old way, twisting creatures and people into something menacing and two dimensional. Hunter or prey. The Red does not approve; the modern Parliament of Bones does nothing so gauche and direct as manifesting ancient monsters. So the Parliament whispers to its agents, "The old rules. The Erlking leads the hunt but he is also our prey. Go. See why he thinks he's entitled to hunt the mundane world and if he's got nothing then bite off his head."

A bat - unfazed by fog - flies through the Gotham night, seeking the place where the Red says that things are being twisted away from what they should be. And it lands, taking the form of a panther. What is this fresh madness?


"Hunt… me… the nerve!" The Cheshire leaps off the back of the wolf. Suicidal? Maybe. One arrow isn't going to banish the Erlking, but if Kate and Fenris have a chance to battle him directly…

Which means someone had to draw the attention of the horde away. Divide and conquer. The Cheshire waves his hand and a rain of anvils falls towards the goblins. An attack, and an insult, and a very visible way to attract attention.

Two vorpal blades manifest, one in each hand, Vorpal shoots the horde a defiant glare full of disdain. You know, standard cat glare.

"Catch me. If you can, you decrepit vestiges of worn out myth!"

And then he sprints, hoping that he can draw a significant amount of the horde to chase him.


The Red arrives just in time to see Lucky execute an old fashioned bayonet charge. The Erlking swings that blade off his back, easily bigger than any two of them except Fenris and swings it down on with lightning speed. Moments later Fenris howls and lunges even as enraged and hunt-crazed predators charge. Vorpal gets a lot of attention, but the arrival of the red has not gone unnoticed. Werewolves lunge at the changeling and the odd omen hound as well. Arrows embed themselves into Fenris flank, but some skip and whine around Kate. Apparently, some of the goblins fancy themselves archers.


Riding a giant god-wolf into battle is new even for Kate. That's likely what saves her from a few arrows, as she tightens her knees just a moment too slow and finds herself tumbling to the pavement. All those riding lessons as a kid must have paid off, though, as she tucks and rolls neatly without losing her bow. Though she does gain a little bit of road rash. "Hey, take it easy on the ride!" she protests at the goblins firing at Fenris, lining up three arrows against the string and shooting at an array of would-be archers.


Running as fast as his legs can carry with gun outstretched. Jason slams goblins out of the way, the arrow that he takes to the side not doing much to stop his foolhardy charge right through enemy lines. Another day another ruined shirt, as he goes to slam into the Erlking, only to almost slam head first into his blade, trying to get close as he can for the most likely only shot he can expect to get from the more dangerous attachment.


Werewolves. Snrk. The Changeling is a Dire Skunk for long enough to fill their faces and fur with corrosive nausea, and then the velociraptor leaps over the lot of them to head for the Erlking.

"Hey! You! With the horns of the elk. What do you think you're doing? You're supposed to ask first!" the Changeling yells out, "the Red doesn't want you here uninvited. So who invited you and what are you hunting?"


The problem with Vorpal's plans wasn't that they didn't work- rather, sometimes they worked all too well. He's running, boy is he running with a sizeable chunk of the Horde at his heels. His ears twitch and he jerks to a stop, though, as a recognizable voice breaks through the din.

"Gar? YAH!" Okay, stopping wasn't a good idea. A sword nearly beheads him and he rolls forward, trying to escape anew. Blades get really close, uncomfortably close, and several swipes break skin or draw blood. "Enough of this crap!" He jumps through a Rabbit Hole so he is ahead of the crowd- something that causes ripples of chaos through the area in minute proportions, due to the reality warping already going on.

"I think I need to even out the odds going on here," the Chehsire says, turning around quickly. He teleported enough of a distance to give him a breather, but that's going to close soon, so—

A glowing purple wrecking ball drops out of the sky and starts rolling towards the Horde. Vorpal jumps on top of it and runs on board, along for the ride.

And no. He isn't singing THAT.


"We were called! The Circle Oroboros desired a cleansing! A culling!" If the Erlking sounds happy even while he tries to slice Lucky in half and evade an angry Fenris, it's because he is. He's been called according to ancient rites to hunt and shed blood. He lives for this. Literally.

Fenris is doing his level best to prevent Lucky from being bisected. Yeah the guy could probably recover from it, but it's the principle of the thing. Besides, Kate's here and she doesn't need to see that. He slams a hobgloblin out of the way, right into an ivy covered wall and bites a werewolf in two for getting two close as he continues his deadly dance.

Lucky has that shot. He does. He's not going to have it for long though because a pair of hobgoblins have chosen him for the honor of being a spear pincushion. And these are fairly good at using their weapons.

Getting into an archery duel with Kate is juuuuust not a good idea. There are more bows out there in the crowd and they're being used, but Kate has enough breathing room to survey the chaos and contribute as she chooses now… if she's not too put out with 'Wolfson's' choice of name that is.

It's entirely possible that Vorpal can small Changeling's dire-stink from where he is. And speaking of the green protean emmissary, he's getting real close to where he's leaping about and shouting. On his wrecking ball.

This may go poorly.


"You guys are bad at your jobs," Kate informs the archers among the Hunt, adding insult to injury by using a net arrow next. When it deploys, half a dozen goblins end up entangled in the next. To add even more insult to injury? The wire is fine steel, with a solid iron content.


Well Lucky's luck pays off as that charging reaches audible levels, a single burst firing off from this odd looking rifle. It's only good for one shot but it's one hell of a shot. The sound is reminiscent of four cannons being fired in perfect synchronization, after that electronic hum, there's no visible shot, almost as if for a second it was a dud.


"I don't care if the Circle of Bora-Bora called for a culling, get the eff out of my city!" The horde is now going in the opposite direction, away from the wrecking ball. This is rather satisfying, to be truthful. However, he's been too cocky- while the goblin archers are awful, a broken clock is right at least twice a day: an arrow flies and manages to hit Vorpal's shoulder. "@#U!$^@!"

The wrecking ball disappears immediately as the pain breaks his concentration, and the Cheshire falls to the ground. Thank goodness cats fall on their feet, which he does. Once he lands, though, it's a bit of a stumble. He clutches the shoulder, with the arrow sticking out in such a picturesque fashion. "…well… it could have been a knee," he tries to quip through gritted teeth. Any moment now, the horde would realize there was no wrecking ball, and come back for him.

Okay: Time to think of something!


The Circle Oroborous? The Parliament mutters amongst itself. That's an ancient and supposedly extinct group of meddlers who kept trying to take over the Red and the Green many, MANY years ago, when the stars were different. Only one of the Old Bones really remembers how annoying they were with their pushy pushingness. The emissary is sent a whisper.

"The Circle Oroborous is extinct, it swallowed its own tail while the last of the Great Ice was still melting," the Changeling says, and has to kick the face of ANOTHER goblin. Irritants.

"Well, if you can get past those who don't want you here, the Parliament of Bones will not impede your hunt. Our emissary? May have other ideas."
Gar shakes his head, "Why am I a dinos… OH YOU BASTARDS! You shot KEEF!"

There are three thoroughly vicious, hostile animals, the wolverine, the Tasmanian Devil, and the Honey Badger, and then there's whatever it is the Changeling has become. It's probably about the size of a small car, it has some evil form of natural armor that may resemble kevlar, more teeth than should fit, and a vast selection of claws, and it runs around very fast on its six legs. Goblin Archers, this is your intestines. And this, and this. Oh, and these.


The last of the goblin archers are suddenly given better things to do between Gar and Kate's net. Which burns precious! It burns! Well it is made of fine steel mesh after all. There's a thunderous crack as Lucky assaults the Erlking whose helmet flies away as he drops to a knee, suddenly panting and wounded. He's not… actually bad looking. Goblinoid, yes, but there's a certain rugged symmetry to him.

Well, but for the fact that he's an amoral spirit of the hunt interested only in chase and bloodshed.

Fenris slaps the rest of his bodyguard away, standing next to Lucky. The Wild Hunt freezes. No one dares move. The Erlking is on a knee. He looks up, eyes Lucky and Kate and Keith and Gar…

And begins to laugh.

He laughs long and loud, the sound genuine and quite amused. "Ah! A telling blow. You are all worthy prey indeed. I have not had such a challenge in an age." Rising he recovers his blade and helm, calling his creatures back to him. "I shall depart, champions of the mortal realm and think on this day. Apparently there is some discussion to be had with the parliament. I am not worried. The old forms were observed. I was called. Today, you will live. Such is the reward for earning my respect."

The supernatural predators begin to fade away, and those twisted begin to recover as the buildings start to become normal again. The Erlking himself is all but gone now. "But know this mortals!" His disembodied voice wars. "When again I return to this plane, I shall remember the sport you have given me today. And we shall finish our little contest. And next time there may not be a territorial old wolf with you. Until then… good hunting."


Kate has another arrow nocked when the Erlking goes down, holding it at the ready as she eyes the crew of goblins. "Lord of the Rings rejects," she snorts under her breath, keeping her bow up as she watches them start to fade away. The world starts to return to normal, and slowly Hawkeye lowers her bow, slipping the arrow back into her quiver. "You know, Wolfson, if I ever suffered from wanting a role in a fairly tale, I'd know who to come to."


"Screw you," Vorpal mutters at the vanishing voice of the Erlking, taking a knee because ow. He keeps his hand at the arrow, but he knows you are not supposed to yank the arrow out without proper care first, because the arrowhead might be left behind. You have to be able to remove the head and the shaft in one piece.

"Note to self… goblins are assholes. Ow!"


Jason's rifle drops low in his grasp, the adrenaline slowly fading with the Erlking. He's already wasted a few hundred dollar if not more in ammunition, and yet another perfectly good shirt judging by the arrows sticking right out of his back and sides. Yet with a single button press he's now just holding a briefcase once more instead of his high tech looking rifle. Absolutely covered in blood goblin and his own, he turns to face the others who to be honest till now he wasn't really paying as much attention to as the giant. "Who's up for Italian?"


The monster beast with all the teeth and fangs and too many legs with too many claws skitters up to Vorpal and makes a single loud WHUFFLE in his face … then turns into Gar Logan.

"OK, your next outfit? Has actual ARMOR in it," he says. He looks over at the giant wolf, and makes a face when the wind changes.

"Oh gh… what IS that smell?"


The Great Wolf looks relieved more than anything else as the Erlking fades away. Sure, these mortals are now favorites of his for the Hunt… but they seem to be able to handle it. "I believe that's you, changing one." He notes dryly, headed back over to Kate. "I'm headed home. If I do not scent you amiss you live there, Kate. Would you like a ride?" He swipes his paw in the air and tears open a Way before disappearing through it. It leads back to New York and stays open a few moments while folks decide.


"I've got an arrow in my shoulder and you smell like Cthuhlu's butt," Vorpal says, the attempted grin a little distorted because of the pain. "I'd call this a resounding success…" he looks at the arrow and sighs. "Emergency room?" Vorpal asks.


"In that case, I'm ju-" Jason has to pause to take in a wheezing breath of air, having been wounded quite badly by the fight. He looks like he's about to fall over as he speaks. "Just going to find a safe spot to die,"


"Emergency room," Gar agrees, and shifts into a mouse, moves underneath Vorpal, then shifts into a horse. He even has reins, and a saddle. So. Off to the nearest E-Room. At least Gar knows how to do that non-jolting gait. The horse is about to head out when he hears that the guy who leeroyed didn't follow the wolf home to New York.

"Oh hell," straight from the horse's mouth. "This is … WOLF! Take your guy with you!"


"He'll get better!" Comes back out of the way as Kate disappears through it and it closes.


"I was on a wrecking ball. Now I'm on a horse. I'm ready for the commercial." Vorpal isn't fazed by the moribund man. He's seen him die and come back to life. There's nothing that can be done to prevent it. "I'll explain on the way," he mutters to the horse, because let's not talk about the guy who's about to drop dead while he's in the process of dropping dead, 'cause that'd be rude.


Jason offers a small smile, before starting to stumble off a bit, loosing more blood by the minute, "$$%@# you to Jack," tossing a small bloody cigarette into his mouth and lighting up on the spot. He coughs up a bit of blood onto the street, letting out a low wheezing chuckle. "You kids stay safe out there,"


"I don't even know why I'm here," Gar mutters. "I had the weirdest dream."

He walks, gently, towards the nearest urgent-care place, switching to an amble with minimal jolting to get there sooner.

"It's… you won't believe me if I tell you." Vorpal mutters, holding on. "… but it started with.."
And off they go.

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