DATE:  Thursday, January 15, 1998
Place: City safehouse

---- Recall start ----

Connery House: Living Room
Contents:
Pete Barlow
Kyle
Scott

Scott is already inside the house when the Pete and Kyle knock on the door. He 
   moves over to open it so they can come in. The Fang's expression is tight 
   and dark.
Kyle moves into the room quickly enough, dumping a riding jacket and helmet 
   into a heap by the door.
Pete Barlow comes in with Kyle but he by no means arrives with him, moving off 
   to one side, cigarette dangling from his mouth. The big Gnawer ahroun looks 
   more like an angry longshoreman than a bum tonight.
JJ Malone comes out of the kitchen at the sound of people arriving, and takes 
   up a position on the edge of the entry way, bringing a cigarette to his 
   mouth and taking a drag. "Evening Kyle. Pete," he greets tersely but not 
   impolitely.
Kyle tries to pass off a grunt as a greeting, and he leans against the wall 
   looking around expectantly.
Scott lets out a deep breath, and says,"I'm going to try and make this short 
   and to the point. A few days ago, on the SCCU quad someone shot me. Single 
   shot, cheap gun, in the back and then ran. I didn't chase after him as it 
   got me pretty bad, I was wobbling on my feet. Luckily, one of my tribe's 
   kin was there to help me. She got me some place safe, but when I shifted, I 
   learned the bullet I'd been shot with was silver." The Fang pauses, to let 
   that last fact sink in.
Pete Barlow gives a stiff nod to the Walker, taking a position off to one side 
   of the room. "Sounds kinda like tried to snag Morgan."
JJ Malone's eyebrows go up his forehead with interest at the news, but he 
   holds his tongue, listening intently.
Kyle's frown falls even further, which is pretty damn low. "In the back. With 
   silver. Any chance of tracking the fucker down?"
Scott takes a deep breath and then lets it out. "I'm going to talk to Morgan 
   and Davy about that, evidently they both have some skill at tracking. I've 
   still got the slug, so maybe we can used that to trace it back to whoever 
   fired it. Obviously, this presents something of a problem. First 
   possibility, as I see it is that this 'Guido' has managed to backtrack Tim 
   to me, but isn't nearly so professional as he or Tim claims him to be. 
   Second possibility, and I'm not casting aspersions, but the number of 
   people that know I'm Garou are limited to some knowing kin, other Garou, 
   and a few Mages. So I suppose it could have been them, I've probably made 
   enemies in each of those groups. Third possibility, it's a Garou-hunter. 
   This one I think is least likely, because it was so unprofessional, and I'm 
   not sure how the hell he'd have figured out I was Garou."
JJ Malone gives a quiet snort. "How do any of them?" he asks in a mutter, his 
   expression pulling down into a frown of thought.
Kyle grunts, nodding along with the assessment. "'Bout right, and Chaser's 
   another one who could help ya track. She's about the best tracker I've 
   worked with." He glances to JJ, and back to Scott. "You lived, and they 
   only took one shot. You were out in the open?"
Pete Barlow doesn't say anything, blowing smoke slowly through his nose. He 
   watches the others,though, attention moving from first one and then to 
   another.
Scott replies to JJ,"From what I understand, Garou-hunters usually go after 
   Garou that are a bit more careless than I am. In any case," he glances back 
   to Kyle. "Yes, on the Quad of SCCU, near the dorms. Luckily there was 
   almost no one else on the Quad."
JJ Malone's eyebrows go up again with a hint of incredulity at the rebuttal, 
   but it's brief-lived. His expression goes back to studied concentration, 
   punctuated by drags from his cigarette.
"You got some marks on the shooter, Sir Scott?" asks Barlow as he sucks down 
   the bare nubbin' of his cigarette, more than likely a stub he picked up off 
   the ground anyway.
Scott replies,"I've got a few rough sketchs I've done of him. He was dressed 
   like a bum, but I don't think that was anything more than a ruse so he 
   could approach unnoticed. I heard his voice as well. Hell, I could show you 
   what I saw through a waking dream if you wanted, but I more wanted you all 
   to know it happened in case it is a symptom of a bigger problem."
Kyle pushes away from the wall and stalks across the room, the beginnings of a 
   good pacing. "Goddamned cowardly shit *really* pisses me off. We find the 
   fucker, he'll burn."
Scott nods slowly,"Chaser's help is appreciated, if she wants to offer it, 
   Kyle."
"Gonna barbecue before you eat him?" mutters Barlow half under his breath. He 
   turns though back to Scott before waiting for a retort. "If'n you can get 
   me the sketches and shit, Sir Scott, I'll see that word gets to the street. 
   If there's some shit tryin' to be us, the Chain'll know."
Scott dips his head in a nod towards Pete. "I'll have copies of it sent over 
   to your place, Pete. Thanks, I appreciate it." He offers a faint smile 
   towards the Gnawer. "If we can find his name, I can track him with the 
   stone, if not ... well it'll probably be up to the Ragabashs."
Kyle snorts at Barlow's jab, but he doesn't bother with a comeback. "I'll talk 
   to her, huh," he says to Scott.
Scott says "Thanks Kyle, I appreciate it."
Pete Barlow shakes his head at Scott, almost laughing as he moves around the 
   room, stopping not far from Shades. "I ain't got a fuckin' mailbox, Scott. 
   Just leave 'em here and I'll get 'em. Or drop 'em by Davy's digs." The 
   Gnawer looks over at the Walker. "Spare a smoke?"
Kyle stops his pacing by the front door, obviously getting ready to leave. 
   "Barlow, y' ain't said where and when ya want to hear the story of your 
   Alpha's death. Call me. I'm in the book."
Crimson rises in the Fangs cheeks as he ducks his head a little, 
   replying,"Yeah, right Pete. Sorry, wasn't using my head. I'll probably drop 
   it by Davy's. Thanks for stopping by, Kyle."
Pete Barlow looks over at the Get with a shrug. "I don't carry a Franklin 
   fuckin' Planner. Just find us in the Park or at the Rialto or wherever. We 
   just need to hear it; you're the one that needs to tell it."
JJ Malone digs in his pocket and pulls out his cigarettes, expertly bouncing a 
   couple into the opening and extending the package to Pete as offering, with 
   a predator-like expression of scrutiny for a moment. "You still living 
   there?" he asks the Gnawer.
Pete Barlow gives a nod to Shades as he takes the pack, "Thanks." He puts one 
   to his mouth after pocketing the package. "Light?" he asks. "Been there for 
   a long while now, why?"
JJ Malone pulls out a lighter and lights it as well, then returns to his lean. 
   "I know you were. Been wondering if you know if the FBI's still nosing 
   around it at all, one way or the other."
Kyle's face contorts, but he once again bites back a retort, instead gathering 
   his helmet and jacket in an easy swipe of his hand. The door slams behind 
   him, hard enough to shake the windows.
Pete Barlow shakes hia head as he takes his first drag on a fresh cigarette, a 
   rare treat for the big man. "Ain't seen any signs of 'em. Pedro's got some 
   good eyes and he ain't seen the Suits in a bunch of months, at least not 
   regular like. They swing by couple times a month, I guess."
JJ Malone nods thoughtfully. "So, still unsafe for the most part. You know for 
   sure if they ever tracked down that church down on the south side Cavall's 
   staked out?"
Pete Barlow gives JJ a look, smiling as he pulls the cigarette from his mouth. 
   "Unsafe? Maybe for the Walks or Rangers. Not for me. What'd be unsafe is if 
   I woulda up and scooted digs when all that shit was going down. Then they 
   woulda pegged me for sure. As it is, they just got me knocked as just 
   another big-ass bum findin' somethin' warm to sleep in. Besides, Vera keeps 
   her eyes out." He takes anothe drag. "The Church? Place is pretty clean. 
   Another one of those old, forgotten places the Suits don't much bother 
   with. What about uptown? They still on the snoop?"
JJ Malone nods once. "Exactly how I mean unsafe. Fine enough for you, but any 
   more bodies around would be dangerous. I haven't heard a peep out of any of 
   them uptown, but I also never heard that they'd spotted us there. I'm just 
   trying to determine which of your hangouts are still compromised for anyone 
   but your bunch, at least more than usual. Bunch of new family members in 
   the area."
Pete Barlow gives a shrug. "Compromised and compromised. There's more than one 
   way into the Rialto, you know." The big Gnawer leans against the wall. "You 
   got any bead on the Leeches? I had a good feel for their shit about a year 
   ago, but since then they've fuckin' just dropped outta sight. Now I hear 
   they're spookin' back up and bein' nasty, breakin' rules and shit. You know 
   who their Prince is now?"
JJ Malone's posture tightens as he shifts out of his lean to stand, one hand 
   in a pants pocket. "Except for rumors, I've heard of nothing until the 
   meeting last night." He opens his mouth to speak and hesitates visibly, 
   frowning. Then tries again. "No matter what, we need to proceed cautiously. 
   You've probably heard of the Blood Wars. I don't particularly want to go 
   through something like that again."
Pete Barlow shakes his head. "Heard of the Blood Wars? Brother, I was there." 
   Barlow drags on the smoke. "No, I'm of the school that says we make deals 
   with the Leeches, the right kind of deals. And when they break the fuckin' 
   rules, we rip some immortal fuckin' throats."
JJ Malone's eyebrows go up with surprise. "You were there? Must've just missed 
   you in the bustle," he muses, for a few seconds. With a barely perceptible 
   shake of his head, he adds with some stiffness, "I've come to that school 
   of thought, though it's not easy. I'm thinking now, though, that we need to 
   proceed with caution. You ever get details of what the ones did that hit 
   Elan and the Mex?"
Pete Barlow shakes his head. "Pretty sketchy. Keep talkin' 'bout some sort of 
   lizard thing. Ain't sure what it is. But it sounds like somethin' ugly may 
   be comin' up from where they been hidin'."
Scott listens quietly from where he leans, arms crossed, against one wall.
JJ Malone's expression tightens, and he gives a slight, sharp nod and a soft 
   noise of simply acceptance. "I should talk to them directly sometime, then. 
   Mind telling them so for me?" he asks, heading to a chair near him to pick 
   up the overcoat draped over the back, beginning to put it on as if in 
   preparation to leave.
Pete Barlow gives a nod as he too gets ready to leave. "Yeah, I'll let 'em 
   know that they should be gettin' the story to you." The Gnawer heads for 
   the door. "Keep it safe, Shades, Scott," he says as he slips out into the 
   night.
Scott nods,"You too, Pete. Thanks for showing up, JJ."
JJ Malone nods as he heads for the door. "You, too, Pete." As the Gnawer 
   leaves, he nods back to the Fang. "Not a problem, Scott. I'll keep my eyes 
   open. Good evening," he closes with politely, with a slight nod of respect, 
   then heads out into the freezing night himself.

---- Recall end ----