Start A War - Part 1 Of 2 "Night Terrors"

Private Warehouse
Apparently a one-time the distribution house for "Nancy Craig" diet products,
the fly by night business apparently didnt take off, because this massive
two-story structure is littered with its left-over refuse. Racks and racks of
scaffolding containing rotting pre-packaged dinner entrees inundate the concrete
and brick confines. Massive overhead florescent globes hanging from the ceiling
double as climate control lamps cast an unearthly pallor when turned on. The
general appearance from the nature of the piles of trash and old oil drums used
as heaters by the local homeless is one of failure. Not in bad repair, the
concrete floor does not show signs of cracking, and the walls still sturdy
bricks with few to no holes in the faade. High up near the ceiling, a few
windows have been broken, but even in its disused state the building seems to
retain its heat.

* Exits *
west - North Highland Avenue

As the nearing sound of skateboard wheels on the pavement outside the warehouse come to a halt, the young Phelan Wulfric picks up his foot-powered vehicle of choice and tucks it beneath his arm. He opens the door and peers in warily, his blonde hair thick with oils and grease that would seem to suggest he has not given it a proper washing in awhile. Over his form he wears a brownish-green Hawaiian shirt buttoned up, a pair of khaki shorts and brown sandals. Taking in a deep breath he sighs and walks in, closing the door behind him and pulling out his cell phone to check the time. "Where are you guys?"

As he steps into the warehouse, another young man comes walking up along the sidewalk in the night quietly with his arms crossed against his lower back. He looks around slowly, taking in his surroundings with a cursory glance only to shrug his shoulders as he hums a soft tune that only seems to die as soon as it leaves his lips. "Hope a few of them are here. Has been a while since i've gotten to see anyone."

As the other man enters, the Ragabash can only blink and tilt his head until he finally makes sense of the figure in front of him. "Sieg?" he asks aloud, is if to confirm whether the figure is actually who he percieves it to be and not an illusion.

As that name is asked of him, the young man turns his head to look directly at Phelan. "Phelan? Is Talbain or anyone else with you?" He asks the young man before approaching the warehouse to step through the open doorway. He seems to teeter on the balls of his feet, tilting his body this way and that to look around him and into the building.

Shaking his head the young surfer gives a sigh that gives off a sense of both isolation and deep frustration. "No. They haven't been for quite some time." He slips his skateboard beneath the table of the warehouse and leans up against it, shaking his head as though it will somehow clear away the inner clouds. "I don't suppose you've been told about my… recent brush with death incarnate?"

Sieg cocks his head to the side and crosses his arms over his chest, "Don't tell me you've already gotten yourself into trouble Phelan. I'm surprised Charlie didn't put a beat down on it." He strolls past him further into the warehouse before turning and walking backward, his arms parting to his sides. "What happened man? I can promise I won't let you down in a bind."

"I'm not even sure Charlie's heard about it yet. If she has she's been silent as the fucking grave." As his words begin to drip with a little hostility the kid takes another deep breath and sighs, pushing off from the table with enough force to move it ever so slightly. "Alright, I need to stay cool…" He takes a moment with his hands in his pockets, pacing back and forth until he seems a little more composed. "Here's the story in a nutshell," he begins, continuing to pace but keeping his gaze on his fellow Ragabash. "A few days ago I was on the beach and I had a run-in with a Dancer. Mean one, too. Out for my blood. She gave me a pretty good beating but I got away. The next day I went out and ran into another one who wanted to speak to me. Scarred and Max figure they're trying to recruit me and I have no idea who's behind it exactly." His pacing stops. "The only thing I've got to go on is a name, but it's too dangerous for me to go out and try to find information on my own. I've got a little blackbird trying to dig some things up but I haven't heard from her in days…" His speech concludes and his eyes appear to lose a little of their glint. "I'm at a loss, man. I can't hide forever, but I'm no good to the Nation dead or in the service of the Wyrm."

"Gathering information? You're kiddin' me right? Well, I can help you there bud." Sieg keeps walking further into the warehouse before stopping and spinning around on the balls of his feet to look back at the other young man with a small frown, "So the crazies are after you. That's no good though i'll let you know i'd do anything to slay one. You could say they well… I had a couple of runins after I first changed. I think they were going to recruit me then if they didn't kill me first but i'm not sure." He frowns again at that before shaking his head and sighing a bit. His footsteps continue then as if he can't seem to keep himself still for more than a few moments, green eyes casting about the building in idle study. "Who's this blackbird of yours? If it comes down to sneaking in and out of a place, you've got the Urban Ninja standing in front of you."

"The blackbird goes by the name of Ella. She's spread the news of the Dancer around the allies we have left in the Umbra. She's supposed to be asking around on the other side about someone named Ryla as well, but like I said before I haven't had any word." Phelan tilts his head as Sieg seems more eager than any other up to that point to offer his assistance. "Sieg, are you sure about this? I don't want anyone in the pack getting themselves torn to pieces on my account."

The young man takes a step closer to Phelan, green eyes seeming to take on something of a piercing quality to them as he looks to capture his gaze. "If there's one thing i'll ever ask you to do Phelan, it's to never underestimate what your pack is here to do. We protect each other and watch each other's backs. The moment one of us breaks away and goes on his own, he's dead unless he's just plain strong." He raises his hand, palm outward as if to shake the other young man's hand. "I'm in it to the end, whether you're afraid for my safety or not. It's what we're here for."

After listening to the man's speech and looking down at his extended hand, Phelan finally cracks a semblance of smile and reaches out as well to clasp Sieg's palm in his own. "Something tells me I'm not gonna talk you out of this, even if I really wanted to." After giving him a nod he lets go, returning to the table and leaning with the his back against its edge. "Alright. For safety's sake I think it's best I continue to lay low. If you should want to meet up with me I'm usually holed up at Kensington Fields, unit 201." Examining his packmate as if to gauge him further he smiles softly. "The only clue we have is the name Ryla. If we can build on that maybe we can figure out a way to counter their efforts. Preferably a way that involves blood, broken bones and a blown-up gathering place."

Shaking his head, Sieg looks back at the other young man as he crosses his arms over his chest. "Blown-up gathering place and broken bloody bones? Phelan, if you think of it that way, you're only going to get yourself killed you know." He takes a step away from him then, his body turning slowly over the concrete floor to look up at the rafters. "You see, if you go in for a fight, you don't know how many of the dancers there are. And let's face it, a Dancer is more likely to be a helluva lot stronger than a couple of Cliaths. If we're going to do it that way, we'll have to find a way to pick them off one at a time Guerilla style…. otherwise as a pack they rip a hole and screw it."

Chuckling and shaking his head the boy looks up into Sieg's eyes. "I was being sarcastic, Sieg. Trust me, the last thing I wanna do is take on a whole pack at once. One of them nearly kicked my ass by herself. I wouldn't risk a frontal assault no matter how much backup the pack could provide." He pushes off from the table gently, taking a few steps forward. "For now I think the emphasis should be on finding out who Ryla is and what connection that name has to the Dancers hunting me down. With that out of the way we can see where to take it later." He lets the words float in the air for awhile, then after giving a quick glance around he takes another step toward the Cliath. "But just in case. Remember the two-man pack tactics you mentioned?"

Sieg raises his hand, fingers curling as if like claws, "Did you practice the Rake at all since we talked? If you've gotten to where you can do that effectively we could try to combine it into a group tactic…. though I once saw one of our pack do something i'd love to learn." He tilts his head just a bit to gaze back at him, eying him speculatively, "What have you learned since the last time I saw you?"

"I haven't had the opportunity to practice the Rake at all, really. I've been sticking to simpler stuff like jujitsu recently." Shrugging his shoulders the boy smirks a little, a glint of readiness shining in his crystal orbs. "It's taught me some good starting skills but I'm more than ready to give something more tricky a go."

Sieg hmms softly at that as he looks back at the other man, "Jujitsu? Now that… I need to learn if i'm going to be Urban Ninja ya?" He winks before grinning broadly as he slips his arms away from his chest, the grin broadening just a bit. "You know Phelan… we -are- supposed to be the trickster moon. Why not… play that into how we fight hm? Kind've like a harry if you think about it, dodging in and out around a guy trying to distract him… then hitting him where it hurts."

"Alright, /now/ you're speaking my language!" Phelan responds in kind, his hands coming out of his pockets as he starts to bounce a bit on the balls of his feet. "What good's swinging a claw if they can't hit us?" There's no doubt by this point that Braves-the-Storm finally has his usual demeanor back as he stands loose yet ready and attentive, his crystal blue sights resting soley on the man in front of him. "Show me where you're going with this. See if you can lose me."

Sieg tilts his head to the side as he looks back at the other man, "Well, think of it this way. The two of us single out a Dancer and continually circle him without ever staying in the same spot at once. He's not liable to just focus on one of us while the other is biting at his flank you know?" He motions at the back of Phelan's leg before looking back towards the door of the Warehouse. A soft hum vibrates across his full lips quietly before nodding. "Distractions are fatal. Each one of us trades off the distraction, leaving him or her open to a sneak attack by the other from wherever he may be. We never hit in the exact same spot. It'd take a while to practice… but worthwhile i'd think. It would make both of us harder to hit and it'd make them easier."

"It's definetly a possibility. I think the real trick would be mastering it so we can use it in multiple forms," Phelan comments, weighing in with his own gut on the notion. "I don't know about you but I tend to lean toward Hispo. If we could make the tactic flexible depending upon the situation that'd sweeten it." He bounces again, not seeming to be able to keep still himself. "And here's another question. How many one-man tricks do you know? Maybe if we work together on those more possibilities will open up."

Sieg nods slowly at that before looking past him with another soft hum. "Remember that skill you were supposed to practice? I like to think I mastered it, though i'm still not one hundred percent positive until i've used it on a dancer." He replies before looking down at his hands, flexing them just a bit against each other before shrugging. "That's all I know. I didn't fight a lot with my pack before, I was the information and reconnaisance type really. But, that's something i'm changing."

"Then perhaps it's time we both did something." Phelan stares directly at Sieg as if to pierce through the flesh and bone to see as deep into him as possible, though somehow it all remains more eager than intraspective. "How about this? We'll agree to meet at my place every day from here on out until this thing with the Dancers is over. We'll discuss any new information there and lay down plans if at all possible, then we'll both walk to this warehouse and start practicing these tactics on one another. Who knows? We may pick up some new moves." He ends his proposal with a small nod and a confident smile. "Think we can handle that?"

The sound of a large truck idling just outside can clearly be heard, added to the open and slam close of a car door. After a few moments there's a clear slamming knock against the main doors of the warehouse, though nothing afterward.

Sieg presses his lips together as if considering for a long moment, taking longer than he should as he looks back at Phelan. With that, he seems to teeter on his heels for a moment as if losing his balance before suddenly stepping forward and clapping his hand down on his shoulder. "Do you really think i'd say no Phelan? Let's head over to your place… i'm kinda well, on the non-living-in-a-home side at the moment. Swear I was a bone gnawer sometimes." Suddenly though he stops, growling to himself before ducking back. "Hide, now."

The boys casts his gaze around as quickly as he can, then growls and shakes his head. "Damn it. There's no place good enough!" He stands near apart from Sieg, dashing to the other side of the table and looking toward the door. He tries to maintain his calm exterior though it's far too obvious his knees are close to knocking together.

After a few seconds of silence, the knock occurs again, a bit louder. This time it's coupled with a man's somber, and rather bored voice. "UPS delivery. I need someone to sign."

Sieg looks back at him before lowering his hands and ducking off closer near that table. "Phelan, fear's a good thing, but don't let it stop you. We've seen hell, you know that." He replies, casting his gaze back towards the door warily. "Who owns this warehouse?"

Slowly the Ragabash regains his composure and growls to himself. "This is fucking humiliating…" is all he utters before looking up to the door and waiting for the answer to emerge from the other side

Sieg shakes his head and looks back at him again. "You just be ready alright? I'll go get it, if it isn't some kind of trap but be ready to get my back if it is." He leaves him then, approaching the door to the warehouse and opening it to look out. He only opens it a crack though to get sight of the man there.

Coming down the stairs from the small loft that's been built on what could be a second floor were it expanded, Maxwell Hearkenstone is wearing nothing but a pair of black silk boxer-shorts and a holster-harness around his chest, Desert Eagle tucked into it beneath his arm. He appears to have just awoken, "..Someone should get the door before I start shooting people..", he mumbles, rubbing a hand across his face as he reaches the ground floor.

On the other side of the door is a middle-aged man dressed in a brown uniform, looking a bit annoyed with a large box tucked under one arm and a thick clipboard in the opposite hand. "Didn't think anyone was going to answer…" he explains quickly, glancing down at the paperwork he's carrying. "Maxwell Hearkenstone?" he continues, looking back up to Sieg with a hopeful expression, though it drops almost immediately. "Anyone can really sign for it. You know I could hear you talking, right?"

As he watches the scene at the door unfold and witnesses Maxwell coming down the steps in his ridiculous ensemble (or lack thereof), Phelan relaxes and sighs deeply. Turning to the side he leans against the table, watching the Kinfolk descend to the second floor but uttering not a single word.

Sieg frowns at the man before reaching out to take the clipboard from him, should the other man choose not to wrestle for it anyway. In -that- case, he'd let go. "I'll sign for it and get it to him. Fragging Maxwell." He mutters before pulling a pen from his pocket to sign the sheet for the package. "Probably a videogame or some sex magazine." He snickers at that before looking back into the warehouse, seeming oblivious to the last comment.

Padding across the cold cement floor of the warehouse with his bare feet, Maxwell Hearkenstone stops at the large circular table in the room for a minute, rubbing his face again, pushing the tired out of it, while he waits for Sieg to sign for the package. It takes him a minute or two to figure out Phelan's general demeanor, a glance to him and then a glance to the door, then back again. There's a shake of his head as he pads over to the small refrigerator, pulling it open and grabbing a blue bottles that is clearly labeled with 'Bawls', on the front in white lettering, "..I've never seen dogs afraid of the mailman. Isn't it supposed to be the other way around?", he asks, popping the bottle cap off and tossing it into the trashcan.

The delivery man thrusts the clipboard towards whoever will take it, motioning towards the electronic screen at the top with the stylus for the signature. "Like I said, doesn't matter who signs it" He's obviously in a hurry, or possibly just hates his job. The package is held out flat against his hand, the free hand extended for the paperwork to be returned into.

Shaking his head, Phelan manages a soft chuckle. "Asshole…" he quips back, looking toward the man with his usual grin plastered to his face before his attention returns to the front door to wait for the mailman to depart.

Sieg signs the thing with the stylus before tossing it back at the man and taking the package befoe offering a, "Thanks." and turning back to the warehouse. A swift kick hits the door, sending it closing though not hard enough to slam in the man's face or anything as he makes his way back into the building once more. "Max, it's for you. Were you expecting a package?"

Giving a short nod, the uniformed man turns immediately on his heel and steps back towards his truck, opening the door and crawling up into the seat before slamming it behind him. The truck, never actually having been turned off, falls into gear with only a bit of a put and makes off down the street.

"..Not really. I might have been, just not today. I don't really remembering ordering anything, but.. you know. People like me. Sometimes they send me things..", Maxwell Hearkenstone remarks, pulling the Desert Eagle from the holster beneath his arm, and using his other hand to toss back a long drink from the bottle of Bawls. He starts to hand to gun to Phelan, before hesitating. Instead, he chambers just one bullet, ejects the clip, and then hands it to Phelan, "..I'm going to open that. If anything tries to kill me, shoot it. /It/. Shoot /IT/.", he remarks, before heading over to the table, "Let me see that thing.", the clip getting tucked into the waistband of his boxers, bottle in his other hand.

Accepting the gun and turning to face the package, Phelan gets the gun ready with his right index finger on the trigger. Raising it up and pointing it at the box he approaches it in stride with Maxwell.

"Is all yours." Sieg replies before handing the box over to him and proceeding to put ten feet between him, the box, and Maxwell. Then looking towards Phelan… he decides to add another ten feet away from the line of fire that he could possibly make at that box. This eventualy leads him to the other side of the table.

Maxwell Hearkenstone begins to peel the tape from the top of the box, short tugs given to get it off, though about half-through with it he stops, holds up a finger to Phelan, and eyeballs him, "..I feel that I should stress before I get this open, that if /nothing/ attacks me, do /not/ shoot the box. In fact, don't fire on the box until I'm screaming and bleeding. Because if it /is/ pornography, I will be very displeased with you. I've been waiting for Beastly Brazil for a month now..". And then he sets the bottle down, and goes about pulling the rest of the tape open, opening the flap a bit and peering inside, secretively, or cautiously.

Scoffing, the surfer nods his head and smirks. "Understood. I won't shoot until you're within an inch of your life." With that he lowers the gun very barely though he keeps his eyes primed on the package as he watches the Kinfolk begin to udo it.

Sieg teeters on the balls of his feet as he looks at the box, leaning over the table as if to extend himself towards the box. "What is it Max?" He asks curiously, curiosity seeming to get the best of the young man.

Finding packing peanuts inside, Maxwell Hearkenstone pulls the flaps open the rest of the way and begins digging through them "Well, it's not a bomb. There's just too many packing peanuts here..". Whatever logic he might have used to come to that decision, he doesn't reveal it to anyone else, and instead pulls out two wide security envelopes with huge black numbers of '1' on the first and '2' on the second. The numbers look like they may have been written by a small child, or someone in a rush, "..I don't know. But I'm assuming I should open the first one first..", and then there's a pause, thinking, and then, "Or maybe they know I'm a trouble maker, and knew I would open the second one first, and so marked the second one as the fir—..". He just drops that train of thought, not one for planning, and tears open the first one.

Watching intently, Phelan lowers the gun and lets his hands hang at his side. His finger stays at the trigger just in case though he seems to be a little more relaxed now than he was prior.

Sieg takes a step up to the table then and reaches out as if to take the other envelope though he stops before actually grabbing it. He withdraws his hand then and crosses it behind his back as if restraining himself as he teeters back and forth.

"..Do we know a.. Ryla? Do we have a kid here that we should be telling she'll be in touch with soon? Maiyun? Phelan's not a girl, last time I checked. Physically, anyway..", Maxwell remarks, seeming more confused over the package than anything else. He drops the ripped section of blue paper onto the table, so that anyone else can read it too, and adds, "..Whoever wrote this is probably pretty dangerous. They're definitely not academic scholars. Look at that /handwriting/..". And then he starts to tear the top from the other one, pulling out it's contents.

With a confused blink and a shake of his head, Phelan walks back to the table and peers down at the piece of paper. "Hold up a second, lemme see this." He starts to skim the contents of the message, his grip never loosening on that Desert Eagle.

Sieg looks down at the envelope, seemingly confused at the wording as he places his hands on the table. "This was addressed to you Maxwell? If they're saying kid, that'd be Phelan…I think. It seems like they're after Maiyun and warning Phelan not to get in their way? But Ryla is good or bad Phelan? From what you told me.

Reaching into the second envelope, Maxwell pulls out a lock of golden-blonde hair, six to seven inches in length, and secured together with a nasty looking piece of duct tape. It's splattered with what appears to be old blood. He also pulls out a cellphone, with a post-it note attached that reads 'Feel free'. He eyeballs the hair for a moment, something grabbing at his mind, the expression clear on his face, before lifting it up to smell it. Something is clearly on his mind at this point, and the Kinfolk's otherwise calm demeanor slips a bit as he tosses it down on the table. He pads over to the door of the warehouse, no longer talking to either Sieg or Phelan, and slides the massive door open just enough to allow him to step into it's frame, where he begins to page through the address book of the cell.

As he looks at the hair removed and the cell phone pulled out, Phelan blinks and takes a step forward. Looking the Kinfolk over he falls silent at his sudden loss of mirth. "Don't tell me…" he says under his breath, putting the gun down on the table and taking a few more uneasy steps to close the distance between him and Max.

Sieg looks at Maxwell as he suddenly goes off to the door of the warehouse before looking down at that lock of golden-blonde hair. "How long's it been since you've seen Charlie Phelan?" He asks quietly as he glances at that hair again before looking towards Maxwell. "Maxwell, what's on your mind?"

"Shut up.", Maxwell says, not snapping, but not cheerful either. It's rather just an almost neutral command, but a command nonetheless. He doesn't have far to page through the address book, with just the one address in it. That number is stared at for a good long time, his expression hidden from the rest of the room. And finally, he pushes the small green button marked 'Send', and holds the phone up to his ear, eyes peering out and into the night-darkened street.

Taking the man's words as his cue, Phelan nods slowly and steps back closer to Sieg. He does not answer the question posed, seeming rather to be too worried over the outcome of the phone call Maxwell is making at the moment.

Sieg frowns and watches Maxwell in the doorway as he raises his hand, fingers curling almost as if they were claws again. "If it's what I think it is… Dancer or no dancer, we're going to tear some shit apart." He growls quietly to Phelan.

Resting against the frame a bit, Maxwell Hearkenstone allows someone on the other end of the line to pick up and speak, before he's answering with, "We're not slow. You have something of mine..", a level edge to his voice, and then he pauses in order to let whomever he is talking to, speak their side.

"Sieg. More haste, less speed," Phelan cautions gently, his focus still on Maxwell as he starts to tense a little. Despite his own words it's hard to ignore the balling on his fists by his side as he waits for the Kinfolk to continue.

Sieg turns his gaze to Phelan for a moment, glaring as his hand lowers to grip the edge of the table. "Sometimes you have to take chances. I'm willing to if there's a chance that can swing favorably." He replies in a low tone, albeit remaining whisper before glancing back to Maxwell.

"Yeah. I guess we're going to make a deal then..", Maxwell Hearkenstone remarks, his shoulders having gone stiff at this point. His hackles would be rising, if he were a wolf - but he's not. There's a pause, a noticeable one, before he speaks up again, "..I'm sure you do. Just keep in mind that whatever you do to her, I'm going to do to you. At some point. I promise..". His tone is lowered with that, maybe something malicious to it, or at least as malicious as he can manage.

Sieg steps away from the table, approaching Maxwell slowly with his arms crossed over his chest. They tighten there as if to keep them from shaking as he gazes directly at him though he says nothing for the moment in wait of what he has to say.

However odd it might sound to those who aren't listening to the whole conversation, Maxwell Hearkenstone remarks, "You're in luck, then. They don't call me Dirk Dangle for nothing. You're going to get your turn. I'm a man of my word..", before pausing again. His back muscles tense then, tightening up in stress, before he loses it just a bit, "..I'll give you your life. How's that sound, motherfuc—..", before cutting himself off, "..What do you want? I'm not a damn psychic.".

Sieg stops and watches the phone conversation quietly, his arms shifting against his chest to readjust as he plants his feet firmly against the concrete underfoot. He doesn't seem to react to the various turns in the conversation, only one emotion playing across his features, rage.

As he watches everyone around him start to tense up the surfer kneels down on the floor and sighs deeply, hanging his head and letting out some light huffing noises as if it's become a burden for him to even hold himself up slightly.

"Fine. But we're meeting on my terms. One vehicle per party, and we meet at the docks..", Maxwell remarks, almost without hesitation, leaning out the door a bit more and glancing up and down the dark street, "..And I want you to bring her alone. I know how back-stabbing you motherfuckers can be..".

As Phelan listens to the conversation he gasps and stands again as if to stop the Kin but only ends up stopping himself. His whole body freezes in place and his frame shivers as he holds back everything.

Sieg stands there looking at Maxwell still as his lips purse together. "They better not mean a person switch. We know what Charlie would say to that." He says calmly to himself, eying the man in front of him with a small frown as he waits for the phone call to come to a conclusion.

"Deal.", Maxwell can be heard to say, before his voice is lowered again and he adds, "..I'm going to be the man to kill you. Maybe not soon. But when you die, it will be me holding that gun. It's bad form to kidnap another man's mate..", before he just hangs up the phone. His hand clenches around it, tightening as if he might want to break the thing, but he doesn't. The Kinfolk turns about on Sieg and Phelan, a rather somber look on his face, and just tells them, "Wait here..", as he heads for his loft again, perhaps even to remedy his lack of clothing.

The boy can only watch as Maxwell walks back up to his loft, then approaches Sieg and shakes his head. "I hope he didn't do anything foolish…" he says softly though there is an undeniable sense of sorrow and concern for the distraught Kinfolk in his voice. "Whatever this is he's planning it better not backfire…"

Sieg turns to look up at Maxwell as he places his back to the door, closing it as he watches him. He places himself firmly there in front of it, waiting with crossed arms. "What are we doing Maxwell?" He calls up to him calmly, though it's obvious he's working to keep that calmness under control.

From his loft upstairs, Maxwell calls back, "We're going to get Charlotte. Phelan and I. Two person limit. I have to think about it a bit more..", as he slips into something a bit less comfortable, though his tone is more than edgy about the whole affair, "..So drop your cocks and grab your socks..".

"Hold on, Max. You're not gonna play by the rules when there are cheaters on the other team, are you?" Taking a few steps toward the loft so he doesn't have to call so loudly, Phelan sighs and crosses his arms. "What did you agree to, anyway? I'd kinda like to know what you're dragging me into."

Sieg looks back at Maxwell blankly, his eyes narrowing. "Maxwell, you also forget that by their version of two men they will have two dancers against you and Phelan. However powerful your desert eagles are, somehow I doubt you can pull it off if they attack." He raises his arms just a bit over his chest then, watching the two. "You forget that i'm Urban Ninja, dubbed by you personaly. They won't be seeing me."

Coming back down the stairs, Maxwell Hearkenstone is dressed in what was once just a Halloween costume, but now has been turned into a normal part of his wardrobe, consisting of a pair of wranglers, some snakeskin boots, a black tee-shirt, and an off-grey colored duster. Woah there, cowboy. "Relax. I've played this video game before. I'm not stupid..", his boots tapping on the stairs, before he reaches the ground floor, "They want Phelan. I'm not giving him to them. It doesn't do me any good to get Charlie back if she's just going to kill me, I figure. And we're not playing fair. We're not strong enough to play fair..".

"Sheesh. I know I'm a catch but by Gaia this Ryla must be obsessed with me…" Phelan somehow manages to joke, cracking a bit of a smile. "I'll be sure to let them know this isn't the best way to meet a guy. Could've at least started with a date or a midnight supper." Sighing, he shakes his head and lets go of his lack of seriousness for the moment. "Alright. You mentioned a vehicle. My guess is you're thinking the party van."

Sieg smirks just a bit at the thought of that before looking at them. "Where are you meeting them at Max?" He asks before taking his laptop case off and setting it on the table, leaving the thing there as if to lighten his load.

"We can't take the van. We have to take a cab. And I need to call Ella. And you're going too, Sieg, but I'm not a Raga. It's up to you on how to get close, but don't you dare fucking get caught..", Maxwell remarks, walking over to the table and taking up his gun, loading the clip into it, "In fact, Sieg, you're fast. About as fast as you fucking can, I need you to run to Wal-Mart and pick up a pair of toy handcuffs, and some reflective silver paint. I need them to look real..", he explains, slipping the gun into his holster, "..Also.. no. That's it, I think. Take your phone, I might be calling you..".

As he listens to Max lay down his plans, Phelan nods and chuckles. "Handcuffs, too? Kinky…" Prodding the Kinfolk on the shoulder the younger of the Ragabash's adds "Superkin. Before we hail the cab, where did you end up hiding that holster full of knives from Cairo? We might want more pieces of unforgiving metal on our side than just bullets."

Sieg raises a brow at Phelan as he looks back at him. "Your unforgiving metal is your massive fucking, metal tearing claws in war form unless you plan on taking on two Dancers otherwise." He nods to Maxwell then before booking it for the door. "Be back with the handcuffs and paint in a jiffy."

"You won't need to knives. You're going to be in handcuffs. Sort of. And if we have to fight, I'd rather you not try stabbing them to death with knives. Maybe one in a boot or something, in case you really need it..", Maxwell explains, telling this to Phelan, "..I'm going to run to the Lab. You sit tight. Don't answer the door. Meditate, or something..".

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