Interlude 12
16th of May, 2011
Brockton Bay, Brockton Bay Docks
With a grunt, Rachel lets go of the fifty pound bag of dog food, stubbornly ignoring the twinge in her left arm at the motion as happy and hungry barks echo in her shelter. A quick and practiced motion of her switchblade, she has the bag open.
It still takes her a couple of swears – due to her still-healing injury – and a few barked commands – due to her dogs' hungry maws – until she can finally straighten back, the bag noticeably lighter as the entire pack properly digs in.
She knows she should feel satisfied to see all of those happily wagging tails. The pack had food and a good shelter. Yet…
She absentmindedly rubs at her left arm, trying to numb the pain away.
Yet losing her oldests still smarts and she couldn't help but to be pissed off at Brian and Taylor for having forced her hand. The two had wanted to play the big damn heroes, stayed too late to help some fuckers none of them knew and Rachel had to make a choice.
Sacrifice part of the pack to save the rest.
Didn't fucking help that bug girl looked like a kicked puppy when they met back in the hospital. It only pissed off Rachel even harder.
Rachel wasn't dumb. She knew she didn't quite get people, didn't know how to read and had to get some words explained to her sometimes and that the girl probably didn't mean it like that, but she still pissed off something fierce sometimes.
Could be an alpha, even acted like one in the streets, yet kept being a fucking beta, folding like a wet blanket half the damn time. Rachel didn't give two shits about her stupid pity. She was her own pack's own alpha, her mistake was hers.
If she had been better, maybe Angelica would still be here…
With a scowl, Rachel takes hold of the bag of dog food, grunting a little as the motion once again lances her in her arm, before stomping back toward her shed to store it away before the dogs tried to get a second serving.
Truth was? People were annoying. Not straightforward, too 'wishy-washy' she heard said once. What was the point of sugarcoating anything when the rest of the world was going to shit? Even she was getting that, fucks sake!
People didn't get the pack. They didn't get that, just like dogs, humans were stronger together. Rachel liked those documentaries on Nat Geo, mostly because they were about animals most of the time, but she still remembered the one she saw years ago about how humans were pack too. Social species, the narrator had said. Banded together to hunt, safety in numbers.
When nobody had anything but furs to clothe themselves and a fire in a cave to ward away the cold, they banded together to look for food, to hunt mammoths or bison to eat. Like pack, proper behavior. No bullshit, no lying, no social crap.
Simple, easy.
Humans, today's ones, were fucking dumb in Rachel's mind.
She locks the shed behind her, suppressing a wince as she puts the key away in her left pocket, her right hand coming to rub at it a few seconds later while stomping back toward the building proper.
As she glances down at her arm, she mentally amends her previous statement a little.
Humans were stupid, but some still got it, in their own way.
Rachel had never really paid attention to the cape scene. Really, if it wasn't for the money Coil gave her to take care of her dogs, she honestly wouldn't give a shit about it. Living on the road could be rough at times, but she figured that she wouldn't have remained in the Bay and kept going if he hadn't made his pitch.
No use knowing who was the local alpha if you only stayed in a town for a couple of days, after all.
Still, she had heard about the Slaughterhouse Nine, because who fucking didn't? She just figured it had nothing to do with a girl and her dogs. It made sense.
Simple, easy.
Until Blondie and Scary showed up, that is. Still made her chuckle a little at the face Lisa pulled when she saw them stroll in back at Somer's, though.
Blondie didn't look much at first glance, but she had a look, that look that told you she could and would jump at your throat if you just barked the wrong way to her. Like a beaten dog who doesn't know if its new owner isn't going to be a prick like the previous one. Dangerous. And smart too. Crazy smart. Hell, she even got Rachel, didn't look at her like she was dumb, didn't smile back at her despite the fact that she kept doing it to the others.
Scary though? Simply being in her presence kept raising her hackles. At first, it was because she kept moving wrong, almost forced, and it had rubbed Rachel the wrong way. Now though? Liquid, predatory grace, kept moving like she's the most dangerous thing in the room and she knows it, lips all pulled up, right at the edge of a snarl.
It made Rachel think back to another documentary. Nordic Religion stuff. Fenrir, the wolf who would swallow god whole. She thought that if that shit was real, then Scary was it.
Before, Scary rubbed her the wrong way because nobody but her could tell she was fake. Now? She rubbed her the wrong way because everybody lived until she decided they didn't.
Didn't help that she now looked like a fucking cat. Rachel never managed to trust those fuckers.
Least made her easy to read, but still.
A three short beat against the door of the shelter forces Rachel to snap back to attention.
Instantly, an entire gamut of emotions run through her mind, before she ultimately relaxes a few seconds later. Couldn't be the heroes or the Empire, the Truce was still ongoing, she kept calling Lisa once a day just to be sure despite being 'on leave', whatever the fuck that meant, while she got her arm right again and a few dogs trained to her standards.
A scowl finds itself on her lips and she stomps her way out of her bedroom, fists tight at her sides after whistling once, pawsteps quickly joining her as she makes a beeline for her shelter's door.
Her dogs aren't trained, not to her standards. But if someone is trying to fuck with her tonight, she figures they deserves what's coming to them anyway. Not like the goody two-shoes aren't already on her ass after all.
"Who the fuck–" she growls while swiping the door open, "–are…"
Rachel locks eyes with Scary and her words die in throat, her full body locking up instinctually.
An ear flicks in what Rachel can tell is amusement even as the lips of the scariest fucker in the Bay quirks up, glowy blue tabby coat shining dully on the surroundings.
Then, she speaks, and Rachel fucking listens.
"I told you I would have a gift for you, Rachel," the predator says, her voice odd, echoing with itself, "A reward for protecting your pack."
A beat of silence passes, Rachel not quite knowing what to do, before her scowl resurfaces with a vengeance.
If she's fucked, she's fucked anyway, so she'd rather be blunt. She isn't an alpha for nothing, and the dogs rely on her.
"Yeah?" she asks.
"And there they are," Scary's eyes turn half closed, tail batting in happiness at her back as she gestures to something cradled against her bosom, "Aren't they precious?"
Quickly, Rachel's eyes dip down.
Two little heads, barely a month old if she had to give a guess, fast asleep with their eyes closed, nestled against each other in a blanket.
"You can feel them, don't you?" the alpha says, prompting Rachel's eyes to snap back to hers, "With your power, I mean."
And she does. It's here, not the same as with the dogs, not really, but still. Now that she knows they're here, she knows she could do something with them. Two new variants.
"Yeah," she admits, because lying seems like a really stupid idea right about now.
"Perfect," Scary purrs like a goddamn furball and she has never heard something so pleased and threatening at the same time, "Then they are yours. Little B. made them just for you, after all."
The predator unlatches her makeshift carrier before holding it to Rachel who can only take it a bit numbly, still hesitant to avert her eyes from hers.
"Names," she asks after securing her hold on the bundle.
"Mmh?" Scary tilts her head, ears flicking interrogatively.
"They got names?" Rachel presses on.
"... Rox–" the predator points one clawed fingers to the left, before pointing to the right, "–and Roukie."
She visibly pauses, before adding, showing a little bit of teeth and ears flicking in amusement once again.
"Although Lisa would suit her too, I suppose," she adds, her tail wagging redoubling.
"Fuck no," Rachel scowls, "She doesn't deserve that."
"... Quite so," Scary chuff-purrs, before, lighting-quick, patting Rachel on the head a few times, "Do enjoy my gift, and stay true to yourself. You're one of a kind, take pride in that."
A flicker of white and blue light and the alpha is gone, Rachel immediately slumping in relief.
She gives the street a roaming glance, before ushering the dogs back in and closing the door behind her.
Only after her shelter is secured once more, she looks down at her two new charges.
A frown creases her brows.
She doesn't know why, but she can already tell that the wolf pup is going to be fine while the fox kit is going to be a fucking pain in the ass.
Maybe Lisa wouldn't be such a bad name, after all, she ends up thinking as she walks deeper in the building, bet the two smile the same.