Owner Pose
Belinda Gutierrez Evening light gleams off the not-too-distant bay waters, the heat of day radiating from the ever-present concrete that forms the backbone of the city. Wind stirs, completeing the daily ritual-- from too hot to merely toasty warm, the zephyrs sweep away the idle, remorseless heat.

Perfect time for ice cream-- specificaly, chocolate shake.

Belinda Gutierrez sits outside the Big Belly Burger, completing the day's perfect greasey repast with a Colon Crusher <tm> sized cup of iced milk-and-chocolate goodness. Only mildly morosely. Grump.
Thomas Blake Thomas Blake is relaxing too, in his own way, and in a tree.

Screened by foliage he watches stoically and goddamit he wants a milkshake now. The one that girl, Berta... Belinda! has a beauty of one. He is by no means a chocolate aficionado but the little gurl is spot on. Perfect time to get one. Except he's stalking a predator. Actually, it's someone who merely thinks he's he's a predator. It is fun to deal with such people. Like those lion hunters who discovered their guns were unloaded at the worst time.

Then the door to Big Belly opens and the self professed predator exits. He makes a beeline for Belinda.

No way. He knows her by name. Tis is not going down. He can't save everyone but if you know their name, you help. A lion can leap 36 feet in a running jump. Thomas still manages to cover ten or fifteen feet from his tree. He walks up behind the bench calling, "Hello, Belinda."

He hops the bench seating himself beside her and acting for all the world like an old friend. He drapes his arm on the back of the bench, careful not to actually touch the girl. The 'predator' stops a moment and then continues walking towards them. Thomas pretends not to notice.
Belinda Gutierrez Belinda, blithe innocence-- or at least startled surprise! "Mr. T!" she remarks in delight, quick to wipe a bit of drizzled milkshake from her lip before she continues. "Hello, and have a seat! I was totally wondering when you might show--" Not at all truly, but she quivers as that tingly feeling leaps through her veins. She continues as if for all the world a blithe, friendly encounter.

"Miss "K" is doing well as well?" she asks, just a touch distracting. Focused look-- /what/ is the question. She stirs the straw absently, hidden tension suddenly prickling every hair on her skin.
Thomas Blake Thomas Blake retracts the arm. "I'm sorry. I sta..."

"Hey. Asshole. I seen you shadowing me." Thomas hoped he did. He was trying to be seen by him several times and finally got a nibble.

"You are scaring my friend and interrupting a private conversation," the words are Thomas' only feature that are civil. Neither his voice nor eyes betray a hint of emotion. His body tenses though perhaps you'd need heightened senses to realize this.

The man's response s to grab the front of Thomas' shirt, preparatory to hauling him off the bench.

"You better raise up you smelly freak!" Hunh. Most people think he smells nice. It's not even cologne. It's mostly him. Thomas grabs his assailaint by the wrist.
Belinda Gutierrez Recognition of the moment comes sharp on the heels of confi=usion, once and banished as she twists. Bitter sadness, eternal sorrow-- and the loss of the only weapon at hand, a milkshake to the face!

...well, cup plus half-a-shake to the chest of the strange man. It's something.

"Let him go!" she positivel;y snarls, her own tension setting nerves clanging, muscles vibrating with a wild tremor.

. o O Don't change, not now, not here--! O o .

"Or I'll /scream/," she adds, warning lamely.
Thomas Blake Thomas Blake does a backflip over the back of the bench. "Igothisweetie!"

The formerly charming man is taken along with him to land first in a snap the whip move that leaves him absorbing most of the momentum of the landing. Thomas wheels around to face hm and finds him groaning in pain. He looks satisfied... until a van screeches to a halt and three more men pile out. They extend electrified batons and charge.

"Belinda, leave! Get to a safe spot."
Belinda Gutierrez Belinda bites her lip furiously, torn between obeying command from a (wow!) suitably impressive fighter, and-- nothing around to throw anymore.

Chuffing to herself, she scrambles for the Big Belly Burger nearby, scampering through its door in a blind 'panicked rush'....

...through the cafe. Out the back doors. Grimy alley, bare of witnesses save the rats. A glance either way. quick to confirm, and then--

--then--

/Let it *come*--/
Thomas Blake Thomas Blake could have gotten away. He probably could have gotten away with Belinda securely tucked under one arm. Running with an antelope carcass on your back is great cardio, and great practice for that. Instead as the three run to circle him he merely slips his cat mask on, and draws a blade (#3). The men surrounding him remain outside arm's reach. Thomas waits. To attack one will give the signal for the other two to spring on him. Pack tactics. He knows that. Do not behave like prey, this screws the hunters up. He keeps the knife moving, a club touching it would be bad. He turns slowly, then fast to mislead the men. The one on the grass is slowly crawling away, now moaning. "It's just a dislocation you wuss." He self treated enough of those.
Belinda Gutierrez It comes.

Keen ears might pick up the distant rip of cloth, the tearing of denim as it burst beyond any hope of constraionts. Rip and tear and then silence....

Silence broken by the honk of the van's horn, the crack of something breaking, and the brutal, sudden jerk of the attacker's van as it gives a sudden, wrenching squeal to the side.

A sudden, savage, raging howl splits the air. Eight feet in height, clad in muscle and fur and sinew, covered in silvery fur, the man-beast heaves the vehicle to the side, helpfully smashing the drives's door against a lamppost.

"Get...." The werebeast snarls, eyes flaring as it-- she --stalks forward. "..get... away... from him!"
Thomas Blake Thomas Blake as well as his attackers are startled by this. He was pondering letting the goons capture him, take him to the boss. Now he'd have to go for beating a confession if the werwolf leaves any of them alive. However, to their credit the three decide to take down the werewolf first. To their sorrow, they forget about Thomas for that moment.

Thomas has no powers, but, forgetting about him is uniformly a bad idea. the last man in line loses his baton, then gets it back in the back of his head. Now he has a fancy stick, and a knife. Cool.
Belinda Gutierrez The werewolf's grin is absolutely toothy, vicious in all the worst ways. The batons strike; no issue. *Electrified* batons are Very Much an Issue-- she jerks back at the first shocking zap, but more from surprise than from staggering or reeling away. Then she growls...

Ignoring Blake for the moment, the two lunge forward, delivering twinned blows again; she bites back a whimper as the devices deliver their shocks, but this time she reaches out, grips either stick with a lazy ease.

They snap as she gives a vicious twist; batteries and bits and cracked ceramics clattering to the ground, she leans forward with a low snarl. "Not nice."
Thomas Blake Thomas Blake for his part secures the two men he already messed up. "e gives the werewolf a sidelong look and smiles. "Go ahead. You're handling them fine." he does take a good sniff. He never sniffed a werewolf before. He wonders what it'll smell like. Zip lines come out and go around the men's hands.
Belinda Gutierrez The werewolf rumbles, casting an entirely too-human thumbs upo gestures as she turns back towards the truck. The driver stares through the spiderweb-cracked window with a look of utter panic; gamely, he does his best....

...mostly locking every door in reach.

The werewolf's scent is strange, new-- not even like a newborn carrying the scent of its mother, but of a literally new being, fresh to the world-- carrying only the scents of her own body, the city, van's exhaust...

Chocolate?

Metal screams protest as the creature aids those still inside the van come out-- ripping the door from the body of the vehicle, gesturing with a warning growl to exit.

"... please."
Thomas Blake Thomas Blake dusts is hands off, and stands. "You're a remarkably reasonable werewolf, unless you're a Mutant. I would do as the werwolf says, muscleheads, before they decide you're prime rib. In other words... SIT." He picks the baton he seized up again. and begins to approach. He sniffs again, curious. He realizes the were person is wearing a leotard. He pictures the creature learning ballet or yoga and bites back a chuckle.
Belinda Gutierrez The remaining attacks stare. Glance. Between man and monster, unable to decide which might be scarier!

They sit, by one and two. Hands over head, hunching forward, one murmuring a prayer in Spanish not to be eaten by 'crazy chupacabra'.

The werewolf gazes for a long moment, rumbling final approval as she sets the van door on the ground, letting it lean against the lamppost. Stretching her hands together gingerly, she waits until the thugs are firmly bound, a watchful eye on each in turn before she glances back to Blake.

"Not injured?" she manages in her gruff, growly voice. Nostrils quivering, scenting- no blood, only city scents, food nearby, chocolate milkshake-- she grimaces, stomach rumbling with a sudden, savage gusto.

One of the nearest thugs whimpers, quivering. Redoubled prayers!
Thomas Blake Thomas Blake guves the werewolf a smile and a thumbs up. He goes over to the person praying and puts him in a headlock. There's a short whispered exchange. He repeats this with the others. He leaves them looking worried. "Okay... you can go now. I got your licenses... one of you better be telling me the truth or all will be dealt with. G'night." They take the hint, get up and flee. He turns to the werewolf and walks up to it, hands out, non-threatening, but definitely a threat. When he gets close enough, he puts a hand on the incredibly muscled torso and says, "You still have chocolate milkshake on your snout and you're wearing Belinda's leotard. Can I get you some more clothes to thank you for the assist?" He uses his lion whisperer voice. After all predators are all kind of similar.
Belinda Gutierrez If werewolf could look surprised-- or genuinely panicked --the quiet remark nails it in one. Ears slanting back, she looks toothily abashed; covering her muzzle, one can faintly hear the sound of her tongue, working at her chops with a quick slurp. With a quick nod, she casts a cautious glance around, making sure that curious bystanders (and would-be attackers!) are gone from the scene.

"Longcoat?" she manages, the word formed strangely through lupine lips. She gestures over herself, wolfishly chuckling in raw rue. "Changing... hard on clothes." She plucks at the leotard on her torso, brushing a finger up against the domino mask at her brow. "Not much can... take strain. Thank you."
Thomas Blake There is a quiet yet powerful joy in a beautiful and deadly creature accepting you for a friend. "You keep quiet about the mask. I'll keep quiet about this." He gestures to take in Belinda wolf.

"Come on, I have a car nearby. I have some sweats in the trunk you can have. A little big on you... sometimes." He'll take the werewolf by her hand if she'll allow it. "It's okay, you're doing fine with this. I just have a really good sense of smell. You're an adorable girl and really bad ass as this. Thanks again. It is funny, these guys are trafficking in exotic humans and they completely ignored you but... that proves your id is safe." He leads her to an SUV.

"You can fit in the back. You'e not much bigger than my tiger. The windows are blacked out so you can change and I'll give you a lift wherever... because we don't have shoes for you."
Belinda Gutierrez The werewolf chuffs-- a suspiciously chuckling sound as she accepts the offered hand. A last glance around-- a forlorn sigh as she sees the spilled, ruined drink --she turns to follow after, clawed toes clicking against the concrete as she moves quickly after. "New...to town-- city too," she remarks, voice low, rough. "It... hard to track?" She grimaces as she licks her lips again, sighing in good-natured breath. "What...?" She pauses, glancing around. Never too careful. "..What want? Hunting, near school? Danger there?"
Thomas Blake Thomas Blake pats Belinda on the back. "I doubt very much these guys will want to come back. So their danger is over and when I get done with them, they will not bother anyone again. I'll put them out of business one way or another. And yeah the city is very hard to track in. Too many smells, too many distractions. Ah we can get you another milkshake... least I can do for a fellow hunter. Now get in the back and change before someone sees you." He unlatches the back hatch. Makes a shooing motion.
Belinda Gutierrez The werewolf rumbles, nods quietly. With surprising deftness, she slinks into the back of the vehicle, curving up and huddling down as much as she dares; reaching up, she removes the domino mask, a quick glance around before the hatch closes. Exhaling slowly, inhaling-- so *many* scents. Wildcat. Sweat. Food of all kinds

She grimaces, closing her eyes as she breathes deeper. Focus.

The crackle and crinkle of vibrating, reshifting flesh is quieter now than it was before, but the unmistakable whimper she breathes is there; bone crackles as it reaffirms, reshapes itself. Brief pain, a flash, and then....

"Ow," Belinda remarks quietly, breathing a shivering sigh. "Never gets old... and /never/ gets old!"
Thomas Blake Thomas Blake thinks it sounds pretty painful. He keeps a look out for witnesses because, having a werewolf climb into you SUV is slightly less damning than an underage girl climbing out. "Let me know when I can get in and drive you home... after milkshakes."
Belinda Gutierrez "Deal," comes the reply, far less gruff in Belinda's own words. She shifts up to the backseat, clicking on the seatbelt for good measure. "I stay at the high school's dormitory," she explains, smiling ruefully. "Happy Harbor. And..." She pauses, glancing askance. "....a BBB to go with milkshake? Big Belly should be open at drive through, yes?"

Ominous stomach rumble. OMINOUS.

"Ugh. Second time too. I'm gonna run out of clothes at this rate!" She sighs, glancing out the window. "Jogging shoes. I was running through Central Park. That always works."