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Julian Davitt
Jan 12th, 2009, 11:59:58 PM
Alan grunted quietly as he leaned back as far as he could in the jeep. Being a Park Ranger for Angeles National Forest, he found it rather boring at times; most of the troubles came from stupid kids smoking too much weed out in the forest and nearly starting forest fires.

He closed his eyes to the sight of San Fernando, and just hoped his shift would be over soon, despite the chance of some excitement tonight; the game would be on and there would be good friends and good beers as they watched, hopefully, the Ravens whoop the crap outta the Steelers.

Lenny was taking a whizz out behind the jeep; if he was lucky, the guy would only find out that he'd be sued by some bratty kid for indecent exposure when the papers came in the mail for him to appear in court.

"Hey, Alan, Lenny. We got word that some kids had their food stolen by a wolf earlier today. It's following the pattern."

Alan picked up the handset to the transistor as Lenny re-entered the jeep. "Again? Was it the Gray?"

"It fits the description, Al. Seems like it scared 'em pretty bad, too. Or maybe they scared it?"

Alan grinned, but didn't reply to the joke. Lenny was already bringing out the map, marked with locations that the Gray had been sighted going.

"I'm thinkin' this could be the Yosemite Thief," Lenny said, sounding pretty excited. They had a right to be. While it had made national news as a little wierd interest bite, the Yosemite Thief was still a largely unknown wily gray wolf that had tramped down Yosemite National Park, leaving a trail of opened coolers and half eaten raw patties of every kind behind it. To the Rangers, this wolf was a legend already; as it assumed to be the same wolf that had done the same thing in Yellowstone Nat'l Park a week and a half before. It had managed to outmanoeuvre several attempts by Park Rangers to capture and resettle it somewhere more remote.

There were stories about how the thing seemed to just disappear on the edges of towns and cities, with almost no trace of where it had gone. Some had postulated that it was actually a mutant, but the wolf displayed behaviours that showed definite upbringing in a pack even though it was said to be too smart to be a mere wolf.

Suddenly, Yosemite went silent. For weeks, neither hide nor hair of the creature was heard from, and people's coolers and containers were now only ransacked by the odd bear. Two weeks later, a similarly described wolf was being reported rummaging through packs and such of campers in Angeles National Forest.

The map in Lenny's hands detailed each reported 'theft' by the wolf, or what they assumed was the wolf. Lenny whistled.

"That thing's gone over thousand miles to get to us, man," Lenny breathed, looking over the map. "And it should be comin' our way."

"Alan, Lenny; we have a reported sighting of a gray wolf heading due west from outpost 340. It should be on your position in about five minutes. The line's been noted. Get the tranqs out and get ready."


***



He'd been running for a long time. He could remember life before; but recently he could remember with a bit of some feeling that didn't make his chest hurt like it used to. It was like he wasn't remembering something he'd been in, more like something he was watching, from the outside in. Like through a window. He was running again. The Park-men were behind him, trying to lead him into a trap. There was so much noise behind him that it was hard to tell what was before; and the smells of the city beyond laid a musty stamp over everything everytime his nose twitched.




He needed to find a way to wander around; he needed to get some distance between him and his pursuers so he could change, and pretend to be just some lost runaway that had no place to go. He'd needed to do that only twice before this time. Each time he'd needed to change to escape, he knew that it was time to move on. They were getting to know his tricks and little gambits that had allowed him to elude their nets so far. The first time they'd almost got him, he'd almost changed again, the fear and desperation to escape were so great.




The forest line was approaching, a hill, and then the city where he could be just another homeless kid searching for some food. As he crested the hill, he finally noticed that something was off. He could smell them; men, Park-Men. He began to run, narrowly dodging the tranquilizer dart that would have put him out. He zigged, racing along the hill line, his nose taking in great huffs of air. He zagged, headed down the hill suddenly, where the Park truck was closest to the top. He scrabbled underneath it and shot out between two men's legs. He zigged again, trying for some distance as he put more power into his strides.




"He's headed for the Valley!" he could hear someone yelling. Another dart passed over him in the dark. Someone swore. He suddenly zagged, outdoing one more shot. He was now past the line of trucks that lined the bottom of the hill in an attempt to surprise him. He'd been surprised, alright. He would have barked in congratulations at their cunning plan, but he felt a sharp prick in his shoulder, and he fell, tripping over his own feet.




"We got 'im! Lenny, you sonuva-- we got him!" he heard, before all went dark. The last thing he was aware of was his heartbeat slowing down despite his almost mindless fear.





***







The next morning... 6.33 AM PST.





"Whoo!" they cried, watching the tape of the great Gray Yosemite Thief as he was hit by the tranq dart right in the shoulder. Jack shook his head in amazement as Manuel poured another cup of coffee for the two of them. "That shot almost missed 'im!"




Manuel nodded, taking a gulp of the hot beverage as he said, "I thought he'd be bigger though."




Jack shrugged, not willing to release his excitement for anything. The greatest chase of the decade had just ended, and he'd been asleep! He blinked. "What time is it?"




Manuel checked his watch. "Time for you to get a watch cabron. 6:30. Why?"




"The tranq dart was supposed to wear off about five minutes ago. Let's go see if he's up."




They both got up from their seats, and watched as a few more Rangers entered the offices. Giving small nods, and hellos, they entered the kennel in the back of the station, and continued on down the mostly empty cages, before they stopped at the one with the Yosemite Thief inside.




Jack coughed out his mouthful of coffee. Inside the cage wasn't a muzzled wolf, but a teenage boy, holding the muzzle in one hand. He was thankfully wearing ratty, frayed shorts that once were jeans, they could tell, by the way the denim hugged his thighs. The boy looked up at them with sharp, alert eyes, but didn't say a word.




Manuel calmly swallowed his mouthful of coffee and said, "Y'think we should call this in?"




Jack stared at him in disbelief. "Yer a friggin' retard," was all he said in reply.

Julian Davitt
Jan 17th, 2009, 12:14:55 AM
One hour later Julian found himself sitting in a chair with an oversized shirt hanging off of his shoulders, and the same ratty denim 'shorts'. On the table in front of him were the remnant of a McDonald's breakfast, two sausage and egg McMuffins, and three hash browns, and two orange juice boxes. He'd originally wanted water, but one of the rangers kept talking about 'vitamins', so he drank the thick yellow juice with minor discomfort.

"Some people thought he was a mutant," one said. "But didn't they say it was proven that the mannerisms all fit a wolf and not a human who turned into a wolf?"

"Maybe he's a wolf-mutant," said another. Everyone stared at the speaker for a moment, even Julian, who had been looking at everything with a detached curiosity. Even human, his eyes were a bit more animalistic than most were comfortable with. "No, I mean, what if he's a wolf, who can change into a human kid? Like that show my kid brothers were watching for a while... somethin' to do storms or rain... whatever."

"I was born like you." his voice wasn't much, considering. Slightly cracked and gravelly from disuse, like he'd been sleeping for a long time and had just awakened. "I change into a wolf."

Most of the Rangers were starting to understand that he was actually a mutant; even so, the good-will of these men who enjoyed catching a legend, even if the legend was actually a person, didn't totally evaporate from them.

"Well, what's your name, kid?" another Ranger asked, looking slightly pitying; he'd heard stories about mutant kids being dropped by their parents for their abilities. "'Less you want us to call you just 'Gray'."

At one point in time, he'd actually forgotten his name. But after some adventures with a wandering soul named Dominic, he'd remembered.

"My name is Julian. I don't remember my last name," he said. "Why do you call me 'Gray'?"

"Well, 'cause that's what you are--er, turn into. A gray wolf. Or a Timber Wolf, but that's not really used as often."

Julian nodded, and looked to the doorway as another man walked in. "Just got off the phone. They're sendin' some police and another guy who deals with mutants to look at the kid. They'll take some prints and some blood-samples, and see where this kid's family is."

Julian blinked at the idea of seeing his father, his family, again. He supposed he might have been more animal than human when the thought only brought on a slight nostalgic sense of curiosity, as to how they had changed in the years since he'd left. He didn't belong there, or anywhere for that matter.

Aidan Fox
Jan 17th, 2009, 11:50:43 PM
Aidan played a little fast and loose with the speed limits on his way to the ranger station on the east side of Mount Wilson, with an emphasis on the fast. It wasn't that he didn't trust the LAPD, it was just that - depending on who they sent - he wanted to be sure he got there first.

The old Toyota pick-up was laboring as it ground up the steep driveway, and he downshifted to help it up over the crest into the gravel parking lot. He swung the truck into a vacant spot next to one of the big park service SUVs.

The pick-up tinked frenetically as the engine cooled. Aidan took a long drag on his half-burned cigarette and made his way up to the front entrance of the ranger station.

"Can I help you, sir?"

The young man at the desk in the front office looked at him doubtfully. Aidan looked like any punk off the Compton streets. Anyone who wore a leather jacket that beaten on a seventy-degree day was trying to prove something to someone.

"I hear you guys picked up a sasquatch this morning," Aidan said, and he started shuffling through loose papers on the near edge of the desk.

The ranger reached for the dispatch from Yosemite too late. Aidan skimmed the top few lines - gray wolf, attracted to campsites, troublesome familiarity with humans. Then he turned the page back over to the ranger.

"A mutant, right? You do still have him?"

"We're waiting for the police, sir," the ranger replied testily. "They said they're sending a mutant expert. And there is a no-smoking policy here."

Aidan looked at him, then down to the cigarette stub in his hand. "Right. My mistake."

A blue flame blossomed from his hand and consumed the cigarette whole. There wasn't even ash left over.

"I'm your mutant contact," Aidan said. "I'm with Redenci<link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CAndrew%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmso html1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> <w:WrapTextWithPunct/> <w:UseAsianBreakRules/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:BrowserLevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" LatentStyleCount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]-->ón House down in Los Santos. I want to see him."

The young ranger hovered on the point of a decision as Aidan blew out the blue fire. Then he swallowed and said, "Right this way, sir."

Aidan followed him to one of the bedrooms in the back of the station. Jack and Manuel were already there with the boy, and Jack gave the newcomer a suspicous once-over. "Rick, who's this?"

"Uh, he's--"

"Aidan Fox," Aidan interrupted, "Redenci<link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CAndrew%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmso html1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> <w:WrapTextWithPunct/> <w:UseAsianBreakRules/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:BrowserLevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" LatentStyleCount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]-->ón House." He glanced over at his guide with a flicker of amusement. "Ranger Rick?"

"He's the expert," Rick said hastily.

"I'm no expert," Aidan rebutted, locking eyes with Julian. "Just a friend."

He approached the boy cautiously, not wanting to startle him.

Julian Davitt
Jan 18th, 2009, 01:20:21 AM
The remnants of the breakfast had been thrown away. Manuel leaned back from where he reclined against a desk.

"Ah," he said, recognising the name. "I was hoping they'd send Anna out. We need a bit of scene brightening here in my opinion."

He grinned, and though the grin was lecherous, it wasn't nasty or bad. It was the sort of smile men share about women when women aren't around; just harmless admiration and desire.

Julian didn't grin like the other rangers. He watched Aiden with a studied air of nonchalant wariness. He liked that Aiden approached him with caution, whether not to scare him, or out of a fear of him, it spoke of a respect that the rangers didn't have. He leaned forward, and rested his jaw on his hands, allowing the other mutant to come closer without fear of combat or scaring Julian away.

"My name is Julian," he introduced himself, remembering Dominic's scolding on people not knowing wolf manners all that well. He gave a sidelong glance at the rangers, and looked back at Aiden. "The rangers call me Gray."

Aidan Fox
Jan 18th, 2009, 12:39:37 PM
Aidan pulled an unattended chair away from the desk and sat down across from Julian. "And what do you want to be called?" he asked.

Julian Davitt
Jan 19th, 2009, 08:16:06 AM
"And what do you want to be called?"

Julian shrugged and replied, "It doesn't matter."

There was sounds of a car pulling up outside. Julian's head cocked to the side a bit, but he soon lost interest, since he couldn't hear or smell as well as in his other form. One of the rangers looked out the window.

"Cops're here," he announced, glancing over to Julian and Aidan.

His stomach growled. He ignored it with the ease of long practice. He'd eat later.

Aidan Fox
Jan 20th, 2009, 10:45:31 PM
Aidan nodded. He knew the cops would have a long list of questions, so he decided to ask one that wasn't on it.

"So, how are you feeling, Julian? Are you up for a little Q and A?"

Julian Davitt
Jan 20th, 2009, 11:33:34 PM
"So, how are you feeling, Julian? Are you up for a little Q and A?"

Julian looked blankly at Aidan, and glanced at the rangers Manuel and Jack in question. There was silence for a moment, but Manuel soon divined the cause of Julian's seeming confusion.

"Ah. Question and answer," he said, taking a gulp of his last mug of coffee for the day. He already wished there was more. "Q and A. They'll ask you questions, and you answer them."

Julian grunted his comprehension of the phrase. "I guess so," he answered slowly, as if unsure. "The questions..." he trailed off, but picked up the trailing end of his words, "Some question I don't know if I can answer."

"Well, you might want to figure that out soon, son," a voice said from behind Aidan. An LAPD officer was standing behind the mutant, looking at them both with an indifferent look. There were quite a few people who distrusted or outright disliked mutants, especially on the force, but Officer Harding was among the silent majority: those who neither trusted nor distrusted the mutants; whose judgement was still out on the issue. Mutants, despite their seemingly growing numbers, were still a small part of the population, and out of the experience of most people. "Because there's only eight hours in a day, and I don't want to spend it here playing twenty questions, alright?"

Aidan Fox
Jan 21st, 2009, 01:39:54 PM
"That's fine, I'm sure Julian's had a longer day than you have," Aidan cut in.

Officer Harding stopped in his tracks and gave Aidan a doubtful look. "Who're you?"

"Aidan Fox. Your department called and wanted a representative from Redenci<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> <w:WrapTextWithPunct/> <w:UseAsianBreakRules/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:BrowserLevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" LatentStyleCount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]-->ón House to meet you here."

Harding was skeptical - obviously he didn't like what he considered to be unnecessary civilian interference. "Why? Are you a friend? Relative?"

"I'm just here to make things easier all around," Aidan replied. "Look, this isn't your typical truancy case. I'm sure Julian wants to know what's going on every bit as much as you do."

Harding caught on quickly, even if he didn't like it - Aidan had been called in as a consultant, but he was the boy's advocate, not the city's. Resigned, the officer pulled up another chair and opened up his notepad.

"What's your name, son?"

Aidan sat back and resisted the urge to say something about bureaucratic redundancy.

Julian Davitt
Jan 21st, 2009, 03:02:34 PM
Harding pulled out a tape recorder, and made sure the stupid thing was on while Aidan Fox quite rightly supposed that the boy's day had been longer than his (though it was still annoying that the kid thought he had the officer pegged); it was old, and he'd never gotten around to getting a new one through the department. He'd be waiting weeks or months for the replacement.

"What's your name, son?" he asked, ignoring Aidan for the moment, setting the recorder down on the table and setting up the paper-work necessary.

Julian looked up at Harding with a slightly wary look, but answered quickly anyway. "Julian." The pen in Harding's hand quickly went to writing the name out. "Spell it, please." Julian did so, though he looked like he had a bit of trouble with the 'i'.

"Surname?" Another blank look. "Last name?"

The boy shrugged. "I don't remember it."

Officer Harding nodded, making sure to keep his face neutral. The kid may have been lying, but it didn't matter all that much anyway. They'd find out who he was regardless.

"Age?"

"...I don't; I..." he paused, obviously thinking hard, but unable to grasp the answer. Harding nodded again, but put his pen down and looked the teenager in the eye.

"Julian," he started. "Did you run away from home?"

Julian blinked, but nodded. Harding picked up his pen again, and skipped a few lines to write in 'runaway'. "When I ask questions, I need you to say the answers, okay? The recorder can't really tell anyone that you nod or shake your head."

Julian nodded. "Okay."

"How old were you when you ran away?"

Julian answered quite quickly this time. "I was eight years old."

Bernard Harding started to write the age at the time of running, but paused, his fingers slightly squeezing the pen. L.A. was a large place, and had seen its fair shares of runaways. But still, eight years old...

"Do you know your date of birth - the month and year you were born?"

Julian paused, but shook his head. Such trivial knowledge had been lost or buried some time ago. It didn't matter anymore. The police-officer pointed at the recorder with his pinky finger, and Julian said, "No."

"...What caused you to run away?"

Julian paused, feeling his heart squeeze a bit and wincing. No matter how long, it still hurt a bit. It probably always would. "I didn't belong there anymore," he said.

Harding nodded, inwardly cursing the world that could harden a man's heart to such a thing through seeing it again and again, and immediately asked his next question: "Was it your... mutation that caused you to feel like this?"

Julian shook his head. "No," he replied. "I didn't know I was a mutant until later."

"How much later, Julian?" he asked, leaning back in his seat.

"A few weeks."

"What caused you to feel like you didn't belong?"

Julian shrugged. "I just realized it one day. I was just hurting people by being there, so I left."

"Who? Your father?" Harding asked. They were getting into dangerous, but necessary ground here. Julian blinked and nodded.

"Yeah. And others."

"Did your father hit you or abuse you in any way?" He asked. Julian shook his head after a small moment, a look of indifference on his face.

"No," he said. Harding waited a moment, and continued on as Julian wasn't going to add anything. 'Denies physical abuse' was scribbled onto the paper.

"Julian, I'd like to see your mutation please," he said. "I've heard what it is, but I need to see it and write down somethings about it. We've got to figure out if...well, if you're dangerous to other people. Okay?"

Julian looked a bit uncomfortable at that, which was slightly interesting to the Officer. From all that he'd heard, the boy/wolf hadn't hurt anyone during his crime spree.

He looked over to Aidan. Before now, despite the mutation question, it was just like any other runaway being questioned. Now, though, he needed to venture into unfamiliar territory, to him at least. As annoying as the arrogant little snot was, Aidan was more qualified to deal with this than he was; and Officer Harding wasn't tired or annoyed enough to try to put the kid in his place.

"I don't know how to deal with mutation questions like this. If you'd help me out here, I'd be very thankful, Mr. Fox," he said.

Aidan Fox
Jan 21st, 2009, 04:44:12 PM
Aidan observed the proceedings with a guarded expression, but by the end of the questions, his respect for Officer Harding had climbed a notch or two. He was professional, but also sensitive to Julian's state of mind.

And even though he said he lacked experience with mutants, Harding had already hit on one important point. Age eight was well outside the norm for manifestation. Most mutations showed up sometime during puberty, which meant mutants Julian's age were usually still coping with the changes. Julian had spent (if Aidan guessed correctly) almost half his life as a mutant, and most of that time away from human company. If anything, he might need help recovering his humanity.

Aidan leaned forward, elbows on his knees, an informal, nonthreatening posture. "How comfortable are you with your abilities?" he asked. "You think you can control them, for the most part?"

Many non-mutants forgot to add that qualification. After all, who controlled everything their body did all the time?

Julian Davitt
Jan 21st, 2009, 06:32:55 PM
Julian felt a bit more nervous now, than when the questions about his past came up. His mutation, while something he was used to, still held aspects he'd rather not have had.

"How comfortable are you with your abilities?" Aidan asked. "You think you can control them, for the most part?"

"D'ya think ya can control it, Jules?"

Julian nodded and shrugged at the same time. Again, Officer Harding pointed at the recorder. "I... Most of the time. I don't change really when I want to, it just happens," he answered, "When I need to, or when I get really scared, I change."

Despite his answer, he was obviously holding back something. To Harding, the boy was being very vague about the subject; it was making him suspicious, but he held the feeling in check. Like he'd remembered before, the boy hadn't hurt anyone during his stint as the 'Gray Thief'. Something else must have happened then, the police officer thought to himself. He stayed quiet, watching and writing down pertinent information as Fox and Julian spoke.

Aidan Fox
Jan 21st, 2009, 06:59:52 PM
Mutations often manifested themselves as stress responses, though it was troubling if Julian hadn't asserted his control in eight years with his abilities. But Aidan's face didn't betray anything one way or the other.

"How about when you've changed?" he asked. "Do you feel you can control yourself then? Are you still aware of everything you're doing?"

Julian Davitt
Jan 21st, 2009, 07:12:14 PM
Julian, if anything, looked even more nervous.

Pops ringing out across the hills; they ran, but a yelp reached his ears, and he looked back to see...

"Most of the time," he answered again. He didn't know what 'aware' meant, but it wasn't hard to infer the meaning from the rest of Aidan's question. "When I want to run, I change, and start running. Until I want to stop."

He glanced at the police officer and then at Aidan, before looking down again. It would have been a challenge to their authority if he stared them in the eye, and he didn't want to fight right now. He never wanted to be an alpha in the first place.

"I mean, I still know everything that's going on, but..." Julian trailed off again. "I can change when I want to, but when I get scared, or..." this time, the hanging statement was punctuated with a shrug.

Aidan Fox
Jan 24th, 2009, 08:44:16 PM
Julian looked skittish under all the scrutiny. Maybe he was naturally shy, or maybe he just had a bit of the wolf left in him even now. Contrary to the mythos, wolves weren't ravenous monsters or noble avatars of nature; really, they were just survival machines with simple needs and powerful instincts. Aidan wondered if Julian was wrestling with those instincts right now, primal impulses and fears that didn't work in human society but that he couldn't quite ignore.

Aidan's eyebrows crimped together in concern. "Julian," he said, "how long has been since you were human last? How much of the last year have you spent as a wolf?"

Julian Davitt
Jan 24th, 2009, 09:13:07 PM
Julian's brow furrowed as he tried to think about how long he'd had two legs in the past year. There was a problem though; after a long enough period in which you don't care or follow a schedule organized through numbers and dials and screens, days and nights blurred into a kaleidoscope of stars and clouds. The only thing that changed in his memories was himself and the scenery.

He considered other people part of the scenery.

His mind tried to make sense of the myriad remembered actions and sensations - a lake; the water was cold - and put them into a recognisable series and chronological order. But why did it matter? The routine actions blurred through the years, making one remember not only eating the moose that his pack-family had brought down three months after he first found them, but also the rabbit he had caught not so long ago. Each memory segued into another randomly, according to details and his own inclinations.

"I don't know exactly," he finally replied, a few long seconds later. "It's all very blurry. I spent more time as a wolf, though."

He sighed and picked at the shirt he wore; it felt odd to wear one after years of wearing outsized and ratty clothing. "I get places faster as a wolf. When I get hungry, I can ignore it better then too."

Officer Harding shifted in his seat as he watched. "You're not hiding something important, are you Julian?" the police officer asked, looking intently at him. "We need to know everything, so we can make sure you don't hurt anyone."

Julian shifted. Finally he said, "I can... change into something else."

Aidan Fox
Jan 24th, 2009, 09:39:20 PM
Aidan glanced over toward Officer Harding and caught his eye. Then he looked back to Julian.

"What else can you change into?"

Rossos Atrapes
Jan 24th, 2009, 09:46:20 PM
"Moderatah; I have never asked much of you before. I have no time for it. No one, not even you will remember if this was a funny post or not. Or why I had forgotten to change accounts before replying. No, what matters is that I made the mistake; that's what is important. So grant me this request: delete this post. And if you do not listen... then to hell with you!"

Julian Davitt
Jan 24th, 2009, 09:55:11 PM
Julian shrugged eloquently.

"I donno what it's called. It's like a wolf, but I can stand on two legs. I only change into that when I'm really angry. Or when I'm really scared, and don't have a way out." The boy sighed. "I've only changed into it a few times. But... it's dangerous."

Aidan Fox
Jan 24th, 2009, 10:17:30 PM
Aidan watched Julian over steepled fingers. He waited as Harding finished scratching down a few thoughts on his notepad, then looked his direction, obviously waiting for him to question Julian further about this mysterious third form.

But Aidan had other ideas. "Julian," he said, "I don't want you to be afraid. I want to show you something. Just watch my hand."

Aidan held out his hand as if offering something, and a small, blue flame erupted from his palm. He turned his hand over and the let the flames ripple around his fingers; he played with them, making them roll and dance.

Julian Davitt
Jan 24th, 2009, 10:51:38 PM
espite Aidan's reassurance, Julian flinched back at the sight of the flames wreathing the young man's hand.

Officer Harding watched the flames dance as well, understanding the other officers' position that mutants were dangerous. But he had a pistol at his hip; he was potentially dangerous as well.

"...Fire?" Julian said, staring at the mesmerizing tongues that writhed on Aidan's hand. "...How?"

Aidan Fox
Jan 24th, 2009, 11:01:39 PM
"This is my gift," Aidan replied. "Just like changing is your gift." Not mutation, not power - the wording was everything.

"You say you're dangerous when you change into this third form. Fire can be dangerous, too. But over time, with practice, I've learned to control it."

He blew at the flame in his hand to give it a little more oxygen. And as he did, he manipulated it with his fingers, and something seemed to rise out of the flame - a pair of wings and a bird's head reaching toward the ceiling like a mythical phoenix. It flashed into being for an instant, and then Aidan closed his hand, and the flames were gone.

Julian Davitt
Jan 24th, 2009, 11:40:49 PM
Julian was a bit iffy on calling what he was a gift. A gift mattered. He didn't.

"You say you're dangerous when you change into this third form. Fire can be dangerous, too. But over time, with practice, I've learned to control it."

He still watched the phoenix come into being and then disappear with no small amount of awe. "Ah," he said quietly. He raised his eyes to Aidan's face and then back down quickly. It took him a few moments.

"Julian," Harding said. "You mentioned that the third form was dangerous. Have you hurt anyone while in that form?"

Aidan was giving him a small irritated look, but Harding had received worse looks in his time. This needed to be asked. If the teenager could control whatever it was that he could do, that was fine, but the topic could wait until after he'd asked the necessary questions. Julian nodded shortly. "Yes," he finally responded.

"What can you tell me about that time? Do you know the person's name?"

"No."

"How about where it happened?"

Julian paused. "I don't know where exactly. It was in... Montana."

"When?"

"... It was a year or something like that," he murmured. "I remember. I'd left when the leaves were falling. The leaves were falling again when it happened."

"What happened?"

Julian leaned back in his seat. "I was with a family then. A wolf family. There were men. They had guns. We'd usually run when men came by, but we'd just gotten something to eat. They started shooting, and mother was behind me. She started crying, and then she stopped. I got mad. Men weren't scared of us. They had guns. So I wanted them to be scared like we were. I changed."

Julian paused. "I hurt one of them. I remember that they were screaming a lot. They shot me. It hurt, but I kept going. I just wanted to scare them away. I ran after that. I don't think he died. I just scratched him."

He looked at his hand. It was dirty, and the nails were long, and he idly listened to the scratching of Harding's pen on the paper of his notebook.

Aidan Fox
Jan 25th, 2009, 03:05:01 PM
Aidan glanced over at Harding, but there was nothing on his face to betray how he'd reacted to the story. Legally, it should be pretty cut-and-dry - Julian acted in self-defense just as any reasonable person would in his position, and on the other side, if you were hunting big game, you took your chances. To say nothing of the fact the gray wolf was still a protected species in the States.

Harding would probably turn it over to the park service to run a check for anomalous animal attacks last fall in Montana, but as far as Aidan was concerned, Julian had shown a great deal of restraint. If anything, the trauma had been far worse for him than for the hunters.

"You say you were shot?" Aidan said. "Did you get medical attention afterward?"

If not, that made Julian's gift all the more impressive...

Julian Davitt
Jan 26th, 2009, 11:57:07 PM
Jack the Ranger had already gone to a computer to look up attacks in Montana over the past couple years, Manuel was studiously making it look like he wasn't listening at all.

Julian shook his head, and pulled his shirt up. There were a number of small circular scars on his chest, running down from his left shoulder to his stomach; a cursory estimate from Harding was four or five. "No," was his answer and let the over-large shirt fall back down. "I didn't go to the hospital or nothin', if that's what you mean."

Aidan Fox
Jan 27th, 2009, 12:36:00 AM
Aidan took note of the scars - they looked worse than he'd originally expected. The changing process might have distorted the scar tissue, but even so, a pattern like that should've killed him, wolf or boy.

Mentally, he'd been ticking off some notes: solid-state shapeshifter, three known forms; high probability of altered awareness, but personal identity and agency stayed intact; spectacular resilience and possibly healing factor in one of those three forms. Was he dangerous? No more than any of the current residents at Redención - even Jamie could make you walk into traffic if she really wanted to.

Aidan sat up and crossed one ankle over his other knee, a clear gesture of transition. "Well, Officer Harding," he said, "if it's my expert opinion you need, I don't think Julian needs to be locked up for his own protection or anyone else's. As for any charges - I don't want to tell you how to do your job, but..." He threw another look Julian's way. "It was a wolf who raided those campsites."

Julian Davitt
Jan 27th, 2009, 08:29:41 PM
Harding didn't answer for a moment, but simply looked at his notepad, and reached for the recorder. He pressed the the stop button, and the device stopped recording with a loud click.

"Thank you," he said finally. "However, it isn't up to me or you to ascertain whether or not Julian is... well, safe."

He glanced at the boy in question, who was listening, but not saying anything.

"Having said that, he needs to be kept safe himself. I don't think holding him in a cell will do that. We still have to work through these charges of burglary and vandalism," he paused, and shuffled through a number of papers before finally stopping at one. "What I think should be done is house arrest for the moment. From what I've been told about Redención House, it seems like the ideal place for him to go for the moment. There are a number of others there who are able to hold him back should something bad happen; but it's a better environment for him to gain control of his... abilities."

Julian perked up, understanding that they were sending him somewhere, but he didn't say a word.

Aidan Fox
Jan 30th, 2009, 02:27:13 PM
Aidan answered that with a terse smile. If he really thought Julian was dangerous, he wouldn't be taking him to Redención, even though he knew either he or Anna could put a stop to anything that got out of hand. But he wasn't going to protest if Officer Harding was going to do the very thing Aidan wanted him to do.

"We'll be glad to have him," Aidan replied. "I can sign any custody transfer papers you've got, and I can take him home right now."

Julian Davitt
Feb 4th, 2009, 02:03:42 PM
Harding stretched out his hands, prompting a number of small cracks as his joints loosened up.

"That's good," he said, pulling out two or three sheets of paper and marking the small lines where the young man could sign. Garret must be asleep in the car by now, he thought to himself. "You're free to take him as soon as you see fit, but I'll be giving you a call within the next couple of days to get all the paperwork finalized. And remember that the custody papers are temporary until we can find his parents."

He shrugged. "That's about all I can think about now. Just keep an ear to the phone, and this won't take us but an hour or so."