The Wheel is turning, cub. But it's rusted and jammed. The smell of burning metal, the scream of failing machinery: that's what awaits you. That's our world now. I close my shining blue eyes, open them slowly. The air smells like ozone. I'm trying to change things, Tavypib. I just don't think it will work. Have you ever imagined what it's like, to see what's coming, and know that you can't change it? I've done this a thousand thousand times, and it never works. But here we are again.
The cops reach the door and start knocking.
"If those cops come in here, they'll die." I'd prefer people didn't get torn to shreds, all things considered, especially if it exposes what we are.
"These are my people, cat! Clay and Scarper hate me, fine, but I belong here. The Garou have lost so much. We can't lose another pack."
These losers are doomed. I hope they and the cops kill each other. "Don't get yourself killed, cat." I leave.
My only hope is to follow the clues I've found. Clay can't help me anymore, he can't even help himself. "I'll see you at the gun store, cat. Maybe there's a flak vest in your size."
Next