Braun led Amaru out of the building at a brisk pace. Somehow— seamlessly, he served nods, handshakes and quick charming quips to passing business associates and obvious fans along the way.
It didn't take long for Amaru to come to one realization.
"Braun is a celebrity."
As a result, they didn't exit out of the door Amaru and Ms. Markos came in.
They left through a side door that took them to a massive cement garage car lot.
It was lined with luxury and refined steel.
"I don't drive much. This is exciting." Braun said.
"You don't?" Amaru asked.
"I don't support texting and driving. So no."
"Why did you say it like it's politics?" Amaru asked as they looked at all the luxury and super cars.
"Isn't everything?" Braun asked.
Amaru shook his head, "Which ones yours?"
"The question is which isn't…." Braun looked around and scratched his chin.
"You're kidding…"
"Rarely." Braun replied before saying, "You pick."
"Not a car person."
"Then it should be easy." Braun replied.
Begrudgingly, Amaru pointed out a muscle car on the left side of the lot. For no reason other than it being his favorite color.
Green. Dark, forest-green. In the shadows of the lot it almost looked black.
"Ah, the Ford Mustang Mach two model with a wide reinforced alloy body and fang kit. Also known as, The Ford Mustang Dire-Wolf. Fitting."
"Ironic."
"Hiding in plain sight." Braun added before pulling out his phone and typing away through a few apps. Suddenly the cars lights blinked twice.
Weaver spirits crawled in and out of the hood as the V16 engine growled to life and the car drive out of its parking spot and parked beside them with the doors opening slowly.
"I didn't even know cars could do that." Amaru thought before Braun motioned for him to sit inside.
He did.
Braun quickly walked around to the driver seat and hopped in.
When he raised his hands to place them on the wheel, his sleeves pulled back and revealed tattoos covering his arms.
On his left arm, they were German. On the right they were Japanese. Full sleeves.
Braun took notice of Amaru's gaze as he drove the car out of the lot.
"Ancestry is important, especially for the Garou. You'll find out just how much when you meet the others in our pack. Or our tribe for that matter."
They exited the garage and mid day sun spilled in through the windows.
People spotted him in the driver seat and pulled out their phones. Quickly, he pressed a button on the control panel beneath the radio and suddenly the windows were at a max percentage tint.
Another casually worldchanging concept for Amaru.
He focused, "What are the tribes? What are they for if packs exist? Ms. Markos didn't tell me."
Braun nodded, "Good. I didn't want her to overload you."
Amaru nodded and Braun got into it as they headed down the full streets.
"Tribes are the family. The breed of Garou you are…. in a sense. Tribes come with a Totem and array of lower spirits that empower and enlighten you based on your reknown or rank within the Tribe. Tribes also can intermingle with other likeminded Tribes when forming packs. There are fourteen known tribes. Currently, there are seven still functioning."
"That's a pretty aggresive downsize." Amaru said.
"You have no idea." Braun sped off down a busy street as the light turned green at a previous stop. "Their names are as follows, Black Furies, Bone Gnawers, Shadow-Lords, Hakken, Silent Striders, Stargazers and the Get of Fenris."
"What about the others?" Amaru asked.
"The fallen tribes are of very similar beliefs and function. The Uktena, The Wendigo, The Silver Fangs, The Fianna, The Children of Gaia and The Red Talons. Many of them have few final members or one sole survivor but even that's hearsay for most."
"For most?" Amaru asked.
"Well, I know one for sure has a singular survivor." Braun started as they rounded a corner, "The Red Talons. They have one last Tribe member. He's young. Direct. Violent. Rough around the edges and easily offended. Like most Red Talons before him. But he's also self aware. His instincts go beyond the norm. He's... promising."
They parked the car and Amaru realized Braun was staring at him.
"That's….. my tribe?"
Braun nodded, "You're the last Red Talon alive, Amaru Mawh."
"What happened?" Amaru asked.
"What always happens. War. They were targeted. By Pentex."
"…..the oil company?"
Braun didn't speak. He let Amaru come to the conclusion on his own.
"Oh….. damn. All those companies on the big screens…. with the wyrm spirits oozing out of the pictures. They're related to Pentex."
"Subsidiaries." Braun explained, "Cigarette companies, car manufacturers, toy stores, everything they back plays a major role in destroying Gaia. And it's all thanks to The Board of Directors. They deemed the Red Talons the most dangerous of all the Tribes. Where most of us are tainted by the weaver and living among the people who naturally seem to weaken us, your ancestral tribe lived as they came. For Gaia. For Garou betterment. Even if they had their shortcomings, they had the opposite just as much."
Amaru didn't speak.
Braun let the tension fade.
"So…. my parents were Red Talons."
Braun nodded.
"Yours are Shadow-Lords….. and Beast-Courts?"
"For brevity, sure." Braun nodded.
"Then, I'm a Shadow-Lord now?" Amaru asked.
Braun shook his head. "I'm not even a Shadow-Lord. Or Hakken."
"I'm so confused." Amaru said.
"We've lost seven tribes. Do you know what that means for the Garou in a spiritual sense?"
"No."
"It means chaos. Desperation. The umbra reflects the physical world. That desperation has led Tribes and packs to mix and match. As a result, we are not Shadow-Lords or Hakken. We're Glass-Walkers. Specifically, a pack with connections and influence from all three."
"Glass-Walkers." Amaru muttered.
"Glass-Walkers are among the most hated of the Tribes for our willingness to work with the weaver through use of technology, human allyship and acceptance of other Changing Breeds."
"So you're the most modern group?"
"More or less. We've been that way since our inception. In what is today known as isreal and Palestine."
Amaru had more questions about his parents. About the Red Talons as a whole. And the Griffin— and Changing Breeds—
"Anyway, we have to stay on schedule, we'll continue our conversation later. We've reached our first stop." Braun rolled down the window.
A barbershop loomed over them with golden lettered labeling and marbel steps.
Amaru looked back at Braun. "I appreciate what you've done for me….. but I'm not going in there."
"Why?"
"Because I don't need to cut my hair."
Braun clenched his jaw— seemingly not used to outward defiance. Then he blinked in consideration and shook his head, "You're….. right. How foolish. I'm trying to take you to get your hair cut after I just explained your ancestry. Wow….."
"…what?"
"You're Native American, like all Red Talons, Mr. Mawh. It may not mean anything to your immediate mind, but I almost angered many spirits tied to your blood. I'm sorry."
"Forgiven. I just don't like the sound of razors by my ear, though."
"A valid reason for anyone with enhanced senses." Braun pulled out of his parking spot.
Amaru left out the part where as a child he remembered getting his hair cut by a man with evil spirit slugs slithering in his dreads.
They'd done enough trauma dumping on both sides anyway.
The rest of the ride was spent in silence. Amaru had a lot of new information to process.
Fourteen Tribes of Garou— all with who knew how many individual packs within. Seven slaughtered by an oil company. An evil entity running an oil company to efficiently continue destroying the earth. Of the seven, was Amaru's own. An explanation for his orphanage. An explanation for his visions. His entire being.
A new focus for his rage.
They spent the rest of the day shopping. Trying on new clothes, trying out new terms, learning the ins and outs of eachother.
It felt one sided, though.
Braun's mask never slipped after Amaru spoke about his father. Everything he said felt halfway fake.
His words loomed in Amaru's mind then.
"I'm logic. You're instinct."
Amaru assumed it was force of habit taking over and not that Braun would keep simple personal factoids from pack members.
After a few hours, Amaru was back in the car with a backseat full of shopping bags. All clothes for all events. Casual, professional, business casual, business professional, high class, low class, luxury, sporting, swimming, skiing. It felt excessive, but Amaru kept in mind that it was all a mask. One he wouldn't keep on like Braun.
The sun was beginning to set. Amaru was getting stir crazy. He wanted to run. He wanted to eat and work and fight and kill another bloodworm. He was practically vibrating in his seat as they passed spirits and people alike.
"I understand dogs when they see squirrels now." Amaru thought as he gazed out of the window.
Slowly, the modernized density of the city faded as they began driving through low-rise ghettos, factory districts and food deserts that reeked of processed meats and body odor mixed with sour ketchup.
"Where are we doing?" Amaru asked.
"Detour." Braun said curtly.
Amaru had another question but stopped as they parked near a cemetary.
Spirits of all kinds loomed.
"Let's go." Braun led him out into the cemetary.
"Is your mom buried here?" Amaru asked in a quieted voice.
Braun shook his head, "My mother wasn't allowed a cemetary or cremation. She was forced to take her life for….. betraying, my grandfather. She was judged unfairly. But this is not for me."
"What?"
Braun came to a stop at a grave at the base of a baobab tree— African origin, with hawk feathers and dream catchers tied to its branches. A panther and wolf-paw were etched into the bark hidden behind the stone grave.
"Here lies a man of many lives. Here lies, a man of many truths. A poet, an activist, a black panther, a son of a chief, a soldier and a savior. Here lies, the wielder of sword and pen in all their might, Mason X/Mason Mawh."
Braun handed Amaru his phone saying, "When you apologized on behalf of my father, you also told me you didn't know your parents— obviously. So, I'd like to formally introduce you to one of them at least."
Amaru took the device and found himself looking at a photo.
The man was young. No older than twenty. He was dark skinned with braids, a thick nose, soft eyes and full lips. He also had a scar across his cheek. Visibly mixed race. Amaru now knew he was of African and native descent.
"Those are all the photos I could find of your father. Mason Mawh— later known as Warmaw." Braun said.
Amaru swiped left, he found the man was now older with a beard and curly Afro. He wore dark militant clothing and had a gun holstered on his hip as he stood with a band of men and women wearing the same.
"The black panther party was a militant— and Marxist, political party known for challenging the government and all forms of civil oppression. They died out with the murder of Fred Hampton. A little over a hundred or so years later and they were born again in light of Pentex and its subsidiaries oppressive acts and capitlist oversights. Your father was part of that rebirth. He wasn't a leader by any means. He was too young at the time, but he put in good work."
"How old is he here?" Amaru asked.
"Nineteen."
"Damn…"
"It's here that he probably had his first change." Braun said, "During a riot. I found a article on it. The Chicago Mauling. There was reports of the black panthers unleashing rabid wolves and stolen exotic animals to take down the cops and other government officials at a debate stage."
"It was Mason— my dad." Amaru surmised.
"Most likely. Because not even three months after the date of that riot, your father enlisted in the armed forces. Infantry." Braun said.
Amaru scrolled and found a photo of his father with a unit of soldiers in the Middle East.
"He probably was given help and guidance from the Silent Striders there. But eventually, he was dishonorably discharged for refusing to follow military chain of command. That's all it says." Braun said.
"What about my mom..?" Amaru asked.
"Your mother was a wolf." Braun said, "Like most Red Talons, you were Lupus born."
"What?"
"There are three forms a Garou can be born as. Homid— human, Lupus— wolf or Métis. Métis are born and stuck in their crinos form. They're deformed and hated by most spirits. It's also why it's illegal for you to mate with other Garou by way of the Litany." Braun explained.
"I was born as a wolf…?" Amaru said.
Braun nodded, "it's how we found you."
"Who is we?" Amaru asked.
"Firetongue delivered you to us. And by us I mean the Glass Walkers. Wesley helped hide you. He turned you human forcibly and bound your powers. To keep you safe. Until the time was right."
Amaru looked at him— looking away from the grave for the first time, "Do you feel like it's the right time?"
"It's the only time we have left." Braun said plainly. "I'll give you two a minute."
Amaru nodded and Braun left back to his car.
It suddenly felt colder. The spirits loomed. His hands sweat. He scrolled once more and found a blurred image of a massive black wolf with a mane of dreads and yellow eyes.
"So…. you were a civil rights activist turned soldier turned Red Talon Alpha. I don't know how you justified beastiality— or joining the army after learning you were a Garou, but you did it. For so long I was told you were a nobody. An abusive drug addict or psycho locked away somewhere in prison. Somehow it's worse. How am I supposed to measure up to you? I just got expelled. I can't do math. And I have anger issues. But somehow I'm supposed to help save the world. I guess I'll come back and let you know how it's going later. I don't really have anyone else. So…. It's nice to meet you, dad. See ya."
Amaru wiped the tear forming in his left eye and left to join Braun back in his car.
He handed him his phone and looked out of the window as he spoke.
"Thanks…. a lot."
Braun started the car, "Don't mention it. This is what pack does. This is how we save the world."
"With cemetary visits?"
"Something like that." Braun sped off.
"Now it's time to get to work."
Up above the car, a griffin flew as a massive winged spirit watching Amaru.