Killian finds a short fused length of chain in one bag. Another bag contains a picture of Rover with an assortment of harsh angular letters below it. A third contains so rapidly melting coins of a greenish metal.

In reply to Killian Shadowkin (msg # 19):

Daniel looks at Killian, "No, Scales, I saw what happened, which gave me a good idea of what they were, THEN I had the dog verify it. THEN Durante came out and confirmed it and expanded on it. Not my first border crossing."

Huh.

Diggs stood beneath the awning of the gas station, bat set in a wary position on his shoulder. He witnessed bikes burning, a dog and dudes dawdling while a fat guy chased riders driving off like errant cowboys. It wasn't the strangest set of circumstances he'd seen yet, but it was getting close.

The gas station opened as the two young men left, heads down and scurrying with a red box in one of their hands. Diggs waited for them to ride off in their suped-up street beat of a car before looking back through the gas station window. He could see the $10 bill on the counter. Looked like he wouldn't be hunting them down tonight.

He hadn't recognized the bikers; certainly none of the rival MCs he'd expect out a mess like this. They must have been faster on foot, as he saw no sign of them in the wreckage of the crash. The big dude was rummaging through their goods. He might as well see if he could get a closer look.

Before he could join them, the 18 wheeler slides in to the gas station. Diggs cocked his head. Didn't see too many 18s roll through. Couldn't really leave the gas station without making sure that got rung up.

El cantante borracho added some fitting background music to the scene.

There was a lot going on.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:33, Thu 29 July 2021.

 "Yeah, so did I. And neither of us knew jack about the assholes on the bikes or the tubby assholes they were chasing. Weird doesn't automatically mean you get to go all Buffy the Vampire Slayer on their ass." Killian answers, holding up the fused chain and avoiding the melting coins as though they were... Well, melting.

 What he doesn't do is hide the paper, as it makes him hiss and look over at Daniel as he holds out the sheet with the glyphs on it "That said, you might have been on to something. This dog look familiar to you?"

In reply to Killian Shadowkin (msg # 23):

Daniel turns to Killian, "Yes, actually, it does. And I prefer Winchester references." He looks at the picture, then points at Rover, "Yep. See the resemblance. I guess the ...vulcans, have decided I should get that realtor's license after all. Selfish bastards. Culled him as a pup in a California forest, and as soon as one of them notices him grown and healthy they decide to reclaim him. Not happening."

"Rover, Heel." He heads for his Jeep and starts digging around in the back, removing his coat and putting on a vest, which he promptly starts filling, then replaces his coat.

OOC:
12:12, Today: Daniel rolled 29 using 1d20+17.  Heel.
Changing Load out now, should be ready in a couple minutes.

 "Yeah, I know what you prefer but you've got a Scooby gang albeit only one strong..." Killian answers, before snorting and adding "...or would you rather 'Scrappy'?" while using the fire extinguisher where needed and then picking up each bike, checking them over and wheeling them into the parking lot, off the road where they might cause even more trouble.

In reply to Killian Shadowkin (msg # 25):

Daniel shrugs, "I'd prefer...border crossers...that didn't look like Trekkie cos players. First the vulcan with the sword and demands in the woods, now you look like something Kirk blew away with a bamboo cannon. Well, sometimes you do, anyhow. I REALLY need a new boom stick."

The surly trucker gets out of the eighteen-wheeler and heads in and slaps a fifty on the counter.

"Forty in my rig. Ten to watch it while I grab a bite at the Safari."
He leers at a female customer and walks out.

You hear a snarl outside that is too loud for a dog and a masculine scream.

Daniel and Killian you see a trucker exit the gas station; you hear a snarl that doesn't come from Rover and a scream as the trucker vanishes into the sky.

Diggs hadn't bothered taking his kutte off once he'd gotten back behind the counter. Proper "work" attire was the last thing on his mind. He still held the bat in his hand, low beneath the counter as the trucker slapped bills down on the counter.

"Mm-hm."

Diggs never complained about free money anymore, as long as it wasn't a matter of pride. Every dollar could go to getting his girls the care they needed. Besides, he could watch a truck for a bit; the driver said nothing about filling it up.

Who eats at the Safari anyway? Diggs had always heard of it, but never been. Now that he worked right next door, the only thing he could tell was that it was some sort of costumed, themed, diner-bar nonsense. It was the sort of thing one expected more of in the Midwest, maybe even the South, than here. From the frequency of the in-and-outers, they must have had some good grub.

Back to business at least. Diggs offered a warm smile to the woman who suffered the trucker's leering look, but whatever reprieve he expected was lost beneath another cacophony. This time, a scream. That trucker's scream?

And that damn...dog? Nope. Not a dog.

Once again, Diggs jumps out from behind the counter, heedless of the few customers inside as he rushed back outside. He sees that big guy again, with that dog handler guy again. No sign of that trucker. The dog didn't seem nearly as menacing as what he had heard.

"What. The. @#$%! Is goin' on?"

The question alights through the air, carrying across the space separating station from safari, directed at the two men rifling through biker debris. Diggs wasn't quite yelling; he was loud enough to be heard, and frustrated with an obvious lack of current predicament.

"That biker ****," Diggs points with his bat to the pile of bikes the big guy was building, "that snarl...the **** happening? You two doin' this?" He points his bat to the borracho, speaking again in rapid fire Spanish.

With his other hand, Diggs pulled out a phone. It certainly wouldn't be for the cops...he wanted to live through the night. Might be worth the club getting a heads up anyway.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:30, Thu 29 July 2021.

In reply to Diggs Futillo (msg # 29):

Daniel looks over from where he's rummaging around in his Jeep, and grabs his old ballcap (the one with the forestry service logo) from the storage case and puts it on. His vest (and Rover's) also sport the decal. "Federal Agent. This is a crime scene. Please go back inside."

"Right. And that bouncer got a badge too?” Diggs leaned on his bat like it was a cane with an amused smirk that didn’t reach his narrowed eyes. “Because we all know Sparky and Spot from the green brigade will crack the case. Now when you're done %$#@-waggin’, do you want to share what’s goin’ on around my gas station?”

Diggs was a patient man. To a point.

 "Eh, guns are for people who can't get it u..." Killian starts to reply, only to look up sharply at the scream and grimace, setting down the bike he was wheeling over into the parking lot in order to look up sharply, his eyes gleaming for a moment as he grimaces and snaps "Hey!" to the two arguing humans.

 "Dick-wag later, we got trouble and I don't want it reaching the Safari, I ain't been paid yet this week. Diggs!" - because of course he at least recognises the guy even if they've never actually spoken beyond 'hey' in passing (how recognisable he himself is is going to depend largely on how familiar Diggs is with the various biker groups and low-lives around town - "It wasn't us, you could fucking see us. Some asshole's playing Predator games... If I were you, I'd either step back inside and lock up or get over here and help us find them. Your call."

The screams continue for what seems to be forever and a pair of red eyes stares out of the darkness. The screams are continuing, but seem muffled.

"Rude firen tur-'t even on- directions"

Rover chuffs and trots into the darkness.

What do you do?

In reply to Storyteller (msg # 33):

Well, Daniel, at least, follows him, of course.

Diggs' eyes had been fixated on Mr. Ranger Danger, but his head jerked at the sound of his name. He was used to it; Iron Lions had a way of getting around and getting known. Still, it was unexpected from the bouncer/server/smoker - Kyle, was it? - to remember his name. All Diggs could recall of them were their size and shared appreciation for fine smokes.

They were observant. Diggs could respect that. Certainly more than a treehugger passively telling him to fuck off.

"I'd either step back inside and lock up or get over here and help us find them. Your call."

There was the slightest pause as the muffled scream (from the sky) continued to reverberate.

Diggs muttered, "God damn it."

Diggs stuck his head back inside the gas station. He barked something, and three customers rushed out. Lights off, doors locked; station closed early.

The black biker rounded the side of the building to grab his bike: sure as shit wouldn't leave his wheels there! He coasted it in neutral down the driveway, crossing the street to the Safari. He’d just tucked tucked the bat at his back between shirt and kutte when he saw a red set of peepers in the dark. Another curse passed his lips as his biked pulled into a Safari parking spot.

He watched the dog trot into the darkness, towards what most certainly had to be red headlights and a shitty prank. Diggs loved dogs, but damn were they dumb. Tree trooper seemed even dumber for following, but Diggs understood loyalty too.

Diggs walked up to the big guy’s side. Without moving his eyes from the red-specks in the darkness, he asks "You really goin' in to that shit too? What's wrong with you mothafuckas?"

Daniel responds over his shoulder, "Well, SOMEONE has never owned a dog, apparently. Besides, I think I'm about to go to my first ... Trekkie Convention. I hope one of you two is packing."

 "Dropped on my head as a kid. Very sad case. Doctor says it's made me an incurable dumbass. Also my girlfriend works at the bar and she's a shit-load scarier than anything out there." Killian... Uh, Kyle answers as he hefts the fused length of chain he pulled off the bike in one hand and swings it a few times, experimentally before motioning to Diggs "C'mon, otherwise Scrappy-doo's going to get his ass bitten off." and moving up, taking care to do so no faster than Diggs himself - covering the big mans flank so that he can rely on them to cover his.

"Well, SOMEONE has never owned a dog, apparently."

And someone's never had kids, apparently, Diggs thought, thinking about his girls. He hoped the new family they were with was better than the last. Once his older daughter Maya had mentioned they drank and screamed at them, a phone call to his buddy Chew seemed to lead to their change of heart and the change of his girls' foster home. He knew he couldn't keep doin' that every time. He had to get them out.

Diggs took the bat out from his back, leaning it against his bike as he pulled out a slim rod from the saddle bag. He slid it somewhere along his waist, beneath his kutte.

"C'mon, otherwise Scrappy-doo's going to get his ass bitten off."

"Don't threaten me with a good time."

*Cli-kak* The Glock slide snapped back into place as Diggs held the piece low and at the ready. Diggs pulled his phone again, only halfway out his pocket this time. Could help to call in to the Club for a heads up; Boston might even think to send some manpower. Then again, Diggs had no way of explaining anything going on. Plus, he hadn't gotten a chance yet to resolve some of that bad blood business.

He seemed to think better of it, sliding it back into his pocket, whipping out a flashlight instead. It seemed Diggs was a very well-prepared biker...

His movements were smooth, long legs striding in a low, predatory lurch as he kept at - Kaliden's? - side and rear, keeping his wrists crossed with light and barrel pointed forward. He kept Daniel out of his LOS. Mostly.

Diggs wanted more than anything to get to see his girls. Not die doing this stupid shit.

You enter into the darkness and see a brown-skinned woman in leathers petting Rover. She has bound the trucker hand and foot, shoving a small bundle of leather in his mouth.

"Man hu, bein hu".

Rover barks and pants

 "Okay." Killian states as he comes around the corner with Digger and into line of sight of the woman, the dog and the captive. He's still suspicious, but he lowers the chain slightly and half-turs to put his back to Diggs, glaring intently into the shadows around them as if daring any of the patches of otherwise innocent darkness to get up to something while he adds "Got to admit, I was not expecting that." in a slightly wry tone.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:57, Sun 01 Aug 2021.

"Me eitha."

Diggs meets...dammit, is it Kaleb's?...half turn with one of his own. He pointed his crossed wrists low' the barrel of his gun was pointed at a downward angle while his flashlight's luminescence splashed across the woman and trucker.

No one could have seen this coming. How was this not a trap.

Diggs sucked in some deep breaths, shook his head to get a braid out his face.

"You wanna keep him, lady?"

Diggs voice rumbled up from his limber form. Maybe his long neck was what made his voice so deep. He used his gun to gesture to the bound trucker.

"You can have 'im. Fuck 'im." He could swing that tractor trailer down to the chop shop and help out the club. He'd make a pretty penny himself, put it towards his girls. There were other pressing matters, but the natural occurrence of the thought took little time away from the present.

"But go 'head let that puppy go. It ain't hurt nobody." Unlike people, dogs were without spite or malice. He certainly cared more for the dog than the stranger.

All the while, Diggs eyes danced in the dark hoping this would not be his last conversation.

Daniel chuckles, "Oh, she isn't bothering Rover. But this isn't the dog park, pup. Heel."

OOC:
14:24, Today: Daniel rolled 31 using 1d20+17.  More Heel.

The woman looks up and sees Killian. She brandishes a dagger and crouches against a tree.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaah! Lhúg plural lyg adan plural edain!" she screams.

In reply to Storyteller (msg # 43):

Daniels tries to get a look at her ears, just in case.