Post by rhys on Nov 25, 2012 2:50:07 GMT -5
((No worries, I'll reply, give Lucas something to reply to. Sorting out everybody I think caused a delay, but it's no issue))
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It interested Rhys that the police didn’t know. He had suspected as much, but he didn’t understand how the government could function with a police force kept ignorant of the truth. What happened when the forensics team found evidence which seemed blatantly supernatural?
“Americans,” Rhys muttered, shaking his head. He realised he had said it out loud, but he didn’t care. He looked up and chuckled at Lucas’ comment. “You and me both,” he said. “Still sussing this city out. No different to back home. Human gangs used to go after non-humans a lot. Hit and runs, shootings, people being pushed off cliffs. Rumours about people being captured and held prisoner, tortured for weeks. And vice versa…crime on both sides, really.”
His phone rang suddenly. A devil appeared on his screen, and he groaned, but he picked up.
”Winters!” His editor snapped. ”I see you on the television! What is going on?!”
“Excuse me,” Rhys said to Lucas with a grimace. He stepped aside and held the phone away from his ear slightly. It hurt his sensitive hearing when people shouted. He said, “In a bit of trouble here. I will call you back.”
”No you won’t just ‘call me back’! What kind of trouble? I’m watching the news, and you’re sure as fuck not there just to report on the crime! What’s this bullshit about werewolves?”
Rhys looked over his shoulder. He closed his eyes and sighed. “Fuck,” he said under his breath. There were already reporters outside, and he was on camera. The cuffed man was outside shouting to the media about werewolves, and Rhys cringed.
“They’re werewolves, awooooooo!” the man shouted. “Probably all of them! Lucas Hershberger is a fuckin’ werewolf man! And the British guy, he’s gotta be one too. And the guys Hershberger employs? Grow tails at full moon, kill people, the world’s gotta know! Broke my hand, barely moved, broke my hand!”
“In the car, buddy,” the police officer said. Rhys watched through the doorway as the cop pushed him into the car, but he was beginning to feel very, very uncomfortable.
“We’re going to have a nice chat when you get your ass back here, wolf-boy.”
“Indeed. I’ve got to go, have to give a statement at the station. Werewolves. What rubbish.” Rhys hung up on her before she could reply and turned to face Lucas. “Anyway, yeah, mate, if you can give me a ride, that’d be fantastic. Hopefully the TV reporters’ll piss off. I don’t want to be hounded down the street. Now I know how people feel when I hound them for quotes.” Rhys’s smile held the barest trace of humour.
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It interested Rhys that the police didn’t know. He had suspected as much, but he didn’t understand how the government could function with a police force kept ignorant of the truth. What happened when the forensics team found evidence which seemed blatantly supernatural?
“Americans,” Rhys muttered, shaking his head. He realised he had said it out loud, but he didn’t care. He looked up and chuckled at Lucas’ comment. “You and me both,” he said. “Still sussing this city out. No different to back home. Human gangs used to go after non-humans a lot. Hit and runs, shootings, people being pushed off cliffs. Rumours about people being captured and held prisoner, tortured for weeks. And vice versa…crime on both sides, really.”
His phone rang suddenly. A devil appeared on his screen, and he groaned, but he picked up.
”Winters!” His editor snapped. ”I see you on the television! What is going on?!”
“Excuse me,” Rhys said to Lucas with a grimace. He stepped aside and held the phone away from his ear slightly. It hurt his sensitive hearing when people shouted. He said, “In a bit of trouble here. I will call you back.”
”No you won’t just ‘call me back’! What kind of trouble? I’m watching the news, and you’re sure as fuck not there just to report on the crime! What’s this bullshit about werewolves?”
Rhys looked over his shoulder. He closed his eyes and sighed. “Fuck,” he said under his breath. There were already reporters outside, and he was on camera. The cuffed man was outside shouting to the media about werewolves, and Rhys cringed.
“They’re werewolves, awooooooo!” the man shouted. “Probably all of them! Lucas Hershberger is a fuckin’ werewolf man! And the British guy, he’s gotta be one too. And the guys Hershberger employs? Grow tails at full moon, kill people, the world’s gotta know! Broke my hand, barely moved, broke my hand!”
“In the car, buddy,” the police officer said. Rhys watched through the doorway as the cop pushed him into the car, but he was beginning to feel very, very uncomfortable.
“We’re going to have a nice chat when you get your ass back here, wolf-boy.”
“Indeed. I’ve got to go, have to give a statement at the station. Werewolves. What rubbish.” Rhys hung up on her before she could reply and turned to face Lucas. “Anyway, yeah, mate, if you can give me a ride, that’d be fantastic. Hopefully the TV reporters’ll piss off. I don’t want to be hounded down the street. Now I know how people feel when I hound them for quotes.” Rhys’s smile held the barest trace of humour.
