[For great kidnapping]

[rebelw_outclaws]

It's sunny and clear today, if on the cool side.

At the edge of the Pack's territory, Russ is working on his bike. It had been making a couple odd noises when he pulled in from patrol, and it's a quiet day in any case, so he figures there's no harm in tuning up the engine while he's out here.

His jacket lies on the sidewalk nearby.

Comments

[sanctuscide]

At the edge of Pack territory and just within his rifle sight. He had been tracking down the wolves like the animals that they were and only after a couple of days had he learned whom their Alpha was. Russ Harris. He had the names. Now, he has the face.

Alone.

Hunting animals is no harder than it was before it all when to shit. All you need to be is patient.

[rebelw_outclaws]

. . . Something smells.

His head comes up, nostrils flaring.

[sanctuscide]

Loading the rifle. It's a tranquilizer.

Unfortunately.

[rebelw_outclaws]

Russ stands, one hand on his bike.

"So," he calls, still scenting for the location of whoever's he's smelling, "you got business?"

[sanctuscide]

Not entirely out of sight, within earshot. He can be seen over the top of a burntout four-door Chevrolet. Narrowing the sight at the back of his neck.

Click,click--pulling the trigger

"Just a little matter of business."

[rebelw_outclaws]

He whirls at the voice, the click.

The gun gleams on top of the car.

"Shi--"

[sanctuscide]

A soft sound. Almost a pop.

Theodore nearly looks disappointed.

[rebelw_outclaws]

The tranq works fast. A moment after Russ claps a hand to the dart, he collapses next to his bike, almost as soundless as the gun.

[sanctuscide]

He shoulders the rifle and emerges from behind the car and crosses to the fallen animal. Working against his revulsion he hooks his hands under Russ' arms and just drags him as far as he can to where he parked his own bike.

It's dead weight and it's tedious.

He shoves Russ over the back of the motorcycle.

[localhandywolf]

The sound of bodies falling is distinctive, as is the sound of moving bodies. And he would know Russ's scent anywhere.

Armand runs around the corner, but the light is in his eyes and it's an automatic gesture to fling up his hand -

Being shot turns the sky white. White and streaked with the colour of pain.

[sanctuscide]

"Gottcha. Like I said," Theo drawls and shoulders the rifle.

ping, drops the spent shell.

He kicks up the stand and turns the key into the ignition, starting the 'cycle up. And with his quarry in tow he drives away.

The bike will be found, discarded.