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Remixed70182Posted On May 28, 2014 at 1:55 PM by Lucian


Maybe You're Better Of This Way...

Idleness. Trouble springs from idleness, and the grievous toil from needless ease. I am the kind of man that knows no ease, with a mind as calloused and scarred as my working-man's hands. God Forbid I spend my days in idle passing... for any idle moment for me guarantees trouble for anyone seen as my target, or caught in the cross-fire. My Productive days, would be for others, the most destructive. And let's face it... I'm not known for keeping a low profile.

Black leather boots scuff the sidewalk with a definitive stride, muffled only slightly by the dirt and clay still clumped in their treads from my late-night excursion in the forests just outside the city limits. I inhale the gritty, noxious smog of the city atmosphere with a grim expression of disdain. Humans walk the streets, completely oblivious of the pollutants and toxins that they're literally drowning in, sporting their designer heels or fashionable aviators. No one takes account of the graffiti or litter anymore. For humans this was commonplace. For Humans... this was Nature.

Fists dig deep into the cavernous pockets of my leather jacket, nails biting tiny crescents into the palms. The wolf in me revolts against these tall buildings, the steel and concrete. This wasn't living. The worst kind of slavery was the kind where the slaves believe themselves truly free. Humans are so conditioned by their environment that they domesticate themselves without even trying anymore. Cattle. Sheep. Too distracted by their electronic toys and their media propaganda.

I was a man that still believes in freedom. A Man that still believes we weren't meant to be contained by four walls day in and day out. I am a wolf amongst sheep... literally and metaphorically. And I was in the business of Freedom... under the guise of Anarchy. And someday very soon, Business was going to be booming.

It is with this in mind that I have taken to the warehouse district. It's that part of town most of the social elite avoid unless they've got some dirt or blood on their hands. It's more sparsely populated, making it easier for beasts like me to go about our business relatively unnoticed. This city is rampant with vigilantes and criminals of both the mortal and preternatural fair, and this was the hub of underground trafficking of all manner aforementioned. It's the perfect location for me to set up shop and get my business off the ground.

I leisurely meander several blocks, taking alleys or cutting down narrow lanes between the main streets, taking my time to memorize the layout of the warehouse district and making mental notes of land-marks and points of interest. Finally I come to a corner marked 13th and Devil's Den Road, and I'm given to remove the chrome lens shades from my indigo gaze, a small smirk tugging the corners of my lips as I read the two green signs. And just beyond them, was an old decrepit building. Iron bars covered the windows and doors, as if the bullet proof glass behind might not be quite enough defense...and a large open lot sprawled to the backside of the building, closed off by chain link and razor wire with a gate that operated by key-pad and voice communication. It had been a pawn shop at one point, and it is said the previous owner just up and vanished over-night, leaving quite a substantial supply of merchandise.

It was the perfect place for my Arms Dealership, and the front for my up-and-coming plans.

I stepped across the street and came to lean against the side of the building. The property owner said he'd meet me to show me around the place at about 2:30 this afternoon, though it was only 1 yet. But I can be a patient wolf, when the mood suited me, and I was inclined to see what manner of people trafficked this part of town. Some of them may well soon be my clients after all, or more if they're worthy.

Pulling a pack of smokes from my pocket, I shook one cancer-stick from the box and placed it between my lips. from my breast pocket I retrieved the silver zippo with the ornate wolf detailing etched on the front and lit it, taking a nice languid drag. Nicotine wasn't much of a shock to a wolf's system, but it took the edge off some. The wolf disliked being out under broad daylight, and I was glad for the shade provided from a couple of rusted awnings over the pawn-shop's windows. Still, I am compelled to replace the shades across the bridge of my nose, effectively hiding the unusally dark purple color of my eyes. Even the sclera was an odd indigo hue, making me seem even more inhuman. But it wasn't the only reason I was feeling particularly edgy.

The Moon was in it's half-phase, waxing. In a half-month's time I'd succumb to the brindle brute hidden beneath this skin and all Hell would break loose, and I would once again know what True Heaven feels like. Devil's Den indeed. If I have my way, this would be the safe-house for any pack I may collect in the near future. The name was ironically fitting.

Now I simply bide my time and wait.


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