Obviously once used as a manufacturing warehouse, this large, open space still bears the scars of heavy machinery use within. High ceilings are blackened with soot and dust, cement floors are pitted with bearing the blows of falling objects in the past.
The main floor is extensive, and looks to be converted into a rudimentary auto body shop. Benches, desks, toolboxes, compressed air containers, and hoses line the shop, offering everything one might need during the working day. A long, narrow pit allows access to the undercarriage of a vehicle, and a lift resides next to a crane dangling from above. Occasionally, gleaming vehicles can be seen parked within, being worked on. A large, white curtain blocks off a wash area equipped with power washers, and a chamber with a door leading out works as a well-ventilated paint area. There is no visible stairway up to the floors above, but there are many closed doors to storage rooms.
Currently the moon is in the waning New (Ragabash) Moon phase (4% full).
Compact is the word for him: wiry, maybe 5'6" in his beat-up black combat boots, with a sense of compressed energy and imminence like a coiled spring -- or a cocked gun. Never quite still for long, balance flowing through the balls of his feet. There's a striking intensity to his narrow blue-green eyes, the colour contrasting with his fair skin and spiky copper hair; just below the left is what at first appears to be a faint mole, but closer inspection reveals as a small, long-healed scar. His features are appealing, with high cheekbones and a good jawline, but it's the confident mien and roguish smile that most often seem to draw people in.
He's in a well-worn biker jacket of the traditional sort, all fairly closely fit black leather and silvery zippers and snaps. Beneath it, he's got old black jeans with a rip in one knee and the cuffs half walked off, with a faded black band t-shirt ('Anarchy Burger - Hold the Government', parodying the In-N-Out sign) under an open dark red hawaiian shirt. There's a couple leather-and-bead bracelets on one wrist and a length of ball-chain disappearing beneath his collar; his nails were apparently painted black some time ago, since they're starting to show chips. Late teens, most likely, and when he speaks it's in a mellifluous, southern-accented baritone voice.
Shaggy brown hair and darker brown eyes frames this young boy's face. Justin has a slightly tanned complexion with a hint of Puerto Rican from his mother's side, Caucasian from his father's. He has a fairly lanky build that could use a bit of bulking upas he is built like a high school track runner. He wears loose fitted 'destroyed' blue jeans, simple tank tops, and worn down sneakers that are about five months in need of replacement, and during the cold, a thick green military jacket from his Grandpa. He looks like your average, ordinary American young teen that plays outside and is fairly active. Tall at five foot ten, he is a few inches higher than most his age for now.
Thane isn't a man who's appearance stands out much. He's caucasian of skin tone with a faint swarthiness should he stay out in the sun long enough to catch a tan. His bones are pronounced, giving him the appearance of leanness despite having a solid, even musculature that speaks of someone who's gained his athleticism through rounded activity versus focused weight training. His hair is a tawny brown in most lights and usually kept in a short style. Often, there's a good day's growth of beard on his face which seems to hide small nicks and old scars. His eyes are a mid-tone blue, often held under pensive brows.
There is a look to him, the weight of something undefined. It's like looking into the eyes of a man who has seen terrible things and was never quite was the same after. It's even more haunting considering his blind right eye is couched in scars like an attack from a bear.
Usually, he's casually dressed but cleans up when the need calls. He's never seen among the normal public in anything but long sleeves regardless of the weather, underneath showing massive scarring on on his forearms. They don't seem to restrict movement, but the oddly darkened scars are numerous like lightning bolts across his skin. Another deep slice runs at the upper portion of his abdomen.
It's raining. A lot, actually, but just too cool to fire up a thunderstorm for all the clouds would suggest it. The Vault looks closed as it often does as it doesn't offer public services anymore. For those in the know though the door is open, if you're willing and welcome to walk in on Shadow Lord territory - and the defacto base of Blitzkrieg by default. Inside the shop, Thane is watching the football game on a cheap but functional television set up on one of the old workbenches. His bike is nearby, the black and chrome looking freshly polished.
Drenched like a drowned rat, Justin makes his way to the front door of The Vault. He is wearing a pair of cargo shorts and a solid black shirt. A black and white flannel is tied about his waist. With teeth chattering away, he pushes open the door and heads inside in a soggy manner. "Hello." He calls out as he wrings out his shirt a bit, soaked sneakers shuffling forward.
Felix is somewhat less drenched, thanks to the magic of leather. But only somewhat. The lower portions of his jeans are entirely soaked, a certain amount of water has made it past the collar of his jacket, and hair gel can only take so much as well. It's the last that he's trying to counter now that they're under a roof, making a face as he ruffles his fingers through his hair, trying to shake out the excess water. He follows Justin in, giving the surroundings an interested look.
Thane tilts his head over his shoulder so his good eye can look to the open door. "Good evening. I see it's still raining out." The Shadow Lord elder says dryly, perhaps an attempt at humor. "Justin, you know where the beer is if you're interested. We have a coffee pot upstairs I can set on if something warmer is preferred." He glances back to the tv, scowling faintly at the score. 7-0, San Diego over Steelers at the end of the first. "So what brings you over? Showing off the car?"
"Hey boss. No, he's seen the car. Figured I'd stop by and say Hi, introduce you to my packmate Felix. Maybe take the ride out for BK or something." Shuffling closer, Justin peers around at the screen and wrinkles his nose. "Aw, c'mon Stillers. Don't be jag's, amirite?" He drawls over to Thane. "Did I say that correctly? Beat dem' yinzers?" Scrubbing a hand through his wet hair, he tries to pull most of it away from his face. "Would you be cool if we kicked it and watched the game? I can order us a pizza."
Hey, at least someone can do something dryly right now! Felix gives the Shadow Lord a grin, and a hand-lift of greeting; not quite enough movement to really be called a wave. "Hey," he says, "an' yeah, he already showed it off to me, first chance he got." If he had any residual questions as to talking about things here, the packmate label settles that pretty nicely, so it's probably just a matter of conversational volume that has him getting a handful of steps closer before he takes the cue, "Felix T. Sinclair, Lets-Them-Eat-Cake, Cliath Bone Gnawer Galliard, packed with this guy in Tactical Frivolity, under Coyote. Nice meetin' you." He glances at the screen, checking out the game, and grins at Justin's drawling, exaggerating his own accent as he informs his Alpha in otherwise earnest tones, "Y'all sure talk awful funny 'round here, I reckon."
"Your Pittsburghese accent is atrocious." Thane drawls to the other Ahroun. "And Pittsburghers are yinzers, at least the traditional blue collar ones. They, in theory, should be doing the beating in this game but so far no such luck. In any event, you're welcome to grab a seat. Good to properly meet you, Felix. I know we crossed paths briefly. If Justin hadn't filled you in, I'm Thane Armitage. Called Consumes-the-Shadows-Of-His-Enemies. Adren Ahroun, Shadow Lord tribal elder, and alpha of the war pack Blitzkrieg under the little tyrant of Hummingbird. Just be advised if you laugh he will likely go for your eye the next time you cross over. He has quite an ego."
"He's a real asshole, but kinda cute. He should be in a Pixar movie." Justin says as he flops down wetly on the ground instead of grabbing a seat. "I'll nail it down at some point." In reference to the Pittsburghese. "Thane here trained me as a cub and gave me my first cub name. I kinda sorta worship him."
"I ain't laughin'," Felix says, although he is grinning, "Never underestimate the little guy. Yeah, it's good to properly meet you. An' thanks." He does at least look around for something handy to sit on that won't be bothered by the amount of rain still hanging about his person, which probably includes old workbenches and is likely where he ends up. "Yeah, we noticed," he informs Justin, amused, and looks about to go on before changing his mind.
Thane reaches over under the workbench the tv is perched on and offers over a box of shop towels as the score goes 7 to 3. Field goal. "You're an Ahroun. Didn't do to have no one to teach you properly in your own tribe. I'm sure you would have done just fine but the Shadow Lords aren't exactly rolling in cubs and wet-nosed Cliath to occupy my time whipping into shape. I have a few years yet, by my calculation, before I need to tend to my own daughter so I had some time to kill."
"Well, yeah. I don't mind you whipping me into shape. Having a trained murdering killer as your mentor is kinda a lottery win for me. I'm super pumped to work with you." Justin says as he takes out some soggy jerky from his pocket and yanks a hunk off with his teeth, then offers some to Felix, smirking at him. "Noticed how awesome I am because of his training with me?"
Felix accepts the box of towels with a brief thanks, setting it down between himself and Justin, and accepts some jerky as well. "...sure, I've noticed," he answers, "An' may I say, nice work on' phrasin' that question. Reminds me of that 'you stopped beatin' your wife yet?' one." He tosses one of the towels onto Justin, then takes one as well, taking a quick glance to make sure it hasn't got residual grease or anything and using it to dry his hair more properly. "You got a daughter that's gonna be changin'?" he asks the elder Ahroun, "Congratulations. What auspice's she?"
"I'm hardly a murderer." Thane says dryly. "Spirals are murderers killing indiscriminately or our of enjoyment. When I'm not removing forces of the enemy, should I find someone who warrants a death sentence I do so quick and methodically as a proper predator, not a madman. There's a difference." He glances over to Felix at his question. "Yeah, she's in Pittsburgh with her mother - my ex-wife. When she Changes she's to be sent out to me for training. She's a Philodox, so while I'll need to find some proper teachers in that regard I'll be handling her tribal upbringing."
"Either way, I'm awesome." Justin puffs up for a moment before he listens to the pair of them talk. "Hey, you got Brom." He says with a wry grin. "You know, he's a Philodox and all. I'm sure that'd work out wonderfully and shit, right? Oh, hey, or maybe Salem because we know he just /loves/ Shadow Lords." Which means the opposite of course.
"Yeah, sure, long's there ain't no girls around," Felix teases Justin, moving on to seeing how much drier he can get the rest of him with that towel, and maybe a second one. "Nice," he says quite sincerely about the daughter and the plans for her, "Does she know about it an' everything?"
"Brom may be a packmate but a Shadow Lord Philodox needs a little more experience in grey matters versus black and white." Thane responds on regards to training. "And she knows some things. Her mother is kinfolk so she's taught her the basic lessons as she's gone in Veil-appropriate ways. Kids do have big mouths. At least with what she's been taught the Change wouldn't be quite so traumatic, or so that's the idea. Every cub takes to it differently. She's eleven now, twelve come the beginning of the year."
"Well, then you definitely don't want Salem to teach her." Justin chuckles as he takes a towel and wipes his face off, then starts to scrub at his arms and chest. "Maybe she'll pack with us." He gives a grin over to Felix with a sharp nod of his head. "I mean, a Philodox in a coyote pack worked so well last time."
"Last I checked you were workin' on another one anyhow," Felix points out, "so hey, never know. Could argue Coyote could be pretty good for gettin' practice outside of strictly black an' white, even." He sets the used towels aside, about as dry as he's likely to get at the moment. "Havin' some warnin' about the whole thing sounds good. Figure practically everything's easier when you know what's goin' on." He glances to the television, taking in the game for a moment before saying, "...now that I'm less wet, I'm pretty sure someone mentioned somethin' about beer. Still time to accept on that?"
"My introduction was being hauled into a proto-Pit at the age of nine and watching my mother be turned and infant sister eaten." Thane says with entirely too much casual calm to probably be normal. "I was in the know well before I ever Changed. I prefer her arrival into the Nation is less jarring." At mention of beer he gestures towards an old but functional fridge in the corner. "Beer fridge, help yourself. There's proper money put into a selection of good beers. I can drink alley puddles and save a few dollars if I'd wanted cheap beer."
Felix tilts his head slightly, taking in the casual remark. "Yeah, I reckon less jarring'n that'd be favourite," he agrees, "...though that still leaves a lotta room. Sorry 'bout your family." He gets up and heads over to check out the contents of the fridge, looking the selection over before choosing something. "Either of y'all want somethin' while I'm up?" he offers. "Though if anyone DOES want alley puddles, you gotta get that yourself."
"It's the rare Garou who doesn't have some sort of sob story." Thane remarks with a shrug. "I caught wind of her too, months back, when all of the Spirals were passing through town. I suppose I should be impressed she survived and disgusted at the same point but frankly I stopped caring a long time ago." At offer of beer he glances over to his own bottle to judge the contents. "I'll take another, sure. The weather outside makes sipping puddles a bit unattractive at the moment."
"Reckon so," Felix agrees, with a mirroring shrug, and the tone stays casually conversational on his end as well, "I just killed my stepfather. Far's I can tell that's pretty much par for the course." He glances at the bottle Thane's holding and snags another of those as well, closing the fridge and heading back. "Weather like this oughta give a good array of puddles to choose from, though. Might be kinda watered-down, admittedly." He offers both the bottles to the Shadow Lord, keeping whichever isn't taken.
Thane finishes off his beer as he looks back to the game. Chargers touchdown then a returning touchdown from the Steelers. Tied at 17. The fresh beer is taken from Felix with a thanks. "I'll still take rain over snow. I don't expect the Pacific Northwest here to get the same amount of snow as Pittsburgh. It's nice in some respects, like shoveling, but makes forays out into the woods less enjoyable. I think it's about time to head out there while things are quiet in the city, stretch and get some fresh air."
Felix settles back onto the bench, getting comfortable -- and he seems quite good at doing that -- and pulls out a pocket knife to open up his beer. "Thanks," he says, lifting the bottle slightly, "So, when you say expect. First winter here? I ain't really sure what to expect here, but I figured it's prolly gonna have more snow'n I'm used to, bein' this far north an' all. We already got more rain."
"Second." Thane answers. "I arrived here last summer when the caern battles were at their height. The Three Rivers were hit by the Wyrm just as I got here but they fought them off and survived. One winter just isn't always the best indicator depending on where you are. I never meant to stay long but the tribe was in need here. What with Ky and Jenelle off doing their own business, I'm really the only one in town at the moment but it just means I have free reign of the Vault. Looks like the game is about over here, two minute warning. I was thinking of going out after and see about some dinner."
"Hm. Good point, one winter could just be a fluke or somethin'," Felix says, nodding, and studies the game for a few seconds, to see how those two minutes seem to be going. "I reckon this isn't such a bad place to be, 'specially when you're actually needed an' shit." He sits up a bit, stretching a little. "Thanks for havin' us. Nice actually talkin' with you, after him mentionin' you so much." A quick grin, gesturing to their surroundings, "An' I like your place."
Five seconds to go, Chargers up. Steelers sneak in a touchdown. The Shadow Lord gives a firm clapping in approval and a hint of a triumphant grin. "Excellent, excellent." Ahem. "Yeah, it hasn't been a bad place to be. There's enough of my tribe back in Pittsburgh so I'm staying here for the indefinite future. This sept certainly is unique. You're welcome. The first floor here of the Vault is open to those who need, only the upper levels are reserved for my tribe. So if you have vehicles needing work the garage is available - just take care of the equipment, clean up after yourself, and replace anything used up or broke if possible."
"Nice," Felix says to the touchdown, with the sincere but mild enthusiasm of someone whose team (if any) isn't in the game, and can thus afford to be happy for the guy whose is. "Thanks. I dunno a lot about workin' on cars, honestly, so far I make him help me out," he admits, "but I reckon it's prolly somethin' I oughta get better at, 'cause the Caddy ain't gettin' any younger."
"Bring her over." Thane remarks. "I'm no professed expert in cars but I know some basics, certainly enough to keep my bike running. I'm sure Justin would team up on that." He reaches over to turn off the television and finish off the second beer, then rises up from his chair. "Dinner calls. Nice of you both to stop over and break up the quiet."