Futuristic Weird Wars: The Wulfhart Debacle

[Soviet Panda]

"Don't worry, I'll find it for you." Conner said before, not paying much attention, patting the kid's stomach probably causing some more pain. "Oi. Any of you know how to treat a gunshot?" Conner said before gazing around, searching for the fadora. Why did the kid want his fadora? He should be glad he is alive.

 

[Arstias]

"I know how to make it hurt less, I'll get my bag." Watcher said, he walked over to his bag glancing at the kid, he looked young, yet he seemed familiar, he dressed well, odd for a child these days. Watcher pulled out a few opium straws and began grinding them in a mortar and pestle, he added water and some flour to form it into a stronger paste. He lifted the bandage on the kid, "This is going to sting, but it'll hurt a lot less afterwards." He careful laid the paste around the wound, "Now did the bullet go through or is it still lodged?"

 

[WinterPeach]

A moment or two after Günther knocked on the door, a strange little man who appeared to be soaked to the bone, hurriedly brushed past him and into the house. Apparently he was hauling huge cases of who knows what with him and didn’t care who was in the way either. “Well then…” Günther thought to himself, “…I guess I will just follow suit. Makes no sense standing out here like an buffoon.”. Gripping the ornate handle of his umbrella and snatching up one of his luggage bags with his spindly fingers, he started hauling his possessions across the threshold and just into the house.


Some commotion was apparently going on farther into the house, but it sounded like everything was being taken care of. “It appears there are more people than I expected. This could be a problem.” Günther pondered in his mind as he let out an annoyed sigh. It took a minute or two to maneuver all three travel bags and the clunky trunk into the entryway, but he managed it. “Now that that’s taken care of, who else is here, I wonder?” he spoke under his breath, running his fingers through his healthy, and notably dry, hair. Günther took a moment to fix any undone buttons or wrinkles on his clothes, just to make sure he looked as good as a man of his status and educational level should: impeccable. It was then that he picked up something welcoming and familiar to him: the sweet sounds of ladies’ voices coming from somewhere close. His pale ears perked up and followed the voices to some sort of drawing room. He leaned casually against one of the walls, trying to see how long it would take for them to notice him. He had been rather quiet after all. For now, Günther would just watch them, as a birdwatcher would gaze upon songbirds.

 

[The Cobalt Killer]

"Th-thank you sir, b-but I think the bullet's still in my side..." Romeo looked at the man, who seemed to be patching up and examining his wound. He gazed over at Conner who was searching for Romeo's fedora. It was kind that the two of them were helping him, but Romeo was concerned for what was to come.

 

[Elle Joyner]

In the early days of her training, Maeve had learned about the unexpected benefits of chaos. While never optimum in any situation, one could always use chaos to their advantage, if they knew how. In a room filled with noise, distractions and undeniable confusion, if you maintained a calm, collected head you could learn almost anything from a person. Some, like the shouting girl and the injured boy were easy reads, but others... required careful observation and in a situation where chaos reigned, almost no one could detect when they were being studied. They were a curious bunch, certainly, and as far as she could tell there was very little any of them had in common... but they, like she, had been invited there for some reason and she was growing increasingly more anxious to discover why.


Her stormy gaze flicked around the room as more people arrived and Maeve took a seat out of the way, removing the leather aviator cap and goggles from the top of her head. Her deep red hair was still damp, but a fire blazed nearby and she could feel the warmth of it drying the cabernet tips.


As the majority of the room's attention remained fixed on the injured child, Maeve found her own focus drifting towards the decidedly un-American newcomer. If she had to guess, given the pitch of his features and the Teutonic build, she would have suggested German, which was equally intriguing and, these days, disconcerting. Turning her eyes away before she could be accused of staring she looked instead to the small crowd gathered around the boy.


__


Everything had been, up until the arrival of the boy, the makings of a rather uneventful evening. He had been bandaged but he appeared pale, frightened and far too young and the grave expressions on the faces of those surrounding him made Betty nervous, to put it mildly. She was no nurse, but she was also no stranger to injuries but more than that, she was familiar with fear and could more than imagine what was going through his mind.


Hardly dressed for the occasion, but nevertheless obliged, Betty rose and, excusing her way through the room approached the boy's side. He seemed to be somewhere in the middle teens, dressed unusually caper for someone so young, and there was an air of familiarity about him that almost made her second guess her decision to get involved. But the sweat that beaded his forehead and the tremor in his hands were telltale and she would have felt miserable if she walked away.


Untying the scarf from her hair, she knelt by his shoulders and gently mopped his forehead with the expensive silk. At the news that the bullet was still inside, she was certain what was coming and could think off no better option than to distract him.


"...Hey..." She started softly, the faint trace of a Chicago lilt slipping into her easy voice, "You wanna see a magic trick?"

 

[Soviet Panda]

Conner searched high and low in that room, and found nothing. So, he slowly made his way out into the hall. Still nothing. He backtracked farther, into the infirmary area, actually a storage closet now that he got a better look. But still no fadora. He almost made his way back to the entrance hall before he found it, lying upside down near a wall. Picking it up, he hurried back to the room to give the fadora to Romeo. Getting to the room, he saw one of the woman kneeling next to him. "Here it is, not a scuff or scratch added."

 

[The Cobalt Killer]

"A m-magic trick?" Romeo thought back to when he used to perform magic tricks to his friends. "No thanks, they're all the same. Deceit. The magician distracts you with one hand and prepares the real trick with the other. Simple slight of hand. The more people think they see, the less they do..."


Romeo averted his attention to Conner, who had returned with his fedora. Taking it from the man, and placing it lightly over his forehead. "Thank you," he said. He turned to face the others, who were gathered in a small audience close by his side. He tipped back his hat. "Where on Earth is the host?"

 

[Arstias]

Watcher reattached the bandage, "No idea, but we'll need to get that bullet out before we can stitch it, and I don't have the tools for that on me." He got up and began wiping his hands on a towel from his bag, "Doesn't look to bad otherwise, hit nothing important."

 

[Elle Joyner]

Betty managed a delicate smile at the boy's words. Her father had been a great debunker of phony illusionists, who took money from strangers for a cheap trick with mirrors and a candle. He had made his share of enemies doing it, but he felt it was only right. You should get what you paid for, he'd always say.


Still, it was a fair assessment, really, of most magic... and she took little offense to it. But if she was to be of any use, beyond mopping his brow, she would need to be creative.


"Fair enough... though I have to say, you may be the first to turn down a Houdini. I'm dreadful, however, at storytelling and I'd feel just terrible if I couldn't distract you at least a little bit, until these good gents can get you fixed up. A song, then?"

 

[The Cobalt Killer]

"A song?" Romeo chuckled, which hurt a little. He slowly frowned as he thought on the woman's words. A Houdini? He wondered if her magic tricks might be worth while. Suddenly realising that he had left her hanging, he replied. "Oh, um... Sure a song sounds nice... What kind of songs do you sing?"

 

[Soviet Panda]

"Hope it's something up beat." Conner butted in. "The mood is dreary enough as it is with this rain." Conner continued to talk, now thinking out loud. "I my grandpa was here and alive, rest his sole, he would probably have his fiddle out and already have started playing a song."

 

[Elle Joyner]

"Oh, I know loads... First job I had was singing at a club. It's not magic, but it'll do..."


Betty chuckled softly, nodding at the interruption. Most of the songs she had sung at the club were ballads, but now and then she was pressed to sing a livelier number and so she had learned as many as she could.


"I'm useless at the fiddle, but I think I have just the song... Now you hush and relax, and let these men look at you." Brushing back the hair that was plastered to the youth's forehead she started a soft, quiet rendition of 'Dream a Little Dream'.

 

[The Cobalt Killer]

Romeo closed his eyes and smiled secretively, while trying not to blush. Her voice was soft and sweet. He felt her fingers running through his hair, comforting him at this time...

 

[Nthtiho12]

Morgue was annoyed at basically everyone inside the room as he was waiting for their missing host. He really hated that little injured boy that was being treated by everyone. The bitter man scoffed at Romeo and was tapping his fingers faster on the arm rest of his rather uncomfortable chair. "This little kid is being babied way to much. This freeloader better hit the road before our very late host explains why all of you oddballs and me are doing in this place."

 

[The Cobalt Killer]

"I'm guessing you guys all come from... How should I put it? Different backgrounds... You know trauma, loss of family, wounds and burns to your arms, legs, faces." He eyed Morgue up and down. "I mean for starters, well, you're here... Not to mention no one here has questioned how a 14-year-old boy was shot..."

 

[Soviet Panda]

"This kid was shot." Conner said to the man wrapped in bandages. "What if I shot you and told you to leave. You would probably die. And what doesn't make you an "oddball" like the rest of us? You are covered in bandages. What's beneath them? If you are a completely normal being, then you can call me an oddball."

 

[Nthtiho12]

"Jumping to conclusions is bad! Don't you know that?" He was speaking to him in a childish tone, but quickly went back to his rather annoying way of speaking. Morgue looked towards the skinny man and scoffed at his direction. "I've faced more than being shot, skinny. However, I'm not going to play your game and I won't show you my handsome body."

 

[Soviet Panda]

"Or horribly disfigured. And it's Conner, not skinny." Conner retorted. This man was beginning to get on his nervs. Romeo was just a kid, and he wanted him to leave. But if the man wanted to be a jackass, then let him.

 

[Nthtiho12]

"Another jump? Wow, you guys are going to hurt someones feelings!" He looked away from Conner and was wondering when this old guy was going to get here. Morgue suddenly stood up, weaving through the crowd of weirdos and headed towards one of his many cases. The short man grabbed one of the random cases and was shuffling through the mysterious vials, not saying anything to anyone... Who knows what this person was actually thinking of doing with these chemicals.

 

[The Cobalt Killer]

"Hey," Romeo called over to Morgue. "You still haven't answered my question." He looked around at the group surrounding him. "That goes for you guys too..." 
"Tell me," he began. "What is it about your pasts that have led you here? To a mysterious house, with a mysterious host... To the point where you don't question how a 14-year-old boy has been shot..."

 

[Arstias]

"I'll be frank with you, I was forced into slavery, survived on my own for over 20 years, and have killed enough men to fill my own graveyard." Watcher said bluntly, "Any other questions about my past are now null and void."

 

[The Cobalt Killer]

"Oh, w-well... I'm terribly sorry..." Romeo frowned. "I was just frustrated..."

 

[Elixanator]

Michelle melted into the background, her fingers twined around the small pen knife she kept with her. She wondered if she she offer it to the make shift doctors. It was obvious without some thread and needle, they were going to need to brand the wound closed. Michelle wasn't fond of wounds, and the sound the boy would make would unsettle even her.

 

[Elle Joyner]

Betty quirked a brow at the man's response to the bow, but otherwise said nothing. When she had finished her song, she started right into a second, but not before shushing the boy, gently, "Your frustration is warranted, I'm sure, Piccolo uomo... but if you don't try to relax you'll be sure to make things much worse."


It was then, with those words that she realized just where the boy's familiarity came from and for a moment, Betty's hand paused in it's pursuit through his hair. He looked so much like Tony's boy... It was a world she had vowed never to return to, and now it was staring her smack in the face and for a moment, it hurt...


But he wasn't Tony's boy, and there was no connection beyond his appearance...


The smile returned to her face and as soft as before, she began her way through Garland's rendition of 'Somewhere Over the Rainbow'.

 

[WinterPeach]

Only a few moments went by before one of the ladies noticed the observer leaning against a wall. It was a subtle glance she gave, but the redhead’s eyes gave her inner feelings away. “Pretty little thing, but wary. I’ll have to watch this one carefully.” Günther thought to himself, a little peeved that people from his homeland were being judged on the spot like that. But she was young and probably did not know any better. Now that his presence was known, it seemed best if he introduced himself to the lady with the merlot hair.


Günther quietly strode over to the one who had eyed him, and leaned against the piece of furniture she was seated in. “Good evening, my lady…” He whispered in her direction, “…how are you this dreary night?”. His voice was silky and a strong tenor in quality. Her smoky grey eyes met his as he gently wrapped his pale hand around hers and slowly lifted it to his lips, planting a small kiss upon it.