The Evil Eye (Werewolf: The Apocalypse)

[Imperial Overlord]

"Sign here and here," said the stocky woman behind the cage. Matt did so.

"Done," he said, putting the gold pen back into his pocket. He was big, six-three with broad shoulders and well over two hundred pounds and almost none of it fat. He wore a dark wool coat over an Armani suit with shoulder pads that were subdued by the standards of the 1980s. His hair was short and as neat as his short black beard.

"He's all yours," said the female cop. Matt turned as the barred door to the cells opened and a bald black cop even bigger than he was lead in six-six string bean of a man. He has short and scruffy dark blond hair and two days worth of stubble on his cheeks. He wore t-shirt and a leather jacket over battered jeans and work boots. The area around his right eye was purple and swollen.

"Hey Matt!" he cried happily. "Thanks for bailing me out man." Matt said nothing.

The cop behind the partition handed the man a manila envelope. "Sign here for your belongings," she said. He did so. "You're free to go. Don't forget to show up for your court date."

"Sure thing," the skinny man replied. He fell into stride next to Matt as he headed out of the police station. "Look, I can tell your pissed, but this isn't what it looks like. This is big."

"Save it Jason," growled the other man. "It had better be good, but not here."

"Okay boss man," he said following Matthew out the door and down the steps." Where are we going?"

"Gino's," Matt replied. He stepped to the edge of the sidewalk. "Taxi!"

Traffic ended up being a mess and it took them almost half an hour to reach the restaurant. The two werewolves walked in the front door and headed to the back. Two people were waiting for them in a booth. One was a man with greying hair and bright eyes, perhaps in his mid forties. The other was a woman who was twenty at the most with a buzz cut. She wore a tank top under her jacket and had a very impressive set of muscles.

"Holy shit," said Jason. "Did you decide to start munching carpet or just join the Black Furies?"

"Fuck you coat rack," the woman replied angrily. "If you want another set of bruises I'll be happy to give them to you."

"Can the savage beating wait until after we've eaten?" said the older man mildly. He gestured towards the pitcher of beer and the basket of onion rings at the center of the table. "We already ordered. The main course should get here pretty soon."

"Thank you," said Matthew as he edged into the booth.

"How do you know what I-" began Jason.

"You always order the same thing," the man replied. "Now sit down and try to be less of a jackass than normal." Jason sat down at the edge of the booth and began sulking.

Matt raised the glass of beer in from of him and took a long swig. "German mein gott!"

"I knew you would rip my arms off if I ordered anything domestic," said the elder.

"Joseph, you are truly a prince among men."

"Indeed."

"Can we get down to fucking business your worships?" the woman asked acidly. "If it's not too much fucking trouble?"

"Patience Daria," said Joseph.

"Yeah Daria," said Jason. "Listen to the man."

"I am going to fuck you up," Daria said coolly. "Your own fucking mother won't be able to fucking recognize you when I'm through with your ass."

"You want my ass? I guess you're hanging with the Furies then," said Jason. "Unless you're swinging both ways? Is that it? Black Fury tongue action isn't enough for-"

Daria lunged across the table, grabbing hold of Jason's shirt and drawing back her other hand in a clenched fist. Before she could remodel Jason's face, Matt touched her arm and she fell down. "Sit down. Jason, stop provoking her or we'll both kick your ass every night for the rest of the year."

"Sure," said Jason. "Whatever." Daria got up, glaring daggers at Jason, but sat down and said nothing.

Dinner arrived in the form of four plates large rare stakes with baked potatoes and green beans on the side. The werewolves tore into the food. "Hey," said Jason, "what kind of Italian runs a steakhouse anyway?"

"Gino," said Joseph dryly. "Now, what happened to you and why is it so important?"

"Well, it's like this," said Jason. "I was coming off work and I caught scent of the Wyrm. I tracked it down a few blocks and I found these three guys in an alley. The reek was coming off them real strong. So I head towards them. One of them opens his mouth and he's got this jawed worm thing instead of a tongue. So I'm thinking three fomori, I can take them." Daria snorted.

"Anyway I'm about to shift and fuck them up when the leader just looks at me with these piss yellow eyes and I lose the wolf. I can't change, can't even tap into my Rage. And there's three of the fuckers so I fucking run.

"I clear the alley, but one of them's fast and tackles me. I dry gulch the fucker and get up just in time for his buddies to catch up. So I give him a couple tastes of my steel toes and throw down with his friends. I don't do so well, but the cops crash the party."

"Saved your ass, you mean," said Daria.

"So I phone Matt and now we're here," Jason finished. "Ever heard of shit like that?"

"Yes," said Matthew. "It does mean that this fomori is very powerful."

"How do we take them?" asked Jason. "We are going to hand them there asses, right?"

"Right," said Matthew. "There's a lot of difference between stopping a change and reversing one." He let the difference between using such a power on a Ragabash pup and a powerful Theurge unspoken. "We should, however, take steps to compensate for this development."

"What does that mean in English?" asked Jason.

"If we have to fight them in monkey shape, we use monkey tools," said Matt.

"Guns," said Joseph with a smile.

"Fuckin' A," said Jason.

[The Grim Squeaker]

Looks awesome . Have you done any werewolf stuff in the past, as opposed to other WoD stufF?

[Imperial Overlord]

Looks awesome . Have you done any werewolf stuff in the past, as opposed to other WoD stufF?

Nope.

[Imperial Overlord]

The pack drifted out of Gino's, with Daria being the last to leave. Matthew waited a moment for her to catch up. "Everything alright?"

"Sure sure," she said. "Everything's fine."

"Kicking Jason's ass into next week is fine, once we clear up this mess. It'll only help your cred with the Furies."

"Yeah," she said.

"I know it can be hard," he said, "but it needs to be done."

"I'm a fucking Shadow Lord," she said, "I'll hold up my end. My alpha says we need to get the rest of the Garou in the city on board, we get the rest of the city on board. The Black Furies are an all female tribe so I'm the one who has to get friendly with them. Fine. Makes sense. But I don't like them. I don't like dressing like a fucking butch dyke because half of them hate men and the other half are in denial about what a bunch of twisted bitches the other half is and about how fucked up their entire tribe is and how social pressure pushes even the relatively sane ones into being fucking screwballs. Fucking hell, we're were fucking wolves and they spend their lives acting like radical feminist fucking monkeys. And I'm not getting laid."

Matthew nodded sympathetically. She was young, ambitious, and born under the full moon. Ahrouns were always full of Rage. "On the bright side we'll be killing fomori soon."

"How do you think I managed not to beat our Get of Morons Ragabash to a pulp? I'm a Shadow Lord."

"That you are and you are one that's doing an excellent job. As for the other, some men like women with muscles and you've got Garou animal magnetism. You just need to be a little aggressive. You are intimidating."

"Of course I am. I'm a god damned Shadow Lord."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The middle aged man had put a lot of extra weight from soft living. Jowls hung from his chin and his greying hair was receding rapidly. He still dressed well, wearing a vest over a pinstriped shirt. A single bar bulb hanging over head illuminated the small room. He settled his weight into the chair on the other side of the table from Joseph. "So," he rasped, "after all this time, you come to me for favors. Yet were have you been all these years. I fear that the bonds of friendship no longer exist between us."

"That's the worst Brando I've heard in years," said Joseph-Bones-of-Steel. "So knock it off and let's talk business kinsman."

"Ah," said the man in a deep, but not hoarse, voice. "Kinsman is it now?"

"Yes it is," said Joseph, sitting down on the opposite side of the battered table. "And I need something more from you than the Garou genes that you carry."

"What?"

"Phased plasma rifle in the forty megawatt range."

"Guns huh? I thought the big bad Garou didn't need heat, that they could just go all Howling on some poor fuck and regenerate any wounds they took."

"Most times, this time might be different. We need some concealable pieces, hard hitting."

"Pistolas huh?"

"Or sawed offs or Submachine guns."

"Christ. Alright, I'll see what I can do. Tell me about your problem first though."

"Do you know what a fomori is?"

"No."

"You know what a Bane is?"

"Corrupt or evil spirit. Nasty shit."

"Right. Now when a Bane possesses a human through exploiting his weaknesses, it gets comfortable in the human's body and gains more influence over its host. Bane and human become one. That's a fomori. One of our pack got his ass kicked by a fomori that had the power to stop him from changing."

"Fuck. They all got powers like that?"

"They all have powers," said Joseph, "this is the first that I've heard of a power like that, although Roars-to-Thunder says he's heard of similar abilities."

"He's a spirit talker right? Theurge, born under the crescent moon? Has an affinity for spirits and magic and shit?"

"Yes," said Joseph.

"Sounds like you have trouble kinsman. Come by tomorrow and I'll have a selection for you and your boys to peruse."

[The Grim Squeaker]

Heh, the wonders of having Family. .

[Imperial Overlord]

"Oh god," muttered Daniel Bonecracker as he lifted the Big Mac from it's wrapper. "God, I've missed these. Have to eat right in front of the kids and all that. Emm mrrmmm nuuum. So good."

Matthew Roars-to-Thunder watched the smaller Garou eat. Daniel was a hair under average height and stocky. His hair and beard were more grey than brown and were as scruffy as his battered jacket. His jeans and Yankees ball cap were in better shape. Daniel had mostly, but not entirely, fought off the middle age spread.

They were seated in a corner of the MacDonalds, which was packed with mostly young people grabbing a quick and greasy lunch. "I missed this," Daniel said, licking mustard off his finger. He sucked on both the straws protruding from the lid of his large Coke. "Didn't order anything for yourself I see. Too good to eat with me?"

"Too good to eat at this shit hole if I can avoid it," replied Matthew. "And I've got a lunch meeting in an hour."

"The high and mighty Shadow Lord must get back to his lawyering. Wouldn't want those murderers and polluters going to jail." The glare Matthew gave him could have frozen lava. "Oh shit," said Daniel. "Sorry about that. Didn't really mean it."

Getting insulted by a Bone Gnawer was part of the price of dealing with them. Matthew accepted that, although there were limits. Limits like treason. The Bone Gnawers were a tribe of dispossessed, street people and hillbillies that scraped and scrounged to survive. To Matthew they were worse than pathetic. They had all of Gaea's Gifts and they lived like bums, having failed to better themselves when humans with a fraction of their potential had dragged themselves out of poverty and into the middle and working class. It was disgraceful. They were weak, pathetic, and unlikely to change. They had little courage, respect, or honor. Most galling of all though, they were useful.

At least Daniel bathed and laundered his clothes regularly. "This concerns the nation," said Matthew as Daniel began to power through the container of large fries. "My pack encountered a fomori who could stop the change.

"Shit man, that's heavy." He slurped on more the Coke. "I guess you decided to buy me this princely meal so that I would relay to my people the importance of your lordship's mission?"

"No," said Matthew. Bone Gnawers were only slightly more expensive than crack whores and barely as reliable. "I bought you this nice lunch so you would hear me out with a minimum of lip. These guys are bad news. I need every bit of intelligence that you can gather on them."

"Uh huh. So a big favor."

Fucking Bone Gnawers, thought Matthew. "To help strike a blow against the Wyrm. I know you have people all over the place." As long as "all over the place" was defined to be streets, alleys, and dilapidated buildings.

"And you and yours get the honor of the kill as befits your lordly selves."

"I don't hear you volunteering to help us kill them," said Matthew. He opened his wallet and pulled out a check. "For the kids," he said as he pushed it across. Daniel and his wife had crawled out of poverty and acted as foster parents to a small horde of kinfolk foster kids. One or two of them might even turn out to be Garou, but the rest carried the genes that might express themselves in a mating with another kinfolk or Garou in the form of Garou children. The Litany banned the mating of Garou with Garou and for good reason. The concentration of recessives usually had unpleasant side effects, including sterility. Human and wolf kinfolk were the future of the race, a precious resource that was fiercely protected and occasionally fought over.

"A thousand bucks man?" Daniel looked up.

"Helping one bunch of rich cocksuckers screw over another bunch of rich cocksuckers pays well," said Matthew. "Now I've got to go. I have a very guilty polluter client that has yet to realize that turning himself into the EPA and settling the law suit for a very large amount of money is in his best interest. Might set me back making partner by a bit, but I'm sure I can persuade my bosses to see it my way. I'm Gifted that way." The Shadow Lords knew many Gifts that could break minds and bend wills. It made negotiating a favorable settlement a lot easier and freed up a lot of time for other things, like tearing the heads off fomori.

"You tricky, no good bastard," said Daniel with smile.

"Thanks."

[haard]

Most excellent, as always. I really like your WoD writing, and Werewolf is my favorite by far *subscribe*.


Have to eat writein front of the kids and all that. Emm mrrmmm nuuum. So good.
right?
Sit down. Jason, stop provoking her and we'll both kick your ass every night for the rest of the year.
or?
I was coming off work and I caught sent of the Wyrm.
scent?

[Imperial Overlord]

"I didn't know the old dog was a mafioso," said Daria as she pulled even with Matthew and matched his pace. The late afternoon sky was grey and overcast and New Yorkers were demonstrating their world renown courtesy and consideration to their fellow man as traffic slowed to a crawl. It was almost faster to get out and walk, which was what the werewolves were doing.

"He isn't," said Matthew. "He does, however, know Garou who are. And kinsfolk. And monkeys. And they know people and so many of them want to be on his good side and do him favors."

"So very Glasswalker."

"Warden," corrected, Matthew. "Wardens of Men. Always."

Joseph-Bones-of-Steel stopped for a moment and let the younger Garou catch up. "For thousands of years we were the Wardens of Men. Then a hundred years ago we were the Ironriders and now we are the Glasswalkers. These are just names based on our affinity for the technology of the Weaver, not what we should be, not what our heritage is. We are the Wardens of Men."

"And how does the mob fit into that?" Daria challenged.

"Poorly," said Joseph-Bones-of-Steel. "Like all tribes we have gone astray, to one degree or another. However, human law and civilization will not save them or Gaia from what is coming. Those outside the law are not without their uses. We certainly do not feel morally bound by human law."

"Vargr," said Jason, pulling up the rear. "In Old Norse vargr was what they called outlaws. It means wolf."

"The Get likes to fight," said Joseph, "but that doesn't mean they are stupid. Many have learned that too late. And we have arrived."

"A fucking strip club," said Daria. "You know, every so often, the Furies make a little sense."

"Stopped watches and all that," said Jason. "Hey, are all of you down in the dyke gym coordinating your menstrual cycles and shit? I heard- uggh." The rangy blond folded in the middle around Daria's fist.

"What was that sweety?" she asked, her voice dripping with false concern. "Were you trying to say something?" She batted her eyes.

"Nothing," Jason croaked.

"Good."

"Done?" Matthew asked.

"Done," Daria replied. Joseph lead them into the mostly empty bar. In a few hours people would start coming off work and the place would be packed, but at the moment only a half dozen losers sat near the stage and watched bleach-bottle blond gyrate awkwardly on the stage. "This is even more pathetic than I thought it would be."

"Between the lunch and the after work crowd," said Joseph. "Of course it's dead."

"Although she just has saved you trouble of checking to see if the carpet matches the drapes," said Jason.

"Do I have to hit you again?" Daria asked coolly.

"Pass," replied Jason.

Joseph lead them to a backroom. The bouncer let them pass. On the other end of a short corridor was what passed for a break room with a battered table, three chairs, a sink, and an ancient refrigerator humming in the corner. A heavyset man whose best days were long gone sat at the table. "Tony," said Joseph. "These are my friends."

"The rooms clean," said Tony. He nudged a heavy case beside him. "I have what you were asking for."

"Let's see it," said Joseph-Bones-of-Steel. Tony put the case on the table and opened it.

Jason bent over the table. "Two M1911 Colt forty-five automatics. Nice. Oooh Colt Python three-fifty-seven with six inch barrel. Beretta trash and the Jews make an entry. Mini-Uzi. Beauty."

"The Nazi and the Jew gun, love at first sight," cracked Daria. Matthew coughed in a feeble attempt to hide a laugh."

"Did you just call me a fucking Nazi?" Jason whirled, fury written on his face.

"She was joking," said Joseph. "If you don't like it, maybe you shouldn't provoke her so much. We'll take the forty-fives, the three-fifty-seven, and the Uzi. And we'll want ammunition and magazines."

"That'll cost, even with the Garou discount."

"Not a problem," said Joseph. "Some evil bastard walked into a polluter's office, stole incriminating files, turned them over to the EPA and the people suing the polluter, and got paid to do it all by the polluter's law firm as an investigator. At inflated rates and all charged to the client."

"What's the world coming to," Tony deadpanned.

"Lawyers," said Matthew. "We're all bastards."

[Imperial Overlord]

Matthew lead his pack out of the rain and into a noodle house. He resisted the impulse to shake himself like a dog. Jason didn't. The rest of the pack glared at him, as did the stone faced middle aged Chinese man on the other side of the counter. "You, behave!" he snarled in accented English. "Not dog park!"

"I'm sorry about my friend," said Matthew, "he's an idiot. Five bowls of hot and sour soup and tea to start us off."

"Coming right up," said the cook. Matt slipped back to the far table which his pack had taken over.

"Anything from our back alley friends?" asked Daria.

"Nothing," said Matt. He pulled out his pager and put it on the table. "See? Nothing."

"I'm surprised you don't have a portable phone," said Daria.

"Why? You think I feel the compulsion to drag an anvil around?"

"They'll get smaller," said Joseph-Bones-of-Steel. "Smaller and cheaper. Hell, they're already getting smaller and cheaper. Ten years from now and they'll be all over the place and they'll fit in your pocket. Word to the wise, buy stock now."

"I thought you didn't go info that Glasswalker tech shit."

"I think many of my tribe mates don't see the big picture and focus too much on it," said Joseph. "That doesn't mean it isn't worth knowing. And I know people." He shrugged.

Matt paid the cook as they took their soups and tea. "Nice to get some heat in my bones," said Jason.

"What's a matter Detective Crocket?" asked Daria. "It's just rain. Doesn't it rain in Miami?"

"I don't see you turning your nose up at soup."

"That's because I'm smarter and tougher than you."

"Children," said Joseph, "please." They finished the rest of the meal in silence and then headed outside.

"Is it me or has it gotten worse?" Jason whined.

"Pussy," repeated Daria. "If you're finding the rain so damn bad, why don't you find those fucking fomori again?"

"I'm trying," Jason replied. "They were just around here, but I can't find their Wyrm stench anymore. Maybe they were just passing through."

"We'll sweep the surrounding area and see if things turn up," said Matthew. "Let's start with the warehouses."

The Garou moved through the dark, rain slicked streets. The sidewalks were mostly empty as only the dedicated would be out when it was this wet and miserable. A distant peel of thunder reverberated through the air. Matthew increased his pace.

"What is it?" Joseph asked.

"There's something," said Matthew. "A faint wisp." He kept moving. The rest of the pack followed. "Yes, something definitely. Wyrm scent. This way." He broke into a jog through the streets and alleyways.

"This is it," said Jason. "I'm sure of it." The Garou stalked forward cautiously. "It's definitely this way."

"There," said Matt, pointing. "That warehouse."

"Yeah," said Jason. "There's something really nasty going on in there and it smells like those fomori."

Matt flexed his shoulders and his frame expanded. His teeth grew longer and sharper, his hair thicker and wilder, and he put on a half foot of height and an enormous amount of muscle. He favored his pack with a feral smile. "Time to put on your war face."

They shifted into Glabro form, gaining muscle mass, height, and feral features. "Hard to hold a pistol in Crinos," said Joseph.

"One way or the other we'll fuck them up," said Jason. Daria tried the side door.

"Locked," she said. "The garage doors are on a machine."

"Not a problem," said Joseph-Bones-of-Steel. "When you give the word," he said to Roars-to-Thunder.

Matthew shifted again. His clothes merged into him as he became an enormous bipedal wolf monster. In Crinos form he was well over ten feet tall, a broad shouldered, black furred, wolf headed instrument of death and fury. He passed claw tipped fingers over his body, which briefly took on a soft silver glow. He passed the forty-five to Joseph. "Fuck the guns. Let's do it."

Joseph gestured and the metal garage door began climbing up into the ceiling. Several startled shouts came from inside and then the Garou were through. A dozen creatures that could pass for men in dim lighting were moving steel drums around the warehouse floor using dollies and forklifts. A half dozen women and children were manacled and chained to the far wall. Their faces were streaked with tears and cast in masks of horror and misery.

Roars-to-Thunder moved with breath taking speed. The closest fomori, a heavyset white man with fangs and scaly skin, didn't know what was happening until the Shadow Lord slashed him in the face. The blow ripped his face off and sent the fomor smashing to the ground. Roars-to-Thunder smashed into the next fomor in a blur of Rage accelerated speed.

The fomor was an immense black man with obscenely developed muscles. He weighed well over four hundred pounds. Matthew Roars-to-Thunder bowled him over like a semi trailer going over a Yugo. They hit the cement, Roars-to-Thunder on top. Blood geysered from the fomor's throat as the Shadow Lord bit it open to the bone.

Daria followed in her leader's wake, putting two three-fifty-seven slugs into the chest of the faceless fomor and then shifting to Crinos form. She was a foot shorter and less powerfully built in the upper body than Matthew, but even more ferocious.

Jason had the Mini-Uzi out. "Yeeehaa!" he shouted as he opened up. Bullets sprayed everywhere. They struck and ricocheted off walls, punctured steel drums, sparked off a forklift, and even grazed one of the chained women. None, however, hit any of the fomori. The magazine ran empty. "Shit," said Jason.

A fomor on the far end of the warehouse with compound eyes and oily skin swung a AK-47 towards Roars-to-Thunder. Joseph Bones-of-Steel pointed at him and the gun jammed. Joseph then opened up with the forty-five. The first shot missed as did the second. The third hit the fomor in the shoulder and the fourth and the fifth hit him in the chest. He fell back behind several drums as Joseph emptied the magazine and then reloaded.

The fomori were drawing weapons or running towards where they had them stashed. Matthew bounded up from the dying fomor, running briefly on all fours. Daria darted passed him, quick as greased lightning and as vicious as a sleep deprived wolverine. She pounced on fleeing fomor and tore open his chest. Green glue, not blood, sprayed from the wound as she ripped his ribcage apart and tore off his arms. Smoke rose from where the goo contacted her fur. She rose on her hind legs and roared in pain and anger.

A fomor raised a shotgun and fired. The spray of pellets caught Daria an in the hip and she went down howling in agony. One of the pellets struck a glancing blow off Roars-to-Thunder's skin and bounced off, repelled by Luna's Armor. He felt a momentary burning pain from the otherwise harmless impact. Silver.

Joseph-Bones-of-Steel pointed at the fomori with the shotgun as he brought the weapon to bear on Matthew. He pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. Then the Shadow Lord was upon him.

The tried swinging the gun butt. Matthew caught the gun in his left hand and ripped out the fomor's entrails with his right. He forced his claw up under the fomor's ribcage and pulled out his heart in a spray of blood and gore.

Jason rushed forward, shifting into a lean grey man-wolf nearly eleven feet tall. He rushed through the warehouse, intent on closing with and killing the fomori. A tall man wearing a trench coat stepped out of an office partition. His eyes glowed a sulfurous yellow.

Jason slowed from blurring to ordinary speed. The yellow-eyed fomor seemed to swell. The glow around his eyes intensified. Jason shrunk, shifting from a huge storm-gray killing machine back into a tall, lanky human in bad need of a shave. "Oh fuck."

[LadyTevar]

The song to read this by?

"Let the bodies hit the floor, let the bodies hit the floor!"

[Imperial Overlord]

A Philodox, those Garou born under the half moon, was a judge and a peacemaker. The Garou were a people of violence and Rage, Gaia's warriors. Every Half Moon bore the burden of having to decide when to try to arrange a peace and when to instigate a war. Sometimes it was hard, other times it was easy. There could be no peace with the enemies of Gaia. For those who would murder the world there was only blood and death.

Joseph-Bones-of-Steel had a clear shot. He took it without hesitation, emptying the magazine of the forty-five. One bullet struck the Evil Eye Fomor in the left shoulder. Six more blew bloody holes in his chest. Sulfurous yellow light poured from the wounds instead of blood. Evil Eye didn't seem to be bothered by them. "Is that all?" it rasped.

"No," said Roars-to-Thunder as he struck with his right hand. The Shadow Lord's claws tore through the flesh on Evil Eye's face and hooked on bone. There was no contest between which was stronger, the bones of Evil Eye's skull or Roars-to-Thunder. Evil Eye's face went left in welter of blood and gore. Evil Eye was thrown back and off of his feet. More light poured from the ruin of his face.

"Fuck yeah!" shouted Jason. The wounded fomor with compound eyes and oily skin rushed Roars-to-Thunder. The bullet wounds he had received early had formed weeping bloody abscesses, but didn't seem to slow him down. He had a hunting knife in his right hand.

Roars-to-Thunder struck first and the fomor blocked with his left arm. The Garou's blow laid open the arm from elbow to wrist. The fomori struck, a glancing blow to Roars-to-Thunder which failed to cut through the combination of Luna's Armor and stone hard Garou hide. Matthew grabbed for the fomori's knife hand, but he couldn't get a good grip on the fomor's oil coated skin. The fomori took advantage of the opening and opened a shallow cut on Roars-to-Thunder's chest.

"Go homid," Jason said to Daria as he dashed over to her. In seconds she changed from massive black furred killing machine back to a tall, muscular woman. Blood soaked the left hip of her pants. Jason grabbed her under the arms and pulled her back. "Cover us!" he yelled. Joseph-Bones-of-Steel reloaded as Evil Eye got back up.

Light blazed from the hole that used to be Evil Eye's face. Inside an alien visage glared at the Garou, a chitin covered skull fashioned from bilious yellow light. It was if Evil Eye had been hollowed out and some baleful spirit stuffed into his body. It appeared that way, because more or less, that was exactly what had happened. He looked at Joseph for a moment and then turned towards Matthew.

The slashes on the fomor's arm healed into bloody welts as he took another swing at Matthew. He blocked the strike with his forearm, smashing the fomor's arm aside. The fomor was strong, had considerable healing powers, and Evil Eye wasn't out of commission. Matthew didn't have time to waste on him. He could feel his Rage beginning to ebb away.

He struck the fomor in the face with his right hand and put a lot of his body weight behind the blow. Bones broke and the fomor was hammered to the ground. Roars-to-Thunder then stomped on the fomor's skull. The fomor's skull proved not to be up to the task of withstanding more than a half ton of Garou. Brains splashed over the cement. Matthew roared and turned to Evil Eye as the last of his Rage left him.

Evil Eye's human shell fell away, revealing a nightmare spirit of bone. Chitin covered the gaunt monstrosity, which swelled to eight feet tall now that it was free of its human host. Long blade limbs swung out from its ribcage, mutant insectile legs tipped with carving and rending weapons. "Fall back," Matthew said as he studied it for weakness. Grandfather Thunder had an eye for weakness and his stormcrows shared this magic with many of Thunder's children.

"Nothing as easy as death awaits you Garou," Evil Eye said in a clicking, rasping voice. The Bane, and it was a very powerful Bane, stepped towards him. Matthew fell back, acting as rear guard as the rest of his pack retreated from the warehouse. The Bane's awful gaze lingered on him. He was about to lose the wolf. That was what it was waiting for. It wanted trap him in human form and get the easy kill. Or worse, take him alive. He could see that human weapons would be of little use against this monstrosity and Garou teeth and claws would not be too much better.

"I will peel open your skull and cut into your living brain," said Evil Eye as he slowly advanced on the retreating werewolf. "I will pour acid on your bones and cancer in all of your organs. I will remake you in the image of the Wyrm and you shall be the Defiler's slave while there is life in your carcass, and perhaps after if I so will it." The wolf fell away and Matthew was once again in human form. "And now," said Evil Eye, "you are mine."

Matthew turned and ran. He could hear the Bane scuttling over the floor behind him. He couldn't outrun it, not as a human, but he didn't have to. He burst outside and into the rain. Evil Eye was hot on his heals. He turned and clapped his hands together. Thunder boomed and Evil Eye was sent sprawling backwards. Matthew backed away from the downed Wyrm spirit as it got up. "Tricks won't save you from me."

"I don't need tricks," said Matthew, holding up his hands. "I have the power of Thunder!" Roars-to-Thunder's hands came down. Light flared, intolerably bright. The concussion of the thunderclap was almost deafening. Evil Eye writhed and smoked in the aftermath of the lightning strike.

Matthew took a few more steps back as the Wyrm spirit regained it's footing. Matthew raised his right hand, curled it into a fist, and slammed it down. Another bolt of lightning smashed Evil Eye. Pieces of its blade limbs and chunks of chitin fell away and dissolved into short lived motes of yellow light.

"One more time Grandfather!" Matthew shouted. A third and final lightning bolt hammered Evil Eye. When Matthew could see again, there was nothing left. "Thank you Grandfather," he said softly. "Mightiest of Incarna, consort to Gaia, truly we are blessed who count ourselves as your children."

"Sweet Gaia, Matthew," said Joseph, "how long have been holding that card in reserve?"

"Not too long," said Roars-to-Thunder. He hurried over to Daria and knelt by her. His hand glowed with a soft blue radiance. "This should clear up the worst of it," he said as he touched her hip. "Your flesh should expel the silver and most the damage should be healed." She nodded as he ran his hand over her leg.

"Now what?" said Jason.

"Evil Eye and those fomori didn't just show up," said Matthew. "They were here for a reason and it probably has something to do with what's in the barrels. Let's finish the job."

[LadyTevar]

This is one reason why the Shadow Lords can rightfully consider themselves BadAss.

[The Grim Squeaker]

This is one reason why the Shadow Lords can rightfully consider themselves BadAss.

The fact that they're even nastier than normal lawyers, can do it without getting their suits wet with acid blood, or the whole "smash them with fists of lightning"?

[Imperial Overlord]

"I'm going Umbral," said Matthew. "The rest of you free the humans and see if you can dig up clues. Paperwork would be good, stuff like who actually owns this place. See if you can get a sample of the stuff in the barrels."

"Not without a Geiger counter," said Joseph. "That crap could be radioactive and it's as sure as hell poisonous."

"Good point," said Matthew. "See if you can dig up any paperwork then. This sure as hell wasn't paid for by the money the fomori found underneath their couch cushions."

"Good point," said Joseph. "Take Daria with you. Those Banes could still have some fight left in them or friends in the Umbra. If there's anything left here, Jason and I will whip them like red headed stepchildren."

"I don't know," said Daria. "In the middle of a city? The Weaver is strong here, anyone who isn't a Glasswalker will have trouble penetrating the Gauntlet."

"A Glasswalker or a kick ass Theurge," replied Joseph. "Our alpha happens to be the latter."

Daria nodded. "Let's do it. Lead the way." Roars-to-Thunder shifted back into his Crinos warform and she followed suit.

Matthew stepped back inside the warehouse and focused his power not on the world he could see before him, but the one he could not. The spirit world, the Umbra, that was intimately connected to the physical world. The Gauntlet stood between them, separating one from the other but Garou were creatures of spirit as well as flesh. Even here, in the heart of a city where the forces of the Weaver reinforced the Gauntlet and deadened the connection between spirit and physical, the barrier could not withstand him. The Gauntlet tore, leaking hazy and diffuse light, and Matthew stepped through. Daria followed.

On the other side of the Gauntlet things were much the same. The worlds of the physical and the spirit were closely connected and so the parts of the Umbra adjacent to the physical world, the Penumbra, closely resembled the physical world. The building they were standing in was too new to have a presence in the Umbra, but many of the surrounding buildings were present.

The light in the Umbra was hazy and diffuse, creating a world were everything was shadowed. Above them Luna glowed brightly, piercing the clouds and shining down in all her glory. She was gibbous now, and brighter in the Umbra than in the physical world. She was a patron and protector to the Garou and lent them much strength. Matthew and Daria inclined their heads in respect to the powerful spirit.

Night was the Garou's time in the Umbra. Weaver spirits were mostly resting from the day's activities and Wyrm spirits were often resting in their nests, perhaps whispering to their next victims. Of course, that was only an advantage if you weren't in a Bane Nest.

In retrospect, they should have tried finding this place in the Umbra because it was blatantly obvious. If the building had been old enough to have an Umbral presence that would have been a different story, but it didn't. Twisted brambles of thorny steel reached up from the concrete, as if the to form the framework of a
twisted and diseased house. A Blight, a corrupt nightmare zone that was a mix of Wyrm and Weaver, was forming.

The Banes that had possessed the fomori were present as well. They were dog sized black monstrosities, spiderlike with too many limbs all ending in blades and blazing red eyes. They were gathered around a cocoon the size of a small car, but upon seeing the Garou they rushed toward them.

Matthew smashed the first one with his claw. It literally exploded into a spray of pieces, chunks of spirit stuff that melted away. There was no blood or gore, no internal organs at all. He stepped on and crushed the second. Daria tore into the Banes with gusto, shredding them in a swirling melee. The Banes were weak, having lost their hosts and being dumped back into the Umbra. They never got the chance to recover their strength. It was over in moments.

Matthew stepped towards the cocoon. Evil Eye was entombed inside. "Imprisoned?" Daria asked. The bodies of the destroyed Banes were already fading away. Matthew slashed the cocoon with his claw and did absolutely no damage.

"Protected," he replied. They both eyed the cocoon with the stormcrow's gift for finding weaknesses.

"Not even Thunder's lightning will harm it."

"Only a great fetish or something of equal power. This bolt hole has been well prepared."

"Something is behind this," said Daria. "Something far greater, with power in homid society and in the Umbra."

"Yes," said Matthew. "We may need help with this.