Graupel Canyon Lodge Please oblige less antagonistic rendezvous
#1

early afternoon
attire



Executive privilege; he was driving. One of the vehicles, the second unmarked car which trailed them piloted by a uniformed officer. It helped, having the physical activity. Fingers digging into the faux leather cover on the wheel, foot forcibly steady on the accelerator. It kept his knees from shaking.

There was the hope there'd be no violence, that this could be a routine interview to be followed up upon later. Nothing he'd heard of the man they were seeking had bestowed much confidence in that outcome. A seasoned, venerable shifter, not necessarily given to violence but certainly willing to employ it. Old guard, as it were, perhaps seeing no alternative than murder to protect his secret.

The pistol holstered under Tiffer's left arm leaned heavy into his ribs.

Nerves had never made him talkative, and it was in silence he pulled to a stop in the lodge's parking lot. In silence he left the vehicle, shading his view with one hand as he looked to the highest level of the impressive, rustic building.

"Wait here," he instructed their tertiary backup. "Keep the channel open." Someone else at hand if things went south immediately, but mostly there to call in a full squad if need be.

In silence he nodded to Dakila and strode toward the front entrance.
#2
The wolf sensed those nerves, the weakness and vulnerability of a creature on edge. But Dakila was not without apprehension of his own, and so the judgement fell short of predatory and merely made him more acutely aware of what it was they were walking themselves into.

Everything that could be done prior to this had been done. Their evidence at hand being thin but not nonexistent. A murder had occurred on these very slopes. A man named Indra Mehta. The owner of the lodge was a known shifter. Dakila could personally confirm he the man was a bear, if not a polar bear. Another known bear had made testimony as to the nature of the lodge owner, their shared grudges, the predilection for violent solution. Two bears against one, the third a friend of a human witness who had summoned him. No body, an abandoned truck.

It painted a picture that seemed to have an obvious conclusion, but the image was still blurry, a few key details that would have made it all very certain simply missing, likely unattainable.

Truthfully, he did not know how they were going to have to handle this. He was prepared for the very worst, but hoping for much better. He was capable of protecting himself, but even as a detective he didn't feel much of a fighter, his solutions erring toward words rather than physical reaction whenever possible. And it wasn't just about protecting himself. He could take a serious hurt from the bear king and end up back on his feet before too long. If Tiffer got so much as scratched--

Opting not to think about it, knowing he was as prepared for that as he could ever hope to be, Dakila focused on the present and working through this a step at a time.

In this case, getting into the lodge and locating their suspect.

It was a three story building. He knew from past interviews and speaking with various people who worked here that Orlovsky lived alone on the top floor. He glanced up as they neared the building as if he would see the bear king watching them through the windows, but he didn't see much, the light reflecting too heavily off the surface of the glass.

Inside, on official police business, going straight up the stairs to the third floor door--inevitably locked--was the plan.
#3
The glare of the sun off those large windows was cut some by the equally opaque sunglasses he wore. Tiffer expected to face no vampire, no poorly understood mind powers, but he was as prepared as he knew how to be. More than anything this meant the coin, the cuffs, and the bullets.

Three responses in increasing severity, all of them hopefully unnecessary.

He led as he must, first to the door and holding it open until Dakila could grip the handle in turn. He'd not hide behind the wolf, however pragmatic that may have been. The lower level was sparsely populated, most of the attraction this time of year located out in the sun. Still he peered uncertainly at each face; Dakila'd assured him they'd not be blindsided by any other bears, but...

Up the stairs, and up again. One last breath before the physical commitment. A tight fist rapped against the wood of the door, a triple sharp staccato. "Mr Orlovsky. It's the RPD. We need to have a word with you, sir."
#4
Dakila didn't especially like Tiffer taking lead. But it was arrogant to insist on putting himself first. Tiffer was not blind to the risks, did not act without purpose. An as the man in charge, the man who would inevitably shoulder all responsibility here, he had to be able to make these calls and be heeded. But as they stood in the narrow hall at the top of these wooden stairs, the prickle of unease grew steadily, almost physical.

He could sense a bear beyond that door. It was more than scent, more than mere territory presence. It was a real and palpable awareness of another. It wasn't the sound of movement or breath that told him this, it was something else entirely that he struggled to put to words. A feeling that was more like knowledge, a secret his own brain whispered to him insistently.

Standing just behind and to the side, he waited, forcing himself to patience and calm. Maybe the stories were simply misunderstandings or exaggerations. Surely, surely he could not be completely without reason if he had held territory as long as he had.

But he remembered his own time under Alina, the things he should have protested but hadn't because they were wolves and it was all too easy to justify things among kin. Nothing could be ruled out.

With the knock there was a slightly muffled, more distant sound of barking. Two canine voices, at least, but nothing that rushed the door. A non-threat as far as the wolf was concerned, but even less so after they were hushed by a voice moments later. Footsteps toward the door, now, confirming what was essentially already known. He glanced back down the hall to make sure nothing was approaching from the back, but they were alone.
#5
It was the wolf who had alerted him first. Felt him coming up the canyon, well aware of him. He was too aware of everything lately, it was exhausting. Waiting for the other shoe to drop, for either another bear to come for him, or the police to arrive and decide they had the guts to be smart about this, or even waiting for Esperanza to return like he dared to believe would happen. His upper hand on the situation was only slight, and even after all this time and a new bear among his ranks, he felt uneasy. It all wore at the edges of him.

A wolf did not mean police, though. Or so he'd thought until he'd felt the powerful presence of another king draw near and peered out from his lofty castle to see something that soured him. He had not put two and two together before this moment, watching the pair of men walk toward his building, infringe on his space.

He put the dogs away. He did not want to see them get caught in the middle of anything that might happen. They would be a distraction that Levka decided he could not afford or want. So they were shut away in his bedroom as he stayed to wait in the common area, looking at the door he expected to be breached at any moment. And increasingly he realized he had been betrayed by a wolf, an individual he should have counted on as an ally.

Levka could not decide if he regretted not reaching out to the new wolf king before now or not. It was clear the man was not to be trusted, but could he have befriended him first? It was too late for any of it, and with the knock and the cacophony of the dogs realizing they'd been shut away from visitors--their favorite--he felt his mood sharpen to irritation. The voice, declaring themselves RPD, but he knew it was much more than that. They were a task force and he knew they knew what he was.

He did not curse Asha, but he did immensely regret not at least managing to kill Sayed in light of the price he'd paid that night. Jabbing the first holes into the walls of secrecy and security with his insistence at being a perpetual pest.

A low command to the dogs to be quiet was heeded and then he made his way to the door. An entryway that very few made it past, and certainly not humans or unwelcome weres. And yet... here he was. Too arrogant to go snarling at them from behind the door, to cower and warn them away while it was still safe for them all, he opened the door and fixed the human man just beyond it with a hard look. A man at the end of his patience. He didn't have a very good poker face and didn't make much effort to pretend he thought this was just another layer of the conversations they'd already had with his staff.

"What word?"

Didn't mean he had to make this easy for them. Didn't meant he was going to be his own undoing by giving himself away with premature defense. But that didn't stop him from ignoring the traitorous wolf on his doorstep and focusing on the man who had taken point.

For now, anyway. He did itch to discipline a king who seemed to have betrayed his own kind.
#6
Dogs. Something to note. Probably not kept for defense, trained to attack interlopers. Not with what Tiffer understood of their master. But something to be aware of.

Breaths carefully controlled, he blinked discreetly before making a small show of removing the sunglasses and tucking them away. "I think you can help with a missing person case," he explained with professional cordiality, gaze held steady at the taller man's. Statist6icalluy and otherwise it was probably a murder investigation, but he didn't strictly have the evidence to label it as such and didn't see much gain in immediately casting aspersions.

"The details are a sensitive matter, so out of respect for your privacy it's better discussed where nothing can be overheard. May we come in?" If this came to nothing, he wasn't looking to out the bear. Even otherwise, he didn't favor the potential pubic outcry about a murderous shifter. It'd be kept relatively quiet.

Like the last one.
#7
And there he was. A face he knew but had never spoken to directly. Dakila was looking forward toward the door again, everything coming into a sharper focus. Wolf, very aware of the bear he could sense more than see, a presence that big in every sense. One the werewolf did not relish going toe to toe with, but knew he could stand against if he needed to.

But as there was no immediate hostility, they were past the first hurdle. In one mental scenario he had imagined that Orlovsky would deny them outright, laying siege in his own home against the intrusion of authority. There was every chance a man in this deep would behave foolishly and violently with little more to lose. But so far it seemed he had better sense than that.

The slightly older man wasn't outright intimidating. Without supernatural senses or forewarning and reputation this could have been knocking on the door any wary expat. But it was not so and two words felt on the cusp of threatening merely for lacking basic hospitality. Come on in, officers, what is this about?

Ignored, Dakila let Tiffer have his words, his method of approach. Benign as possible but not so bland as to be untrue. Getting inside was definitely step one. Orlovsky would be doing himself a favor if he didn't stubbornly refuse.
#8
Missing person. He wanted to scoff at the lack of teeth in the statement. Levka failed to be impressed by the softness of American police procedure. So much talk, no action. Even as that tactic favored him and his own agenda, he did not admire it. He'd have at least been impressed if they'd come in here and given him no room to doubt they knew what they knew. He knew for a fact that he was a problem for both of these men, and you did not solve problems like him through talking.

But he'd see what he could get from their cordiality, their efforts to stretch for his faltering privacy. The damage was already done with them here but if they wanted to pretend otherwise he would run them ragged, around and around the proverbial bush.

And for a moment in time all he did was look at the human, unable to act nonchalant about the request. No doubt a solid part of him wanted to be horrid about it, bullish. No, we can have the conversation on the doorstep, coward. But... no, it was the smart move for all of them. Spiteful as he felt, Levka didn't want any version of this conversation rolling down the stairs. This was still his home, still a part of what kept his bears safe.

So he stepped back to make room, a vague gesture toward the interior space as he never removed his gaze from the speaker.

The common room would have been welcoming in better circumstances. Large windows on the side looking out over the parking lot and the mountain beyond, warm wooden walls, a fireplace, several couches and low tables. A place meant for gathering--though their numbers had never risen to a point where this much space was even necessary. Levka didn't think about that now, or really often at all as of late.
#9
Somewhere in the back of his mind, the chief recognized the beginnings of an unexpected pattern. This was not the first time he'd confronted a supernatural entity with Dakila at his side, an entity which—whether due to the werewolf's presence or not—almost certainly knew Tiffer was aware of their status. And both times the third party seemed to wholly ignore the indisputably more powerful man and focus directly on him.

It helped put to rest a concern that human authority would mean nothing next to supernatural puissance, was sort of pleasing in that sense. It lent him a feeling of gravitas.

It was also goddamn terrifying.

But this had to stay in the back of his mind, for the fore was consumed with reading the terse man making room in the doorway. The speed and strength he had to have been capable of could not be overstated. If a snap decision came, would Tiffer's neck snap with it before he could even begin reaching for his holster? Something he had to rely on Dakila for, he supposed. Nothing new, a scenario he'd privately run through many times in the car. Weightier in the moment.

"Thank you," he held firm to courtesy. Stepping in and moving past with forced calm, he surveyed the space before moving to glance out a window. The vehicle, officer outside. Their backup. Okay. Okay. Turning, he settled with one hand on the back of a couch, keeping the furniture between himself and its owner. A minor obstacle, but every quarter-second could count.

One hand disappeared slowly into an inner breast pocket. "I'd like to record our conversation, if that's all right." The digital recorder was revealed.
#10
Alright, not as stubborn as he'd feared. But Dakila wasn't about to let his guard down just because they'd been let in. No doubt it was done begrudgingly--and if someone as private as this was making room for them, it was only because there was already enough tension to force it. Orlovsky, while inherently threatening, also likely felt threatened. The consequences of do or do not already weighing out in his mind.

It was almost reassuring to know that the bear king had not been nonchalant about what had happened on his property. He wondered what other kinds of predetermined decisions they'd see the results of this afternoon.

Hopefully more of those than snap judgements and actions in the face of unwelcome incursions. Which one presented itself as they settled in, the door closing and offering privacy. Dakila opted to not stand precisely beside his chief but a bit off to the side, feigning a confidence he didn't entirely feel right now. But they had this, they had prepared as best they could, he reminded himself. And in spite of his tendency to not think of himself as a king like the other leaders around town, he knew he was on par.

Still. That recorder felt like the first real test here. His gaze slid from Tiffer to Orlovsky.
#11
It took some strength of will to not grind his teeth together. He longed to act, to behave in a way that would chase them out and make them think twice about coming back again. But that was not how this worked. They had an intention they would see through, and if not them, someone else. And anything he could think of to do that might eliminate that problem only added to their case against him.

After all, if he was willing to kill a cop... well, his reputation did not need the affirmation right now.

Still, letting them in made him unhappy, brooding. He turned and watched them maneuver--a pair who clearly knew each other, they didn't communicate their places or their intentions in the least to each other. The human looked outside then took up a spot that marked this conversation further as anything but casual. On his feet--both of them--and the obstacle was understood for what it was.

Fine, let them be scared. Levka decided he was too irritated to posture, and where they stood like gazelles ready to spring to action, he sank into the grass to watch them. Sat himself on a different couch that faced the one the human had chosen as his shield. Hands resting lightly on either knee, he did not sit back. Especially when the recorder was produced, an item he wouldn't have identified on sight if it had not been given a purpose in so many words.

He did not want to be recorded. He did not want to be spoken to at all, taken down for the record. For the first time he now let his gaze move to the wolf king--what was his name? he'd known it at one point but without a face to stick to it...--and searched for his reaction. But apparently this was nothing unexpected. The werewolf would not side with him. He wondered... did they know about this wolf? Did they sniff out the supernatural among their own ranks?

Unable to say definitively, he wondered if the other was on edge about being outed as he was. He rather hoped so. That, at least, would be better than being a turncoat. But neither option served Levka's interests, so he dismissed the thought, already having taken too long to respond to the request. Problem was, there was no answer here that he liked to give. Already he was on the back foot.

"I do not know that it makes a difference." A shrug here as he did not give permission so much as he had no good means with which to tell the man to eat it instead.
#12
No, it didn't. Fun fact: Colorado was a single party consent state. He was free to record any conversation so long as one party involved gave consent, and he sure did give himself consent. It wasn't something Tiffer invoked if he didn't have to.

Still, the bear's point was acknowledged with a small gesture before he activated the recorder and switched t to his left hand. Better to keep the right free.

"Mr Orlovsky," he began, name reiterated for the sake of the recording, "are you at all familiar with an Indra Mehta?" Professional neutrality ruled his features, expression inquisitive and nothing more. That sense of routine, a well worn pathway of investigation, allowed him to bury any flagrant indicators of his fear.

Already they had an account claiming otherwise, regarding his question. Cliff Douglas had insisted they'd never met prior to the incident. If true, he wasn't sure a name would mean much given the lack of humanity allegedly involved in their one encounter. But he watched Levka carefully, looking down at him and maintaining eye contact if he could.
#13
The wait continued and Dakila was content to be a silent watcher for a time. Waiting to need to intervene or... hopefully not. If he could remain silent and watchful and not even have to add in anything as a werewolf, he would be a happier man for it. But that seemed too good a thing to hope for, that they could get through this interview so cleanly. What he hoped for was an arrest, and that just upped their chances of sudden adrenaline all the further.

Listening to the faint sound of curious dogs sniffing at the bottom of the door off to the side, he would be here when needed.
#14
Intently aware now of the recording, Levka saw the paths he could take here. Not clearly, but as a pile of string he could pull the threads of and hope it came away clean. But he knew in his heart it wouldn't. His real choice was to decide the point at which his web got caught.

The eye contact was the easy thing here. Trying to use that same gaze to decide how much the human knew and what would come of it. Clearly they already suspected a great deal. But what did they know? He could lie, certainly, and shrug. It wasn't as if he knew Indra so well as to claim and acquaintanceship. Certainly they were never friends in even the loosest sense as he might have needed to claim with Cliff. He had met the fool all of twice before he'd given him solid reason to bite his head off.

So what to say to this?

Honestly, in the end, made the most sense. But the bare bones version. "Not so much that I would use the word that you use. Would not say familiar." But he knew the name, clearly.
#15
Hmm. That was more than he'd expected. A lot more, actually. Tiffer'd been prepared for a simple "no," or even a silent head shake just to spite the recording. The confession that Orlovsky had experienced some interaction with Mehta—or at least a very strong implication he could latch onto—opened an unanticipated door.

"But you had met." It was, strictly speaking, a question; it was very much not intoned as one. A logical following on from what was provided, a display of his own implication that they knew and could perhaps prove more than was the case.

It was an interrogation technique he didn't love. Honestly interviewing suspects ranked low on his preferred duties. Rarely did he have to anymore. But this was a big case. And one where a little pressure might go a long way.

"When was the last time?" A further implication, casually insinuating they'd run into each other more than once.
#16
It would have been an easy lie, wouldn't it? Unless Orlovsky thought they knew more than they did, in which case... a trap. But it hadn't been, unless Tiffer wasn't telling Dakila things here. But given that was unlikely to be the case, Orlovsky was being less evasive than Dakila had expected. For some clearly unhappy to speak with them, he was nonetheless fairly forward.

So he knew Mehta, but wouldn't consider himself familiar with the missing man. Fair enough, if a little unexpected. Was there more to it all than even the accusatory Cliff Douglas knew?

He longed to ask then: what would you say, if not familiar? But it wasn't as clean a question as it should have been, and for the better that he stayed silent, watching as the next loop was thrown around the unanticipated hook.
#17
Levka's gaze moved between the man's dark eyes, assessing back as much as he was being assessed. He still did not understand why they were not direct. Were they missing more than he thought they were? Did they not realize what was under their noses? You did not need to meet a man before to kill him. He had never met either of these men before and in better circumstances he would not have hesitated to make them regret disturbing his peace. Motivation could come in an instant.

Yet...

When last he had met Indra he had closed his teeth around the brown bear's head. This was not the answer he would give. And hardly a meeting anyhow.

"The beginning of the last year. He came to bother me when I was out for a lunch."

Levka felt he had shown so much restraint that day. He had not been looking for trouble, but Indra had not been a respectful bear at any point Levka had bothered to know him.
#18
"Bother you," was echoed back, tone remaining cool and polite even while context made it sound like this itself was as good as a confession. It was a simple, distasteful game, hanging someone with their own words. Words which could have been perfectly innocent. It was ill-advised to push too far, probably, but Tiffer very much wanted to reach that line.

It had a tendency to be revelatory.

"Would you say you were typically bothered by Mr. Mehta?"
#19
The subtlety of words could sometimes be lost on him, but in this case he saw the slip of a rope as the other grasped at it. Navy eyes narrowed, irritable at realizing his words were to be dissected like rats.

"I met him twice. Briefly both. He was a bother because he thought that I would wish to speak with him. I did not."
#20
"I see." Polite. Relaxed. At least in tone. The need to adapt and constantly read reactions was doing wonders for masking the terror.

It seemed their suspect had started to tighten up a little, perhaps realizing how easily his words could be construed. As a result this line of questioning was hitting a low wall, so with a brief glance to Dakila, Tiffer changed tacks. "Do you turn into a polar bear, Mr. Orlovsky?"

Drastically.
#21
Perhaps some people would have been relieved by the way the suspect chose to fixate on their boss rather than them. But Dakila was not that person. He was uneasy with Tiffer taking the spotlight and with Orlovsky ignoring the werewolf for it. It wasn't respect, he could tell that much. Did he figure that it was easier to intimidate the human in the room, going for the 'weak' link here? But Tiffer remained so steady in the thick of it that you could almost convince yourself he was oblivious to the threat he was prodding at.

Dakila had just enough time to wonder who would change tactics first when Tiffer went for it.

Shifting uneasily on his feet, he prepared for the worst when the conversation was cut into with a direct and loaded question. Prickling with lupine feelings, he acknowledged to himself that even a reasonable person might not take that particular dart well. And Orlovsky was notoriously not reasonable.

There was one beat of silence.
#22
And then a second.

There was an ominous rumble from a source no one but the man in question himself would hear. It was tempting to heed it, of course. It always, always was. But it was a luxury that he'd given up when he'd agreed to lead bears through trying times. You could not protect your people when you refused to protect them from yourself.

But he could see it. Standing, showing, and making sure no one left to report this confirmation. He could imagine, even, turning on the werewolf as if to pin this on the traitor instead somehow. Kick the bee's nest, dare them to go down with him. It would have been remarkably easy. Satisfying, even. If his secret was this uncovered what did he have to lose? At least he could go down being honest to himself.

However... there were still the soft weights of his friends to consider. He could feel them as clearly as ever, bears in his territory that he had made promises to. Ones he really did care about, truly, no matter what anyone else thought. All oblivious to the fact that the shoe was finally coming down. In those two seconds of silence, that was what he considered, and what he felt almost more heavily than the outrage. And he would not endanger them for his own sake. He would not have helped Calliope on that slope to begin with if that wasn't how his priorities had already stacked up.

The polar bear who had killed in broad daylight. But he had such good reason.

"Do you not already know?"

If he had to confess, so did they.
#23
Answer the question, please. It clung behind his teeth, a demand veiled in courtesy. Necessary courtesy, since their only recourse should the site's owner insist they leave—besides acquiescence—would be an arrest. Tiffer would like to have a good deal more certainty on his side before making that call.

This stayed his response, shifted it to something more accommodating. "A lot of questions we ask have answers we've already heard," the chief acknowledged, gesturing with one open hand before resting both on the back of the sofa. Something to seem a little more at ease. "It helps to get clearer accounts of events. And establish who can be trusted."

A bit of transparency, maybe a bid for understanding. Common ground. Though there'd been precious little indication any such thing would be found. "I'll remind you there's nothing illegal about being supernatural. But this will all be simpler if we understand one another. Are you a polar bear shifter?"
#24
Perhaps they'd underestimated Orlovsky somewhat. Or... well, Dakila certainly had. But that was why he didn't trust assumptions or even reputation. Much as he hadn't wanted to test it, now that they'd needed to, he was learning some things.

He could tell the man--the bear--was unhappy. Doubtless he had every reason to be unhappy. Guilty or not, this was not a comfortable conversation to have. And for Tiffer to be willing to say we see you to the man's face--it could have backfired in an instant. But it didn't. Not yet. Still, he did not let his guard down, especially as the man in charge persisted. More insistent. Backing the whole thing into a corner.

There were ways to test, and Tiffer had him right on hand here, ready to declare what he did know: that the man was a bear, at the very least. And while type could be more condemning, it wasn't the core of what Orlovksy withheld. Dakila wasn't the only one with people he had to protect, after all.

With no temptation to speak out of turn, Dakila silently willed the suspect to be cooperative.
#25
His instincts were at odds. The ones that kept him grounded were the ones that needed him to protect what he could. Loss was snapping at him again, almost a greater threat than the man before him who likely had silver bullets and incredible charges to send his way with them. There were not many ways for this go to well, for him to keep what was his.

They already knew, and they were just here to see if he was lying. Because if he would lie about this, of course he would lie about what he knew of Indra.

It remained something he wished he could do, even in the face of cold, hard futility.

Nothing illegal. A line Levka had heard enough times. It was bullshit, though. Any were who was utterly honest with themselves and what they'd done would have every reason to hide the truth. By nature they weren't cut out for the laws presented to them. Not illegal to exist, but illegal to behave naturally, in line with the power they possessed. Case in point--the law should have left the death of a bear to those who understood the how and why. But they would not.

The expectations by which he'd lived the last thirty or more years were being challenged outright. Unheard of, to utter anything of what he considered now.

Better to die.

But he couldn't.

So he was left to adapt and hate every second of it. His gaze moved from one of the human's eyes to the other, "Yes." The word was acrid, unpalatable.
#26
Poetry and propaganda would claim that an experienced law officer—a warrior—could read the little signs of impending violence in another's body language. The subtle motion of their eyes. That one who had killed and was prepared to do so again could always recognize the same hiding beneath a polite veneer.

It wasn't true. There were common signs, indicators. But like with lying, these were far from foolproof. Plenty of suspects had surprised him over the years. Plenty of people were too erratic to preemptively pin down. Those with chemically altered brain states, for example.

Or heightened and predatory instincts.

The experience and preparation didn't leave him any more knowledgeable how Orlovsky would react. It only allowed him to continue drawing and releasing steady breaths despite his body's strong desire to hold each like it was his last.

The single syllable, accompanied by no burst of motion and explosion of white fur, pulled a sharp and controlled little nod. "I'd like to show you something," came his quiet follow-up.

Straightening from the slight forward lean he'd fallen into, Tiffer's hands lifted from the couch, one slowly moving for a pocket of his jacket. "I'm pulling out my phone."

A great deal of care and ample warning with every motion was the price for this information being on the table. His phone joined it, screen up toward the bear after a certain video file was opened. "Just press play."
#27
Done. No immediate accusation followed. Levka's felt himself on a hair's trigger, all his internal logic and reasoning solid enough to carry him through but... perhaps not strong enough if he was challenged.

He wanted something to bite back against, but he was given nothing. Slow movement, words benign. All soft-toothed and indirect. A confusion for a predator who would have better anticipated fight or flight. A stand off that he didn't want to acknowledge made sense--bear king against a man who knew too much and had the power to act on it.

For the moment, he forgot all about the wolf king and what part he might have played in empowering his partner.

So he made the move to approach, his unhappiness with the situation probably coming across as wary. He felt he knew what was coming. He could not bring himself to like.

Pressing the button as instructed, he watched only the first several seconds to confirm what he had already figured out. Then his eyes lifted from screen to the man presenting it, the blurry figures deadly dancing on the screen, and watched him instead as it played out. Only when it was done or the other opted to turn it off prematurely, did he speak.

"What is your point."

A demand, a dare, implied.
#28
It wasn't long between the motion of those eyes back to his and the pausing of the playback. Tiffer couldn't see it, but the sounds were...

Job desensitization was one thing, but those wet crunches.

Maybe that was why. Why when he suddenly found himself much closer to the exposed shifter, eye to eye, confronted with a tone of raspy iron, his own composed facade cracked. Eyes which had meant to steadily hold the bear's darted uncomfortably to the side, toward Dakila. At the moment his best and possibly only hope for getting out of this room alive.

He recovered quickly, within another beat of silence, but the reaction was unmistakable.

It took a quick swallow before he could respond. "Is there another polar bear in your group?" Cliff Douglas had claimed otherwise, but he'd also believed Orlovsky had never previously met Mehta.
#29
It was impossible not to be keyed up. Dakila was aware enough of himself, watching the bear king draw closer to his own chosen leader, that he knew if Orlovsky made the choice to shift, he'd be a breath behind. The tension was subtle but unmistakable once you saw it. Dakila kept his own breaths slow and low, aiming to remain invisible, forgotten while he could.

Words could not express the admiration he had for Joshua Tiffer right then. His conviction to do what he must, and what was right. He chose to believe he would have the chance to tell the man some of this.

And that feeling didn't change when Tiffer's visage flickered, his eyes came this way. They could not afford to think they were invincible here. A good reminder for Dakila, as well, that being invisible was not his most important roll here.

He took a very quiet step in a little closer. Trying not to spook--well, not spook. Orlovsky was not a nervous animal who didn't understand what was going on. But he did not want to give the man reason to try and out-threaten them. That was the true consequence if they escalated here.
#30
He saw it. It was unmissable at this proximity. The human wavered and Levka felt a bead of triumph for it even in the midst of his own unveiling. And with it came a longing to make it a permanent upper hand rather than the fleeting one it was.

The attention shift, the barely noticeable move of the werewolf. Levka let the tension of his own shoulders seep down into his hands, energizing a restlessness that begged freedom. He could do it. He knew he could do it. He could move so fast, take the man straight by the throat before he had time to register what was happening. He could have grown cutting claws, scraped bone, bisecting arteries. And sure, the werewolf would have been on him nearly as fast, but it would have been too late.

This, once, had been their advantage. The ability to erase those who put eyes on them and recognized them for what they were. But in those days it had seemed as if weres were not so concerned with seeming to be human.

So while his fingers flexed, he kept his eyes and the rest of his body where he was and forced himself to consider the question.

The answer? Yes. The answer at the time when that video had been taken? No.

A more clever, more conniving man could have taken his newest bear and used her as a scapegoat. Sell her out, give himself time to vanish if he did it right... but if vanishing had been his goal, he would have done it well before now. He would have left this mountain throne and no one would have come after him.

Besides that, he would not do that to his bears, not even the one he had the least attachment to.

"No," he denied, before tersely repeating himself, "What is your point."
#31
"I'm getting there." Punk.

Another swallow, suppressing the vitriol he wanted to spit. It would salve his pride from the lingering lash of visible fear, and righteous fury was a hell of a drug. Addictive. A slippery slope. Even that sort of minor provocation could push things over the edge in a moment like this. Standing opposite a man like this. Tiffer yet held fast to the notion his primary duty was deescalation, even when direct conflict was inevitable.

But he did want it, to strike back. To meet iron with iron. He was—as he suspected Dakila frequently kept himself from observing—only human.

"Just one more question." The phone was tucked away as he took a small step back. The heel of his shoe caught the corner of the couch he'd had to move around to show the video. Minimal room to retreat. An empty palm did not reappear from inside his jacket, fingers instead sliding along the textured grip of a pistol after slipping the phone into its pocket.

"Did you kill Indra Mehta?"


intent one

#32
Orlovsky was impatient, challenging. Dakila couldn't decide the motivation there. Trying to call a bluff? Force them to show their hand without revealing too much of his own? Or was the man simply begging for a clear enemy to strike against.

No idea, with so many of his assumptions about the bear king put into question.

Tiffer withdrew the phone and himself, approaching their purpose.

Dakila was not surprised to see the man go for his weapon, the movement slow and purposeful. It was time and he took his own step to the side, to put himself more toward the back of the suspect. He did not bother with his own weapon, instead letting the wolf lurk perilously close to the surface, restrained only by a mutual understanding.

Confession or action would give them reason enough. Tiffer could handle it, Dakila would assist. And if it got too perilous, well...

Currently he did not feel terribly conflicted about eliminating a danger should it become clear and present.


uhh warning one?

#33
The human did not like the pressure. Levka believed he wanted some veil of control and did not enjoy that he was being forced to the conclusion. Even with his losing hand, Levka felt the power of his own obstinance, at confronting this thing he did not want and could barely tolerate and make it feel like it was happening in his own terms. He would not allow himself to be tugged around like a show pony, and so the heels had dug in.

Something akin to glee, but much more poisonous, danced in dark eyes that were lightening rapidly to an unrestrained hue of orange. The question asked was not one he wanted to answer, but having drawn it out here into direct confrontation satisfied something.

If they were going to take away what was his, they may as well be direct about it.

The wolf was skulking in the background, a well trained pet who only awaited signal. Levka felt certain he could hold his own against the traitor...

But that pass of thinking reminded him... the human should not have known to ask if Levka had any other polar bears in his group. Should not have spoken to him as if he lead them. Should not have had the awareness that he clearly had. If he fought, escaped... dared to murder these people, there would be others who would know. A whole station of people who would not value what Levka valued.

And they would continue to dig for answers. And they knew about his sleuth.

"Promise me first. Promise that it ends with me and you leave the others."

The dangerous energy remained, a thinly hidden frenzy seconds away from being unconstrained.
#34
That was... difficult. The video clearly showed both pale bears assaulting the brown. The polar had unmistakably made the kill, but the smaller bear had been at least an accessory, more so an accomplice.

This was not the sort of thing he could just brush aside. Orlovsky was, he was now convinced, the principal in the murder. But that didn't exonerate the other bear's participation. Not without extenuating circumstances the chief couldn't know at that time. It would require further investigation, and that wouldn't be an easy sell.

"It's a possibility," was rushed out after a brief silence. There was no purpose in keeping his hand in his jacket, meaninglessly concealing what everyone knew he held. The gun came out, still slow and deliberate, pointed down by his side.

"I'd need more information about what happened and why. Full cooperation." Mind racing over precedents and plea bargains, he tried to piece together a legitimate and respectable concession that could curtail any impending violence. But it all boiled down to...

"Right now I can't offer a guarantee." Someone had wanted him to be direct. There you go.


intent two

#35
There was a moment where everything hung in the air. The energy in the room was beyond uncomfortable, a tinder box already smoldering.

And then, something just shy of a confession. A demand for a bargain that was... not entirely unreasonable. The sort of thing Dakila could rationalize for himself. Do what you must with me, but leave them out of it.

He would not say he felt sympathy, but he did feel understanding. But he also knew it was not a small ask when this investigation was not as cut and dry as merely 'a man is dead.'

So he did not relax, remaining braced to act in defense of his superior.


warning two

#36
It was not what he wanted. Levka wanted to throttle the promise out of the man, make him do it in haste to save his own skin. But with the wolf at his back and the gun in hand--it seemed too good a way to get himself shot and leave Calliope and the others open for having their lives torn apart in turn.

And for what? To make some fools feel better that their friend was dead?

The discontent growl budded in his throat, but blossomed and faded in a breath.

Over the last few weeks he had come to terms with his true goals. Even now, he did not forget them. The bears of Graupel Canyon stood beside him even as everything became uncertain, and the one who had left... well, he would never get her back if he he killed a second time while she watched and hoped for better.

Still, it did not make it easy now, to resist the visceral impulse to wreck it all anyway.

He would not have managed it with a flat refusal. That would have been the nuclear option. But possibilities and full cooperation left his orange gaze to simmer, to think just the smallest bit longer. He was already done for, already revealed. It was just a matter of who, if anyone, he took down with him--and he could not divide his allies from his enemies so easily.

Not right now, no promises. But there was a lot of power in later. And this offer, even tentative, would not be made a second time. Levka had forced them to this point, unable to handle waiting and wondering any longer. About them, what they would want if they ever came. About himself, and what he would do when they did.

So he took a step back. Room for himself to breathe those last seconds of lawfully assumed innocence and to remove himself from the tempting heartbeat of the delicate human man. He could not draw himself out any longer for more reassurance, and so he would take the only chance he had.

"Da, ya ubil yego. I did it, and the fool knew that I would."
#37
What was taken for Russian went over his head, but Tiffer gave a solemn nod to the rest. Left hand moved to collect the reinforced cuffs from his belt. He wanted to finish this, conclude the tense scene in the way he'd always hoped to. Exerting lawful power, reclaiming the footing he'd lost only moments ago.

Winning, utterly.

It was ego, and a grimace briefly crossed his features. Bravado and stupidity. He had a man in position, one who could much more effectively respond to any sudden resistance. Also he already had his gun in hand and couldn't very well latch the restraints with only one.

"Levka Orlovsky, you're under arrest for the murder of Indra Mehta." Instead he cradled his primary hand with the other, barrel still low but ready, and nodded to Dakila. "Hands behind your back, please. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney one will be provided for you.".

A shallow breath, tension remaining until the bear was properly bound. Probably long after. "With these rights in mind, I would like to understand your perspective on the event." Better they conduct that elsewhere, though. Somewhere no other bear was liable to wander into the building.
#38
As always often was the case, Dakila had been holding out for the truth, and upon getting it... well, there was no much relief to be found.

There was still a great deal to be done. And justice did not raise the dead.

Still, given the alternative paths they'd been staring down as they'd moved into this space, he would take it. As he would take the chance to move up as silently requested, unhooking his own pair of the specially crafted handcuffs, their weight solid in his hand.

Dakila did not listen to the words he knew as well as Tiffer did, but he got close enough to the bear to do something about it--and faltered only a heartbeat when he found the man's head turned, one supernatural eye spying him out directly for the first time in many long minutes. A fresh tension as he locked the first wrist--only the most token resistance, but that was not the problem. What he read in the look and the movement was unmistakable animosity.

But the second cuff locked, and he reached to secure the detained monster with a hand to his arm, knowing they would need to move out before they attracted undue attention.
#39
Yes, yes, he wanted to snap. I do not care. It did not seem to matter, these 'rights' they read every time like trite little promises. They were not the ones he wanted. What he cared about had already been voiced.

And while he allowed the other officer to approach and do what he must, as soon as his wrists were together--a frustrating feeling in an of itself--he shrugged away from the other's would-be hold, roughly, growling again.

"I will cooperate to you but you will not have the werewolf touch me again."

The offense was deep and murky.
#40
While most of the interaction had proceeded along lines he'd by and large anticipated or at least hoped for, this last bestial condition caught him off guard. Tiffer was left to glance between the two shifters, mind running over options and potential explanations.

Had Orlovsky expected to get some reaction from calling out what Dakila was? Maybe. But that couldn't have been the whole of it, with such a seemingly visceral reaction. He'd loosely assumed, based on what he'd been told of the man, the idea of being subdued by a mere human would be taken as unthinkable humiliation. But now it was his fellow that was more objectionable.

It was something to think about, maybe talk about with his detective in private. A little brain fried from a failed attempt at staring down his potential death, the whole thing was mentally pushed aside. With an apologetic look to Dakila, he holstered his weapon and placed one firm hand just above Orlovsky's elbow. Now seemed a poor time to offer a lecture about the respect Detective Tomás warranted.

Don't push that tenuous luck.
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