It is currently 08:17 Pacific Time on Sun Jun 16 2002.

Currently the moon is in the waxing Crescent Moon phase (39% full).

Industrial Sector, Southwest Side

Several blocks encompassing the southern ends of 13th, 14th and 15th Streets
extend in an area poor and abandoned, with but a few businesses struggling
to survive. Along the northern edge of the district is a junk yard filled
with old washers, dryers, tires, and the myriad other elements of
human-created unrecycled waste. Smoke pours from a few factories, and the
more productive factories to the east combine with it to lay a thin film of
dark ash across much of the streets. Other factories, and warehouses between
them, lie abandoned or are home to the poor; at night, from some of those
with windows, the orange glow of oil drums used for heating and light shine
dully through the grime. Small shops serve the few factory workers who
remain in the area beyond the end of the working day, or during the lunch
hours grudgingly allowed. In the northeastern corner there is slightly more
activity in bars offering drinking and even some gambling in dark corners.
Along this stretch of street, the alleyways have stairways to second-floor
rooms, with the occasional alley entrance occupied evening and night by
painted women making blatant offers to the male passersby. Southwards, on
the southern side of Grym Broders Avenue, the train station falls into
disrepair similar to the rest of the area.

Sunday morning in St. Claire. Salem's out jogging, nevermind the rain
pattering down lightly on the grimy streets of the southwest, dressed in
dark sweats and with his hair tied back.

The Junkyard isn't considered all that safe anymore, but that doesn't stop
Renee from retaining her normal haunts nearbye. Hands stuffed into her
pockets, as she wanders through the streets and alleyways. Keeping a eye on
things. Most leave her alone, the young woman having developed a reputation
with the locals for being a little unstable and biting people. The Gnawer is
emerging from an alleyway, just as Salem jogs past.

Salem spots the young Bone Gnawer as she leaves the alley and slows his pace
to give her a nod. "Morning, Renee." He's been running for a while, that
much is obvious; there's a sheen on sweat on his skin, and he's a bit out of
breath. Otherwise, it's the usual cool, detached courtesy.

"Whatcha doin' all the way out here?" Renee asks. "Jus' runnin'?"

Salem doesn't quite stop dead; he continues to jog in place while answering
her. "Yes, why?"

Renee shrugs. "Jus' curious. This is my piece of the city, so I keep an eye
on things."

Salem arches a brow. "Really."

Renee grunts, a frown forming as she looks up at Salem. "What, ya gotta
problem with that? This is my home, so I watch it. Simple as that."

Salem continues to jog in place, unruffled by Renee's ire. "Where were you
the night that _they_ were supposed to attack the junkyard, then?"

Renee crosses her arms. "I should fucking hope so," Renee rumbles. "I was
there. I've been living in that junkyard of over six months now. Kinda
pissed that it ain't real safe anymore, but I ain't gonna let people mess
with it without goin' through me first."

Salem stops abruptly and gives the young Gnawer a hard look. "Clean your
ears," he says, deadpan. "It will assist your hearing. I _asked_ where you
_were_ that night. Because I _was_ there, and I didn't see you."

Renee rolls her eyes. "I told ya. I was there. Guess ya weren't listenin'
close enough. I was there, even if ya didn't see me."

"Hiding, of course." The Walker's tone is dismissive. He feels at the side
of his throat, checking his pulse with an eye on his watch.

Renee snorts. "No shit. Most of us were hiding. They can't stop ya from
killin' them, if they can't see ya comin'. Glory only gets ya so far in a
fight."

Salem continues to check his heartrate. "Mm-hm." He glances down at her.
"Anything else to add?"

Renee bristles and her fur would be standing on end, if she was in a fuzzier
form. "What I say isn't worth a crap ta ya, so I'm gonna stop waitin' my
breath." Turning, the Gnawer begins to drift back into the alley.

Salem's expression doesn't even change, and neither does he bother to deny
her accusation or even say another word. As Renee turns away, he resumes his
run.