Difference between revisions of "Swords to Plowshares"

"...I've still got a bead on them," Sandra tells Oliver under her breath, nodding her head in their general direction, but not something quite as obvious as, say, pointing. She starts walking in that general direction at a leisurely pace for the moment, taking the time to say, "I'm not willing to bet that they didn't come here with friends," in a quieter tone. "Every time we--" She scowls. "Every time *they* think they have the Swords managed, they find a way to come right back again." Beat. "I say we follow. Have a 'chat' with them. If there's more than just the two--" She shrugs. "Unless you have a better suggestion, I say we can cross that bridge when we come to it."

Oliver glances casually in said direction when she indicates it, falling into step beside her as they start that way. "Nothing leaps immediately to mind," he replies in a similar tone, "I say we follow as well. See what we can see. And then, yes, perhaps have that chat. Bridge-crossing would depend on how many more than just the two in any case..."

The appointed end time for the rally arrives and the Dearborn police true to their mandate begin dispersing both crowds in an orderly fashion. The two Fenrir looking Aryans depart the grounds of the mosque on foot. If they have a vehicle it must have been parked some ways away. One of them appears to be texting back and forth with someone as they're walking.

Sandra nods towards the two of them again, though it hardly seems necessary. Careful not to disrupt the policemen (or have the policemen disrupt the two of them, more importantly), she takes a reasonable route towards the pair to try and fall in step behind them.

Oliver does the same, of course, glancing around apparently-casually as they go, to keep an eye on those who aren't the ones they're following. And out for anything interesting like the racist variety packs those armband-wearers seemed to have assemebled.

They keep walking for a couple blocks, it seems like they're retracing the march route, so far anyway. Maybe they parked back at the beginning. Notably though the further away you get from the rally site the less people from it around and the more regular evening pedestrian traffic fills in.

For the moment, Sandra keeps her eyes on the two men and, at the same time, on the pedestrians that walk around them, checking to see if there's any signs of hesitation that comes of it. She maintains a respectable distance, nothing that would suggest 'shadowing' too heavily, but nor is she making it a point to be entirely subtle, either. It's only if they disappear around a corner that she'll pick up her pace a little, but, for the moment...

Oliver does, in fact, much the same. He's splitting his attention rather more to their surroundings, trusting her to be the main focus on their quarry, and strolls along with her. Makes some quiet comments, as well; nothing noteworthy, just a little bit of chat here and there to look more natural.

They do in fact do exactly that, rounding a corner up ahead they leave the main road heading into the residential back streets.

And thus, Sandra quickens her pace, looking to close the gap a little more quickly, though not so much that she's telegraphing her every step. And not so much that she isn't keeping her eyes out for a sucker punch, if that's what it comes to. One way or another, once she spots them again, she concentrates specifically on whichever one looks a bit meatier than the other, provided that's 'muscle' and not 'one too many funnel cakes.'

Mmm, funnel cakes. Sadly, the chances of running into those are probably even lower now that they're moving more residential. Oliver stays with his packmate, unsurprisingly, and scopes out the new area as they enter it -- both for potential threats, and for potential observers in case they become the threat themselves.

One of the two is indeed a fair bit larger than the other, pretty buff in fact, over 6' and must spend a fair bit of time at the gym. The other is maybe 5'5" or 5'6" and wiry, has a visible confederate flag tattoo sticking out of his wife beater. When you round the corner they're just rounding another corner up ahead though their pace doesn't appear to be rushed, if anything it sounds like they're arguing.

Judging by the slight frown and furrow of Sandra's brow as she focuses on the bigger man, she doesn't even need to give an indication of the feedback she just got. Even so, she gives a slight shake of her head if Oliver glances her direction. The smaller of the two gets her focus this time around, since there appears to be some time for it.

Oliver does in fact glance sidelong at Sandra, and gives a tiny nod in response. Quietly, he notes in return, "They're lost. This isn't where they were actually trying to be."

Around the next corner they've stopped and are standing there arguing, the shorter one suddenly looking around apprehensively, "I don't care what your GPS says Kenny, that piece of shit always gets us lost, look just shut the fuck up okay? Something or someone is watching us." and now they're both looking around.

Sandra nods loosely to Oliver, murmuring, "And one of them's family," in his ear. "Play along if you like," is all she has time to add, leaving him to assume there's an 'or' in there somewhere. With that said, however, she straightens, and steps around the corner to look to the two men, her head canting slightly as she comes into view. "Of course there's someone watching you," she says dryly, brow arching. "You know as well as I do: every event like this there is - doesn't matter how far afield it happens to be - we've always got at least one babysitter to spare. Fortunately for you," she inclines her head, "that happens to be me."

Oliver returns the nod, though there isn't time for much more as she goes on. He hangs back, taking a moment to focus on fading into the background before he pads around the corner as well and takes advantage of the distraction Sandra provides to move around behind the pair, creating a Get sandwich. Or that's his plan, anyway, It's one they've used to good effect in the past, though generally in situations more certain to get violent. He keeps a fair little distance, making use of things like parked cars to help mask his passage if they happen to be handy. If he can, he takes the chance to take stock of the new surroundings, as well.

Both of the blonde white men turn to look at Sandra almost in unison, they both appear utterly baffled by what she just said. "You think she's one of the ones Garm said was working with them?" Kenny asks.

"Goddamnit Kenny just shut your fucking trap this is not the time to talk about that shit. Look get Sean on the phone or better yet just call a fucking Uber, you can do that right?" The shorter one doesn't seem too convinced of Kenny's competance when he turns his attention back to Sandra, "I am not sure who you're supposed to be, you from that Pontiac's Echo place? We heard it's under siege or something."

"It's hardly the time or the place," Sandra notes, inclining her head just a touch more for a moment to indicate to their surroundings, "to talk about *that*, either. Better, in this case," she continues, taking a couple steps forward, but not quite enough to be antagonizing; more to just close the distance, "to think of me as the neighborhood watch. Like I said, the brass has eyes all over events like these, and you two aren't what I'd call subtle."

She looks to the bigger man, eyeing him up and down before saying, "Hold the calls for now," her attention shifting back to the little guy. The one that probably has a height complex. The one she's towering over. "I'd like a word with you two. Preferably somewhere a little more 'friendly.'"

Oliver settles in quietly, not moving once he's there, to watch and listen. And to keep an eye on the rest of the street, which he continues to assess! For now, he waits, and lets his packmate handle the interaction.

The shorter of the two still looks like he isn't quiete sure what Sandra is talking about, "These events? Brass? The fuck?" and then suddenly he looks like his day has just been ruined, like he just had a realization, "She's a goddamn Sword Kenny! You keep goddamn dialing! He was right the fucking leaches have a goddamn Sword working with them." he narrows his eyes at Sandra, "One more step and it's claws Sword. To think you scum would stoop so low as to work with leaches." Kenny for his part had paused for a moment of uncertainty but when he hears Sword he hits a speed dial number and reaches to draw a pistol.

The look on Sandra's face cycles from faintly bemused, to irritated, to something resembling vague amusement. One way or another, all pretense is dropped.

"Yes, Kenny," she says blandly, "by all means, tell your friends everything. And be sure to mention how your friend here was shouting about leeches and claws in front of God and everyone." She looks at the little-- presumably Theurge in a more pointed fashion, and says, "You make that call, and I promise you, you'll only be embarrassing yourselves." A glance is cast towards the flag tattoo, one brow arching in a rather 'as if you haven't done enough of that already' look.

For the most part, however, she looks largely unconcerned. And there's no effort made to bargain. "Anything else you'd like to say out in the open?" she says, glancing around the area. "Or baseless assumptions you'd like to act on?" She glances at Kenny. "Keeping in mind that you'll be as culpable as he is for wasted resources, if that's what it comes to."

For just now, Oliver remains 'in reserve', speaking of resources. No laugh, which would probably spoil the attempt, but once the blink of surprise passes, he does look a touch more amused than his packmate. Were anyone in a position to notice.

The shorter Fenrir spits, there is nothing but contempt in his eyes for Sandra, "Do you see anyone here? There's no one fucking here so you can save the psycholology bullcrap. We ain't falling for your shit. You thought we were like you and now you're trying to bluff. We ain't falling for your Sword tricks. You just stand right there for now. Unless you really do want to make a spectacle and bring folks running to see."

Kenny clearly taking his cues from the shorter has indeed speed dialed a number, "Sean? Yeah we got lost and found some trouble can you guys come get us? We're near the parade route, I'll pindrop it." his eyes are fixed on Sandra as he speaks to the person on the other end, he's definitely way nervous, a kin at a wolf fight.

Sandra gives a short /m-hm/ in response. She still doesn't look exceptionally concerned; it's difficult to make a try for it when there's no reason to be. "I suppose if we're standing around waiting, there's no harm in having a cigarette, then," she says, though she politely refrains from making any sudden moves for the pockets of her overcoat. Wouldn't want Barky McLittle to get the impression that she was pulling out a sidearm.

Oliver glances from Sandra to... Barky McLittle, then to Kenny, and puts another tick in the 'really wish we had a packlink right now' column. Lacking that, he settles into a more casual-looking, if still fairly ready-to-react position, and tries to put on his most persuasive mein.

"This really is all rather silly," he says conversationally, as if he'd been there the whole time; he aims the subtleties of his accent just a touch closer to WWII-Movie-Allies than they usually sit. Blond and blue-eyed as he may be, that breeding is definitely not Get. "You're not the only ones with at least half an eye out for these sorts of things if they pop up, you know -- who know certain groups might raise their ugly heads again -- but you did a good job blending in, you know. Of course we were going to try to check you out, once we caught sight of you there. Wouldn't you do the same?" He shrugs, looking no more concerned than Sandra.

And suddenly Kenny's gun is pointed at Oliver, because where the fuck did he just come from?! But he just stands there holding it and looking nervous for now his fighting spirit seems to waver a bit though, I mean Oliver is just so damn persuasive.

Kenny's Fenrir friend, let's call him Sven because he really needs a name, is still primarily focused on Sandra, though Oliver does give him a start. He narrows his eyes as he listens to Oliver make too damn much sense but still seems unsure what to make of the pair, if not foe still likely pretty far from the friend or ally brackets and with the numerical odds changing he is rather tense. "That's an interesting story, how bout we all just be on our ways then. Our ride'll be here soon."

"Alternatively," Sandra replies, "we could do what I recommended initially - find a more 'friendly' place to talk. If you'd like to wait for your friends to be here, by all means," she makes a vague gesture, "the more the merrier. But I for one, and the local Alpha most certainly, would like to know what the hell it is you're doing here." A beat. "As it's been said," she continues, giving Sven a rather pointed once-over, "you did a good job of blending in-- sharing space with the Asatru Futhark on the wrong side of the police barricade. If anyone should be suspicious of Sword activity - of collusion - it's us."

"As she says," Oliver agrees, with a small gesture toward his packmate; there's nuance to his body language that wouldn't be obvious to many normal people, and might or might not be to the kin, but is definitely accepting Sandra as in charge here. "This area does have its guardians. Surely it'd be best if we all had a chat somewhere to make sure we're all on the same page about what's going on."

Sven doesn't seem to know what to believe anymore and he doesn't like it one bit, on the one hand a very convincing show of being a Sword and on the other an entirely reasonable fellow appearing from the shadows, "Way rumors go down Ohio-way that's a pack of lies and bullcrap, this place is under siege or fallen depending who you ask. Given you two at best are lying shite one way or another, we're going to be on our way, unless you are really itchin for a fight with us."

Kenny for the moment is content to let Sven do the talking.

"Did it occur to you at all - even for just a moment," Sandra begins, her tone picking up momentum as she speaks, "that a place in the midst of *either* of those situations might - *might* - feel the need to use a little discretion when approaching what, for all the world, appears to be a pair of backwater, cousin-fucking Neo-Nazis?" Sandra snaps, the shock of Rage that follows those words just enough to send a ripple of amber through otherwise blue eyes. She raises her chin, then, looking pointedly to one side, seeming to trust that Oliver will take care of any impending threats. That lack of concern is extended, again, towards taking her eyes off the pair, though it very quickly turns back in their direction.

Oliver glances sidelong to Sandra, just for a moment, at that clear wave of Rage, and then -- back to the others, clearly confident his packmate can keep it under control. "There's a difference between lying and subtlety," he says. "If you think about it, she never actually said she was one of them -- she just felt you out to see if =you= were. Any place under siege still has guardians by definition, and even those that fall -- would you just abandon territory to the enemy? I suspect not. But yes, given the situation, of COURSE we're not leaping at every potential problem with every gun blazing right off. Particularly those in our general area unannounced."

He shakes his head slightly. "I think the fact you know I'm here ought to be evidence enough that we're in earnest." One Garou and a kin vs. two Garou is still better odds than one Garou and a kin vs. one Garou and another you don't even know is there, isn't it?

A car turns the corner at the end of the street heading towards the gathering, it's an old Buick LeSabre not exactly your top of the line pursuit vehicle. There's a red headed man driving it and a black haired woman in the front seat next to him. Kenny seems somewhat relieved at the sight of the vehicle, though Sandra's words earn a glare, "What cause Kenny is proud of his heritage and has a tattoo? Going to call us Nazis?! You fucking Yankee trash!" his eyes drift back to Oliver and his sense making, "Look, you want to convince me you ain't full of shit? It ain't happening here and it ain't happening around here either. Come to the Blue Devil bar in Toledo, ask for Sven. The bartender there knows how to find me. If you're not full of shit and all. Now our rides here and we'll be going."

Kenny's gun comes down, he seems quite hopeful that getting in the car and leaving will be a thing and not him torn apart in a garou fight.

Sandra's posture straightens subtly at the barked retort, "If the shoe fits," said without missing a beat. She looks more than a little dubious about this proposed meeting, all told, and once the little speech is finished, says simply: "I'd shoot for somewhere far from the city, if I were you. And, just for the record, the next time you stage some hamfisted 'field op?' Do a little more research first." She glances at Kenny, meeting his eyes directly. "And leave your 'pride' at home. I see you flashing that asinine tattoo around here again, I'll rip it off your arm myself. Understood?"

Oliver arches a brow at the small man's exclamations, and a bit higher at the 'come to my territory then' demand, though the latter turns into something more thoughtful. "The Blue Devil in Toledo. All right, we'll see what we can do." This does not sound like a disagreement with Sandra's recommendations, however. "In the meantime, if you DO find yourself needing to drop by again, I have a phone number for you. Call it and leave a message so we know to expect you around, please. Likely to save us all some trouble, mm?" He pulls out his own phone, quickly calling up something to he can read off the number in question. Kenny gets the expectant look, since the kin had the phone before. And also because he seems used to being given instructions by Garou. Decent chance of a simple one being taken, probably.

The car rolls up to an idling stop. Sven looks at Oliver, when Sandra speaks he visibly tenses and rage flashes in his eyes but he otherwise seems very intent on ignoring her, "We'll see, oh and leave the bitch at home too. Might get mistaken for a Sword again. Kenny you got that number right?" Kenny nods and the pair get into the car quite happy to quit this place, the vehicle driving off once they are inside.