Marshfield Naval Base...

Captain Joshua Herts curses soundly, barking orders into his radio sharply. "Call it off, damn it! Call it off! I've lost enough men already--that's enough for this fiasco!"

The sharp-nosed woman in a white lab-coat standing a pace behind him eyes him disapprovingly, even as she sets her pen in the clip on her clipboard. "You know this will result in a mark on your record, Captain," she reminds him sternly. "Orders were to recapture the subject..."

"Orders were to do so with him unharmed and minimal losses," the Captain snarls back. "He's dodging even the rubber bullets, flinging back our sonic genades to hurt my own men, evading traps--and for God's sake, he's more accurate flinging a blade than my men even shoot! I've four men down already and not likey to survive, either-any more, and we won't be able to get home ourselves!"

A hand gestures with his radio at the miles they had chased their target--miles where mutants and raiders still dwell, ready to prey on the weak and unarmed, enemies who had carefully stayed clear of the ruckus but were certain to emerge to investigate (and take advatage of) the aftermath. Too few men and resources, and their party would never survive the trip back.

The research woman opened her mouth to give a reply, when she suddenly grasps at her throat, stumbling back, blood gushing from her lips--at the shard of glass imbedded there.

The Captain ducks, barking more orders into his radio quickly, and scans about--to catch a gimpse of a figure clinging to the top of a pole on a building a short distance off, a furry figure flashing teeth (and large canines) at him in a kind of feral smile. Then, in a flash, the creature and the pole are gone...

Joshua curses again, softly, and bellows for a retreat, staying low as he collects the researcher and joins his men, and they head back towards the Marshfield Base.

Home.

No, the Doctor wasn't going to be pleased with his report. Or... maybe he would? There was no guessing the man's whims, and for all they were told this creature escaped by accident, that may not be true...

-------------------------

Hours later, a thin man with long dark hair and spectacles steeples his hands as he looks down at the Captain's report. Leaning back in his leather business chair, he smiles almost as ferally as his creation had...

"Interesting..." he murmurs, smiling slowly. "Unexpected... but interesting..."

Tuvon, or "2-1" according to his former handlers, slides down his pole and whips it into the backpack's straps, then scrambles down the crumbling building with the ease of a fish through water, sure hands and feet and tail gripping and releasing holds in a symphony of movement. Within seconds, he hits the ground with a firm thud, and bounds off in a crouch on his knuckles, to duck among the ruins and watch his pursuit finally leaving...

After a few minutes, he hears and sees the last two soldiers making double-time back, careful to stay hidden and still as they pass. Then they are gone. A few sniffs to make sure, then he emerges, smirking to himself.

That last, parting shot had been pleasant, and to the point.

Well, on to other things. The wide world awaits!

Not that Tuvon fools himself into thinking they're done trying to catch him. They'll try again. By then, he hopes to be so far away they decide he's too impractical to retreive.

---------------------------------

After a few hours of moving lightheartedly among the ruins, swinging atop this pile of rubble to that mound of debris, Tuvon jabs his pole into the top of one, scrambling up it with breathtaking agility to balance at the top for a minute (like a pole-vaulter frozen at the peak) and consider his surroundings.

More rubble, but perhaps larger buildings ahead? Interesting. Maybe places he could scrounge from? Ahead, to the north, it seems some buildings are more intact, and possibly their contents are, too. Most of the other mutants are ignoring him thus far as one of their own, and the raiders have stayed away--likely thinking him yet another crazy mutant. So for now, he is unhindered...

Ah. Is that a pet store?

Sliding down the pole again and swinging it back into his pack's straps, he leaps along the ground on all fours, intent on that location in particular.

When he reaches it, it is as he hoped--a pet store, almost covered with the rubble of other stores but intact within. Dessicated carcases of animals trapped in cages, green fish tanks full of algae, food bags torn open and cans smashed...

Tuvon glares at the leashes, sighs at the sight of the remains of the dead pets, curls his lips in disgust at the smell from the green tanks, and moves towards the cat section. There, he unslings the pole from his back and sets his pack down, and examines items specifically for cats, looking... ah. Shampoo, flea and tick care... Good. Dewormer, in case he has to eat anything raw. All useful, just like what the scientists used--in fact, hadn't they laughed that his medical needs were like those of a cat?

Cat... nip?

He rips a bag open at the top with his teeth, and sniffs it. Minty, yet not so different from oregano... not bad to his nose, but even a bit enticing. He would have to see what it did to him, if anything, once he finds a safe temporary haven. That one bag he re-seals with the press-seal, then tosses it into his pack--and a few others with it. Then he turns towards the food, bringing his pack and pole along in the grip of his feet as he hops closer...

Crouching by the canned cat food, his pole under his feet and his pack before him, Tuvon starts sorting cans. His education has been good regarding survival--he knows full well that damaged cans are contaminated, their seals broken.

Hmm... The first is labled Tuna... but damaged.

It is tossed unceremoniously over a shoulder to land where it will with a crash.

Beef... okay, good to keep. Turkey, also a good can. Salmon... also good. Turkey--damaged.

Another damaged can goes sailing...

A soft yelp comes from the corner of the room as the flying can strikes a living target. A tiny female, pale skin and large green eyes all but obscured behind long, dark curls matted and caked with dirt and blood, hides there from the intruder. She knows she should fight for the food he steals as her stomach growls audibly, but she senses this is not one she would easily defeat, and she is so very tired. She'll fight if she has to...never again will she be taken without a fight...but only if she has to. Instead, she remains in her corner, nursing the many wounds she'd garnered from her last encounter, and waiting for a clear shot at the door.

At the sound, Tuvon crouches, taking pole in hands again, blue eyes scanning about warily, sniffing the air. He spots her in a shadowed corner, and grunts softly at the scent of blood, mentally berating himself for not noticing sooner. Such mistakes could get him killed--or, worse, taken back to the labs.

But she's... human... well, kind of, as she scents of wolf, too. An interesting combination. Why would she carry that scent, and not dog? Could she have befriended a real wolf instead? And if so, where is it?

Tuvon's hackles rise, wary of what may be a companion creature to the rescue. Last thing he needs is to fight with a natural predator, on top of mutants and raiders.

But... she's a pretty little human. And if she could make a wolf trust her, then maybe she's not all that bad, either.

Tilting his head curiously at her, the mutant sits on the floor, setting his pole across his lap, and huffs quietly, a sound similar to the low soft whisper of a deep breath out, very similar to a grunt but too gentle to qualify as one in truth. Apes, chimpanzees, they both use such a sound among their kind to reassure and soothe, a sound he had been surprised he made naturally, though it was explained to him later during his education that this was a possible side-effect of what they did to him... along with his inability to formulate human words.

Taking a can of tuna--fully intact and with an easy to pop-open top--Tuvon slides it on the floor over to her. Then he simply sits there, wrapping his scavenged cans in rags of newspaper or cloth to keep them silent (whatever's handiest) as he stows them in his backpack, and watches Raena, curious about this animal-friendly person.

Experimentally, he wavers a hand in sign-language--his primary means of communication. *Do you know sign-language?*

Rae shrunk back when the - man? - had approached, relaxing only after he stopped and sat without encroaching too far into her space. She sniffed the air, his scent confusing her. Man...Cat and...what was that? She frowned. Her eyes widened when he scooted one of the precious few cans of food in her direction. Quickly, fearful he might change his mind or, worse, try to capture her when she took it, her hand darted out, snagging it and drawing it to her. Her stomach growled demandingly as she popped to top off of the can. She began eating quickly, mouthful after mouthful, before remembering belatedly that he was still there watching her. Cautiously, she scooted the half-eaten can back to him, in case he meant to share it. Bright emerald green eyes watched what he did with his hands curiously. Slowly, tentatively, she mimicked their movements, suspecting from his expression that there was a purpose to the movement, but uncertain what it might be.

Tuvon grunts a sigh. She clearly doesn't recognize sign-language.

He shoves the can back at her, huffing softly again, and waving a hand for her to finish it. She can finish it--he has more. Besides, he has no qualms about hunting, not with his mutant heritage. What would eating such prey do, mutate him more? That is hardly a worry, to him. Radiation? He's been exposed to that almost his whole life, as far as he knows. Contamination? Well, only a danger if he eats such too often. Thus the need for cans.

Fresh stuff would be nice. Fruit, vegetables... bread... But not likely, unless he raids an established human habitation. So far, Tuvon is not that desperate.

Blue eyes regard her thoughtfully, his head tilted to one side, and rests chin in hand and elbow on knee.

What to do about this girl...

After a moment, he gets an idea. He points at her, then at his own arm, a location which on her is wounded... and follows up with the hand-sign for *Hurt*. Then, with a cheerful smirk, he is on his feet and bounds on all fours into a neighboring isle... one for dogs.

Dogs and humans can both use Aspirin.

Within a few seconds, Tuvon's back, and tosses a couple packets to her feet--meant for first-aid to dogs, but it's still the same stuff.

Then he grins broadly at her, large canines showing.

Rae looks surprised when he hands the food back, but is too hungry to argue. Quickly, she devours it as he goes for the aspirin. She picks up the aspirin, eyes not leaving the strange being before her. She doesn't seem off-put by his appearance at all. She opens the aspirin and chews it slowly, grimacing slightly at the bitterness. Tentatively, she touches the wound and repeats the sign he'd shown her. She touches another wound then, this one on her leg and repeats the sign, looking at him inquisitively, trying to make the connection.

Tuvon nods in approval, then, flashing large canines again, draws in the dust the word, "hurt", before signing it again.

May as well teach the girl a bit. She seems oddly at ease with his strange appearance, though--when most humans would flee on sight. But the mutant doesn't mind the idea of company, if only for a short time.

(OOC--Sorry. Can't think past this much. Not with a cold.)

Raena nods. She understands "hurt"...far better than she ever hoped she would. Cocking her head to the side, she considers the man before her a moment, for despite his differences she could plainly see him as a man. Slowly, tentatively, she wrote a word in the dust...

"Rae"

She waited hopefully. Her hope died quickly, though, when the door to the shop opened again, admitting four of the young men she'd run into earlier...

the same young men who'd left her, hurt and bleeding to flee for the sanctuary of the pet shop in the first place.

Spying the large THING with the girl, one turned his weapon on him, as the obvious leader of the bunch cooed, unfastening his belt as he did so, a wicked gleam in his eye, "No fair running off, little doll. We weren't done playing with you yet."

The girl drew back, whimpering softly, her eyes filled with terror. They came alive with an unnatural glow, the tone and timber of that whimper beginning to change....

"Oh no," the leader shook his head, brandishing a needle filled with liquid. "No dogs today, little doll. Just you..." He moved closer, needle in one hand, belt in the other, a sickening smile upon his face.

Tuvon reacts with the speed and agility of an unnatural creature--one moment crouched to write, the next, no longer where that weapon is pointed.

In fact, he's arced high into the air, having used his pole to vault up a good twelve feet off the ground--and towards the strangers--all in the same move. Before anyone can blink, with a chimp-like shriek, he's crashing down against the chest of the one with the gun, feet-first to use thumb-like toes to wrest the weapon from its owner even as he brings the man down. Rolling off the first man even as they hit the ground, he sweeps the long pole in a wide arc at the feet of the rest of the group of humans, teeth bared in threat as he tries taking them all down.

The sweep is not meant to just knock them down. Tuvon strikes with deadly force, as trained, and has more strength than any human can ever dream of--it's certain to shatter bone.

Clearly, it's not wise to aim a weapon at him... ever.

The first falls dead, the other three scrambling, though only the leader is fast enough to evade real harm. He lunges at the girl, thinking to use her as a shield if nothing else, as the others in his group go down. Let the THING have her, if it wants her. Just let him out of here.

He grabbed her roughly, injecting her even as she shifted in his arms, leaving him holding a large black wolf instead of a diminutive girl. But only for a moment. The moment the drug took affect, the wolf went limp, shifting back to the form of the girl again. He dragged her in front of him...not unconscious, only unable to move on her own.

"Pretty, right? " the leader said. "You like? Tell you what," he offered. "A trade...you can have her, and I get out of here safe and well. Deal?"

The mutant howls at the man, and smacks the pole on the ground at him threateningly--before kicking one of the fellow's fallen comrades hard enough to break the target's spine and end that one, too.

All he can see is enemies, and the girl-wolf. Of course, enemies take priority.

Smirking viciously at the leader holding the girl, he straightens, then holds out the pole in both hands, as if offering to drop it...

Then Tuvon lets go.

Of course, the leader is expecting to have a chance to toss the girl at him. But that chance is denied, when the swift mutant whips a knife from those across his chest and throws it into the man's throat with that self-same accuracy that scared the professional soldiers off.

Blue eyes watch the pair crumple to the floor, before he takes the pole in his feet and uses a last slap to kill the fourth and final man.

No enemies are to be left alive. Not to tell the soldiers... or anyone else, for that matter.

With a final glance at their attackers to make certain all are dead, Tuvon steps over to peer cautiously at the girl... not sure she will let him touch her, and also not sure if touching her will earn him a bite. But any enemy of one's enemies can be a friend.

Especially if they are also strange in their own way.

Raena lays there, unable to move, her eyes flooding with tears. She wants desperately to move away from the dead man who, along with his friends, had inflicted so much pain over the last several days before she'd managed to escape, only to find herself helpless to him yet again, his proximity making her feel sick and soiled to her very core. She wanted to move, to run, to scream...

She wanted to curl up in a ball and cry.

the drug coursing through her veins prevented all of that. All she could do was lay there, eyes wide and full of tears, praying this new one was what he seemed to be, and not just another who'd hurt her given the chance.

She wasn't sure she could survive much more. She wasn't sure she wanted to.

Tuvon tilts his head a moment, then sighs quietly. With a grunt, he reaches down, and tosses Raena's attacker aside with one hand--with the ease of one throwing aside a piece of cardboard. Then he scoops her up around the middle, and bounds off into the dog-aisle again.

There, he sets her down on one of the dog-beds. At least that's softer.

Then Tuvon's gone...

In nearby aisles arises a flurry of activity. Clanking and clattering. He's not bothering being quiet. Swift scavenging for whatever they may need...

Then, the mutant is back, his leather backpack on his back again, full of cat food and medicines, a second bag slung over a shoulder and clanking--with dog food?--and the gun that was aimed at him earlier. His knife he'd cleaned and re-sheathed in the chest-band.

Scooping Raena up onto the pack-covered shoulder with one hand--bedding and all--he grasps his pole with the other, and starts bounding out of the battered pet-shop, off into the ruins...

------------------------------

After a bit, they're in a smashed-up high-rise, perhaps a good ten stories off the ground. In an intact room, dusty but devoid of most debris, Tuvon sets Raena and her bedding down again, trying to be gentle. Within reach, he drops the second pack for her, and one of his canteens of water... then finally pulls his blanket from his own gear, draping it over her.

With her settled, the mutant moves in more casual steps--almost a waddle--to the far end of the room, and sets his pack down. He pulls a second but smaller blanket from within, and settles on it, curling up in a sitting position with pole firmly in hands... on guard, even if he may be resting.

Rae is startled and initially afraid to find herself lifted and carried off so easily. Her fear disappears when she finds herself placed upon a pillow-soft surface, though she is saddened to see him leave her then. Only the sounds from the nearby aisle reassure her she is not alone, that he isn't truly gone. She closes her eyes, so tired, as he returns to gather her up and carry her off again. Wherever they stop has to be better than where she's been...

She opens her eyes again, if only for a moment, to a whole new place. A real room - not a shed or a shop or a store room, but one actually meant for sleeping in. She sighs softly as a blanket is placed across her, covering her torn and tattered garments, warming her bruised and battered body and bare and blistered feet.

if this is a dream, she thinks as she drifts off, pray do not let me wake...

When Raena wakes, she wakes to a soft clicking sound...

Tuvon had been busy while she slept. He knew enough about scientists and drugs not to expect her to be doing much soon, and had raided again, nearby. More blankets are folded to one side. A couple chalkboards and some colorful chalk. A child's backpack. A few other minor things...

But right now, he has a chunk of leather over his lap, shattered chunks of glass resting on it, one that he's working on right now with a fist-sized rock.

Tuvon is shaping the sharp glass pieces like cave men shaped obsidian, with much the same results--flecking bits away to make edges and ease the sharpness of the grip, to make brittle throwing knives out of them. Readying them for future battles.

Rae opens her eyes, taking in her surroundings.

I hadn't been a dream...he was real...

she moves slowly, her body sluggish and aching, to find so many new things nearby and her new friend working on what appeared to be glass daggers. She watched him curious but, oddly enough, not afraid. If he'd wanted to hurt her, he'd had ample opportunity. Instead, she was fed and tended and, ultimately, tucked in safe and warm.

Tuvon continues working, though his keen hearing senses her stirring finally. He keeps his attention on his work until the current throwing-knife is done, then finally glances up at her while he sets it aside with other completed ones. Always good to have them ready, as they will go fast when he does need them.

A soft huff in her direction. She is oddly quiet, for a human--even a strange wolf-human.

Rae blinks, looking from the knives to Tuvon, her expression inquisitive. She reaches out a slightly shaking hand tentatively toward one of the newly formed knives. She stops just short of touching it and looks at him again, as if for permission.

Tuvon shakes his head negatively. His hands are calloused, so the non-blade part of these won't cut his hands... but he did not smooth them enough to prevent them from cutting a delicate creature such as herself. He points at the blade, then her, and makes the sign for "hurt" again.

He then gestures with his free hand at one of the slate tablets for kids, and the chalk. Surely she knows how to write, even if she doesn't speak?

Rae drew her hand back quickly, remembering "hurt".

She notes his gesture toward the small board and chalk. Cocking her head to the side, frowning slightly, she picks them up. Glancing from them to him and back again, she tries to fathom what he would want her to do with them. Finally, she begins to write, her shaking hands skewing the the letters slightly, causing her frown to deepen in dissatisfaction. When at last she's finished, she turns the board to face him. Upon it is written two words:

"Raena Wolfe"

Thinking a moment, she turns it back toward her, erasing it quickly with her hand. Turning it back to him again, she shows him what was left:

"Rae"

She points to the word, then to herself, then offers the board and chalk to him.

Tuvon stops working on the next knife to accept the chalkboard and chalk. Setting it across his lap, over his work, he scrawls his own name--the one he chose.

"Tuvon"

When he shows her the board, he signs it at her. Like her, he erases some of his name leaving just "Tu", and makes the peace gesture at her, winking. Easy nickname.

With a toothy smirk, he sets the board back down, and writes, "Hi."

Then the mutant hands the board and chalk back to Rae, blue eyes gleaming with mischief.