Neri and the Wolf: Part 2

June 12, 2016:

Werewolf By Night and Nerina "Rusalka" Rosso continue on the prowl throughout the city, and find more than they had bargained for…

Apartment Complex, Gotham


NPCs: None.



Mood Music: [*\# None.]

Fade In…

Through the haze of rain, Rusalka's cold silhouette is a faint pinpoint that flickers and sways a rooftop away, a distant candle flame compared to the hot torch of a woman re-entering her apartment down below. Hidden once again from the aged floodlight, the girl's heat signature is all that's left to catch Russ' sharp eyes - which might be for the best. The weather's begun to get worse now and a strong gust of wind slaps thick, swollen raindrops against the concrete roof and the wolf's fur. In spite, or perhaps because of the downpour, Rusalka's legs and disembodied hands are moving slowly away to the far side of her own roof - easy prey.

The wolfman grunts.

/This is ridiculous,/ he thinks to himself as he bound on top of the next roof, sending water spraying in all directions. /Gonna stink o' wet dog fer ages now…/ He snorts derisively at the thought — and also at the notion of being 'bad at quiet'. "Fuck quiet," he mutters aloud to himself and propels his furry form high into the night air in the direction of the faint heat-signature just ahead of him.


/Why'm I doin' this again?/ he wonders, just as his paws strike the rooftop, even though he lands a bit more softly than he had previously. It's the ego in him. /Beats chasin' cars./ The thought makes him bark a short chuckle. /So much fer quiet, again./

"Hey, where'dya think yer goin'?" he asks Rusalka in a growl — can't help it. His more wolfy side is showing, complete with elongated snout, teeth, and a tail that has ruined what remains of his jeans.


Rusalka’s hands disappear beyond her jacket, leaving her just a pair of legs until the wolf lands behind her, looms over her hood, and growls. A rumble of thunder punctuates Russ’ question as the ninja turns slowly with the fat of one hand clamped in her facemask and squints her cat-eyes up to make him out through the rain and dark; her night vision isn’t as good as his. That might be a good thing with the state of his jeans.

Her black-painted hand comes out of her mouth so the ninja can answer. “Away from her,” she replies calmly, pausing to look over her shoulder. “We should keep moving - quiet.”

The wolfman blinks at Neri/Rusalka and gives an abrupt shake of his head, snorting. "Why're ya always tellin' me ta be quiet?" he demands rather un-quietly. That… should probably give him his answer, and consequently Russell snorts again. Self-derision, there. What a strange night this is turning into.

"Away from the crazy lady with her rolled up magazine's 'n hells-bells perfume?" he inquires unnecessarily. "Sure, fine." The wolfman's sort of coils around his leg as he crouches there near this strange companion of his, Rusalka.

"Ya got somewhere in mind, pup?" asks he, softly.

“You are not quiet.” It’s an answer to the wolf’s question but at this point it’s just a statement of fact. She pauses and the lower edge of her eyes up-turn slightly in an unseen smile. “Better,” Rusalka praises quietly as she slips the werewolf, passing her small form under his arm more than around it and putting her hands on his massive, hunched shoulders. The ninja’s jacket presses into the werewolf’s wet fur as she jumps on his back and wrap her legs around his waist.

“Away,” her thick slavic tongue offers by Russ’ ear. It looks like he gets to pick.

What a sight the Werewolf By Night must be:

Standing in the rain, completely 'wolfed out' — more fur than clothes, a tail to make any 'real' wolf jealous — crouching on a rooftop, drenched from head to paw… and with a strange, hydromancer-girl clinging to his back like a child on her first pony ride.

All he needs is the coin-slot in which to stick the quarter.

The rain runs in rivulets down over the wolfman's head, between and behind his lupine ears, across the bridge of his snout, dripping like water from a tap off his muzzle… Russell lets out an exasperated snort, a breath that forms a visible cloud in the chilly night-time air, before casting a glance back over his shoulder at Rusalka.

"Yer pushin' it pup, ya know that?" he growls, only to shake his whole body vigorously, sending water flying in all directions. "Fine." With that, Russell leaps away from the roof — easily clearing around twenty feet of distance upward, and even more across — to land on a building on the other side of the street. He pauses for a second, then dashes across more rooftops…

In the direction of some of Gotham's shadier casinos.

“Woah!” Rusalka’s grip around the werewolf’s waist tightens into a vice as his shaking flings water from her jacket and almost flings her too. The nymph adjusts her grip by moving her arms under Russ’ and gripping his shoulders from the other side. At least she’s careful not to grab his fur.

Soaked as she is, the ninja feels like one huge cold spot that envelops most - though not all - of the large hybrid’s back and sends a little chill across his sides and stomach for good measure. His body heat is gladly siphoned up and once they’re sealed together water-tight, Rusalka begins to feel at least a little warmer.

“You are faster at running than me,” she explains as air rushes past them in one huge leap. Her grip gets that little extra bit tighter as she braces on the way down and the hem of her jacket flutters behind them.

Hopefully no one looks up.

The naiad jolts against Russ’ back upon landing bet she manages to stay attached. It’s an awkward payload but water weight aside she’s not all that heavy.

"Wolves run."

Russell tosses the comment back over his shoulder at the naiad before loping across two more 'commercial' buildings (stores, at least) and lands upon the patio of a hotel suite that opens out onto the roof.

"Water drips."

Russell gives Rusalka a toothy grin. As for the rooftop entertainment area — with pool — none of the outdoor facilities are in use due to the rain. However, there is a party going on inside the penthouse, which has glass sliding doors that open to where Russell crouches with the naiad on his back.

The wolfman almost makes for the party — to cause a little stir, nothing too diabolical — when a terrified scream can be heard from the balcony of a casino/hotel across the street. Given how dark it is outside, and the lights of the suite are all switched on, it is easy to see a woman flee into the bathroom, while a small group (four people) invade the suite and start trashing it.

Searching for something.

Russell licks his lips.

Despite the tight grip she maintains around Russ as the werewolf keeps bounding through the air, a light, melodic giggle slips out of the ninja's facemask at his summary. Once he finally lands and stays landed on solid ground, she untangles herself and slides down his back, flattening his tail against his legs before separating. The ninja hangs behind the wolf like a shadow as her veiled eyes peer around at the brightly-lit party nearby - and then drift back to Russ as she finally notices the state of his remaining clothes. That's a lot of hair…

But the scream draws Rusalka's attention as reliably as a gunshot, whipping her hood around with a flick of water, and once she spots the wolf's reaction out the corner of her orange eyes…

The ninja climbs back up Russ' back without a word and squeezes down on him a little extra so he knows she's on tight.

Russell grunts.

"Letta wolf breathe, wouldya?" he complains over his shoulder, before gathering his paws underneath him once more for another leap across the busy street below. He doesn't wait for Rusalka to loosen her grip; it doesn't really bother him /that/ much — and perhaps he doesn't really expect her to anyway, whatever he says.

The wolfman clears the distance between buildings with relative ease. The wind rushes by as he and his 'passenger' sail out, over, and soon downward toward the windows of the apartment being raided and ransacked. "Ready…" the wolfman growls into the wind and rain, his claws extended to slash at the glass as he and Rusalka burst in through it.

They land in the dining room — on what used to have been the dining table.

Shards of glass spray in all directions, lacerating at least one of the masked intruders who cries out in shock and pain. The woman screams again as another man drags her by the hair from the ensuite. Slowly the criminals begin to register the danger posed to them by the wolfman and the water-sprite.

Rusalka does loosen her hold a little but not too much - she still doesn’t want to fall off and the werewolf doesn’t seem to be hiding any seatbelts in his fur. As they rush towards the window she scrunches up behind him like a pillbug and then slaps against his back when he lands with a wooden crunch.

The ninja detaches and sets her sandals carefully on the minefield of splintered wood, dishware, and glass before tugging at her jacket to straighten it out. Instead of rushing into the fray, her orange eyes take stock of the room as she turns a full circle, gauging how much trouble she’s just fallen into. She turns and points to the screaming woman, as if her voice wasn’t enough to draw the werewolf’s attention already. “There!”

"…WHERE IS IT?!?!" a masked man bellows into the ear of the woman as he tries to drag her kicking and screaming through the apartment's master bedroom. "Damn you, bitch! WHERE IS IT?!" The… rage in the man's voice is palpable, almost as though it could wilt flowers by sheer proximity, and melt the paint off the walls.

The woman's screams are incoherent. Her fear is equally potent — like streaks of silver-white lancing outward and puncturing the air and everything around her. "I don't know! I don't know! I don't know! I don't know…!" she stammers hysterically.

"It ain' here!" calls out one of the other three, emerging from another bedroom — now completely ransacked. Then his eyes widen as he spots Neri and the Wolf, and three of the four home-invaders bring their rifles to bear. "We got company!" he shouts.

"It's a freakin' zoo — !!" another starts to exclaim, only to find himself suddenly face-to-snout with a slavering, very pissed off werewolf. Stinking of wet-dog. Whatever the man had been about to say next… disappears into a strangled gurgle as black claws slash through his throat — despite the body armour. Blood spatters all across the wall, covering a replica of a Van Gogh painting (the cracked vase with the daisies in it).

"Get the two-legged She!" Russell snarls at Rusalka, as the remaining three intruders fire their guns. The one holding onto the woman forces her in front of him like a human shield. He aims for Neri, along with one other.

Russell howls as bullets rip into his hide, which immediately begins to heal. He is furious. Dangerously furious.

“Nyaaah…” Rusalka blanches as she sees the rifles raise towards her and drops to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut, diving as she goes towards the gunman with a hostage. Her black-gray form leaves a smear of rain water on the carpet as it threads itself like a contortionist between both pairs of legs, narrowly avoiding a spray of bullets.

The ninja rises up against the intruder's back and clamps a hand firmly over his mouth as she produces a knife from her jacket sleeve and holds it threateningly close to his neck. As much as she can, she turns the larger figure to place him - and even his hostage - between herself and the remaining intruder.

“Let her go. Now!” Rusalka threatens sharply in the man’s ear.

In that instant, one of the home invaders very nearly shoots the one who just became Rusalka's shield. Instead, he hesitates… and that hesitation, while saving his cohort's life, also costs him an opportunity to hit Rusalka. The man held in place by the naiad swears profusely, refusing to relinquish the woman in HIS grasp…

Until the invader who just shot the werewolf finds himself flying — across the room, through the shattered window, out into the open air… with a lethal drop beneath him. A number of seconds transpire before one can hear the carhorns and cries of alarm as the would-be thief (and likely would-be murderer) hits the street far below.

The man in Rusalka's grip also hesitates, loosening his grip on the woman, and leaving himself open to counter-attack by the naiad. Needless to say, this turn of events is far, far from whatever the invaders had been expecting when they barged into this apartment.

"What the fuck ARE you?!?!" the man demands, spitting the words over his shoulder at Rusalka, while giving the werewolf a just-as-terrified stare.

Tucked in the shadow of her own hostage, Rusalka is little more than a black pair of arms to the rest of the room as the intruder wriggles his mouth free. Her cat-eyes bore intensely from beneath her mask with adrenaline-spiked alertness and widen alarmingly before she wraps her arm roughly around the man’s head to pull it roughly back.

“I’m a PERSON, ublyudok!” She glowers back while pushing her blade against the side of his neck. “Now let her go or you’ll drink your blood!”

"Too much heat fer me, Boss!" says the second home-invader, facing off against Rusalka who still has the 'boss' in her grasp. The man hastily slings his gun over his shoulder and bolts for the door. In a heartbeat, Russell is there and pushes the man abruptly to the side, causing him to run full tilt into the wall /beside/ the door. There is a dull thud of a head hitting a solid surface… and the man collapses to the floor.


The 'boss' does not respond to Rusalka's warning at first; instead he swears for a few seconds more before finally releasing his grip on the woman. Two more seconds after that, and he drops his gun to the ground.

"Yer in it now," he warns them, speaking to the naiad, the woman and the werewolf all at once. "You got no idea who ya just pissed off. Gonna cut you up, all o' ya. You wait 'n see."

The woman collapses to the ground in tears, too scared at first to speak — her eyes shifting to the hulking wolfman close by. Russell kind of takes the hint and stalks toward the balcony, to peer down at the street far below. Activity out there has increased dramatically in the last few minutes, and police are already on the scene, along with other emergency services.

They will be up here in a matter of minutes. No chance of their mistaking the man's fall as a suicide: not when he was wearing a ski-mask and some pretty expensive hardware. While the wolf scouts out there, the woman on the floor looks up at Rusalka with red-rimmed eyes and hesitantly says:

"K-Karen." Her name, one would assume. "Th-they killed my husband. K-killed Terry…" she tries to say more, but dissolves into crying. And the clock is ticking.

Neri sneers at the man from beneath her mask and clenches the grip of her knife. She looks over as Russ begins to leave. “Ey, Volkya! Question this,” she calls to stop him, turning the man and releasing his head to drive her shoulder roughly into his back and push him forward.

The wolfman turns around, jaws slavering, upper lip quivering. His amber eyes have a bloodshot look to them, like rage barely suppressed, and a low growl rumbles up deep in his throat. He glances from Rusalka to the 'boss' of the mafia hitmen, then back to Rusalka. The expression on the werewolf's face reads:

''Easier ta just eat 'im.''

Stalking up to the hitman that the naiad just knocked to the floor, Russ grabs him by the front of his shirt and hoists him easily off his feet and into the air. "Talk," is all he says.

The henchman tries to hide his fear behind a sneer of sorts, but being held aloft so easily by a creature straight out of a nightmare… is not something the man had bargained on when planning his evening activities.

"That woman there — her man double-crossed someone he shouldn't have," says the hitman with gulp. His eyes flicker towards the door as the sound of the elevator can be heard. That could be the cops on their way up. Russ brings the man's face so close to his that the werewolf's drool drips down the guy's neck.

That does it.

"Black Badger!" the hitman blurts out. "We work fer the Black Badger! He owns a casino just down the street! The woman's got somethin' o' his, we know it! It's here somewhere!" While he speaks, the woman — Karen — shakes her head vigorously, looking as though her grief might overwhelm her. Russell snarls and throws the man against the far wall, and turns to the naiad.

"We're goin'," he barks and makes for the balcony. "Unless you wanna fight cops too?" What a night this is shaping up to be…

Rusalka lowers her knife and lets out a heavy breath as her shoulders sink back down, the adrenaline from the firefight still buzzing her senses but now at least not getting worse. She looks eagerly towards the pouring rain outside, then turns back to cast a sympathetic eye on Karen.

Whatever her eyes want to say don’t make it past her throat.

She furrows her brow when the hitman slams into the suite wall, embedding himself in a dent of cracked plaster. “You left him alive,” she critiques before adding gently to Karen, “you may want turn away.”

The ninja walks over and crouches down before unceremoniously pulling her knife across the criminal’s throat and wiping it off on his sleeve. Rusalka slips the folding knife back up her sleeve and follows Russ out a moment later, disappearing into the rain.

“When politsiya ask, please do not mention me,” she asks as a parting remark to the only person left alive from their scuffle.

Climbing onto the werewolf’s back, she takes note of how the rain has already begun to wash the blood from his claws. “Somewhere quiet this time, please.”


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