DATE:  Monday, October 5, 1998
Place:  Silverton Apartments, Apt. #101

---- Recall start ----

Silverton, Apt. #101

Nigel knocks politely at the door, then steps back so that he's plainly 
   visible through the peephole.
JJ Malone's voice calls out growly from behind the closed door. "Who is it?"
Nigel clears his throat. "Nigel. I've been thinking."
JJ Malone's voice sounds no less grumpy, but he does call out, "Hang on." 
   After a rather long period of time and some odd sounding noises, his voice 
   is heard again, this time sounding like he's right on the other side of the 
   door. "Door's unlocked. You'll have to open it yourself."
Nigel pushes the door open and steps inside, locking it behind him. "I've been 
   thinking about Turner, what I'd do if I was her right now." He gives JJ's 
   legs and general condition a quick glance, but no other notice.
JJ Malone is seated in a wheeled computer chair, one he owned before, and 
   transforms back into glabro once Nigel closes the door behind him, and 
   pushes his way down the counter across the carpeting back to the kitchen 
   table. "Like what?" he finally asks in gruff, clipped tones. He either 
   misess or ignores the persual, at least by his lack of reaction.
Nigel rubs his chin. "She's going to take the offensive. She was already 
   planning to hit the Caern and mop up after that Thing tore us to shreds, 
   which argues for a mobile task force that's equipped to go up against 
   Garou. If I was her, I'd be calling up spirits, fwinging spells, and 
   getting the magical means together to track the fetish down." He pauses, 
   looking sober. "Or, um, the Garou who stole it. Especially anyone who left 
   physical evidence behind."
JJ Malone snorts derisively. "Vampires calling spirits? I *still* don't buy 
   that had anything to do with creating that fetish, if it even is one. At 
   least not how we think of it." He pauses in his negativity to light up a 
   cigarette and take a long drag, but Nigel might notice his hands trembling 
   a bit. "But, she might very well come after us before we know it. So," he 
   asks, fixing a hawkish look at the theurge, taking off his sunglasses. 
   "What have you got in mind to counter it?"
Nigel eyes the apartment speculatively. "I'm guessing that those Umbral 
   guardians you fought are hard to replace; besides which, why would she 
   think defensively? We have what we want, and she's preparing an offensive. 
   If a team of Theurges were to call up some Gremlins, maybe some Wyldlings, 
   and sic them on her compound now, I think we'd catch her flat-footed. We 
   could bring her entire complex down around her ears. And that, in turn, 
   would buy Quiet and the other woodsies enough time to do whatever they need 
   to without any interruptions."
JJ Malone's wolf-yellow eyes narrow speculatively. "I think that, and a few 
   well-placed net spiders to fuck with key parts of her computer system might 
   do the trick nicely...you probably should run it by Andrea first, though."
Nigel nods. "All right." He pauses. "Would you consider relocating for a few 
   days, to a safer location? Still in the city, but heavily warded?"
JJ Malone turns instantly suspicious, and asks sharply, "Why?"
Nigel folds his arms. "Because a leech who can create giant robo-spider-Banes, 
   frankly, alarms me. Because we've underestimated her each time, and paid 
   for it. Because you left more blood behind than any other Garou, some of it 
   in the Realm, and I have no idea what that witch can do with even a trace 
   amount, and if you get gakked the tribe's going to go back to being a few 
   third-rate Garou in a second-rate city." He hrrmphs and pushes his glasses 
   back up on his nose.
JJ Malone barks loud laughter, face contorting with angry bitterness. Somehow, 
   though, he manages to keep his voice down to just under normal yelling 
   levels. "I hate to break it to you, Nigel, but right now, I'm probably the 
   biggest liability the Family *has*. Losing me won't be going "back" to 
   anything!"
Nigel digs rolling papers out of his pocket and begins to toss a cig together. 
   "Oh, I'm sorry. I thought that in *this* tribe, brains were still useful. I 
   didn't realize we were part of the Social Darwinist, eat-your-young 
   clique." He fumbles several times before he gets his lighter going. 
   "Perhaps you can't ride horseback for a while, but you're still three times 
   as bright as any leaf-humper, and you're still so full of piss and vinegar 
   it's a wonder air fits in your lungs. So, fine. If you don't want to guard 
   my back, that's fine. Just don't give me this 'liability' crap like you're 
   a flaming Get measuring himself for a one-way boat ride."
"I can't exactly guard your back right now, Nigel," J.J. snaps back without 
   missing a beat. "I can't even walk, remember? Jack had to fucking *carry* 
   me last night. *CARRY* me, like I was some god damn baby. So, maybe we're 
   not the Shadow Lords or the Get, but I'm a fucking ahroun who can't fucking 
   move without fucking someone else's help. That's the definition of a 
   liability if I've ever heard one."
Nigel blows smoke out of the side of his mouth and looks thoughtful. "This may 
   come as a shock, but the Family doesn't follow you because of your 
   kickboxing skills. You want to call yourself a liability? Fine. I came here 
   tonight for your advice and experience, and I'd've done the same thing if 
   you had three legs or seven. Now, do you have time for another topic, or do 
   you want to berate your low dexterity some more?"
"I'd rather drop this topic all together," drips out acidly from between the 
   ahroun's clenched teeth. Which isn't precisely permission to bring up 
   another topic, but neither did he say 'no'.
Nigel takes a long drag and lets it out before going on, and this time he eyes 
   his shoes. "I. Remember last week, and the incident in the park? The Garou 
   in daylight? I..."
JJ Malone blinks sharply, then narrows his eyes. "Is this the reports of bears 
   fighting at Harbor Park?"
Nigel decides to lay the cards on the table, and takes a deep breath. "I was 
   at the riverbank, and a complete stranger came up to me, began calling me 
   'meat', and attacked me. I was facing the path and the road, saw no one, 
   Rage-shifted, tossed him in the water, shifted back down. Six seconds, 
   tops."
JJ Malone's eyebrows go up as his anger turns icy. "What, praytell, prompted 
   you to shift?"
Nigel says "He had an aura like Salem's, or y...other people, sometimes, who 
   want blood., and are just looking for an excuse to shed it. Shades, this 
   doesn't excuse me, but listen: the first clawed-up woman was found the day 
   after my encounter with him."
JJ Malone asks tersely, "You think the two are related?"
Nigel hesitates and nods. "Psychopath who picks fights with total strangers, I 
   can't discount it. Even if I didn't know he was Garou, I'd suspect him."
JJ Malone's eyebrows go up. "He's Garou?"
Nigel rubs his throat. "He, ah, shifted in mid-air. Imagine my surprise."
JJ Malone growls softly, before cutting the sound off. "Fine. Find him. See if 
   he's been cleared at the Sept. If not, drag him in. Get Jeff to help you 
   question him." His tone is decisive, and in the theme of ending the topic 
   here, for now.
Nigel bobs his head. "I'll start with the Furies; he's apparently already on 
   Morgan's shitlist, according to Arlen." He gets to his feet. "In fact, I'll 
   get on that right now, if it's alright?"
JJ Malone waves a hand curtly. "Yes, go. Keep me posted. There's not much else 
   I can do right now," he adds bitterly.

---- Recall end ----