Bad Moon Rising (Open)

[Brandy Johnson]

Characters: Brandy, Owen, open.
Month: May
Date: 18th
Time: 6:00 PM
Current weather/setting conditions: Clear
NPCs used: Weevils

It figured. The one time Brandy actually tried to get out and about, and do something other than uni and work, she ended up getting herself in trouble. Although, to be fair, it wasn't her fault. She had scheduled plenty of time in for the trip to and from Cardiff. She knew what time she needed to get back tonight. Hell, she even had classes and work canceled for tomorrow, on account of her...impending illness. Full moons always took a lot out of her, and usually felt like crap the next morning. She tried to schedule around it, and, for once, she had managed to get three days off in a row. And, just once, she decided to take advantage and get out of Glasgow. She spent the night in Cardiff, visited an old friend, and did some touristing. It had been fun.

And now she was stuck. Her rail had been canceled—completely canceled!--and the next one to Glasgow wouldn't be until the morning. Any other time, she would have been fine with finding a hotel for the night, and waiting. Tonight? Oh, this was not a good night. Thanks to some...crash, or something, she would have to risk running around Cardiff as a werewolf, biting everyone she saw. Fantastic. Really, why did she even bother trying normal-person things every so often? They all ended like this. Well, not like this; she'd honestly never managed to get stuck somewhere without her werewolf-cage. It never ended well, though.

Brandy growled under her breath, staring at the bay as she tried to figure out what to do. She'd spent the last hour trying to find some safe place to stay. There weren't any, really. Well, not any open to the public. The best she could manage was getting herself arrested, somehow. At least then she'd be contained. She tried to remember if there was a zoo nearby. That might work. Wait. Brandy looked down at the street below her. Sewers. It wasn't exactly the nicest place to stay, but it was out of the way. It was dark, too. No moonlight meant she wouldn't be quite as strong. The manholes were, quite possibly, too small for her to fit through as a wolf. Oh, if this worked...

She didn't have time to find something else. Gritting her teeth, she dragged back the cover, and climbed down. It didn't smell like what she was expecting. Not much sewage smell at all; there was some strange, musky odor she was having trouble placing. She sniffed the air experimentally, and fished around in her pocket for her cell phone. There, a little bit of light. She was pretty sure she could hear footsteps. Who could possibly be down here?

[0wenharper]

It was one of those nights that had gone wrong. The day was shot and the night was shot for Owen. The medical doctor knew it was a full moon, but he was not falling for the superstitious of full moon was bad luck. Bollocks to whoever believed in that. It had to be an idiot philosophic person.

Maybe he had stayed at the HUB. No. But, he decided to go chat up a bird, get drunk, have a shag and wake up to a fresh day. But, no, instead the bitch decided to punch him in the face because Owen called her something rude and she was a tough cookie. He had a huge chip on his shoulder because she hit hard in the eye. The story would be a bloke punched him not some pissed, no good bird punched him. It was a lie but Gwen will taunt Owen. So, that was the story he tell about his eye. It would keep the wolves at bay teasing Owen.

Walking by the sewer entrance, he wasn’t being quiet as he was walking into a puddle. “Crying out loud,” he moaned as he had to wet feet now. Going out on a full moon was a bad idea. He should start to get superstitious. Lock himself up in his flat, drink himself drunk and wake up in his chair with a hangover. But, noooo, he had to try to get a bird and he failed on that.

In the corner of his eye, he saw a light down in the corridor. He wasn’t sure what it was. His gut feeling was telling it wasn’t a kid or a homeless person. The way the night was going, he should just ignore it and head back to his flat.

It could be a weevil down there. He was alone and he was rather angry at the night. There was a huge chip on his shoulder and he was still unhappy about losing Diane. He was standing there meditating on the matter.

It was something down there that needed to be checked out. He knew he was alone, going alone was being stupid but the night was stupid. He was unarmed and he was drunk. The medical doctor was known for being bold. So, he slowly moved in, pulling up the collar of his jacket. He was trying to block the smell of the stench.

[Brandy Johnson]

The dim light cast by Brandy's cell phone was still enough for her to see down to the end of the sewer corridor. A movement out of the corner of her eye and some noise made her jump, and she glanced over to see a rat. It was moving away from her. Maybe this hadn't been the best idea. There were rats, and it smelled strange, and she could hear human footsteps in the distance. The idea of meeting someone who stayed down here willingly wasn't exactly thrilling. Maybe she should just...no. Brandy collected herself again and took a few steps further into the sewer. She could damn well handle herself against anyone she'd encounter down here, and from what she could see the rats were scared of her. It wasn't like she'd ruin her nice clothing. She could deal with being down here for a half-hour or so. After that, the wolf would have to deal with the smell and—oh god, she hoped it didn't find any homeless people. With any luck the rats would be good enough prey. Ugh. She'd probably have to get herself wormed after this.

Another noise, louder this time, caused Brandy to spin around. It sounded like a person, and she could make out a large shape in the shadows. “Hello?” she called out, keeping her voice as level as possible. Show no fear. If some drunk tried attacking her, she'd have to fight back, and she'd probably hurt them, and that really wasn't appealing right now. She took a few careful steps forward. Make the first move; look confident. She'd be a terrible target. As the man came into view, however, Brandy paused. He didn't exactly look homeless. What the hell was someone else doing down here? Oh hell. She'd need to get him to leave. Somehow. Did she still have her pepper spray? Brandy reached a hand down to her pocket, and felt the canister. Good. That made things easier.

[0wenharper]

The lonely Torchwood member heard a female voice greeting him. That had brought a cold chill up his spine. He remembered a year ago, he was holding the ghost machine under a bridge. He had an emotional roller coaster that night; he witness Ed taunt Lizzie. He was pulled back to the present.

Great, he did not have a torch on him. It could be nancy boy with a high voice. His judgment was off because he had a few beers, well, maybe to many. The shadow of the person was perhaps a male; they did have baggy clothes on.

The high pitched baggy clothed person was stepping forward. He stood still. He was alerted, he was listening for other movement, and he was keeping out for other shadows to jump out of the sewers. He waited for her to move forward where he could see her better.

When he saw the baggy person was a female. She was cute in a way. She must get attention from other females. It was hard to see her body. She had big dark eyes and short hair. She was thin and that could be a reason why she wears baggy clothes. She could be shameful of her small parts. That would be a change and different. He stopped his imagination run off with sex fantasy.

“Hey,” he replied. “Everything okay?” He pulled his guard back up. There was something in the air that kept Owen on his toes. It could have been his male heart being concern on a lonely female at night. She was making herself an easy target to the gangs of Cardiff. She could stumble in wrong part of town. She be raped and left bleeding.

[Brandy Johnson]

He smelled like alcohol. Even from her distance that was obvious—well, obvious for her. It was a good thing, though. Brandy could get rid of one drunk easily enough. She could tell him she was...a water treatment inspector, or something. He might buy it. She didn't have any equipment with her, though, and that might give it away. If he was sober enough to notice. If that didn't work, there was always pepper spray, or a simple kick to the nuts. There was very little that couldn't solve. It wasn't like there were any witnesses, and odds were pretty low he'd report the assault. What would he say? He went into the sewers and got beaten up by a girl? Yeah, that would work out great for him.

Brandy stayed still as he looked her over for a second, impatient. It wasn't like he'd be able to see much in this light, anyway. What was he doing, sizing her up? Maybe she should just hurt him preemptively. His question made her reconsider, though, and she relaxed a little. Some people weren't completely horrible; maybe he had just been concerned. “Just perfect, thanks,” she replied, a little more caustically than was necessary. Well, quite a bit more. She didn't really care. She wasn't down in the sewers to make friends.

The light on her phone went out then, and Brandy pressed a button at random. It lit back up. Wonderful feature, there. Decided to save power just when she needed it. What time was it, anyway? Hmm. 24 minutes before she really needed to get this bystander out of the sewers. She could manage that. “And what are you doing down here, exactly?” she asked, looking back to him sharply. Being a bitch would probably be the easiest way to get him out of trouble. She'd try it first. If it didn't work, well...she had other methods of persuasion.

[0wenharper]

He stood tall, looking at her face, he was glad Gwen wasn’t here. Gwen would want to take the female home. Feed her, give her coffee, a bath, a night on the couch and help her on her two feet. Owen would take the girl home. Get her drunk, have an one night stand, next morning send her on merry way.

“Go home,” he told her coldly. “Count your blessings, sweety. I am not a member of a gang,” or Weevils he thought and continued, “They would grab you, rape you senseless, and leave your body bleeding in the sewers. And your body might be found a day later but it would be too late. You could catch HIV.”

The worst thing could happen a gang of weevils get their fangs and claws on her. It was the time when the Weevils could come out for a hunt and he was out too. He feared the bad sections of Cardiff where the gangs are, but he feared the Weevils too. He was afraid facing one by himself.

He reached for her. “Go home, lassie,” he wanted her out of the sewers. Faster he could convince to get out, faster he could go home. Have another beer and sleep. He had another long day at Torchwood waiting. A pile of paper work was waiting for Owen on his desk.

[Brandy Johnson]

Oh, how sweet. It was like he actually cared or something. Brandy was really tempted to laugh in his face. She probably would have, if the situation wasn't quite so urgent. He really had it all backwards. The gangs needed to watch out for her. Whether she was a human or a werewolf at the time didn't make any difference. She'd be the one doing the brutalizing, and they'd end up with something horribly infectious and not at all pleasant. Besides, it was Cardiff. A pack of werewolves would probably brighten the city up considerably. Damn. She was far too close to shifting if she was thinking like that. Time to get rid of him.

Thankfully, the man was nice enough to provide her with the perfect opportunity. Brandy's training kicked in as soon as he reached out towards her. She grabbed his wrist, twisted around behind him, and pushed him into an elbow lock. Her other hand pushed down on the back of his elbow just enough to hurt. If he struggled too hard, he might break it. Hopefully he was smart enough to figure that part out.

“I can damn well take care of myself,” she snapped back at him. “And I'm not going anywhere. You, on the other hand. You're drunk and slow. You're a much better target than I am. You go home.” Brandy let go, then, and took a few steps away in case he decided to retaliate. Suddenly, though, she had bigger issues to deal with. Her gaze snapped to the other end of the corridor as her preternaturally acute hearing picked up on footsteps. It had to be someone with him. His description of the gangs had been a little too detailed. Maybe his nice talk was just a ruse to get her to stay for a few more minutes. Damn. “Oh, so you brought company, then. Great.”

[0wenharper]

The tom boy was fast. He was now at a disadvantage. “Like, this will work with a gang of thugs,” he said. That full moon superstitious started to be a sugar now. He tried to fight, but that caused much pain. Stupid bitch, he was thinking.

She shoved him away and commanded him to go home. Slow. She called him slow? The nerve she had. God, she was exciting him and making him angry. He hated when a women beat him. He likes a good fight. Gwen was one. But, she decided to return to the idiot truck driver. “You are a bitch,” he stopped when he heard something was approaching.

There was a weevil moving at their direction. The mutated appearance of a hump back, rolled forward arms with the sharpest deadliest claws and the sharps jaws of blades in its mouth. It stood, smelled the air, looked at them and snarled showing its sharp razor teeth.

“Bloody hell,” Owen yelped as he was rubbing his injured arm. “Run!” he yelled at the lady. He quickly pulled out his mobile phone, dial for Torchwood. Owen slowly stepped forward shielding the girl, waving the girl to run with his free hand. He looked at her quickly, “Damn you, run!” he shouted at her.

The Weevil leaped forward at Owen. The man failed to dodge the attack. God, she was right he was frigging slow tonight. His phone fell to the ground, but the line was open. The Torchwood member tried to fight back, but the Weevil clawed him across the shoulder, making him fall back bleeding.

The Weevil stood there, looking at the other humanoid. It growled at her. There was something about her that was wrong. Owen noticed but he was trying to find something to hit the Weevil from behind. He was slowly trying to get up on his two feet. He pulled out his emergency medical kit he had. He had a scalpel in there.

The Weevil smelled the air at the girl. It made a low moaning sound, and Owen leaped on its back, shoved the scalpel in its neck, and he tried to shove the Weevil against the wall. And another Weevil came out to join the fun. It turned to the tom boy. The Weevil Owen got grabbed Owen and struck him, but it fell the ground. It was a vital hit that Owen did to the Weevil. Damn, he had to killed the Weevil.

[Brandy Johnson]

Silly boy. Of course an arm lock wouldn't work against a gang of thugs. That's why she kept pepper spray on her person. She figured that would get rid of them fairly quickly. Otherwise, well, she just needed to keep out of reach for a few minutes, and then she would turn into a werewolf and slaughter them horribly. Or she hoped they'd get slaughtered. The other option was worse. Of course, when she heard footsteps, she was convinced she'd get to find out what the werewolf would do up against a gang. Brandy tensed and slipped into a fighting stance, ready for the newcomer. The man's comment from behind her made her snot. “So now you're figuring it out?”

Brandy froze as the figure rounded the corner in front of them. What the hell was that? She glanced back at the man as he told her to run. So he knew what it was, then. Or he was a pansy. That was definitely a possibility, considering how quickly he gave up struggling against her. Either way, she wasn't ready to go anywhere yet. She watched the monster, fascinated, until the man decided to stand in front of her. Oh, how noble of him. He was blocking her view. Wait, was he making a phone call? Did he expect the police to deal with this? Idiot. Her told her to run again, but again Brandy ignored him. No way was she running away from this. She wanted to know what they were, and if they were hostile or not, and what the hell they were doing in the sewers.

Oh, wait. They were hostile. Brandy stepped in to take the man's place as he fell back, and fell into a fighting stance again. She'd wait for it to attack, and then move in to grapple it while it was recovering. The attack never came, though, and instead it started growling and sniffing. She returned both gestures, and took a step forward. It took one back. It seemed dogs and rats weren't the only things that had issue with her. The creature was definitely the source of the strange musk she had noticed upon entering the sewers, though. Out of the corner of her eye, Brandy saw the man getting up again. She started to circle away from him, and the creature turned towards her. Excellent, he'd have a clear shot to attack, or run.

Thankfully for her, he chose the former, and Brandy disengaged from the creature as soon as he had stabbed it. She could hear a second one approaching. This time she could prepare, though. She'd seen the damage those claws could do; engaging it directly was risky. A quick shot to the head might be enough to take it out, but she wasn't sure. Hell, any of the vulnerable spots she knew that would work on people were probably useless. Well, it had been sniffing her. It had a good sense of smell, and that meant the pepper spray would probably hurt like a bitch. She pulled the can out, waited for it to begin its approach, and then sprayed. Oh yeah, directly in the face. Brandy lunged back—not in case it decided to attack, but because she knew exactly how much pepper spray hurt sensitive noses. She didn't want any of it on her.

[0wenharper]

The weevil was hit by the face of the pepper spray and it stumbled back. It was aggravated now. Owen wished she had not done that to the Weevil. That was one of the first things they used on Weevils to capture them. It made the Weevil angry more, but it was not happy because a fellow Weevil was killed.

Owen looked up at the Weevil that was peppered spray. The Weevil moaned in and cried. That was when that Weevil sensed the Weevil Owen killed was dead. The Weevils had empathic power. Owen stood up, stared at it as it was looking at Owen. He was pulling up memory of the anger when he was going to throw his life fighting a Weevil. He tapped into his anger and he looked up at the Weevil and sneered at it.

The Weevil coward back, protecting itself realizing death was about. The other Weevils where in the sewers were no happy either and they all wanted to be regroup, so that Weevil slithered away to join its brothers and sisters.

He held his hand up against his bleeding shoulder. The wound was burning from the attack. Next full moon, he was planning to stay inside. This was the last full moon he will be out. The girl will be need recon now. “Nice,” he said to the girl. “We are lucky,” he said, kneeling down to the dead Weevil he killed. He ran his hand over the face, it was cold and it was not breathing. The man was not happy with himself. “I am sorry,” the man said to the dead corpse.

He grabbed the fallen phone that was not too far of a reach. The phone was still on line. The call was ended when Owen pressed a red button. He quickly text message Torchwood “1 dead Weevil. 1 recon needed. Need medical attention. Me. Not witness.”

[Brandy Johnson]

Brandy got ready for another attack as the creature stumbled back, but none came. It was busy crying. Not that she really blamed it; her eyes were starting to water too, and her sinuses burned. She gave a low growl as it looked back up, and her head dropped into a lower, more threatening position. Although she couldn't see it at the time, her eyes had gone completely black. She was the bigger predator here. From beside her she could hear the man getting up, but didn't look over to him. Apparently he was doing something similar, though, and their combined efforts were threatening enough to make the creature disappear back into the sewers. Good. She watched the corridor until she could no longer hear its footsteps, and looked back to the man.

He was checking the dead creature. Yes, it was dead; she could have told him that much from where she was standing. Wait, was he apologizing to it? He knew what they were. That was interesting, and she really wanted to know why, but that wasn't her biggest issue right now. Brandy checked her phone again. 12 minutes. Damn. He needed to get out of here, now, or the situation would be a whole lot worse. “I don't count on luck. I told you I could take care of myself,” she snapped back. She wanted a fight now, but they didn't have the time. “You obviously can't, even if you do know what those things were. You need to leave. Now.”

Oh god, was he texting? Really? Probably updating his Twitter feed about how he just fought off monsters in the sewers. Perfect. “Seriously. You need to get out of here, and...go to a hospital, or something.” Yes, normal people went to hospitals when they were injured. Of course, most people wouldn't have some really strange claw marks to explain, but she was sure he could manage.

[0wenharper]

Who does she think she is? He shook his head, woman can be idiots. The female did not looked like she was in shock or behaved she was in shock. She saw the Weeevils, there was nothing to hide. “Fine,” he said, standing up, he walked to her and he felt his head was going to fall off his shoulders.

“Those are Weevils. There are possible hundreds of them in the sewers,” he said, her eyes are very dark. She was not human. Human eyes don’t do that. What was she? “I work for Torchwood. You are in danger if stay here,” he told her right in her face. His knees gave out under him and he reached to get support from her. “Look, Captain Jack Harkness is on his way. He can help you.” That’s when the world slipped away on Owen. “We save lives. Do…me..a…favor…help…me….”

[Brandy Johnson]

Brandy's suspicions were confirmed as the man gave the creatures a name. Weevils. They really looked nothing like the insect, really, but she nodded and accepted it. So he knew what they were. Why had he been down in the sewers, then? What the hell was Torchwood? His explanation was only opening more questions; ones she really didn't have the time to ask. Neither did he, apparently. He was losing a lot of blood, and Brandy wasn't really surprised when he collapsed. She was in a good enough position to break his fall, and gently lowered him to the floor. Well, at least she'd be able to make sure he'd leave the sewers, now.

First she needed to make sure he survived, though. She glanced across the corridor, found the medical kit he had pulled the scalpel out of, and retrieved it. Good, there was gauze. Not enough to cover his wound, though. For a second she considered using his shirt, realized getting it off him would be a pain in the arse, and settled for taking hers off, instead. She would lose it when she shifted, anyway. Hurriedly she cleaned out the wound and applied the makeshift bandages. It wasn't perfect, but it would have to do for now. If he had backup on the way, they could take care of him. She should get him up to the surface. Could she carry him up? Maybe. Time to find out.

It was a rough climb, with an unconscious idiot draped over her shoulder, but Brandy managed to shove him up onto the sidewalk. She took a second to catch her breath, and checked her phone. Two minutes. That was still enough time to get a little deeper into the sewer system. Dealing with a few hundred weevils was probably better than dealing with a few hundred thousand panicky people if she stayed up here. At the very least, the creatures would keep her busy as a wolf. Brandy dropped back into the sewers, left her personal effects by the ladder, and started following her nose. The one that fled still smelled like pepper spray. It was her best chance of getting deeper.

[Gwen Cooper]

Gwen always liked to do a final sweep of the Plass on her way home. She had been off duty for awhile, but had gone shopping and dropped of a few things by the police station and the government office.

She noticed a large figure. As she crept closer, she noticed that it was two figures, with one carrying the other. She couldn't see who it was but her heart stopped when she realised that they came from underground. Shit.

She ran as quickly yet quietly as she could towards the figure that had been carried. She didn't make it in time to stop the other from disappearing back down to the tunnels underneath their feet.

However all pretense of chasing the intruder was lost when she looked down and saw who was lying with blood everywhere and what looked like a crap job at a bandaging.

Owen. Double Shit. She knelt down and looked him over. Her police first aid skills kicked in and she manged to tear his shirt off and do a better job of bandaging, as the current one was what looked also like a shirt, but quite obviously not his.

She wasn't sure whether or not to alert the others, but she decided to stabilise Owen before moving him back down to the Hub, where step by step instructions for this very occasion waited.

"Owen, love, wake up. What the hell happened to you? Come on, you are too heavy to lift unconscious." She whispered and waited while hoping he would come around so she didn't have to try to lift him.

[0wenharper]

Opening his eye open, Owen looked at Gwen. “It was weevils,” he grunted in pain. “And you could have let me die,” he said, weakly and bitterly. He opened his other eye. “The brunette, where is she?” he stopped turning his when he was in pain.

Using Gwen as leverage, Owen slowly got to his feet. The Torchwood doctor tried to keep his balance, but, the loss of blood and the alcohol was still affecting him.

“Damn,” he sighed as he saw the bloodied shirt on ground. It looked to Owen that she was taken by the Weevils. Owen did not realized the blood he was staring at was his blood.