G I M M E \\gimme what i want\\

[NEALA FALLYN MURRAY]

The March Hare. A swanky, high class joint that oozed modern sophistication with eloquent designs. You would think romantic when you walked in. A perfect date place, but Neala thought it was good for conducting business - if only because it made people uncomfortable being in such a stuffy environment with other well-dressed urbane people about. She looked nothing like what you would think a handler would as one stylish corded thong flat sandals bobbed up and down under the table as she lounged in her seat. Fairly comfortable for the somewhat private location at the back corner of the restaurant – away from most of the traffic of anyone –Neala waited, smoothing a hand down the red and white floral print silk chiffon skirt with its high ruched waist. It was flattering as it flared away from her curvaceous hips and her top was a simple bralet style crop drawing even more attention to her sizable bust by the pendant hanging around her neck.

With every move the collection of bangles on her arm jingled and it took all she had not to mess with her hair – which had been meticulously done in a loose fish tail braid to the side. Neala exhumed poise and confidence…and very high maintenance for as casual as she was dressed. She wasn’t nervous per say…but it was questionable what she was actually here today for. Not so much that she would lose her job. But there were a lot of incompetent apes running around in their department – all of them men of course, and every single one of them with their nose up someone else’s rear end. Things rarely got done and at a satisfactory level - well, to Neala’s standards anyways. She had a rather cut throat attitude when it came to business, and it was why she’d been as successful as a handler as she had. She’d refused to let the stress of the job get to her or harden her in a way that aged most.

She was normally assigned those that had a drive of their own – Neala believed she had valuable lessons to teach and good sound advice to give. Of course, being a handler meant nothing more than babysitting really, which was a headache in itself, but it came with the territory. She actually didn’t mind the fact she had been across seas several times and to probably every state in the United States. Neala loved her job. She had seen more of the world then most got a chance at in the whole life. In fact she had just returned from sunny southern California and was sporting a beautifully glowing tan because of it. She had a few days down time now, and since she couldn’t ever seem to just relax she was now at the March Hare, waiting a very special someone. There was a purpose for the very public meeting – less chance she would be attacked. Not that she thought she might. But it was always better safe then sorry. Viktor Alsvik had been pretty close to a progeny as a Hunter – pure genius in his craft.

What a waste.

Sadly he’d been infected, registered as infected within the department and everyone knew of it. So…the skinny and short of it was that everyone was after him. It wasn’t that Neala thought he had a lot of enemies, but this was the infamous Death. What would it mean for someone – handler or overzealous Hunter if they could take down someone that revered. Fortunately for Viktor, Neala wasn’t looking for any sort of kill. In fact she absolutely hated getting her hands dirty and this outfit was brand new… it would be a shame if blood got on it.

For now as she waited she had ordered herself a cup of coffee, straight black – medium roast. This place didn’t have the best coffee in town but it was a passable second or third. She could tell the beans had been ground freshly, and hadn’t been frozen to preserve longevity. Well…bully for them. At least she wouldn’t have to make a scene by sending the coffee back and saying something unseemly…because she would. There would be reference to the kind of inept morons they had working here and she would most likely asked to leave…which would really be an inconvenience. She had sent word to Viktor to meet here at…well now and irritation was starting to build despite the fact he was no later then a couple minutes from when she had pointed out to meet.

Neala could sympathize with the fact that he was most likely a little nervous coming out to meet a Handler of any sort – she’d heard the rumor of what happened with his own. But she was counting on the fact he would be curious. Because it was in the very nature of any of them to wonder and it wasn’t as if she had been very specific in her summons of him. But her real motive wasn’t to climb another rung in the cooperate ladder by having his head in a box delivered. Oh no, that was nowhere near her approach of things, although she had done the dirty deed on plenty of occasions. But she was tired of running around “taking care of” rouge charges that were silly enough to go themselves infected. Everything about Viktor’s case had been very hush hush and she was a curious creature by nature. It was a trait that she had never really grown out of…as a child she always had a finger in every pot, knew happenings and goings on. She rarely was content to go without asking questions or being uninformed – if she was going to take orders was going to know every faceted angle of why she had to.

The truth was she didn’t know Viktor on a personal level, she hadn’t been his Handler, but she wondered…surely he missed doing what he had been trained to do. Most come to love what they do…or wind up crazy or dead if they don’t. Surely, if anything he wanted revenge on the werewolf that did infect him. It so happens, Neala had resources that most did not, and there wasn’t a whole lot that she couldn’t provide. As a means to an end…she could see it as a very real possibility of ridding the community of a nuisance. The Wicked Truth as they were known as were a problem, a bane, a…pain in the ass just to be blunt. Something about a great scheme to infect the world! Turn everyone wolfie and there would be no problem with being hunted.

Only over Neala’s dead body would that ever happen. The officials higher up then even their bosses in the department were…blind to a real problem. To them we had enough man power to wipe out every single lycanthrope in the world, cure this…disease. But it had grown exponentially out of their control some time ago. The average life expectancy for a Hunter was getting less and less – she wasn’t even sure of the statistic now. These creatures were getting smarter and smarter, finding ways to fight back. We were far from having them on the run…and what better way to rid them of the corner stone of most of their problems? Send a werewolf of their own after them. Neala had a very generous proposition to offer…she only hoped Viktor would want to bite.

[VIKTOR LORENZ ALSVIK]

Looking at myself in the mirror I don’t see any difference, the exterior was still the same. Everything about my life, my view on life as well, has altered dramatically. Everything has changed since I have been changed – changed into a werewolf that is. Before my life was pretty cut and dry, I knew what I had to do every day. I slept, I did my job. It wasn’t much of a life but it was mine, it may not have been a life I was always happy with but I had come to accept it. Now that my life, that I have become the very thing that I’ve been set out in this world to destroy… It has thrown me off balance.

I’ve been finding myself doing things I wouldn’t normally do. What I’m going to be doing tonight is exactly one of those things. Logically there is no reason for me to give into this little meeting. Logically I know there is a huge risk in me going, it could be a set up, and I’d be into the open too much. Yet, here I am getting ready to meet this woman - jumping at her beck in call like a trained lap dog. I couldn’t bring any of my weapons to protect myself, my guns and knives now burn me at the slightest touch with their silver plating. My bow… well I’m not even that stupid enough to bring that kind of weapon in such a public place, there wouldn’t be any kind of hiding it on my person. That leaves me fending for myself all on my own. I feel naked with that knowledge, I’ve always had some kind of man made power to back me up, to make me stronger. I thought I would have been confident in myself enough that it wouldn’t bother me but I find myself shaken.

I don’t know why I’m feeling so wary about trusting myself to defend myself without any kind of weapons, I’m a werewolf for Christ’s sake, even if I haven’t shifted yet. I’ve always had my gun to fall back on, now I have nothing. I have no one, my other Hunters and Handlers have turned their back on me. Everything of my old life style is nothing but a distant wish of hopes and dreams that slipped through my finger tips at my fumble. Fingers scratched along my jaw, rubbing over the slight stubble as I mused to myself. I was stalling and knew it, stalling meant that I was uncomfortable with going through with this so go I must.

I know why she decided to meet in such a public place, that why the big bad wolf wouldn’t be able to eat her. She didn’t trust me. I approved of that, she shouldn’t trust me within an inch of her life. I just wished she had chosen any other place than The March Hare. I couldn’t remember the last time that I actually had to make myself look presentable to go into such a high class venue; it defiantly wasn’t in the States when it last happened. I wasn’t happy that I had to go hunting for something to wear in my closet, if it was in my closet I didn’t wear it too often. Suits were one of those things that I didn’t often wear; after all you can’t go chasing a werewolf in a suit. In parts of Europe I had to wear my suits more, actually having to do some digging before I could fish out where the local werewolf population was hiding so I had to attend several high class shin-digs. I settled on wearing a light charcoal grey suit, white button up dress shirt, a bright blue silk tie, and a pair of black Italian leather shoes. This meeting better be worth me breaking out one of my better suits.

I pulled up to the place on my new Kawasaki Ninja motorcycle. I sat on my bike for some time hidden in some shadows of an alley, just watching the restaurant for probably a half hour, hidden behind the black visor of my helmet. I watched for any kind of activity that would stand out. I looked for people who were just milling around as if they were waiting for someone, I watched for cars just parked with their occupants still within them, and I watched for people hanging around open windows in tall buildings. Call me paranoid, but I’m not all that interested in getting shot at tonight, but hell, the night is still young things could change.

Only when I was comfortable enough, plus the time I was supposed to meet her at was nearing close, that she hadn’t set up some kind of ambush on me I removed my helmet, stashing it on the seat of my bike, I got off my bike and kicked the kickstand down.

I walked into the restaurant and walked up to the hostess, who of course was all smiles and cheer. She ground on my nerves badly. It was just a quick exchange of words to tell her that there was a party of one waiting for me and for her to show me to the table. On the exterior I gave off nothing but power and confidence. None of the anxious confusing fear that was tearing me apart on the inside managed to work its way out to the surface. The barest hints of a smile tugged at the corners of my lips, blue eyes bright with amusement as I pulled my chair out and sat down, unbuttoning my suit coat in the same movement, across from a very young woman.

Just looking at her made my bones hurt. She was probably around the same age of me but there was an ambitious air to her that made her seem so young. I’d be willing to bet she hasn’t had to face the real horrors that the Hunters do. I took her in in a quick assessment, allowing my gaze to linger appreciatively over her features. I may be attracted to men, but anyone who I do business with needs to know that, less things they know about my personal life the better.

I looked up to the waiter who appeared quickly and quietly at my side, pestering me on what I wanted to drink before I had even sat there for a minute. With a faint exasperated sigh I answered, ”a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon please. “ I looked to the woman across from me once again, effectively dismissing the waiter.

I extended my hand across the table to her, “it’s nice to meet you. I am Viktor, as you already know.” One of those good ole boy lopsided grins spread across my lips. See, I’m harmless, kind of gesture.