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Jimmy(#2960Pcr)

A maniacal grin is plastered on this young boy's face as he catches you
glancing at him. He looks about seven, but there is something
altogether disturbing in his blue eyes, a cunning that is not entirely
child-like. His light brown hair lies in unbrushed tangles, and there
are sticky remains of something on his face. He wears a long
trench-coat, completely unsuited for the weather. Underneath, he has a
grubby yellow T-shirt and jeans, with white tennis shoes.

Osprey Circle Fountain

Situated in the center of the grassy mound is a white marble fountain.
The smooth stone of the fountain sparkles and sends off bright shafts
of light whenever a stray beam bounces of its shiny surface. Perched
at the top of the fountain is a soaring osprey. Directly below the
osprey, gentle jets of water spurt up into the air, making it seem
like the spray is propelling the osprey upwards toward the sky. White
marble, about a foot wide, rings the center of the fountain, allowing
the formation of a watery basin. Iron benches sit slightly back from
the fountain.

The asphalt roadway of Osprey Circle rings the grassy mound.

On the asphalt roadway, Remy comes from the south past the marina.

Remy strides over from the asphalt roadway of the circle.

Jimmy is giggling over something by the pool. He looks up as you
approach, face plastered in a smile.

Remy has chosen to rollerblade along the paths near the fountain. He
sculls along adroitly.

Crew cut white hair, smoothly shaven face, healthy very reddish tan show
this young man in his most pleasant demeanor. His skin tone is so deep
that the cocky youth must have some native heritage. He's six foot
tall and lean. Scuffed and patched rollerblades, riveted and reworked
for optimal versatility, control and speed, are on his feet. Similarly
worn and repaired pads adorn his knees, shoulders and elbows, like
armor. The garish spandex bodysuit is covered up with an old black 'Le
Nul' tee shirt. Wrist-guards show signs of much use, although the
helmet looks untouched. He's wearing killer loop sunglasses.

Remy rolls past and circles, peering through his mirrored sunglasses at
anything intriguing or different.
Remy looked at me.

Jimmy turns back to whatever he finds so funny. Sharp little giggles,
like breaking glass, occassionally can be heard over the murmur of the
fountain.

Remy is used to being wary of children, of avoiding them. So easily
broken, so hard to put back together. So he pays attention to them. To
this one, if only for a moment, observing the little human.

Jimmy seems to be playing with some sort of can. A flash of bright green
and yellow can be seen in his tiny hands every once in a while.

Remy skates up and down the length of the park, enjoying the unusually
fair weather. Now he's wondering how late seven-year-olds stay out in
St. Claire. Still, at that age, he'd been on the streets himself, in
Montreal.

Jimmy doesn't seem to be looking around for a parent. Indeed, he seems
perfectly ready to stay perched on the fountainside all night. A few
adults pass on the sidewalk, their voices low murmurs in the night
air.

Remy swings closer by the child, to satisfy himself that all is well,
taking his responsibility to his protectorate seriously.

Jimmy looks up again, that disturbing grin showing a missing front
tooth. He says completely fearlessly. "Hey mister, wanta hear a joke?"

Remy sculls to a stop, as if the words brought back something else
entirely to mind. He recovers, shrugging. "Sure."

You say "What's green, red, and goes round and round and round?"

Remy shrugs, apparently not very good at riddles. "I dunno. A red and
green top?" he guesses.

Jimmy shakes his head, still grinning. "A frog in a blender. What's blue
and red and sits in a plastic bag in the corner?"

Remy grins, liking the riddle too much. "A dead baby?"

Jimmy pouts, the expression showing off his baby fat. He then winces and
stagger, nearly dropping the can as he puts his right hand to his
head. "Oooowwww."

Remy studies the little human, expression devoid of real compassion or
caring. "You okay? You sick?"

Jimmy screams, "Gummy bears, gummy bears, in my head. They're chewing on
my brain!" He then drops the can, bringing up his left hand to touch
his head. The can hits the ground with a loud clang, popping the top
off. A mottled snake springs out of the joke can, flying roughly
toward Remy.

Remy strikes reflexively at the missile, dodging it like it were a puck
and he were _not_ a goalie. He moves on the skates like he's skated
before he could walk.

The snake is not so easily batted away. As the young Garou imacts the
spring snake, he notices two things. First, the consistancy of the toy
is wrong; it feels more like a solid piece of rubber than a canvas
toy. And second, it sticks to his arm. A shooting pain arrows up from
where it hit. Behind, the boy writhes on the ground.

Remy gasps in surprise, biting down hard to clench his teeth against
crying out in shock and pain. He rolls back, seeking shelter in this
open area, fearing he will frenzy from the pain in public.

The snake-thing continues to stick to your arm. The pain is growing
worse, becoming the nausating feeling of grinding bone. Behind,
Jimmy's moans are tappering into insane giggles.

Remy grits his teeth, popping the sheath open on the concealed knife in
the wristguard of his free arm, hacking at the snake with the heavy
steel blade, trying to shear it off against the trapped wrist guard.

The snake absorbes the blows sluggishly, the hits hurting Remy himself
as the snake's jaws are loosened. It falls to the ground, wiggling
blindly toward the puddle of blood that is growing on the pavement
from the sizable hole in Remy's arm. If time permitted a close
inspection of the wound, it seems a roughly circular hole, leaking
blood at an alarming rate.

Remy doesn't take the time to inspect the wound, working feverishly to
unfasten and fasten the velcro fabric of the empty wrist-guard into a
tournequet, eying his foes.
Remy bites the drawn knife between his teeth to free up his good hand.
Remy mutters between clenched teeth, something about gummi bears...
something murderous.

The snake makes it to the pool of blood. Its face peels back, revealing
a purple proboscis. Lowering this into the puddle, it sucks from the
available blood. Behind Remy, a child's voice says, "Hey mister?"

Remy doesn't turn, he just lunges and dodges, spinning to face the
child-thing.

Jimmy grins, tears still streaming down his face. "Catch." He flings out
one arm, a powery substance flying through the air toward the Garou.

The two adults that had passed earlier are long gone. Though there are a
few within sight, most of them are a distance away at shops. No
attention has been drawn, yet.

Remy expends rage to speed his reactions, using the mechanical advantage
of rollerblades to attempt to dodge away from the powder and then
flinging the drawn knife full force at the child.
Remy manages to avoid almost the entire swath of powder, only the edge
catching him as he blurs past. One shoulder is the primary recepient;
it begins to burn with an unbelievablely strong itching. Before this
sensation registers, the knife is in the air. It does hit solidly, but
in the child's shoulder, rather than a more vital spot. Jimmy staggers
and falls to the ground with a soft thump.

Remy continues to press the assault on the child-trickster, skating
right over the slug-snake viciously to stomp at the child. He is
horrifically brutal, unrestrained, savage.

Remy fairly easily bypasses the snake. It quivers once as he skates less
than three inches from its nose, but it seems far more interested in
the blood. The child has one hand on the knife hilt, pulling on it
with an effort. As Remy gets closer, two things happen simultaneously.
One, the child pulls back the hand to reveal what it covered: a gaudy
plastic flower. With the other hand, he manages to toss a red and
white toy to be ground. The teeth seem to wake up, as if batteries
activate, chattering toward the Garou.
Remy doesn't slow up his attack, but cuts sideways as the chattering
teeth advance, drawing the second blade to hurl at the child's prone
figure as he adjusts his angle of attack.

Remy manages to avoid the teeth, they being no match for the speed he
can build up on roller blades. He's not quite so luck with the squirt
that comes his way. Acid drops burn into his face and make smoking
holes in his clothes.

Jimmy says, weakly, "What has four legs and flies?" as the second knife
hits him. This knife strikes poorer, digging a bloody slash in his
face as it tumbles off of him.

Remy doesn't ignore the pain of his burning face, he nourishes his Rage
with it, coming at the child's prone form with heavy booted feet. "A
jackass."

Jimmy's reply is cut off by his helpless loss of breath as Remy's kick
lifts him and throws him like a broken toy. However, the kick
unbalances Remy, as he still stands on roller blades, and he falls to
one side.

Remy rolls with the fall, as he's practiced for years, away from child
and teeth and snake, away to grab for the knife lying where it fell,
away to take aim and throw it again.

Crawling back on his knees, Remy is able to place his hand on the knife.
His one shoulder is becoming an agonizing itching pain, and the other
arm is going numb. The teeth chatter toward the kneeling Garou
relentlessly, clacking bite after bite of empty air. The boy stirs,
but does not rise.

Remy moves back and undoes the quick releases on his foot gear, shifting
behind the cover of a park bench. He makes his target the child's
still body, to bludgeon the remaining toys with.
Remy contorts and blurs as he is transformed.
Remy fades back slightly, a shadow passes over his features, and he
emerges in Glabro form.

As Remy crouches to shift, the teeth clatter up to him. They close on
his boot, not quite biting through the heavy footware, and lock there
through his shift into the glabro form.

Remy dispenses with the footwear, tossing them towards the snake,
clenched teet h and all, and surges towards the limp child's form,
wary of traps but angry, vindictive.

Jimmy lays there, muttering and thrashing weakly on the ground. He
doesn't seem much of a threat at the moment, but appearances can
deceive.

The boot sails in the general direction of the snake and lands, jarring
the teeth off.

Remy doesn't waste time, grabbing the child's legs while he has the
chance, lifting and striking the little boy into the ground.

In a last effort, the boy reaches for Remy as if to hold him, fear
showing behind the alien cunning in his eyes. But Remy jerks as a
shock accentuates his light-headedness, as the child touches his
forearms in a desperate gesture. Viciously, the Garou drives the boy
into the ground. The child's head gives with a sickening crack, the
force of the blow showing chunks of brain and bone. As if the child's
head were truly eroded and weakened.

Remy grunts, "Go. Free. Bad spirit not hurt you now," and turns to face
the two remaining toys, grimly.

The teeth are nowhere to be seen. The snake lies there, like a swollen
slug. In the distance, a shout rises up, as a couple of women get the
idea that perhaps this is not just a father and son playing.

Remy works fast. Four things of his own to recover, the limp slug to
slaughter, and the child to carry off, running for a hidey hole.
Knives. Boots. Velcro.


From afar, Remy prefers to be sure snake is dead foremost. Boots next,
have fingerprints. Knives may have workable prints. Dead boy next.
Teeth next. Velcro last.

Although the knives are not the most important, they are the easiest to
get, one at the feet of the very dead boy, the other in his shoulder.
The snake still lays there, only a faint wiggle giving the idea it's
still viable.

Remy plucks up the knife at his feet, plunging it into the distended
snake's head to skewer it. He knows he must run, knows the hiding
places of the city well, but _wants_ his boots, too, and chances
recovering them first.

The snake gives a painfully ear-splitting shriek as it dissolves,
turning to a sludgy-green goo. One boot is nearby, the other is behind
the bench. Jimmy's sightless eyes stare up at the sky. In the near
distance, sirens begin to wail.

Remy stabs at the nearer boot to sweep it up with the knife. He runs
past the bench, kicking at the other boot, hoping it lands out of
sight, and far away. He runs. He finds an alley. He hides.

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