The night was stained with gray. White tears of flakes fell, coating the rim of his baseball cap. The limp ankles of a suited man stuck out of a dumpster. Andre walked out of the warehouse, opposite to the car, and the baseball capped man held the door for the Argentinean, closing it after him. Once he closed the door, he grinned. The car pulled out and drove off. He watched the car fade into the horizon. When it was gone, he yanked off his baseball cap and freed the braid hidden within the hat. Falling down his back, he walked the opposite direction, holding a key between his fingers.
As per usual when Andre was off doing business, Tyler was out at a local hang out. He drank, and laughed at himself for acting silly, but he couldn't get drunk. It was a good ruse he used to get people to laugh, lighten up. And it worked well. He sat amongst a crowd of people his age. Drink in hand as he listened to their bawdy tales and raucous laughter.
Every so often, his hand would reach into his pocket to see if there were any missed calls or messages from his Bear. Each time there wasn't he let out a soft sigh. Nobody around him seemed to notice, most were paired off and he knew that before too long he'd be left along again with his beer. Before it bothered him to no end that he was alone. But now, he knew that in just a few short hours he'd be with his lover and all would be right with the world once again.
As expected, one couple, then another started to leave. He saw the apologetic, yet lustful looks in their eyes as they bid him a good evening. Once he was alone once again, he took his final drink then headed towards the door. He reached for his hat and gloves, sliding them on with ease. Then came the long winter lined duster. A tip of his hat to the bartender, and he was off into the night.
Feet were flawless and noiseless. The key was turned, and he left it unlocked behind him. He was decorating. Over his head was a glass rectangular bottle. Spraying it behind him as he entered, he grinned. A white rod was held between his teeth delicately, unlit. A blue eye did a once over of the room, and turned on all the lights. As he continued, he kept spraying that bottle above his head. It was Andre's cologne. Finally, when all was ready, he walked into the kitchen, placing the bottle down on the counter, and leaned against it. The leather covering was visible, and the lonely sapphire next to it flicked with malice. He waited.
Quiet footfalls of heavy boots carried Tyler around the entrance to the deli to the stairs. Looking up, he frowns, knowing full well that he had left the lights off. Then the scent of Andre's cologne wafts into his nostrils. This causes Tyler to smile in excitement. Maybe he'd come back early!
He rushes up the stairs and nearly staggers, the scent was so overpowering. "God, Bear, did you bathe in it?"
Covering his mouth, he coughs as he walks into the apartment, closing the door behind him. His eyes stung and watered with the alcohol in the cologne burning into his senses.
"F--- me."
He groans and walks over to a window to open it. "I love how you smell, but f--- Bear. This is too much." He leans out of the window and takes a deep breath of the bitterly cold night air.
"Eet vaz 'is fazher's fault." Walking out from the kitchen, he looked at Tyler's back. Smirking, he sat himself comfortably on a chair at the table. A match was struck, and with a few puffs, his cigarette gained an orange tip of life.
"I 'ad to cover my tracks some'ow, Tyler Andrew Redfield. I'm sure a fag of your structure can understand zhat, oui?" He made sure to make himself right at home. He had, after all, been here for a decent hour. An arm by means of the elbow propped itself on the table, plucking the coffin nail from his lips to blow out a cancerous cloud of gray.
The hairs on his neck stood on end when a voice came from the kitchen. Slowly he turned around and narrowed his eyes at the interloper. "How'd you get in here?" His voice held a low growl to it. At the lighting of the cigarette, Tyler moved quicker than the eye could see. The cigarette was plucked away, then he was back at the window, tossing it out. "How do you know my name?"
He stood near the window, the cold air making it easier to breathe. "What do you mean, it was his father's fault? Wait, you know what, I don't care. Get the hell out of my house."
"I know a lot about you, monsieur." Grinning, the Frenchman allowed his cigarette be taken with his sharp blue diamond of an eye watching him. "So eet eez true.." Thought aloud. He wore a white suit. Complete with white leather gloves. A white cowboy hat had one side folded and fastened the hat itself, leaving the other rim broad and unhindered.
"Ah yes, you're right.." He ignored what dribble he heard, replacing them with more useful words. "Vhere are my manners." He tapped the rim of his hat with his two fingers, saluting halfheartedly.
"I am Reginald. But Noir ees vhat I'm called when on zhe job.." He grinned snidely. "Eet eez a pleasure to make your acquaintance, meester Redfield. Or should I say..meester wolfboy?"
Tyler couldn't believe the utter audacity of the man sitting at his dinner table. His eyes narrow to angry slits as the abrasive French accent grated on ihs ears. "Noir." He uttered the name with distaste and spat it out. Suddenly fear appears in his now widening eyes.
Looking to the shelf near the door was Andre's fedora. "What'd you do with Andre?" The words were cold as the winter's chill that was over taking the room. Tyler had no concern for himself, but when it came to Andre, that was a horse of a different color. "You unmitigated bastard. Where's Andre?"
He moved swiftly from the window over to where Noir sat. His palm slams into the table right next to where Noir's elbow met wood. "Where is Andre?"
And as if hostility was his native language, he merely smiled up at Tyler. Devilry was compelled to revel at the results of the gifts it gave. This was truly worth the efforts. "Andre, Andre, Andre. 'ow sweet." Sighing comfortably, he pulled out his pack of cigarettes. "Vith zhees foul 'ospitality, monsieur, you may never know.."
Pulling out a single white rod, he placed it in between his lips luxuriously. All of this was done slow. It was meant to inspire madness. That was his job. "And eef you decide to reduce me to bones, 'e vill only be a memory. Just like your parents."
His lover's name on the lips of the devil made Tyler's blood boil. And the mocking of his growing concern did not bode well for the Frenchman at all. His eyes went from brilliantly blue to glittering gold in span of a blink of an eye. But just as quickly, they were back to glittering hardened sapphires.
"Tell me where he is." Slowly Tyler lowered himself into a chair, sitting on it's edge. "If you've harmed even a single hair on his head. You're lunch. Understand?" His jaw became set, muscles twitching in protest. Looking directly into the one eye of the Cyclops, Tyler waited. He was in no mood for games.
"You 'ave my word zhat 'e eez safe." He struck another match, inhaling to spread the fiery touch into permanence. Shaking the match to death, he tossed it idly over his shoulder. Pulling the newly lit cancer stick, he kept it between his index and middle finger as he continued to grin. He was enjoying this.
"Ah, zhere eet vas. Vhat a pretty color." White gloved fingers tapped at the bandage upon the bridge of his nose.
"I alvays saw zhe supernatural as a load of cheaters. You all start 'uman, and zhen become somzhing more only to be miserable anyvay.." He shrugged, bringing his cigarette back to his lips for a drag. This time, he breathed gray into Tyler's direction in abundance. "Eef you decide to be a good puppy, you'll see your Andre again een due time. Oui?"
The reassurance wasn't much of one. Tyler's own mother had instilled in him that you do not trust those that insist that you do.
"Your word means dick." His voice sounded foreign to even him. It was deep, gravelly and with a definite growl to it. "Don't smoke in my house." He reaches for the cigarette, intending to toss it out of the window just like the last one.
He ignored the comment about the color of his eyes. "I couldn't give a rat's ass what you think. I'm not miserable."
He had missed the cigarette, and his hand falls into his lap. Coughing at the cloud of smoke in his face, he leans his head back and waves his hand in front of his face. "I'll see him now. Take me to him."
"Ah, but deek means a lot to you, oui?" His grin widened tastelessly. "Andre's, veethout a doubt. I never could see zhe appeal." He continued going on and on. And finally, at Tyler's order, he held a cautioning look toward him with his blue eye. "Let's not be too 'asty, monsieur. 'e'll be comeeng soon. I made sure of zhat. Patience, boy."
"Then it's your loss, pal." He wanted to reach out and slap the Frenchman to shut his mouth. Then it hits him what was said and he leans back in his chair. "Andre is coming here? He better be on his own two feet." He gets up from the chair and walks past Reggie without even a glance back.
He walks into the fridge and runs his hands through his hair. The only thing on his mind was Andre. His stomach was in knots with the thoughts that ran through his head at what could be happening to him right at that moment. "God." He mutters and pulls open the fridge. A bottle of water was nabbed before he turns away from the appliance, letting its door shut on its own. "Why are you doing this?"
He had walked back out into the dining room. Sitting back down, he stares into the cold water of the Frenchman's one good eye. So badly he wanted to take that cigarette and put it out in that one good eye.
At the initiative taken, he sat back and practically dared him to harm him. He enjoyed the restrain. Twists and turns were closer to humanity that he couldn't feel. Fascinated, secretly, he remained sitting comfortably as Tyler got his bottle of water. "Patience, boy." Then, an anticipating look came over his incomplete but handsome face.
"Let's play a game. Vhat eef I deed 'arm the Bohannon Junior? What then?" He was clearly bored, and wanted to get a better look of what he was dealing with.
Tyler leaned back in his chair, watching the Frenchman intently. He had no intention of playing games. All the response that he gave was a stony glance. He lifted the bottle of water to his mouth and finished off about half of it before sitting it back down. "I'm not in the mood to play games, Popeye. So try to do whatever it is you came here to do."
Tyler's eyes shift to the still lit cigarette. With a quick gesture, the water bottle is lifted, shifted to the side to throw water onto the cancer stick.
With a quickness impressive among the levels of human standards, he evades the cigarette from getting put out by simply switching hands.
"I don't zhink you vant me to do zhat." He kept it cryptic, bringing the still lit cigarette to his lips, inhaling the death he so deserved. He blew a stream of gray toward Tyler, grinning.
Tyler's failed attempt, then the smoke being blown back into his face just about did it. He was holding back but the membrane between humanity and lycanism was wearing very thin. "Get on with it, Reginald. What the hell do you want from me?" He leans forward, baring his overly sharp teeth. Opening his mouth, he snaps it shut with force. "My patience is wearing very thin."
"Zhat's eet. Eezn't eet so much eazier to just be an animal? Eazier to toss aside stoopid words and bite a head off? And break walls eento splinters?" He was already prepared. And he wanted a glimpse of what Andre's new toy was capable of. "Vhat do I vant vith you?" He repeated it, laughing as if it were a decent joke. But Devilry never laughed harmlessly. And wickedness offered no room for merriment.
"I vant to see 'oo you really are. I vant to see the dog Andre has by the leash. Just a peek. After zhat, I'll gladly do vhat I came 'ere to do."
"It would be so easy." He growls. "But that won't assure Andre's safety, now would it?" His fingers tapped on the wooden table. His eyes narrow at how easily the bastard across from him came clean with what he wanted. Tyler battled with himself over whether or not to concede. If he gave in and gave the Frenchman what he wanted, then would he be honorable enough to return Andre safely? Tyler wasn't sure.
One thing he was though, was angry.
The fabric that held him back finally ripped into shreds. The chair he was sitting in fell backwards and clattered against the hardwood floor as Tyler lifted from his seat. His clothes were in tatters hanging from his lycanthropic form. On all fours, he leapt onto the table and sank low as he moved forward. A long strand of saliva slowly dripped down one side of his tan muzzle. Hackles were raised, tail held low, as if in a hunt. His fetid breath in the Frenchman's face as snout came within millimeters of the Frenchman's nose.
"Zhere you are." A pleased look came over his face. The breath and saliva dripped onto the wood of the table. Smiling as if a sunny day had graced his life, he snorted. Blowing another gray cloud into the newly created animal's face, the leather patch of his eye roused to life.
Opening, it revealed a miniature trajectory point. And for the time it took for any normal eye to blink, the black absence in his barren socket shot a potent tranquilizer serum in the form of a syringe. It shot five in total. And when the five were fired, the leather patch closed, Reginald simply watching the fireworks with much delight. "And zhere you aren't."
The first dart found home in Tyler's sensitive nose and he leaps back with a sharp yelp of pain. The others dug into the flesh of his hide. Staggering back, he fell from the table. Blinking rapidly and shaking his head, he howls loudly.
He ran in a wide circle around the table to try to get away from the sharp pain in his nose. The room was growing fuzzy and his steps faltered. The drug worked quickly and Tyler lays on the ground, his paws covering his snout as he lets out a pitiful whimper. Golden eyes blink twice, then close. In his now very relaxed state, his body shifts and contorts back to a human form. Laying there, naked and shivering, he is unable to move.
Standing up from the table, he tapped his leather patch with satisfaction. "Good boy." He said, snapping his fingers. Men ran in and picked up Tyler's unconscious form.
"Dress 'im up. You know zhe drill." The men all carried the motionless body to the bedroom, and went to work. Reginald laughed after them. "Bohannon Junior vill be 'ere soon. Be queek about eet, gentlemen."
As per usual when Andre was off doing business, Tyler was out at a local hang out. He drank, and laughed at himself for acting silly, but he couldn't get drunk. It was a good ruse he used to get people to laugh, lighten up. And it worked well. He sat amongst a crowd of people his age. Drink in hand as he listened to their bawdy tales and raucous laughter.
Every so often, his hand would reach into his pocket to see if there were any missed calls or messages from his Bear. Each time there wasn't he let out a soft sigh. Nobody around him seemed to notice, most were paired off and he knew that before too long he'd be left along again with his beer. Before it bothered him to no end that he was alone. But now, he knew that in just a few short hours he'd be with his lover and all would be right with the world once again.
As expected, one couple, then another started to leave. He saw the apologetic, yet lustful looks in their eyes as they bid him a good evening. Once he was alone once again, he took his final drink then headed towards the door. He reached for his hat and gloves, sliding them on with ease. Then came the long winter lined duster. A tip of his hat to the bartender, and he was off into the night.
Feet were flawless and noiseless. The key was turned, and he left it unlocked behind him. He was decorating. Over his head was a glass rectangular bottle. Spraying it behind him as he entered, he grinned. A white rod was held between his teeth delicately, unlit. A blue eye did a once over of the room, and turned on all the lights. As he continued, he kept spraying that bottle above his head. It was Andre's cologne. Finally, when all was ready, he walked into the kitchen, placing the bottle down on the counter, and leaned against it. The leather covering was visible, and the lonely sapphire next to it flicked with malice. He waited.
Quiet footfalls of heavy boots carried Tyler around the entrance to the deli to the stairs. Looking up, he frowns, knowing full well that he had left the lights off. Then the scent of Andre's cologne wafts into his nostrils. This causes Tyler to smile in excitement. Maybe he'd come back early!
He rushes up the stairs and nearly staggers, the scent was so overpowering. "God, Bear, did you bathe in it?"
Covering his mouth, he coughs as he walks into the apartment, closing the door behind him. His eyes stung and watered with the alcohol in the cologne burning into his senses.
"F--- me."
He groans and walks over to a window to open it. "I love how you smell, but f--- Bear. This is too much." He leans out of the window and takes a deep breath of the bitterly cold night air.
"Eet vaz 'is fazher's fault." Walking out from the kitchen, he looked at Tyler's back. Smirking, he sat himself comfortably on a chair at the table. A match was struck, and with a few puffs, his cigarette gained an orange tip of life.
"I 'ad to cover my tracks some'ow, Tyler Andrew Redfield. I'm sure a fag of your structure can understand zhat, oui?" He made sure to make himself right at home. He had, after all, been here for a decent hour. An arm by means of the elbow propped itself on the table, plucking the coffin nail from his lips to blow out a cancerous cloud of gray.
The hairs on his neck stood on end when a voice came from the kitchen. Slowly he turned around and narrowed his eyes at the interloper. "How'd you get in here?" His voice held a low growl to it. At the lighting of the cigarette, Tyler moved quicker than the eye could see. The cigarette was plucked away, then he was back at the window, tossing it out. "How do you know my name?"
He stood near the window, the cold air making it easier to breathe. "What do you mean, it was his father's fault? Wait, you know what, I don't care. Get the hell out of my house."
"I know a lot about you, monsieur." Grinning, the Frenchman allowed his cigarette be taken with his sharp blue diamond of an eye watching him. "So eet eez true.." Thought aloud. He wore a white suit. Complete with white leather gloves. A white cowboy hat had one side folded and fastened the hat itself, leaving the other rim broad and unhindered.
"Ah yes, you're right.." He ignored what dribble he heard, replacing them with more useful words. "Vhere are my manners." He tapped the rim of his hat with his two fingers, saluting halfheartedly.
"I am Reginald. But Noir ees vhat I'm called when on zhe job.." He grinned snidely. "Eet eez a pleasure to make your acquaintance, meester Redfield. Or should I say..meester wolfboy?"
Tyler couldn't believe the utter audacity of the man sitting at his dinner table. His eyes narrow to angry slits as the abrasive French accent grated on ihs ears. "Noir." He uttered the name with distaste and spat it out. Suddenly fear appears in his now widening eyes.
Looking to the shelf near the door was Andre's fedora. "What'd you do with Andre?" The words were cold as the winter's chill that was over taking the room. Tyler had no concern for himself, but when it came to Andre, that was a horse of a different color. "You unmitigated bastard. Where's Andre?"
He moved swiftly from the window over to where Noir sat. His palm slams into the table right next to where Noir's elbow met wood. "Where is Andre?"
And as if hostility was his native language, he merely smiled up at Tyler. Devilry was compelled to revel at the results of the gifts it gave. This was truly worth the efforts. "Andre, Andre, Andre. 'ow sweet." Sighing comfortably, he pulled out his pack of cigarettes. "Vith zhees foul 'ospitality, monsieur, you may never know.."
Pulling out a single white rod, he placed it in between his lips luxuriously. All of this was done slow. It was meant to inspire madness. That was his job. "And eef you decide to reduce me to bones, 'e vill only be a memory. Just like your parents."
His lover's name on the lips of the devil made Tyler's blood boil. And the mocking of his growing concern did not bode well for the Frenchman at all. His eyes went from brilliantly blue to glittering gold in span of a blink of an eye. But just as quickly, they were back to glittering hardened sapphires.
"Tell me where he is." Slowly Tyler lowered himself into a chair, sitting on it's edge. "If you've harmed even a single hair on his head. You're lunch. Understand?" His jaw became set, muscles twitching in protest. Looking directly into the one eye of the Cyclops, Tyler waited. He was in no mood for games.
"You 'ave my word zhat 'e eez safe." He struck another match, inhaling to spread the fiery touch into permanence. Shaking the match to death, he tossed it idly over his shoulder. Pulling the newly lit cancer stick, he kept it between his index and middle finger as he continued to grin. He was enjoying this.
"Ah, zhere eet vas. Vhat a pretty color." White gloved fingers tapped at the bandage upon the bridge of his nose.
"I alvays saw zhe supernatural as a load of cheaters. You all start 'uman, and zhen become somzhing more only to be miserable anyvay.." He shrugged, bringing his cigarette back to his lips for a drag. This time, he breathed gray into Tyler's direction in abundance. "Eef you decide to be a good puppy, you'll see your Andre again een due time. Oui?"
The reassurance wasn't much of one. Tyler's own mother had instilled in him that you do not trust those that insist that you do.
"Your word means dick." His voice sounded foreign to even him. It was deep, gravelly and with a definite growl to it. "Don't smoke in my house." He reaches for the cigarette, intending to toss it out of the window just like the last one.
He ignored the comment about the color of his eyes. "I couldn't give a rat's ass what you think. I'm not miserable."
He had missed the cigarette, and his hand falls into his lap. Coughing at the cloud of smoke in his face, he leans his head back and waves his hand in front of his face. "I'll see him now. Take me to him."
"Ah, but deek means a lot to you, oui?" His grin widened tastelessly. "Andre's, veethout a doubt. I never could see zhe appeal." He continued going on and on. And finally, at Tyler's order, he held a cautioning look toward him with his blue eye. "Let's not be too 'asty, monsieur. 'e'll be comeeng soon. I made sure of zhat. Patience, boy."
"Then it's your loss, pal." He wanted to reach out and slap the Frenchman to shut his mouth. Then it hits him what was said and he leans back in his chair. "Andre is coming here? He better be on his own two feet." He gets up from the chair and walks past Reggie without even a glance back.
He walks into the fridge and runs his hands through his hair. The only thing on his mind was Andre. His stomach was in knots with the thoughts that ran through his head at what could be happening to him right at that moment. "God." He mutters and pulls open the fridge. A bottle of water was nabbed before he turns away from the appliance, letting its door shut on its own. "Why are you doing this?"
He had walked back out into the dining room. Sitting back down, he stares into the cold water of the Frenchman's one good eye. So badly he wanted to take that cigarette and put it out in that one good eye.
At the initiative taken, he sat back and practically dared him to harm him. He enjoyed the restrain. Twists and turns were closer to humanity that he couldn't feel. Fascinated, secretly, he remained sitting comfortably as Tyler got his bottle of water. "Patience, boy." Then, an anticipating look came over his incomplete but handsome face.
"Let's play a game. Vhat eef I deed 'arm the Bohannon Junior? What then?" He was clearly bored, and wanted to get a better look of what he was dealing with.
Tyler leaned back in his chair, watching the Frenchman intently. He had no intention of playing games. All the response that he gave was a stony glance. He lifted the bottle of water to his mouth and finished off about half of it before sitting it back down. "I'm not in the mood to play games, Popeye. So try to do whatever it is you came here to do."
Tyler's eyes shift to the still lit cigarette. With a quick gesture, the water bottle is lifted, shifted to the side to throw water onto the cancer stick.
With a quickness impressive among the levels of human standards, he evades the cigarette from getting put out by simply switching hands.
"I don't zhink you vant me to do zhat." He kept it cryptic, bringing the still lit cigarette to his lips, inhaling the death he so deserved. He blew a stream of gray toward Tyler, grinning.
Tyler's failed attempt, then the smoke being blown back into his face just about did it. He was holding back but the membrane between humanity and lycanism was wearing very thin. "Get on with it, Reginald. What the hell do you want from me?" He leans forward, baring his overly sharp teeth. Opening his mouth, he snaps it shut with force. "My patience is wearing very thin."
"Zhat's eet. Eezn't eet so much eazier to just be an animal? Eazier to toss aside stoopid words and bite a head off? And break walls eento splinters?" He was already prepared. And he wanted a glimpse of what Andre's new toy was capable of. "Vhat do I vant vith you?" He repeated it, laughing as if it were a decent joke. But Devilry never laughed harmlessly. And wickedness offered no room for merriment.
"I vant to see 'oo you really are. I vant to see the dog Andre has by the leash. Just a peek. After zhat, I'll gladly do vhat I came 'ere to do."
"It would be so easy." He growls. "But that won't assure Andre's safety, now would it?" His fingers tapped on the wooden table. His eyes narrow at how easily the bastard across from him came clean with what he wanted. Tyler battled with himself over whether or not to concede. If he gave in and gave the Frenchman what he wanted, then would he be honorable enough to return Andre safely? Tyler wasn't sure.
One thing he was though, was angry.
The fabric that held him back finally ripped into shreds. The chair he was sitting in fell backwards and clattered against the hardwood floor as Tyler lifted from his seat. His clothes were in tatters hanging from his lycanthropic form. On all fours, he leapt onto the table and sank low as he moved forward. A long strand of saliva slowly dripped down one side of his tan muzzle. Hackles were raised, tail held low, as if in a hunt. His fetid breath in the Frenchman's face as snout came within millimeters of the Frenchman's nose.
"Zhere you are." A pleased look came over his face. The breath and saliva dripped onto the wood of the table. Smiling as if a sunny day had graced his life, he snorted. Blowing another gray cloud into the newly created animal's face, the leather patch of his eye roused to life.
Opening, it revealed a miniature trajectory point. And for the time it took for any normal eye to blink, the black absence in his barren socket shot a potent tranquilizer serum in the form of a syringe. It shot five in total. And when the five were fired, the leather patch closed, Reginald simply watching the fireworks with much delight. "And zhere you aren't."
The first dart found home in Tyler's sensitive nose and he leaps back with a sharp yelp of pain. The others dug into the flesh of his hide. Staggering back, he fell from the table. Blinking rapidly and shaking his head, he howls loudly.
He ran in a wide circle around the table to try to get away from the sharp pain in his nose. The room was growing fuzzy and his steps faltered. The drug worked quickly and Tyler lays on the ground, his paws covering his snout as he lets out a pitiful whimper. Golden eyes blink twice, then close. In his now very relaxed state, his body shifts and contorts back to a human form. Laying there, naked and shivering, he is unable to move.
Standing up from the table, he tapped his leather patch with satisfaction. "Good boy." He said, snapping his fingers. Men ran in and picked up Tyler's unconscious form.
"Dress 'im up. You know zhe drill." The men all carried the motionless body to the bedroom, and went to work. Reginald laughed after them. "Bohannon Junior vill be 'ere soon. Be queek about eet, gentlemen."