A Little Vandalism Never hurt Anyone [P][Grey]

[Deleted]

The sun just barely cracked the horizon and it reached greedy fingers of gold towards the settlement that held the Fallen. A handful of shacks that protected from the brutal dust storms of the desert, the train cars with most of their windows still intact winked back at the dawn. Somewhere a crow cried harshly, it might have been a shifter, but it was doubtful. Just some bird thinking the dawn was a notable thing to mark. It was warm, even as early as it was a good sign summer was in swing. The air was still and dry which was a blessing in some regards. At least the humidity would not cling to your skin and make movement and travel more difficult.

Most of the ring slept through the early hours, those on watch were sharp, but the area was mostly still. A lone woman had risen with the sun. She had messily braided her long brunette hair and eaten a sparce breakfast of snake, which she had traded for the day before. Tank filled her crudely made bag with jars full of premade paints. It would make the pack heavy, but she had been doing this for years. With the pack near full she placed a jar of treasured white inside along with a water skin and closed it up.

With a quick glance around her personal hovel she stole into the morning. Her eyes squinted against the harshness of the light and she hung tight to the buildings as she made her way out of the housing part of Fallen territory. She was sure that one of the guards on watch had seen her, but that didn’t matter. She had been in the ring long enough to come and go as she pleased without question. She never went far beyond the edges of the territory and she wasn’t one to stir up trouble. So her passing would have been marked, but not unusual.

She skirted the tracks with comfortable ease; she had a new target in mind for today. The mental hospital. Everyone avoided the place and the rumors of haunting thrilled her. It was the perfect target. Where better to bring something new. Where better to paint freedom then in a place that symbolized torment. She hoped her art frustrated the keepers. She hoped they looked at it with some form of venom. It made her feel like the things she did mattered, even with the massive wall that held her, and the rest of those within, captive. You had to do something to keep the madness at bay. Art was how she maintained her humanity. It forced her to think creatively. It gave her an escape from the constant struggle to survive. It was her own personal retreat from the bullshit she was forced to live through.

She swung off the tracks and made for the decrepit building that stood as a monument to a failed system. Even in Fallen territory she knew better then to swagger like she owned the place. That was for the bears and other large carnivores. She was none of those things. Hell she wasn’t even a normal mammal. The most formidable thing about her shift was the armor it was plated in, sharp edged plates that kept most predatory creatures at bay long enough for help to arrive. Honestly there wasn’t a thing threatening about becoming a pangolin. With threat of death creeping in from all sides Tank felt she deserved something. So this was her escape, her way to fight back.

The crumbling building stood apart from others as if it were separated, quarantined. It was the perfect metaphor, a waiting canvas that called out to the rebellious streak in the girl. The failing wall, once used to keep the mentally broken within, had collapsed to rubble in more than one place and the gate hung half ripped off its hinges. Some of the windows gleamed with the coming morning, but most were too dirty or broken to reflect much light. The front doors remained, sturdy and defiant to the decrepit mess around it. A few scraggly, half dead trees lined the walls, hiding some of the building from view. The interior promised to be just as bad, if not worse.

Tank smirked to herself and rolled onto her heels. It was better then she could have anticipated. No wonder the rumors of ghosts echoed out of this place. Already her mind was whirling with ideas on how she could transform one of the rooms, or how she could twist the place to her own designs. The ghosts, if they were real, might appreciate it. However she quickly turned her eyes higher. The roof was falling to pieces, the shingles hardly seemed to be attached and even from here she could see a few large holes.

She straightened as she passed through the gates. Why had she never come here before? She moved quietly down what once was a maintained road soaking in the atmosphere. She felt a prickle of fear on her skin and a grin split her face. She might have to come here more often. She slipped to the door and pried at the beam that held it shut. Unfortunately it did not budge. She cursed softly under her breath and set out around the far side of the building.

The back doors had not been boarded, perhaps they thought the front was enough. A grin split her face once more and she pressed down on the tab style handle. With a bit of force the rusted lock clicked the lever dropped. She pushed it open slowly and the door moaned in protest and resisted the pressure. With a frown she put her shoulder to the wood and shoved harder. It heaved free of its long settled frame and the warm light of morning spilled into one of the relaxing areas. She passed through this quickly, uninterested in its busted television or the ratty chairs that dust clung to like a second layer of upholstery. She pushed through the rotting doors into the ruined lobby. Long dead computers still sat on the desk and dusty electric lights hung from the ceiling. None of it would ever work again, but that wasn’t what she was here for. There was a gaping hole in the ceiling above the reception desk and a beam had fallen down creating a ramp to the next floor. The doors that had once separated the main hall from the lobby had rotted off their hinges and now hung limply showing glimpses of the long stretch beyond. It was quiet as death, only the slight shifting of the building echoed down the halls.

For a moment she thought she saw movement on the floor above. A shiver ran down her spine and she shook her head, it was probably nothing. Tank tugged the bag higher on her back and stepped into the open area. Might as well have a look around. She would have to watch her step here. The place seemed to be held together by sheer will not to collapse at this point. If she was careful maybe she could get to the roof where the keepers cameras were sure to see.

[grey]

It was sheer habit, but Grey rarely slept in. In fact, most mornings he was up before the sun was fully in the sky, when the light was just hinting at the horizon, saying, I exist! Push-ups, sit ups, pull ups, crunches, planks, leg-lifts, squats, lunges, bicycles, and so on. Repeat. Repeat. Leave the train car. Receive early morning rations. Chat it up with a couple Scouts or Hunters before going out on his

That morning Grey was talking to Richardson and one of his friends. The two Scouts had been heading out to the border for their day-break patrol. Richardson was fond of calling it the Godawful I-Need-Coffee-For-This-Shit Shift, but that was a mouthful. Richardson was trying to explain why it should be used, however, a little slaphappy from last night's endeavors, as Jackson, his partner, put it. "Guy got laid. And drunk. Doesn't mean he slept worth a damn, though." It was the conversation that he and Grey were having under their breaths. "--I mean, c'mon, what kind of people are these, trying to send us out before the sun is up without coffee? I used to drink a pot a day. And don't get me started on how much I spent at Starbucks every year--"

"Christ, Richardson, get some sleep when you're done with this!" Grey clapped him on the shoulder, shaking his head incredulously. "Or ask to get changed to the evening posts. Sounds like you're a night owl." He flashed Jackson a savage grin, one that had the other man smirking into his shoulder, laughing. Richardson hadn't caught on to their earlier conversation, and in the sunlight Grey caught the sight of his sudden bewilderment, etched in the furrow his brow and the slight cock to his head. "I mean, you have any fun last night, Richie? How's that hangover feeling?" The Scout caught on and scowled, reaching out to shove Grey's shoulder. He went willingly with the motion, shaking his head. "C'mon, you really think I wouldn't know by now? Christ, boy, think of how close together the train cars are!"

Jackson was snickering in the background as they made their way across the dunes, baking in the early sun. Grey couldn't help it, though. He liked to tease Richardson, just because the man made it easy. And it was a good morning. He tilted his face back and enjoyed the warmth of the desert. "Bet I had more fun then you," the Scout said, reluctantly playing along. Grey nodded enthusiastically, flashing a wolf's grin. "I betcha did, but at least I'm not fantasizing about Starbucks this morning."

"Ugh, you had to bring it back up!" Jackson said, just as Richie groaned and commented with a, "Gawd, Grey, all I want is some coffee! Mm, one of those caramel things, y'know what I'm talking about? Best hangover medicine..."

Grey shook his head, incredulous. As he did so, his eyes caught on a girl. It wasn't strange seeing people out this early. There were plenty of unlucky Fallen that got stuck with the morning shifts. But if Grey remembered right, the girl was an omega. His reply caught on his tongue. And if he remembered right, there were some mornings in the past when he had seen her trek off by herself, towards various directions. He paused and jerked his chin in the direction of her, as she continued to walk.

"Betcha she's heading towards the Asylum. Probably gonna paint some rays of sunshine on the walls." Jackson covered his mouth with a yawn, but he had caught Grey's interest. "What do you mean?" the wolf shifter ventured, cocking his head to the side. "Girl likes to make paintings on walls, from what I hear. Dunno for sure, but." Jackson shrugged.

"Go see what's she up to, Grey. Leave us poor coffee-needing souls alone, yeah? You're not helping the headache, loud-mouth." It was a jest, for the most-part, but Grey snorted. "Sure thing, Richie. Good luck today... maybe drink some water. Dehydration is a killer, and you've got a head-start." Jackson covered his laugh with a cough, but Grey had slipped away from the pair and was now pursuing the omega in the distance.

As soon as he descended one of the dunes, his body flowed effortlessly into the shape of his wolf form. He picked up his walk to an easy lope, one that he could sustain for miles, and began to think through the whole thing. Paint the walls, huh? Of the Asylum? Grey's jaws parted, his tongue lolling, gray eyes flashing with amusement. There wasn't much to laugh at in the dome, but a girl going out to graffiti a mental asylum's walls was worthy of a smile. Maybe it would keep the so-called ghosts at bay, heh.

He saw the asylum rise up in the distance, a building that was a little worse for wear. He wondered why it wasn't occupied, and then realized that most people were too superstitious to want to sleep in it, even if it had walls (for the most part) and doors. He might have rolled his eyes, but he took things like that somewhat seriously himself. Guy like him needed all the help he could get in the afterlife, and if that meant letting some ghosts rest in peace, so be it.

His thoughts broke off once he saw the girl slip into the building, amused by her method. He stood there, his stomach against the sand, pondering his next course of action. Maybe he should just go back to Richie and Jackson--he would probably get more laughs that way. If nothing else, it was the height that made up his mind. Black fur wasn't exactly what you would call a cooling agent. That ... and the idea of leaving the girl alone in the asylum unsettled him some. Grey followed suit, shutting his jaws and slinking in through the door. He watched as she took in her surroundings, and crept further into the building. He stuck to the shadows, staying out of her line of sight--he made sure to remain silent, and when she doubled back he remained nearly in her shadow, slipping into an alcove when her back was turned.

He remained there as she began to set up shop, removing jars of what seemed to be crude paint. His eyes took it in, observing as she would glance up, perhaps feeling watched. At least it was by him, rather then some ghost or trespasser. She began to paint. He... well, the angle was wrong. His intentions had been to remain hidden, but now he wasn't so sure. He wanted to see more of what she was doing. He'd positioned himself in the corner of the room, settled neatly beneath a collection of debris. Now he swept his long tail in an arc, intentionally knocking an object (it had been a coffee cup) from the desk above him. It shattered.

Grey made as if he was surprised by the entire incident, leaping up--perhaps a little too realistically, because he butted his head against the desk and let out a genuine yelp of pain.

[Deleted]

Tank might have noticed the wolf sooner if she hadn’t been so focused on her work. She had found a flat wall just begging to be painted and she set down her bag. Her set up was ritualistic, full of repeated motion that got her into the right head space to paint. She placed the paints in careful rows off to the side and dropped a very stained cloth to the floor. Onto this she poured colors like a giant pallet. Deciding it looked ready she pulled out an empty jar and poured some of her precious water into it. With a look of contentment she withdrew several brushes, some of her most treasured possessions. She eyed the wall a moment, holding an empty brush as she examined the canvas.

She slunk closer to the wall and placed a hand on it. She probably looked crazy, but she felt she had to really connect with her canvas before she knew how to transform it. Then she began to spread blues in broad strokes, covering the faded white wall in bright colors and arching lines. The hair on the back of her neck prickled and she paused, making a point to dip her brush into the water and she glanced around the room as subtly as she could. She didn’t hear anything, or see anything, but as a prey animal you learned to become aware of danger before it found you. However she saw nothing to give her shadow away. There wasn’t any sign that she should be panicking. With a shrug she let it go. She dipped her brush into the gold and began to add that over the top of the still damp blues. In places the gold won out and in others it created a subtle green that appeared to belong mingled among the intended colors.

She tossed the brush into the water jar and took a deep breath. The heady smell of her paints filled her head and relaxed her. How could anyone dislike the strong scent? She set aside the yellow coated brush and dipped her hand into the white. This she spread near the top in a wide region. She paused again as she caught movement out of the corner of her eye and she tensed. She reached down and grabbed the paintbrush then stood up again. She might have reacted better if something hadn’t shattered near directly behind her.

GHOST! Her mind screamed.

She in took a sharp breath and swung around rapidly, nearly tripping on her pallet. She brandished the paintbrush like a knife then seemed to realize what she was doing and dropped her arm so it hung at her side. Gold splattered across her pant leg as she stared into the face of a rather large wolf. Her eyes flashed to the gaping hole in the ceiling until she took a deep breath, he smelled fallen. She could scent the desert clinging to him and she had seen the wolf around camp before. She released some of the tension in her shoulders, trying to appear relaxed. He was defiantly not a specter. Stupid as it seemed to even think now.

Was he going to yell at her for slinking off? Was he going to reprimand her for destroying clan ‘property’. Not that anyone really came here. She considered shifting, but it seemed stupid in the face of an animal that would be multiple times her size and quite a bit more agile. She would be better off in her human form where she could kick him. If things turned dire, then she would shift.

He seemed to be bumbling to have knocked the cup over, it wasn’t exactly precariously perched. She winced sympathetically as he yelped and she wiped her white soaked hand on her pants, adding a bit of color onto their already somewhat stained material. So this was one of the people she roomed with, not that she made much of an effort to get to know everyone. She did what she had to in order to keep their ring operational, she had never really dug deep into the people, not since... There were better times for such thoughts. She swept them from her mind like cobwebs and stepped out of her pallet to avoid trapping herself in a mess waiting to happen. “Nice of you to follow me, but I think I am alright here.” She tried carefully. It wasn’t exactly a direct way of saying shove off, but she felt odd with an audience. ”I mean I am safe enough. I am still in Fallen Territory right? The Fulsi didn’t swipe this place or anything? Because that would be a major setback in my plans…” She tried to remain casual, but deep down predators made her anxious. The gentle beast she became wasn’t exactly an easy meal, but the instincts it provided whispered for her to simply run, to hide, to curl up and wait it out. She resisted all of these instead she lifted her brush and pointed it at him again.

“Or are you a pervert or something? I am not exactly fond of being gawked at… then again you aren’t a very good creeper if that is what you are? I mean I had my back turned and everything. So I am gonna stop rambling and let you explain yourself before I turn you yellow.” It wasn’t exactly the most threatening thing she could have said, but the only weapon she had was a bit of heavy piping she had picked up some time ago and it was inside her pack.

[grey]

Lot of good that paint brush would do her, if he was actually being malicious. He couldn't help it. He slunk out from under the desk, his jaws parted and his tongue lolling in a caninesque smile.

He didn't blame her for being put off. He would have been too, if he'd turned around to find someone lurking in the shadows. Most of it had been for good humor, and even out of good intentions. Grey didn't want some omega wandering off and getting her ass handed to her in either no man's land or along the border. Not that she wasn't capable. She'd made it this far in the M, and that had to count for something.

Not to mention, curiosity had gotten the better of him. "You never know... I mean, we may be in a literal bubble, but it isn't exactly safe. You're probably fine, but it isn't smart to go anywhere alone, between viruses, rogues, and Carna. Who did, incidentally, attack our leader recently." His voice was a drawl in shiftertongue. The striped wolf leaned down in a stretch and yawn, his jaws parting and his tongue curling. When he drew back up, his claws scraped across the floor with a screech. He made a graceful move in her direction, his tail curling behind him.

If it was possible, his expression became amused. Grey's pale eyes landed on her, and he shifted abruptly. There stood a tall man, his hair mussed, his eyes light with some form of humor. He let those same eyes rank down her, not in a way that suggested he was "checking her out", but like he was evaluating her. When he met her gaze again, he merely quirked a brow. "Not my type, honey."

He did it subconsciously, but Grey had been evaluating her, checking for weapons or signs of a genuine fighter. It was an old habit. But she didn't have the form of anything but a brawler, maybe, or the movement or a professional fighter. Just a survivor, he was guessing, which was normal. Nothing wrong with that, either. Grey stepped closer and examined the wall, the paint still wet enough to drip. He hooked his thumbs in his belt and cocked his head, the expression doggish if not bemused. "Never seen anything like it. Why do you do it?"

He stepped back and rolled his shoulders, flicking his gaze towards a nearby window. Nothing but rolling dunes and sun outside.