WEREWOLF: West Virginia, Wyld & Wonderful

[LadyTevar]

It's sometimes a wonder how quickly time passes. Two years had blossomed from Spring to Fall, and was once again bright with the promise of Spring once more in the Sept of Moon's Blessing, hidden in Cumberland Falls Park, Kentucky. They had been challenging years for the young pack who had grown famous for finding a Lost Fetish. They had become a useful addition to the Sept, aiding the final cleansing of the Bledsoe's tainted pond (although they missed the killing of the Bane), hunting the Bane-ridden Boars that terrorized a nearby town, and learning more rites and wisdom from their elders.

However, young packs rarely get to stay in one place for long...

Hattie Thunderwife was having final words with the young pack before setting them out. "Now, y'all unnerstand, Ah'm' sending y'all to the Mountain Mammas 'cause o' that chem'cal spill. They need a lotta help cleanin' up after that, an' 'taint gonna be easy on nobody." Hattie, Sept Leader of Moon's Blessing, had watched these younguns grow from a rough mix of cubs to a solid pack. Even the Shadow Lord had won respect from the Elder Child of Gaia.

"So, now, Hapy Trail-Singer is gonna drive y'all to th' rest stop in West V'rginah, an' go his way." Hattie indicated the Silent Strider who'd stayed a few days in the Sept, one of four that made circuits in the Appalachians. The pack had yet to meet two of them. "The Mommas'll have a driver waitin' fer ya. They said ta 'follow th' scent o' spraypaint', wha'er that means." Hattie snorted, which the pack had learned meant something did not live up to her high expectations. "Iffen he don' show up, they a'least did give a number ta call." She handed it over to Alexander, giving him a firm nod.

"Now.... y'all get on outta here, afore Ah start missin' th' lot o' ya..." and with that, Hattie turned and walked away, head high, maybe a little too high, as if keeping herself from getting too sentimental and simply hugging the pack tightly like children. Two years watching them grow as a pack, it might have made a woman a touch proud of 'her boys'.

Hapy Trail-singer opened the door of the SUV. "Time's wastin', boys," he called. "Sooner we're on the road, sooner we're all where we're called to be."

[LadyTevar]

In West Virginia, Spring was a little slower in coming. The dogwoods and redbuds were only just showing their peak, and the first pale green leaves were spreading across the hillsides. It was a gorgeous sight to see the mountains returning to life, even if the citizens of Charleston were still very nervous of what they were drinking after the January spill. Susan MacCorkle, also known as Susan Knife-dancer, turned from the view of the mountain and back to her desk, picking up the phone and once again calling a well-known number.

"Cooper, you better be on the way to the pickup site," the Elder Fianna spoke softly. "And I do hope you remembered to pick up the package for Dr. Jacobs at Marshall."

[SirNitram]

Michael Cooper sighed, and nodded. "Picked up, signed for, secured in the van." The van. A big, clunky piece of junk. But for this trip, he'd need it's roominess. "Can't wait til the out of towners are settled in and I can go back to the bike.." He murmured to himself as he did inspections on the van. Finally, he secured his ammunition and the pump-action shotgun in the van; a concession to his dangerous life. "PAUL!" He shouted as he finished the checkout. "Wake up, get your seatbelt on. We're going to Marshall." Not that the half-deaf maniac would stay awake, but at least the belt would keep from getting ticketed. Once things were ready, the van started it's journey across the State towards the rest stop he had been told about.

[rhoenix]

While waiting for the others, a fairly large grey wolf with curious, star-like white points in his fur's pattern, lay on his stomach atop the "van".

The "van" was a Homid thing used to move stuff and beings without walking. The very concept still seemed a little offensive to the young Stargazer - having walked literally across the world from the Himalayas, where people and beings walked everywhere, to reach this place, where people and beings sat on their hindquarters and drove.

Little things like this, coupled with using metal just to move food to their mouths were among the thousands of little strange things Sees-Faces-In-Stars was amused by in Homids. Besides - the flat top of the "van" had strange metal bars on either side, which would be more than enough for him to keep his balance while it moved. And so, he had lay down several minutes ago and gotten comfortable while the Homids milled about, talking, and put more and more of their Stuff in the "van."

The two other Garou here were new to Sees-Faces, but apparently not to the Sept. One was apparently asleep inside the "van," something that spoke immediately to his courage. After all, there was no way in Gaia's realm or beyond that Sees-Faces would ever be convinced to sleep inside the belly of a beast made of metal, even if it was asleep and supposedly tame. It was still Weaver-crafted, and that was more than enough to make him suspicious. Being around Sophie had helped him to be slightly less suspicious of Weaver-crafted things, considering what the Glasswalker frequently did with them (and who she used them on), but that was still a far cry from being willing to sleep inside a Weaver-crafted beast.

Sees-Faces and Sophie had gotten into more than one discussion about it, but neither had changed their stances much. Sophie was edging toward exasperated about Sees-Faces' suspicion, though Sees-Faces was very sure that he'd never sleep inside of a Weaver-crafted beast. Despite Sophie's repeated protestations to the contrary, in Sees-Faces' view, the thing ate, defecated, urinated, and slept. Those facts made it a beast in his mind, and that made Sees-Faces decisively unwilling to trust it, since he couldn't talk to it. Sophie's irritated cry of "Why do you want to talk to it? It's a car!" had done little to dissuade or persuade him.

A breeze flitted by, ruffling his fur, to which Sees-Faces gave a soft howl of greeting to the passing Wind spirit as he lay atop the "van." It was a beautiful day so far, even if it didn't have as much snow, or walking, as he would have preferred.

[SirNitram]

"We go nowhere until you're in the van." Mike sighed at the wolf. "Someone will shoot at you." The Ragabash rubbed his face. "What is this gonna take? Promise of the first meat we find on the side of the highway? Proof you won't get eaten because it's a tool and not a critter?"

[rhoenix]

"We go nowhere until you're in the van." Mike sighed at the wolf. "Someone will shoot at you." The Ragabash rubbed his face. "What is this gonna take? Promise of the first meat we find on the side of the highway? Proof you won't get eaten because it's a tool and not a critter?"

Sees-Faces liked this game - it was how he first discovered the joys of "herb-baked chicken," as Hattie just happened to have finished a batch the last time Mike attempted to get Sees-Faces to listen to him.

For the moment, the wolf simply tilted his head to the side amusedly before responding. "Others not here yet," he barked in the Garou tongue. "When they here, then we go. Besides," he yawned, as he flopped onto his side, "roof is warm. Bring me chicken though, and I wait in Weaver-thing."

[Josh]

Paul 'roused' and started to slip the seatbelt on.

He hadn't been sleeping, but it was useful to pretend he had. People opened up, quietly and sneakily, around a sleeping man. Especially one who looked older than the hills, the talkative grandpa-type.

People made judgements based on what they thought they knew of a man, fitting him into a type. From an early age, Paul had learned to make use of those judgments, instinctively letting people overlook him. Just a poor half-spic with an accent that he adjusted as needed to make the proper impression. He listened to the pair debate over getting in the van and felt a pang of sympathy for the lupus. Being trapped in an aluminum and plastic box had to be like being caged, trapped.

A lifelong wanderer, he could relate. Being hemmed in was the worst thing possible. Still, Michael had a point and Paul had his own reasons for minimizing any potential notice of 'large dogs' or wolves in the area. He released the seatbelt and slipped out, giving a mildly theatrical yawn as he stretched, his bones crackling with all-too-real creaks and pops. "He's right," he told See-Faces with a nod toward Michael. "Now, I'll try to scrounge you up some chicken as soon as we can, and we can leave a door open so you don't feel penned in. And hell, maybe you want to get to know it."

He rapped his knuckles on the aluminum, rattling the side panel. "This old beast has seen some things, gone places. Got a little soul to it, and it's a wanderer."

[Cynical Cat]

Alexander walked over to the van, a duffel bag hanging on each arm and a third hanging on over his shoulder. Two were his and the other was for Sees-Faces. The Lupus didn't put much effort into passing in the human world so Alexander took up the slack. The tall, muscular young man tossed all three of them in the van. He nodded to Michael and Paul. "Thanks for the lift."

He turned his gaze up to Sees-Faces. "You only get chicken if you act like a good dog in public and this is public. Good dogs get in the van when asked. So be good dog and you'll get tender, fresh roasted chicken with all the herbs and spices. If you're not a good dog then its cold kibble." Or whatever he could catch, which was a lot but also meant he could come up empty and Sees seemed to be always hungry. Until Sees learned how to cook or make money, it was an effective persuader.

[rhoenix]

The instant Alexander mentioned "fresh roasted chicken with all the herbs and spices," Sees-Faces-In-Stars rolled off the roof of the van and onto his feet on the ground in less time than it took most beings to blink. Immediately afterward, he cautiously nosed his way into the back of the van.

"Chicken good," he said sagely to Paul, once he had gotten inside. "Not scared of Weaver-thing. People say Theurge is like teller of fortunes, so I say my fortune has Homid-made chicken food. I make sure future come true," he barked, laughing as wolves do.

[General Havoc]

"How did they lose to the Astros?!"

"It's the Cubs, Sophie, they found a way. It's what they do."

"Yeah, but Houston? They couldn't get a hit at a T-ball game, let alone actual baseball!"

"What have they been feeding you down there that would make you think the Cubs play actual baseball? You know better than that!"

Sophie sighed the resigned sigh of the perennially disappointed, even as she resumed packing away her laptop. "Yeah," she said. "But still, I thought they could at least pull this series out."

"If they had, they'd just have lost it all back to the Brewers next week," came her uncle's voice over the bluetooth earpiece, the one that unfolded to fit a wolf or a Crinos' ear. "I still don't get why you keep following the Cubs anyway. Isn't fighting off the Wyrm depressing enough?"

She frowned, despite the fact that nobody could see her, even as she slid the laptop into place in its kevlar carrying case. "They're my team," she said. "You don't abandon your team just because they haven't won in a while."

"A while?" came the voice. "Sophie, the last time the Cubs won, the Weaver went mad. Staying with your team through thick-and-thin implies there's going to be a thick."

It was an old argument, almost ritualized nowadays, familiar and comforting, in a place that, despite everything, still was really neither. "Yeah," she said. She didn't know what, if anything, she meant by it.

Tends-to-Spiders caught the tone in her voice, of course. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm all right," she said. He wouldn't believe her, and she knew it, but there was nothing for that. "This place is..." she let the sentence trail off, unsure of how she wanted to end it.

"I know it hasn't been easy, but - "

"But I wasn't sent here because it was easy, I know," she said. "And it's not that. I just... I miss the city."

"Well at least you're not the only one."

"Alexander doesn't miss anything, or if he does he doesn't let it slip. 'Never show weakness' and all that Shadow Lord crap."

"Forget the Shadow Lords, that's a New Yorker thing." She didn't correct him. "Did you at least find a new battery for L-CARS?"

Her fingers traced the contours of the tablet, packed securely inside heavy cloth. As always, she could just barely feel a faint electrical sensation from it, one she could never decide was real or not. "It's West Virginia," she said, "not the moon."

"You know best," said Tends-to-Spiders, in that tone that meant she did not know best, but that he was unwilling to argue. "Just be careful, Sophie. You know we're all pulling for you, right?"

She did. She really did. And yet.

"Yeah," she said. "Thanks."

"Hey," he said, and his voice was different, the "adult" voice he used whenever something was important. "You're doing just fine. Remember that. You're doing good down there."

She zipped up the pack, let it sit a moment on the cot. "How would you even know?" she asked.

"You're not the only one who can divert the stream," he said back. "Don't forget who taught you how to code."

She said nothing. He would know the difference between pauses.

"Just keep your slate clean and your macros in the buffer," he said. "You'll be fine."

If only it were that simple. "Maybe," she said. "But the others - "

"Let the others take care of their own hats. They've got their perspective, same as us. They're not still giving you a hard time are they?"

"No," she said. "Not the pack at least." In truth not anyone, but Sophie could read the stares every time she pulled out her smartphone or logged into Skype or recorded a rite on L-CARS. It had been long enough for it to no longer be surprise or wonder, and that didn't leave much besides disapproval, not that everyone even bothered to conceal it. "I just... I still feel like I don't know what the hell I'm doing down here."

"You're doing Gaia's work. Whatever form it takes. Don't judge it, but don't let it judge you either. The rest will take care of itself."

She knew it was supposed to be comforting. She just wished it was as effective as it was intended to be. "Right," she said. "No problem." She even managed to make it sound semi-convincing. Maybe. "Anyway, I gotta go. We gotta deal with some chem spill up in the hills."

"As opposed to the flatlands?"

"Yeah, I guess. Say hi to everyone, will you?"

"CB and Sights are in Milwaukee. I'll let them know you called. Everyone else says go get 'em."

She smiled despite herself. "Tell them thanks" she said. "I'll call when I can."

"Sure," came the answer. "Oh, and Sophie?"

"Yeah?"

"If everything else goes to Hell, don't forget the Spiders. I made sure they haven't forgotten you."

She couldn't help but imagine how anyone else would have taken that news. "They're not real fond of spiders around here."

"Yeah?" came the answer. "Fuck 'em."

She could just see Tends-to-Spiders, Bluetooth adapter hooked to one ear, tablet beneath his front paws, snarling at some slight from a less techno-centric pack about being a pet dog, his hand-coded transcription fetish changing his growls and barks into venomous invective, destined for online use or off. Lupus Glasswalkers didn't have an easy time of things either, she remembered.

"Yeah," she said.

"I'll talk to you later, Sophie. Good luck."

"Bye," she said, and then she hung up.

For a few moments, she simply stood there, slowly taking the earpiece out of her ear and sliding it back into her pocket. The barrel of her shotgun, the very one she'd taken from the inbred moonshiners back at the start of this insanity, poked out of her shoulderbag, the silver shells attached to the side still throbbing against her mind. And then with a slight breath, she pushed it all aside, checking the button of her pistol holster, the magazines in her belt, mentally running over the thousand and one little items she had concealed all over, the ones she could sense just from weight and pressure. And having run through the checklist, she hefted her computer case and bag, and walked out of the cabin. By the time she opened the door, she was ready.

"So you think they have cell reception up there?" she asked to anyone who cared to answer. The cockroach pendant around her neck and the hardware store worth of gadgets arranged all over her advertised her clan allegiances to anyone with eyes, as usual, daring anyone, kinfolk or Garou, to make anything of it.

And as to the rest, the battered, faded Cubs hat on her head would do the same.

[Josh]

"Not a problem," Paul said. He fastened his belt and slumped against his seat to resume his faux-sleep. Eyes drifted shut, his breathing dropping to a regular, metronomic pattern as he waited to see what these young'uns revealed about themselves.

[LadyTevar]

When Alexander, Sophie, and Sees-Faces had crossed into West Virginia, there was really not much to signify a change other than the bridge over the river separating the two states. Just a large white sign decorated with blue & gold, showing a rhodendron and a cardinal, with the words "Welcome to Wild and Wonderful West Virginia" in cheerful script.

Yet the scenery did not change much in that first mile to the Rest stop, it was the same rolling hills and small hollers between. The Rest Stop itself was a muted brown brick building, the white signs banded by blue & gold. The van parked and waiting for them had not been hard to find, as the sides were hand-painted glorious colors that only came from a spray-can, with a scrawny dark-haired young man adding to it as he had waited for them.

Inside the Rest Stop were the requisite bathroom facilities, but also a huge map of the odd-shaped state, showing where you were, where the capitol city was, and listing the mileage to various towns. One wall was brochures for tourist destinations, another dedicated to selling tourist trinkets, mostly blue and gold with WV on them somewhere. However, the standouts were the dark green and white and the buffalo mascot of Marshall University's "Thundering Herd".

Outside, dogwoods blossomed along the grassy picnic areas, early azaleas showed bright buds yet to bloom, and birds sang loud courting songs overtop the snarl of diesel trucks pulling in and out. Spring was coming slowly to the Mountain State.

[SirNitram]

"We'll get some herb baked chicken. That's not hard." A laugh from Mike. "Had planned to go to the Atomic Grill while they're doing that special on potato skins, but you guys are a priority. Got any arrangements set up, or are we flying by the seat of our pants?"

[Josh]

So damn young, the lot of them. They weren't cubs, they had proven that much from what he'd heard. But still, they were fresh faces working on that budding camaraderie that formed the heart of a functional pack.

Paul had seen the process, entirely too many times. At this point it was hard to put any heart into connecting with another pack of young ones bound for the grinder. In one to three years, half of them would most likely be dead.

If not the entire lot.

Just more stories for him to carry, more warnings for the few who'd listen, their entire lives summed up in a neatly packaged ending with a clear moral.

Usually said moral being 'Look before you scream and leap, dumbass.'

He maintained his feigned sleep while they chatted. Whatever else he had in life, which was pretty much nothing, he still had his job. To tell the tales of the heroes who passed before, it paid to know something about them.

[rhoenix]

"We'll get some herb baked chicken. That's not hard." A laugh from Mike. "Had planned to go to the Atomic Grill while they're doing that special on potato skins, but you guys are a priority. Got any arrangements set up, or are we flying by the seat of our pants?"

Though he was laying on his stomach in the back of the van, his head resting on his paws, Sees-Faces immediately perked up at the mention. "Don't know ar-range-ments, but I can be Joe-Smith to have chicken," he said, his tail wagging at the very idea of herb-roasted chicken. "I know Poke, Cut, and Bonkscoop now, though I haven't found their spirits in the Umbra yet. I am ready, even if have that cold-sweet-thing-that-hurts-brain!"

[Cynical Cat]

"We're flying by the seat of our pants," Alex admitted. He scratched Sees Faces behind the ears. "Although you can always bet that this one will be hungry."

[General Havoc]

Sophie carefully stepped out of the car, L-CARS still held in one hand. She could feel polished brass etching on the back of the sleek tablet with her fingertips, trace the lines of the legs and antennae of the stylized cockroach, like an old parishioner walking the labyrinth in the stone floor of a cathedral. The irony of the analogy was not lost on her, but even here, at a roadstop in the middle of the state, she still felt like a pilgrim in some kind of foreign land. Not because of the roads or even the trees and mountains, but because...

... well who could tell why. It was just what it was.

Still there was no use complaining about it. And so when Alexander and Sees-Faces began conversing with the guy whose van they were supposed to meet, she packed L-CARS away and walked over to them. Her shotgun was packed, but her pistol was slung openly, not that that was unheard of in West Virginia. One nice thing about this part of the country was the liberal approach that the locals took to gun ownership.

"He's fond of fried chicken," she said as she walked over, letting the bluetooth earpiece, the laptop bag, and the twisted wire pendant of a six-legged insect testify as to her clan allegiance. Glasswalkers weren't prevalent down here, and it was always good to be upfront. She'd met more than one local Garou who assumed that she was here to strip mine half the state and build office parks in the other half. Paul, the Bone Gnawer Galliard she'd not spoken too much, the one who looked like something from a Woodie Guthrie song, was still asleep. She wasn't sure what his story was, or what he was here for, but while normally another urban wolf would have been a relief, something told her she didn't have a lot in common with this one. In any sense.

"So Alex," she asked with a grin, turning to a subject she did have in common with someone. "What do you think the odds of them having pizza around here somewhere are. Real pizza I mean, not that paper stuff from New York."

Alexander was a New Yorker, the city of cities, the denizens of which, Garou or otherwise, were infamous for regarding as the sole font of civilization in the wastelands of the rest of the world. As a proud Chicagoan, she felt it was her duty to continue to wage the civic war between Chi-Town and the Apple. After all, she wasn't about to let a Shadow Lord preach his city credentials above hers...

[rhoenix]

Sees-Faces-In-Stars, the Stargazer so far from home, relaxed and rested his chin on his paws once again, now happily daydreaming about other possible forms of chicken.

This wondrous food was dreadfully scarce where he had been born; his usual diet had consisted of mountain goats and rabbits for the most part. Since coming to this distant land of Whess Ver-gen-ea, he had been surrounded by very unfamiliar sights and smells - but chicken, for him, was proof to him that Gaia did indeed love the Garou, and wanted them to be happy.

Hunger-smells from both Alex and Sophie got him to lift his head and perk up his attention. He could tell that they were probably talking about food, but this was a new Homid word to him. After tilting his head to the side in consideration for a moment as he looked back and forth between Alex and Sophie, he felt compelled to ask. "Pee-za?"

[Josh]

That would be the Glass Walker he'd heard about- he could practically smell the underlying Armani scent of the tribe.

You're a long way from 'civilization', he mused.

He roused and slipped out, stepping around the van to relieve himself in relative privacy.

[Cynical Cat]

"And people say I'm bad when it comes to picking fights," said Alex. He cocked his head at Sophie. "Are you trying to get me in trouble with Pegasus Soph? Because I see a young female who is trying to get herself into a lot of trouble."

Then he shrugged. "On the other hand, Sees-Food-Everywhere is a bottomless pit of hunger and only a calorie bomb like Chicago style pizza has any chance of temporarily satiating the ravenous spawn of Fenris here."

[SirNitram]

Michael laughed and waved them inside the van. "Yes, we'll get food. I've business in the city of Huntington. There's the Backyard Pizza there; I dunno if it counts as New York pizza like you say, though they do call it 'old new york' style. And they have cheddar-bacon pizza. That's a calorie bomb." A glance at the Glass Walker. "Not many of you guys around here. Still, Roach has his feelers. But like I said, business. No bumping the packaged box. Now all aboard for a place that does woodfired pizza and stuff. Dunno about fried chicken, but they have hickory grilled chicken. Tastes wonderful."

[Josh]

Paul clambered back aboard, locking his seatbelt into place.

All hormones and hunger, the young. But a bacon/cheddar pizza did sound pretty damned good, so long as somebody else was picking up the tab.

Of course, that was the main reason for dragging a Glass Walker along on anything.

[rhoenix]

Sees-Faces turned to look at the older Garou, who had just come back in from watering a tree. His eyes narrowed slightly, immediately preceding him exhaling in a snort of annoyance. "Him can water tree, but wolf can't here. You can get Homid food, but wolf can't here."

He rested his chin on his paws again, looks of annoyance and determination both upon his lupine face. "I need learn how to Homid."

[Josh]

Something about the pure innocence of the request nagged at Paul.

"We get some time, I'll show you," he promised. "Get you started, at least."

[LadyTevar]

Everyone was in the car, and Michael pulled out onto the Interstate again. The exit he needed was just a couple miles down the road, and signs proclaimed not only was this *the* way to Marshall University, it was also the way to the Hospital and DownTown.

Sophie, after long seclusion in the Cumberland Park's forest, found a triving net of cell towers, wifi systems, and as they pulled onto the exit, a genuine Amazon call center and warehouse. Net spiders told her that Huntington itself was a city bought and paid for by a railroad tycoon who wanted his very own riverport and railway terminal. He named it for himself, laid the streets and avenues out in a perfect grid, and sat back to make even more money. Huntington was still the largest port on the Ohio River, with its very own CSX railroad office to control traffic, and it housed not only a Railroad Museum but a Museum of Radio and Technology. That little tidbit had Sophie so interested she never noticed the city they were driving through.

Hal Greer Boulevard led from the Interstate exit all the way to the river, and changed from strip mall-businesses, to older businesses, to projects, and then gentry. One business had a huge mug on the roof with the name "Frosties" on the side. The foam spilling out suggested beer... root or otherwise. A large white complex a couple blocks down proudly proclaimed it was the Cabell-Huntington Hospital, and as they passed a large-bodied helicopter marked "HealthNet" was landing on a section of it with a growling rumble of blades.

The projects had all the looks of 1970-80 'renovation'. Low three story light brick buildings planted in squares, with an attempt at landscaping that resulted in scraggy trees providing little shade. The people here were nearly all African American, with heads down as they walked the sidewalks along the Boulevard. Gas stations had barred windows, there were more empty businesses than full, and yet this was a mere 3 blocks from the Hospital.

Hal Greer passed dove under the railroad tracks, and the scene changed utterly. Large, ancient trees lined the side streets, just putting out leaves. Brownstone houses outnumbered businesses here, some with big signs showing Greek letters. πKΦ. πKA. δΣΘ. Young men were outside some of the houses enjoying the sunlight, and girls in front of others, already trying to work on tans. Then a large green & white sign pointed the way east on a one-way avenue, announcing WELCOME TO MARSHALL UNIVERSITY. After a long wait at a stoplight that seemed like it'd never change, Michael was able to pull off Hall Greer onto 5th Avenue, and then into John Marshall Drive's Visitor Parking, half hidden between two campus buildings.

The campus was green, that green that only comes from generations of carefully mowed turf. Ancient trees shaded walkways between buildings, the center 'green' of the campus kris-crossed with brick & concrete paths. Students were everywhere, it was still early April, and finals were long weeks away. The girls took advantage of the good weather to start wearing summer styles as they hurried to class or back to their dorms, and more than one guy was sitting on a bench happily girl-watching.

Michael had been here before, and knew exactly where he needed to take the package. There was just the problem of his passengers... and the Lupus called Sees Faces.