InsaneJournal

News
Julie hummed to herself as she worked on cleaning the bar. Basketball was over for the weekend and there weren't many patrons in the Lighthouse that evening. The regular foursome of elderly card players had a table toward the back that she checked every so often to make sure they were well supplied with drinks and snacks, but aside from that the bar was mostly empty and she was getting a headstart on cleaning.

The door chimed and the werewolf looked up from her task to see a familiar face walk through. It had taken her a long time to work through her anger at Hannah's death and not place the blame squarely at Whistler's feet. It had been difficult, even knowing it wasn't his fault she'd still wanted to blame him but eventually she'd worked through it.

"Hey stranger, long time no see," she greeted him with a friendly smile and moved to go back behind the bar. "What are you drinking tonight?"

Whistler had intentionally missed the earlier festivities. Not that he couldn't get wrapped up in the 'Road to the Final Four' (and he was a fan of college basketball), but with so much pressing on his mind of late, he couldn't bring himself to paste on a fake smile and make small talk. He'd especially hoped that Connor wasn't working this late; while their last conversation had gone well, by now he'd probably heard about Rhiannon's forced commitment to the latest government blunder and worried that the blame would be spread around. After all, the Agent was supposed to 'know stuff' like this in advance.

Except when it involved him directly or indirectly. Then the bets were off.

He glanced up from the polish of his shoes and gave a tired smile to Julie. "Whatever you've got that's guaranteed to peel wallpaper," he replied. "And then set it on fire, would'ja?"


"Uh oh," Julie observed, a grin on her face. "Someone's had a rough day."

The werewolf mixed up a concoction that had enough alcohol content that one could set fire to if they were so inclined and placed it in front of the hatted man. "There, wanna tell your friendly barkeep what has you in the dumps? You're more of a happy go lucky kinda guy from what I've seen, has to be something serious to get you like this."

"Call it ants-in-pants syndrome," he advised Julie as Whistler slid into a barstool. "Lots makin' its way to the forefront and can't tell which way the wind'll blow it. How's that for cryptic?"

He took a gulp of the drink and wished immediately that he hadn't. Gasoline (which he'd siphoned off from other vehicles in his worst days) had a better after-taste. But he did ask for it. Best Whistler didn't light a cigarette, in case.

"What've you heard with those perky ears o' yours, Julie. I could use some news of the good sort right now."

"Well..." Truth be told there wasn't too much new in Julie's world. She was in a rut, and it was something she was increasingly aware of. Something would have to be done about that, but the werewolf wasn't sure yet what that should be.

"It looks like my alma mater is heading to the final four..." she offered. "And Mr. Jones," she indicated one of the card players with a nod of her head. "Has a new grandson, he was showing off pictures of the little guy when he came in earlier."

"Enjoy that," the hatted man replied, referring to the tournament. It seemed like Julie was the only one in his minuscule circle that wasn't encumbered by recent events. But how long would that hold out? Maybe that was why Hannah hadn't contacted him yet? The 'indirect' influence of the Powers making sure he had no unfinished business.

"You're a bartender," Whistler hinted. "Got your ear to the ground and, uh, better hearing than most." He withheld the wink. That would've been tacky. "There's rumbles. You aware?"

Julie's smile turned to a quizzical expression. There must be trouble, given the agent's hints.

"I guess I've been too busy with the bar lately, and Connor likes to 'protect' me from bad news." Her boyfriend had been distant lately, and absent a fair amount of the time. "I don't seem to hang out in the 'special' circles too much either...too much of the lone wolf lately I guess." She smiled at the intentional pun and continued. "With the crowd in here I can tell you everything you never wanted to know about the latest farm bill in Congress, what the farmer's almanac says about what the weather should be and what baseball team is the favorite to win the Series this year. The 'other' stuff? Not so much."

Whistler nodded and risked another bit of his drink. This time it didn't hurt as much going down. Most likely because his taste buds had been burned away with the first taste. "How much do you trust your government?" he asked. He was wary of their methods. Rhiannon hinted they were watching in and around Searchlight. And listening devices weren't beyond their scope.

"That's a loaded question," Julie responded, and took a sip from the water glass she had behind the bar. Did she trust her government? What was he talking about?

Her family was slightly to the right of the Kaiser in their political leanings, and the werewolf herself hadn't voted for anyone since college. Being on the run for three years and trying to avoid giving away your location precluded registering to vote.

"I guess the answer is 'it depends', what are they up to this time?"

"All I know is what Rhiannon told me," he started, "which isn't much. They know what's going on in Vegas and here. They're recruiting -- and not just the white hats."

He finished the drink. The room turned a light shade of blue. "And they're not above intimidation tactics and outright threats to swell their ranks."

"Recruiting?" Julie poured a water for him without being asked and handed it over. He looked like he was about to fall off his stool, maybe she'd made that drink a bit too strong for him.

She hadn't heard the term 'white hats' before but figured out the context. "You mean they're recruiting people who are 'special'? Why? And what's this about intimidation and threats?"

Whistler gladly accepted the water and emptied the glass down his throat. "I don't have the full scoop, just what I've heard. Though I suspect Connor could give you a few answers."

It was on the tip of her tongue to ask him why he thought so, but she nodded and refilled his water glass. This sounded like something Connor would get tangled up with even if he wasn't trying to, that's just the way he was. It was also like him to not tell her anything about it, though truth be told this time around it could be more that they hadn't seen much of each other lately. Ships passing in the night and all that.

She'd have to see just what was going on the next time they had a minute or two.

"What do you think? Do you trust the government?"

He rubbed a thumb against the condensation as he considered his answer. But being cagey when it came to something this important wasn't the best course of action.

"I don't trust 'em to spend my tax dollars wisely, Julie." Whistler put his thumb to bottom lip and wet it. "And I sure as hell wouldn't want 'em getting involved in this. I won't tell ya to run, but I wouldn't suggest you act as if they've got your best interests at heart."

"I'm done running," Julie's response was automatic. "I ran from my problems for almost three years and it didn't do anything but make it worse before it got better, though if it weren't for the friends I've made here I probably wouldn't have been able to save myself."

That being said, the last thing she was interested in was becoming some sort of science experiment for the government if that's what they were up to. She'd have to find out more from someone who'd heard the whole story.

As for the friends who'd gotten her away...there weren't many of those left in these parts. Devon, Kris, and Matthew were gone, Hannah was mostly dead. Mallory was still around, but she was the last of the original group that had helped her end things with Brad once and for all.

"What are you going to do?"

Whistler understood about running. He'd been doing it longer than Julie was alive. But like her, he'd found a reason to stay in Searchlight. And he'd be damned if he stood by and allowed that to be taken away without a fight.

Provided it, and she, was still standing when he got back from investigating his lineage. No, he shook out the pessimistic thought. Rhiannon had been through worse. If there was a problem, he'd know about it before she had a chance to pick up the phone. And should the Powers decide to fuck with him again (and they might) he'd take that chance.

"Wait and see what role I play," he spoke, telling a half-truth. He'd see it, but the Agent might not wait as long this time. "And no, Julie, I can't tell you what to do. That's a choice you have to make."

"That wasn't why I was asking," Julie took another sip of her water. "Government flunkies I can handle, I think, it's vampires and other things that go bump in the night that give me the willies. I wanted to get a feel for what others were thinking, just in case."

She wasn't sure how bad things were going to get, or if she should really be worried. After all, Whistler was hearing the information secondhand. Maybe it wasn't as serious as he made it sound. It wasn't like it was the military trying to run things, though from what Rodrigo had told her over the years it didn't sound like they were all that good at thinking outside the box either.

"I know they're tagging people, that I can confirm. Like an internal GPS or somethin'." He remembered the minor scar on Rhiannon's wrist. That gave Whistler a bad feeling. What if it was more than a way to track movement? Oh great, now he was reliving Mission Impossible: III. Like the government would blow someone's hand off for straying into a restricted zone.

"No way!" Julie set her glass down and stared at Whistler. This was something different entirely. Tracking devices?

"The country's going to hell," the werewolf muttered to herself, and shook her head in disbelief. "You've really seen it with your own eyes?"

He downed the rest of the water and risked spontaneous combustion by pulling out his Lucky Sevens and setting a cigarette alight. "Just under the epidermis, at the wrist. Apparently it itches."

Whistler took a drag and allowed the smoke to curl from the corners of his mouth. "The real question, I guess, is what if you don't go along with their plan? I think that's somethin' bigger to worry about, Jules."

Julie watched him light the cigarette with a wary eye, half expecting flames to shoot out of his mouth from all the alcohol fumes.

"I think if they try that on me they'll be in for a rude awakening," Julie said grimly. She didn't know who Whistler had seen with the implant but she didn't feel it mattered. "First thing they'll need is a good paramedic and after that a good lawyer."

"And you're assumin' they'll fight fair? Trust me." A trail of ash fell onto the bar; Whistler gently blew breath against it so the flakes scattered. "They've already come at one person sideways. The government won't make it easy for you."

"I don't think the government can do anything to me that hasn't been done already," Julie shook her head. "I've been stalked and held captive by a professional crazy person who is responsible for my problems around the full moon, not to mention all the weird shit that's happened to me since I settled here. I'm all out of scared."

She took a swipe at the bar with her towel to remove any ashes that he might have missed. "Besides, I'm not some high school dropout or unschooled demon. I know my rights and whatever I've become I'm still a U.S. Citizen. I'd like to see them try to prove their case in court if they tried something."

Whistler shook his head. Julie was an optimist, despite everything she'd lived through. The Agent was the opposite. He'd been around too damned long, knew how easy it was to get around legalities. "Two words: Guantanamo Bay. For demons." He paused. "Okay, that was technically four."

"And how many U.S. Citizens were in Gitmo?" Julie countered easily. She'd studied the subject in High School. "Not many, and the courts said the government had to charge them or let them go."

"I'm not saying I want to get locked up, Whistler, or that I don't think it can happen to me. I just think I can make them uncomfortable enough that they'll back off."

"I hope you're right, Julie," Whistler cautioned. "But, and I say this without giving out any priviledged information that isn't mine to give, but what if they don't go after you directly? You'd better be prepared for a shit-storm fight is all I'm sayin'."

He finished the water, took one last drag of his cigarette and stubbed the end into a nearby ashtray. "I do hope you're not on their radar, seriously. I know I've been spotted but so far, they haven't come a'knockin'. And as I'm waitin' for word from a friend..." Whistler stood, fished out a few bills. "Don't tell me it's on the house, alright? At least take it for a tip, even if yer not lookin' for advice."

The Agent took a few steps towards the door, his eyes sweeping around the bar for obvious signs of cameras. "As I said, waitin' for word an' I might be outta town for a few weeks. Hope you're still here when I get back."

"Take care Whistler, and be safe if you do take your trip." Julie told him affectionately, taking his cash and separating what was needed to cover the drink and pocketing the rest.

She waved goodbye at the agent and moved to check on her table of card players.