Fallen · Tower · Los · Angeles

Lobo Chicano

            I sit here, sharing a drink with my partner at Star Bar of Hollywood (it's a shithole that serves cheap tequila).  Actually, we're sharing a bottle….  Well, actually, Anthony's having a drink and I seem to be having the rest.  Aside from this detail, it should be like old times.  You know, like last week, when I needed to vent because, just when I thought things might get serious with Officer Hom, he pinched my nose, laughed in my face and joked about how we needed to stay "professional."  Or the week before that, when Anthony needed to vent about a fight he had with Bernadette; something trivial about what to teach their kid when he grows up and has to deal with bullies.  I mean, isn't it obvious?  Teach him to fight properly, then soon enough, he won't have to deal with ANYONE…EVER!  God, I need another drink….

            Honestly, the liquor just isn't having the same effect that it used to.  Now I see why Erasmus drinks so much.  This could become a very expensive habit.  And to tell the truth, hanging out with Anthony right now isn't very much like old times after all.  Anthony's my partner, and I'm sure that will never change, but I'd rather be here with Erasmus, or even Jim…annoyed as I am with him at the present.  I mean, what can I really tell Anthony, anyway?  That I just dumped off a handful of runaway kids at Social Services, and part of me feels kind of relieved just to have them off my hands?  Or that I lost face in front of a packmate when I ran from some hell-demon, howling all the way?  Should I mention to Anthony that, whenever I look at "normal" people like him, part of me wonders just how quickly I could tear them apart? 

            Fact is, I did wrong by those kids and whatever's left of my miserable human side now feels like shit.  Lilah sure didn't help by giving them all kinds of ideas, just so that they could build their own hopes and dreams and watch me knock them all down with a dose of cold hard reality.  I'll have to deal with that bitch's wretched insubordination later.  As for the kids, there's nothing to do for it.  I mean, could they have really hoped for much more?  Is a private foster service really all that, when compared to a public service?  I guess there's not much more I could have done, and, in any case…they're fucking meat, for God's sake!  Lilah was right about one thing: I'm Uratha, and my loyalty must lie with my own.  Given their numbers, it's obvious that humans are thriving just fine without my help.  If a few fall though the cracks, is it really such a tragedy when the L.A. wolves--my own people--face extinction? 

            My natural father, by all accounts, tried to deny his heritage and live among the sheep, and I know where that got him: disgraced by both his human family and his pack.  I would just as soon shoot straight with myself and face the music.  But I never counted on this…this losing touch with humanity.  We Uratha are half human, after all, and I will never truly forget that.  Just as I'll never forget the look on Peter's face when I dropped him off.  He deserved better….

            I've got to get out of here.  I tell Anthony as much and head straight for the door, leaving my partner with the bill.  He owes me one anyway.  Next thing I know, I'm racing through the Hollywood streets on all fours, darting past startled pedestrians.  The stench of their fear erupts in sudden, fleeting bursts as they register a mad dog on the prowl.  Street lights pass in an undulating blur of light and dark in my peripheral vision.  I've given no conscious thought as to where I'm heading, though I notice the steady increase in the grade as I race uphill. 

            The lights suddenly end and all is dark, save for the glare of the waning gibbous moon.  I recognize my own private entrance to Griffith Park; a hole in the fence, and I pass through without a moment's hesitation.  Aha!  My subconscious is guiding me to my locus.  So be it.  I practically soar into the hills, get lost a couple times for shits and giggles, pick up the surreal scent of that rock which represents the center of my territory, and finally, I arrive, panting as if I had just been running for my life.

            Once I've walked a few circles around the rock to regain my breath, I climb to the top and HOWL….

 

I lament the loss of my humanity…my innocence…my benign ignorance.

I permit myself to inherit the legacy of Father Wolf…

…and embrace it, mind, body, and soul.

I commit myself foremost to the success and wellbeing of my People.

I shed this sheep's skin forever.

 

Father, where are youuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu….

***


Name: Guz (Goose) Hawkeye
Auspice: Rahu
Tribe: Blood Talons
Player: Glenn