2019.09.01 Suburban Legends
| Suburban Legends | |
|---|---|
| The Dragons Meet the Harrison's. | |
| IC Date | 9/1/2019 |
| IC Time | Evening (Waxing Crescent Moon) |
| Players | Laz, Jessy, Merick, Alena, Cirrhosis Sam, Cruciatu |
| Location | Prospect - Surburbia |
| Spheres | Garou, Wyrm |
"Life gets in the way..
each step we take we fade to gray
become shadows of ourselves."
"..find me a nice suburban family, at least two kids, and a dog.." the guiding words of an Alpha's touch. The words that would unleash the Dragons onto the world and send them seeking for that which would appeal to such demand. The evening casts its normal haze over the horizon, the dim lights of suburban streets struggle against the canopy of darkness to provide some solace of sanctuary for those who would be out too late and vulnerable to the machinations of the dominion-born. Shadows stretch and lurk around corners, which a pile of refuse from a toppled over trash can is rummaged through by a coyote drawn too close to civilization by the desperation of hunger or the promise of something tastier.
Belvue Street. A few generations of families have grown up here, upper-middle class suburban homes piled atop of slim acreage with the shade of a few planted trees to give them a solace which reminds them of life. The American Dream, handed to them after years of hard work and sacrifices. In the day the children play amongst the bushes and rose bushes as the sprinklers spit water over lush green grass and splash daintily against signs which boast about new roofs, fresh landscaping, and the bright illuminance of perfectly pitched paved driveways. For Sale signs bring the curious and hungry visitors for a piece of paradise, rarely to be accepted into this sanctuary of perfect creation. To live on Belvue after all, you must be the perfect family.
1171. The two-story colonial-style cottage, with white marble pillars, and a wrap-around porch. Two cars parked in the driveway, one a Lexus and the other an Avalon. Neither parked in their respective places in the garage, as then they would be invisible to their neighbors. The lights have been turned down except for the dim flickering of the living room, and the office light on the second floor. A back yard with white tall fencing to shield the in-laid pool and to give a place for 'Buster' the chocolate lab to run and frolic in his own lap of luxury. Four white stickers on the back of the Lexus windshield. A tall male figure, a slightly shorter female figure. Also a shorter male figure, and a shorter female figure - and lastly stuck on the window as an after-thought, slightly crooked is the silhouette of a dog.
Sitting in an expensive modified BMW, with a black leather gloves, and black ski mask, and a black hoodie with a knife resting on the dashboard is one Merick, trouble maker of the finest order but gentleman of the finest order of madness."Now then, how do we wish to do this quick or take our time, or just play it by ear?" His voice is french, as his eyes are narrow down onb the female, and then over at the male, and then the shorter of the females.
Alena's lip curls a bit in disgust, "they really do not deserve that dog," she comments, lightly. She has draped herself through the middle of the front seats, from the rear, and is leaning across Sammy to tug down the passenger visor. As she accesses the lighted visor mirror to check her glossy, cherry-scented lips in her reflection, she gives a wink to herself, satisfied at the result, and resettles back beside Cru. "We should do it /efficiently/," she affirms.
Merick might regret having Cruciatu enter his car. He has washed up, sort of. He no longer reaks of road kill several days old. Or less obviously. Even so, Cru's well worn clothing probably hasn't seen a washing machine in at least a month. Or two. This very moment he sits in back smoking some awakened weed. The cherry on the tip of his joint glows if the lighting is dim enough. His dark eyes watch the outside. As usual he doesn't say much ... until he sees the stickers on the back of one of the cars. "Look, a menu. Dibs on the littliest shit."
From somewhere in the darkness of the car, there is a loud crunching noise. Sam, shoving Funyon's - or is it pork rinds - into his mouth. As he talks, crumbs litter the area around him in the swanky BMW. "Send the pretty to the door and claim car trouble, tell them she needs to use phone because her BMW battery is dead and her cellphone doesn't have reception." He smacks his lips, gives a hacking noise, "She scopes the place, calls us from their phone to let us know they're all there." He burps, "Pretty girl, BMW, they might even ask her to stay for dinner."
Merick turns into the back, as he does not care for the moment, as he nods at Sam with a wicked chuckle."Good plan, then we grab em and go the trunk is huge. I had it modifed last year, also renforced as well. Now then, we get them throw them in it and take them to Lazarus."
"Should we take them out, then, one at a time?" Alena asks as she watches the house. Her eyes are narrowed, as she imagines the house brightly lit for Christmas, a tree in the front window... The sound of fucking joy... She pulls her attention back to those present, but nods at Sammy. She slides out of the Boomer, one long leg at a time, and has enough decency to tug down the back of her short skirt a bit. "I'll set the stage..." And with that, she starts to head up to the house. She measures - It might not be the man who answers the door... Usually isn't. So a wife isn't as likely to feel particularly empathetic towards a hot girl looking for a hand. Unless.... She takes a moment, slaps herself sharply several times on the left cheek... Rips the shoulder of her faux-fur masterpiece... And cries a bit for added effect. Then, she rigs the doorbell.
Sam ejects himself from the car as Alena starts her preparations. "Smart pretty, I like a girl committed to her role." He calls encouragement back to Cru and Merick, "Bruise crew on three! Eight!" He whistles a jaunty tune to himself as he pulls a large mallet found in the amusement park with him as he circles around to the back of the house.
Sam gets a 'WTF did that mean?' look out of Cruciatu. The Theurge gets out of the car and just starts ... walking off. Not directly towards the house. He heads for the side and the bushes there like he's going to take a piss. Only, he doesn't. Instead he works on setting himself up in the shadows to disappear and wait, listening and glancing in through a window - if he can.
Merick watches them and then he grabs that knife as he folds it up slowly into the hidden form it is seems to be right now just a little black item, as he moves out there with a chuckle. His eyes on the door, and then on Alena, then back again as he is waiting."Now then, fine fun night of mayhem for the all mighty father."
As the doorbell is reached, it depresses with general ease. Designed to be as welcoming as the soft brown welcome mat that Alena's heels press into on that river stone marbled deck porch. What a beautiful design, with some lights and decorations this would truly be a magical home for the holidays. Perhaps this is what it felt to ring that doorbell just a few years ago. A soft whimper of a warning bark is given from Buster as the tranquility is disturbed by the notion. The sound of voices begin within, an older woman's voice, "Watch your show Walter, I got it. It's probably just the neighborhood watch doing their rounds." the silhouette of the woman can be seen coming to the doorway.
"Huh?.. ohh.. whatever." the distracted sound of the older man's voice from the living room, as his eyes remain transfixed precisely as the Weaver has demanded. His attention lost on the meaningless exchanges of numbers and images presented for his enslavement by the television he recently purchased with his bonus money for wage-slaving for the last twenty years. There is a stir from upstairs, and a curtain is pulled aside enough for a young girl's face to peer through the window towards the way to see curiously who it is. No recognition on her fair face, and too niave to realize it for the danger that it is.
Another voice comes from the basement, younger male voice that chimes in, "Is that Pizza?!" the hopefully sound of the young teen-age boy, addled by starvation from not eating in a full meal in the last twenty minutes, as he begins to amble up the stairs with physical excitement at the prospect of double-layer pepperoni, and cheese stuffed crust - it's not even Friday. Maybe it's his birthday?
The older woman in a house dress, sanz shoes and a wrap around over her shoulders answers the door and takes only a moment to see Alena out there. "Oh my Heavens. Are you okay? You poor poor dear. Did someone hurt you?" dismissing the safety of her own family in that brief moment of vulnerability, her compassion takes the best of her and she opens the door more fully to offer solace for the poor young girl on her doorstep.
As soon as that threshold is opened to Alena, the waterworks begin. She looks at the other woman, communicating between them a look only another woman would know. One that expresses the pain only a lover can leave. After all, we only hurt the ones we love, right? "I'm SO Sorry!" Alena begins, apologizing immediately. Of course, it's all her fault. "I don't mean to bother you.... I'm just.. I don't know what to /do/." She lifts a shaky hand to try and, fruitlessly, wipe at the tears now pouring down her face. "My... boyfriend... I made him mad and he pushed me out of the car again. I don't have my purse, and I need to call my Mooooom," another wail of tears, brought about by the mere comforting mention of her dearest mother. She sobs a few moments more, for good measure, before, "I walked all the way here..."
Blissfully Ignorant of his surroundings, Sam makes his way around the side of the house. All of his concentration in on being unseen - and when you have a mug this memorable, that takes a lot of concentration. Okay, well maybe not ALL of his concentration is on being stealthy. His mouth is pretty dry from all those Funyons he ate. Now he's thirsty. Mmmm... milk. Milk would be good. Whole milk, not that 2 shit. Fattier the better. If there is a fence, he looks for a door. If there isn't a door, he jumps it.
Merick watches it with a wicked little smile as Alena, is speaking his hand is flicking out that knife in his right hand, it is oiled quiet and slick with the desire to murder, as his eyes moving along for a moment, as he waits for the others. He looks back at Jessy, but he is down in the shadows of the bushes as he makes his way there, with a wicked chuckle.
With the Blur of the Milky Eye activated, Jessy will slink around the other side of the building, keeping to he shadows and generally stsalking those inside and waiting for a good opportunity. She looks for an open window, adn then moves to crawl up and test others to see if they are locked or unlocked. Either way, she doesn't appear to be easily seen. Naturally, she would first check for any camera's and if so, she'll put shroud right over them to ensure they will not capture anything.
Unless someone is looking for him, Cruciatu has disappeared. Out of sight. He's trying to get a look into the house without being seen if he can, to keep tabs on who's doing what in there. Listening. Otherwise he's just waiting, patiently, and not moving.
The older woman, motherly in all manners immediately steps aside and motions to welcome Alena in as though she was her very own daughter upstairs. "Oh my word. You poor dear. Of course, come inside." The woman calls back towards the stairs, "Walter.. get over here." she demands, and then up the stairs she calls, "Madeline.. get me some towels, quickly." The young man, fifteen and already the tallest of the family stops at the stairs and his jaw drops at the sight of Alena and he freezes in place. "Uh.. mom.. what are you doing?" he says with some trepidation, obviously not sold on the situation as much as the matron of the house would be.
Walter, comes walking out of the living room - obviously not pleased by the idea of his sports being interrupted by yet another.. he pauses in his spiteful stride, to see the sight and his pencil-pushing chest lifts protectively to look around. "Now Rachel.. what is going on? Who is this girl?" similar skepticism that his son has, though he turns and says, "Go on back downstairs Brody, finish your homework." The boys chuffs and lingers back a step, but his eyes remain fixated on the bombshell that just got delivered. You'd think she was a double-decker pizza by the way he eyeballs her ripped outfit. The chocolate lab comes uncoiling around from the coffee table where he too was watching, though he was more hoping the old man would drop more savory crumbs of whatever people-food he chose to gorge himself on this evening was. At the sight, the dog's nostrils flare and he chuffs another bark of warning. Then another, beginning to bark as the sense of a predator is felt. Instincts bringing the protective nature of the natural creature to the surface, something is wrong here. Why will his people-folk not listen to his warning?! Bark, damnit!
The young girl, about twelve or thirteen years old comes down the stairs, carrying a pair of towels in her hands and a confused expression. Her budding frame wrapped in a sparkly white unicorn tank, and a pair of pink shorts just over her pink fuzzy rabbit slippers which she loves so much, cause they're so soft! Confused expression on her face, she pleads gently, , "Mom?" their dystopia of paradise disturbed by this scene. This kind of stuff doesn't happen on Belvue Street. This never happens here, not to them.
The yard is easy to penetrate, the fence can be breached without problem. The house probably isn't even properly locked up. The windows are mostly unlocked even, and one is easily able to gain entry into the house, especially with all the distraction at the front door that there is.
Alena immediately starts to fold her arms in on herself as the Men of the House begin to appear and toggle her, as if she is being re-victimzed all over again. She pushes her brows together and slides away from the living room and the older man. "Phone?" She asks again in the tiniest of fearful voices. The dog begins to bark and she slides away from the direction, I mean, dogs can be frightening, especially to a young woman in distress. As she looks back toward Brody, she gives him a small look, a slight shift in her eyes - looking up at him through feathered lashes - and her mouth parts oh-so-slightly. She shifts her arms together submissively, but in effect accenting her rack. He could be her white knight?
YUS. The fucking dog is /in/ the house and not in the backyard. Cru grins ferally and as quietly as he may, he gets his ass either through the gate or over the fence and into the backyard. Neighbor's won't be able to see him back there. A quick glance around to make sure he stays out of line of sight of the windows by ducking down and out of any light spilling forth from the house. Then he'll go oh so carefully check that back door - unless Jessy or somebody else beats him to it. By the glint in the Theurge's eye and the snear on his face, he is looking forward to contact with the enemy.
Sam moves through backyard, taking in the disarray of suburban life with kids. Discarded pool noodles, yard toys not put away, the trail of wet and small damp footprints not quite dry in the late summer heat. He reaches for the doorknob and gently turns it, quietly checking to see if it is unlocked. The house isn't put away for the night so it gives a soft 'click' as it opens. With a satisfied smile at Cru as he comes into the backyard behind him, Sam murmurs, "Thanks rugrat."
Opening the door he leaves it open for Cru to come in behind him then walks over to the fridge, opening the door, taking out the milk and drinking it straight from the cartoon.
Jessy will carefully open an unlocked window and literally just open it just enough to slip her small body through. When she lands, she'll crouch and then with her blur on, very silently begin to prowl into the house from the room she is in. She'll listen for the dog, perhaps to lure it in the room, and then lock it inside so they don't have to worry about it. If the dog goes for her first, but she's got Blur on, so who knows.
Merick is watching now in the window, and then he is looking at the dog, making it remeber the first beating, then the next over and over, everytime this family was rude to him, making sure it is filled with sorrow, pain, all those nice mean emotions, pointing at the son by using it's memories, the goal of course is for it to bite him, as he chuckles slowly with a wide wicked grin on his lips, his eyes are glowing with soft green hate.
Rachel turns her eyes with the severity of scorn on Walter and she demands, "Damnit Walter Harrison. This girl needs our help, and I'll be right damned if your blubbering is going to get in the way of me doing God's work. Now make yourself useful and watch out that window for this nasty boyfriend of hers. He ain't coming into Our House!" She wraps an arm around Alena and starts to guide her towards the kitchen, "Come on dear, lets get you cleaned up and a phone right here. Let your momma know you're safe and we'll take care of you till she gets here." she promises with all the love and kindness one could hope for in this dark, bleak world.
Walter stands credulously, about to object until he gets a good verbal lashing from the boss of the house. Wind taken straight out of his sails, he turns to look towards Brody and says, "Damnit boy, I said get downstairs.. and take Buster with you. Your mother is on another one of her damn Evangelical missions.." he groans, cause he's -obviously- not going to get to watch the rest of the sports game tonight. Still hasn't even figured out how to use the damn DVR. The sliding back door is unlocked, Madeline once more having forgotten to lock it after she went swimming earlier. Sam and Cru easily able to gain entry for the rear, since this family has been caught bent over it seems. Jessy manages to slip the guest room window, and slide into the house undetected. Buster continues to bark and howl warningly, sensing the danger and knowing his family is being foolish. Though Brody, much stronger these days moves forward to pull the dog away from Alena. He missed the sexy pose, in reflection of his mother's yelling and his father's scolding him. "Alright, alright.. we're going." he insists disgustingly as he drags the lab back and down into the basement with him - disarming his own family's only chance for protection now. The dog though, doesn't go easily - in fact, it growls. Snarling at the hands of Brody, the boy who pulled his fur and tormented him for years when he was younger. A snap of his jaws at being denied the chance to protect, and sharper more agitated snaps of his muzzle in the air to protest being dragged into the basement. "Move it, stupid dog!" Brody demands, less patient than the others.
Once more Madeline begs, "Mom?" trying to give her the towels, trying to understand what is happening, trying to not hear her family fighting again. They're always fighting, arguing about something. She hates when the yelling starts. She drops the towels on the ground, and turns to start to bolt back up the stairs now.
Alena watches the girl running up the stairs and a small smirk tugs at the corners of her mouth. Stupid girl. Don't you know prey gets chased? She moves towards the phone, trying to further distract eyes away from Cru and Sam as they help themselves in through the rear without so much as an ounce of lube. She moves her eyes back to Brody and her gaze darkens once more as she starts to think of how much she wants him. No, not to /fuck/. To hurt. To oppress. To shove in a collar and beat. She dials her own cell number. Safely in the car, it rings. She notes the father walking towards the front of the house, and as soon as Voice Mail picks up, she lets out a fresh sample of sobs and looks back up at the mother, trembling. Pitifully. The girl needs a goddamned hug.
As it happens, Cru is /about/ to step into the house after Sammy. He gives the other right of way and then gets a thought. Instead of entering the house, he steps back out and starts to look around at the outside walls. He takes his time, patiently seeking for something ... it takes him a minute or two but the phone line is located as it leaves the house. Probably as a thin line that then goes straight into the ground, buried so not to be an eye sore to the neighborhood. Perfect. Cru sets himself to ripping that wire right out. It make take him some doing. Cell phones are a thing but maybe it'll help.
Hearing Alena's Oscar worthy performance on the phone, Sam turns and walks toward where she and the mother are heading towards the phone. He kicks the fridge door shut with his boot because he doesn't want it making one of those stupid warning dings to give away his position. Holding the jug of milk in his right hand he waits for Mrs. Cleaver's head to appear and swings his left fist across her jaw, nailing that nice little spot that sends her straight into dreamland, knowing when she wakes up, he can made her dreams come true and introduce her to his own version of Mr. Grey. He steps back as she falls to the ground, then gives Alena a wink as he takes another swig from the milk jug.
"Little boy, little boy, it's your turn on the wall of pleasure, the wall of pain, and shame." That is when Merick is pushing the power to the boy, now digging for bad memories, something to make him all horny, violent, like a good little trouble teen, he is going to digging into that fucking head, till he is ready to pop with a rage pimple.
Peeking through the gap in the door of the guestroom she snuck into, Jessy can see what is going. She'll smirk, looking amused at the performance by the cub and watches carefully for a good opportunity. Then, she'll slink slowly down the corridor to get closer to whoever is closest to that hallway. Then she will wait, crouching slightly with a rope in hand, a nice little garrote, for the perfect opportunity to launch forward and take down someone.
The Harrison family home has been breached, infiltrated, impregnated and is now being invaded by the likes of The Dragons. Each Sunday they are told to love their neighbor, and to do onto others as they would wish done onto themselves. None preach of the atrocities that would be done unto them, by those who have had worse done onto them. Walter turns to look towards the front door, the protector of the house. He closes it and lifts his hand to turn the deadbolt they had installed when they moved in. He would ensure his family was safe with this door, lock out the evil. Though no sooner as the door locks, the click that will echo in his traumatically afflicted mind would remember forever, does he hear the scream of whimpered pain from the strike across Rachel's face which takes her down to the ground. Before the man can even fully turn to grasp what is going on, he sees his best canine friend, snarling and biting the arm of his son, wrenching at the soft flesh and blood starting to pour free from the wound. The last scampering of his daughter up the stairs is seen, and he stumbles forward protectively to try to shield her with his hands raised in the air.
"Stop please! Don't hurt my family." the older man begs pathetically, trying to use his body to prevent anyone from going up the stairs. Unknowingly, this also puts he right next to Jessy and the entrance to that half-closed door of the guestroom. Meanwhile Brody's mind is twisted, and he goes off, "Fuck you, you useless mut! I'll fucking kill you." he snarls, grabbing hold of some sheers from the tool wall beside the entrance to the basement when the dog bites his arm. He brings the tool through the air and slams it into the dog's head and starts fighting with the dog, who only grows more aggressive and vicious now from the abuse.
Upstairs, Madeline scampers across the top floor, presumably back to her room and closes the door and locks it. She moves around swiftly, looking for a place to hide and tries her best not to scream at this awful nightmare.
Alena gives a dark wink to Sam and turns to lock her eyes on Brody. "Someone should get the duct tape," she calls out to... Everyone. She knows Jessy's got Daddy, Sam's taken out Mommy. Little Perfect Fucking Unicorn is hiding in her room. They /always/ get in, honey. She inhales deeply. Ah. /There's/ that scent Laz loves so much. A smile blooms across her features and she turn towards Brody. Pathetic little shit needs to abuse something weaker than him eh? She rolls her shoulders and lets her muscles extend, shifting into that larger form as Brody takes care of the family pet for them. Sad, really. The pet was the only one of them worth the air it breathed. When his efforts are finished, she looks at the teenager, just a few scant years younger than herself, and arches her Glabro brow. "My turn."
There's a vicious looking gleam in Jessy's eyes as Walter comes close to her position where she's crouching and waiting for her chance. When he gets close, her chance is there and she'll launch forward, leaping onto his back and wrapping that rope around his neck and holding on tight. It'll stop him from screaming, but it won't be quick, so she holds on tight with both hands wrapped in the rope as she strangles him. Her legs wrap around his waist too and she holds on like a freaking monkey on his back even as her own body gets larger and larger, Glabro to make herself stronger, bigger, and generally too much for poor daddy to handle.
There is one that is safe, oh so fucking safe, oh so fucking safe in her little princess room, but his fingers reaching up into her mind digging into it now, his fingers playing with it, and then he starts the work. Each fight, every time, all of it, the trauma of a family, that seems to argue, and hate, not love in cherish, played in her mind over and over and over, each time it is restarted in a new fight, his control is dominating everything about her.
The land phone line now toast, Cruciatu starts looking around for the electrical box. Only, he barely starts looking around when he sees something else way more important happening out front. Very softly he says, "Oh shit." The tall, lean black man is hustling his ass back to the back door and slipping inside. It'll take him a second to locate the kitchen with Sammy and Alena there, and the crumpled older woman now on the floor. "We got 6 fuckers pulling up out front." He rasps out in a throaty growl followed by a gesture towards the front of the house with his maimed hand. "Neighborhood watch, come to th' rescue." Oh yeah, baby. Things are about to get spicy and Cru likes it.
"On it," Sam says to Alena as he rolls the mom onto her back with the boot of his shoe. He takes out his flip phone and texts Merrick to start bringing the car around so they can start loading the bodies. He casually picks up his mallet and walks into the living room, continuing to text as he watches Alena heading to find "Wally" or whatever stupid name they've given their kid. Snapping the phone closed he lifts the mallet to his shoulder and says to Jessy, "Good job short stuff. Now let's finish this up, got art to make," and he shoves the end of the mallet into the dad's sternum to knock the air from his lungs.
Sammy says, "Shit"
The Scream. It is piercing, wailing and shriek-worthy of the most classic of horror movies. The young girl, barely twelve and having always been invisible in her life - not takes center stage as the last free member of her family. It was not enough to hide, to block it out this time - she knows what is going on. She has always known what was going on, she is not safe, not here, not anywhere! The windows might shatter with the scream that emits from her, so clearly heard upstairs and likely throughout the surrounding homes.
Rachel is face down, the bruise from Sammy's fist already illustrating a mushroom welt of blue on the side of her textured and aging face. Walter is ambushed with ease, with the distraction of his son's attack and his daughter's scream. Strangled down to the ground and crushed by the weight of Jessy's assault. As Alena grows, and the dog mauls the golden son - then it is too quickly that the two of them are not only able to subdue him, but easily break him for his weak attempts at infliction against the canine.
Out front, Merick will notice just as Cruciatu did - three landscaping pickup trucks pulling up in front of the house quickly. Each has a magnetized yellow sticker temporarily hanging over the side of the vehicle designating them as Neighborhood Watch, with their catchy slogan, "No need to lock your doors, Neighborhood Watch has your back." a phrase they may have to modify after this incident it seems. Yet still the girl screams, gripping her pretty head with her hands, as she struggles to contain herself and simply cannot. Then there is a smash, as she literally runs and throws herself through the window and comes landing sickening on the walk-way path stones. Her head bleeding next to a garden gnome with a coy expression on his face, standing almost ludely over her with his waist thrust in the direction of her gaping mouth. Eyes glazing over as she starts to lose consciousness.
Turns into the father hidden in the bushes, and then Merick comes running out from the side of the house with a shocked look on his face."What the fuck, Madeline. What the fucking hell, hey guys we got this it's been a rough night, Brody got bite by the dog, and Madeline well I find the devil weed in her room, so I got this as the man of the house." He is speaking up as he bends down to pick up the girl, now with a shake of his head looking just down right shocked, and upset."Fucking drugs, you know we got to win that war."
Sam growls as the scream rips through the house. "God dammit... nothing can ever be easy." Mental note, beat the ass of whoever made that much noise. He licks his teeth and says to Jessy, "Get daddio out of the way." He sets the mallet down and takes off his leather jacket and tosses it over the back of the dad's recliner. He moves through the house and begins turning off lights and then moves to the front door to unlock the deadbolt. Then he waits in the darkness to see if Merrick can lose these fuckers or if they are going to get invited in to join the party.
Alena slams Brody's head into the floor, finally knocking him unconscious before turning to look at Buster. Poor beast. There's a look of what might be genuine regret. She reaches over to make quick work of the animal, snapping it's neck between two overly grown arms, ending its life. She hears a ruckus outside, but trusts that her pack mates have it under control. Surely they can handle a group of stupid humans without much issue. Surely. Right??
Growling at Sammy, Jessy will snarl at him. "I had it. I didn't need help." She will drop the father, since he's out now and begin to drag him to the side, and just drops him where he hits his head again. She'll glare at Sammy, looking pissed off as the larger than normal, and definitely neolithic looking Jessy will tromp towards the front door to look out the window. She'll wait a moment as she watches ,her eyes narrowing as they zero in on Merick pretending to be the father. "If it goes bad, I will drop shroud on the whole area.", she'll state firmly. "Remember where the others are located, so you can take them out fast."
Cruciatu snarls, not liking the sound of the girl's scream followed by the broken glass and something hitting the walk out front. He looks around to place where the backdoor is if he has to grab the unconscious middle aged woman and carry her out - should he suddenly be unable to see. He doesn't say anything but waits to see how it unfolds, possibly ready to act. Or possibly half stoned and zoning out.
As Walter (Merick) comes out of the bushes to deter the Caucasian, community-approved landscapers who also get to be neighborhood watch members - they take pause. They have shovels and rakes in their hands, and look like they're ready to finally prove their worth to the community and bust some no good looters or something. They pause in confusion, and when one of them spots Madeline smashed on the front steps, he chokes and jerks his body forward - losing his dinner on the pristinely manicured lawn he no doubt had part of earlier this week.
The yellow jackets clearly designate them as neighborhood watch, cause you can't just be anyone - you got to EARN your jacket, and the young man that steps forward, has not one, not two, but three stripes on his lapel, which pretty much makes him completely in charge of this unpaid program and not about to take any shit, or so his swagger suggests. "Hey Mr. Harrison.. woah, this is fucked up. This is really, I mean.. this is totally fucked up man. Your daughter." he waves towards Madeline, a girl he's noticed before when working the yard here. She always looks so cute in that little white bikini number she wears in the pool. He shakes his head, "Mr. Harrison, I have to call the police. Someone is hurt.. you said Brody got bit?.. we'll get an ambulance. I think that's the procedure. Jack, what do we do if someone gets bit?" he asks another jock standing nearby, who isn't hurling at the sight. For the moment they appear diffused. It appears the backdoor is clear, to get the family members out. Now what?
Sam whisper growls to Jessica, "If Merick can't get ride of them then we need to take them down in HERE, where we control the scene. Go to the door, yell scream and cry if you have to, but get them in here before they call the fucking police. Then we get furry and take them all out inside."
Merick walks over slowly as he opens his wallet as he takes out 500 bucks slowly, and then he walks over to the man."Come on man, she will go to jail, it was not just weed, she is on cocaine, and her brother is on angel dust. Don't do this to my kids man, go buy yourself something nice man, no cops, no cops, at all forget this shit, get lose let me handle my family."
Lena actually kicks off those mother fucking heels of hers and hefts Brody's body over her shoulder, dragging him, and then the mother out into the back yard. Soon, followed by pops and hopefully Madeline. They can wait to bring the Boomer up to the gate, then load it from there. As for Buster? Lena pauses, kneels and kisses the animal's head, gently. Fucking family didn't deserve that dog.
As nobody is busting down the front door screaming about police, Cru kicks into gear. He goes for the middle aged woman and hefts her up over his shoulder, ready to carry her spanky ass out the back. Lena doesn't need to handle the woman, she can focus on the bloody boy. Share, share alike. Besides, she's busy kissing some dead dog. "Bring it." Maybe somebody will! As the others file out the back bringing the family out, Cru goes along. Probably scaring the crap out of the neighbors has they carry bodies out to the BMW but hey, they'll be long gone before the cops get here.
Sam takes charge as beta, organizing the rest of the pack in the removal of the family. While they are duct taping and putting the Harrison Family away, Sam cracks his knuckles and begins to paint a picture, tell a story, for the people who come looking for the Harrison's later. A story of a weird night, where the father was acting strange and his daughter went out a window and he paid off the neighborhood watch. A story of a father, who finally had enough with his wife emasculating him and his ungrateful kids ruining his life so he loses his shit on them and they go missing. He breaks shit, he stages violence. He takes the dogs blood and uses it to write, "Finally Peace" on the wall. Then he makes sure they take at least one of the family cars to dump the bodies in later, to complete the story.
And so the peace and quiet resumes on Bellevue Street. The tranquility of the night comes back into place, and the illusion of safety continues as though nothing has transpired. The garden gnome remains as the only witness to what transpired, and Buster's dead body remains limply pooled in the blood of it and the boy Brody. The kitchen raided, the television left on to show the most promising sports statistics of the season and yet no one is left to watch. Broken glass from a second story window over a girl's pink bedroom, the blazing sign that all is not so well here. Though time will pass, and soon this will be just another Suburban Legend.
The next day, the house is cleaned up.. and remarkably, a For Sale sign is posted in the yard. As if nothing had every happened at all, in Beautiful and Safe - Bellevue Estates.
