In spite of all the new experiences Amaru was delving into, the vibe of the current events wasn't one of them.
As weird as it was to say— to feel, being thrown into the fray of camera flashes, wondering gazes, and objects of luxury beyond his understandings wasn't new.
Because at the end of the day, it was still just that. Being thrown into the fray. Being pressed and overwhelmed and scrutinized and objectified by people he'd never seen.
It was just like football.
Just like any big game.
Like the first try out.
Like his first days in new schools the literal second he started puberty.
Eyes.
Camera flashes.
"You play ball, boy?"
"You've got some arms on you."
"Where are you from?"
It was all the same. The same experiences, the same looks only through a lens that was so many tax brackets above him it operated on money printed in heaven. If that was a thing in his new shapeshifting grimdark existence….
Only now, he had to smile and nod and wave.
He began to exit the car with his facial muscles primed.
Specs spoke to him on his way out, "Just remember to stay calm. I've already put my contact info in your phone. If you have any questions or worries text me. I'll keep you updated through messages as well. Oh also, keep your phone in your pocket when you bump into the bigwigs."
"Why?" Amaru asked.
"Data collection, obviously. They all do insider trading anyway, we have the moral high ground no matter what we do." Specs winked behind his enchanted shades.
Amaru left the car with a newly discomforted hold on his phone as he slid it into his pocket.
He stood up to his full height and cringed as the blinding flash of cameras focused on him.
Braun was at his side immediately with an arm around his broad shoulders. He smiled and casually conversed with the photographers and journalists. Slowly, Amaru followed suit as best he could.
"Braun! You haven't aged a day!" One of the cameramen yelled from the crowd.
"Just trying to get like you, Tim." Braun winked playfully.
"Who have you brought with you today? Another future Olympian? Perhaps a business whizz? Maybe an actor? He's got the action movie hero look."
Braun tightened his grip on Amaru— as if he wasn't even close enough to call him by his first name, "This one here is a very special guest. But I'm not spilling any beans until I taste some whine and hug some beautiful women!"
With that they headed inside. As Amaru walked— and tried to avoid the cognitive whiplash he felt from Braun's personality switch, he nodded and shook hands with watching men and women from outside the red carpet leading into the great glass skyscraper.
Also known as, The Royal Rise. As said in rose-gold words on top of the building.
Inside it was as the name stated. Royal. On the surface at least.
The floor was black marble with flecks of silver and gold that were peppered within the cracks like spacial dust.
Servers— men and women in tight fit exposing suits, walked around carrying platters of rare foods and drinks. Dark energies swirled within them. Highlighting how foul and fermented they were with a supernatural rot that made Amaru's blood hot.
His phone buzzed suddenly. Quickly, he took it out of his pocket as they wadded through the sea of people.
His Home Screen showed a text from Specs. It read, "Don't give into your rage, aka don't wolf out, aka don't transform, aka DONT TURN THE PARTY UP! Keep it calm and collected, country-boy. We play by apocalypse rules, and that puts us in a serious deficit. "
"Easier said than done." Amaru thought.
He looked up from his phone to find a server coming to a stop in front of him. She was blonde with vibrant green eyes, unblemished skin and a black dress that was so explicit, she probably would've seemed less expliciy naked.
She also wore a crown— keeping up with the companies namesake.
"Oh! A handsome knight…. who seems just a bit parched. Will you take a drink from your queen?" She exaggerated her mannerisms and fluttered her long fake lashes .
"Somebody get her a gig." One of the many suited men mumbled as he passed by behind her.
She winked at him as a few others laughed before returning her attention to Amaru.
He smiled faintly. "No thank you, I'm underage."
She seemed bothered only for a moment before returning to normal, "Can't be by much, I won't tell."
"C'mon champ, take a swig. It'll put some hair on your chest." Braun was at his side slapping his back like a father he never had. Or knew.
A few nearby spectators laughed as Amaru grabbed the glass of wine.
The glass was hot— burning almost, but it entered him with a foul coolness.
Like a stream of shit.
As he looked at the wine in the glass he blinked twice upon realizing the sight of hundreds of squirming little black smoking worms.
Wyrm.
Wyrm taint.
"Another Pentex Subsidiary I bet. They really spread their corrosion everywhere. Even in a drink… a drink Braun is telling me to consume at a party. Peer pressure doesn't move me." Amaru looked up at Braun again.
He nodded, "Come on, it won't ruin your perfect gpa." He winked at an onlooker.
Then it clicked.
Masks.
Wear it. Don't be it.
Amaru braced himself and brought the glass to his lips. The golden fluids slithered down the crap quality glass cup. For a fraction of a second, it felt like everyone's corrupted gaze fell on him. Welcoming him. Embracing him as the wyrmish larvae nestled in his lungs and gut.
Only he didn't swallow. He faked the sip and following cough. Braun helped make the acting passable by drawing everyone's attention to him with a cheer and clap.
All the while he seamlessly switched cups with Amaru. Suddenly his glass was half empty and everyone was satisfied.
He felt a considerable amount of tension leave the air.
And then he realized how outnumbered they were.
Everywhere.
Braun patted him on the back. "You're doing great. Keep at it." He whispered.
So Amaru did.
He walked through the crowd, holding small convos and answering questions where he could. His anti-social nature was hard to fully mask but it was easily believed due to his position as new kid on the block.
Eventually they made it to the front of what he learned was a crowd, where a stage and podium sat with a big sign that read, "Royal Rise Fund-Hunt!" All around the sign, sponsors and everyday brand names were written like a cloud of gnats.
A man suddenly took the stage. He was mundane. Short hair, thick mustache, beer belly strapped into his satin suit. He smiled cordially as he took a silver spoon to his glass.
The sound echoed.
Slowly, everyone quieted.
The man began to speak, "Hello and good evening, everyone. As you all know, my name is Jeffery King. Patriarch and face of King Breweries and Distillery— as the partner of the Royal Rise and this event, I'd like to thank you all for attending. You're all guarunteed stock in my company and a keg to take home on the house! Spread it far and wide!"
The crowd raised their drinks in agreement. Amaru found himself being bumped by Braun, who was reminding him to raise his drink.
Amaru did so.
"This is defintely a cult." Amaru thought as he raised his drink.
"Tonight we'll have a number of activities, think-tanks and gatherings planned where all your fundraising goals will be focused. All I ask is that you stay hydrated and have a good time."
The crowd agreed.
He held up a hand then, "And before we begin, we have one more willing to bravely take the stage after the king. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you, Braun."
Braun set his drink on a platter where a server stood at his side. Amaru did the same as Braun motioned for him to follow.
He tried not to sweat as he made his way up to the podium, but the stakes were becoming daunting. He said this as someone who'd killed a bloodworm.
Two Garou in a luxury highrise full of wyrm-tainted ale and enough old money to predate all fifty states.
As he reached the top stage and looked over everyone with their foul drinks, he fought off the urge to transform. He tried to ignore how Gaia died beneath the buildings corrosive weight as Braun began to perform.
"Welcomed to the stage by a king? I think it's safe to say I've made it." Braun held up a glass— as if he didn't slyly try to get rid of the last.
The crowd chuckled.
"Now, I don't know about you all, but I'm ready to get this night started, so I'll be quick. You all know me for my guardian-style investments and business in the betterment of young men in America. That hasn't changed, but evolved. Tonight, I'd like to introduce you all to my Ward, Amaru Mawh."
The crowd cheered— but he could see the faces of many light up.
"No alias?!" Amaru panicked. He felt like Braun just ripped his mask off that he only just slid on to remain hidden.
They saw the paper. At least a few did.
Some looked beyond the paper and learned of his violent school history he was sure.
Amaru prepared for a war with the wyrm's drunkest in that instant.
Nothing came.
No slurs, no hateful gazes. Just surprise, forced smiles, clapping.
"Please, show him a good time and welcome him as one of your own. I have a feeling this one will be special." Braun said.
Then they were off the stage and the fundraiser began.
People moved like worker ants through the massive crowd to group up at stations and bump shoulders with higher ups.
Amaru was caught up in observing it all when he noticed eyes on him. As he turned he found a man standing behind him. He was tall— younger than the others and wearing a cheaper suit. But not by much.
"Hello, Amaru, welcome into the fold." He held a hand out.
Amaru took it.
The man raised an eyebrow, "That's a tough grip you got there. Football?"
"Yea. Defense."
The man smiled, "I'm Malcom Henry. I'm here on behalf of Bradford Incorporated. We work with enhancing the production and success rate of public schools through removing non-profitable participants and injecting monetary boosters."
"Non-profitable participants….? The hell—" Amaru's thoughts were cut short as Malcom continued.
"Anyway, I understand as a Ward of Braun, you're practically the face of his school, but I'd ask that you consider one of our many top performing schools that have a direct connect to our executive branches at Bradford Incorporated. I understand you've had a bit of a troubled school life. With your experiences and our skill, we could transform the schooling Indus—"
"Thank you for your time, but I have to get going." Amaru interrupted on behalf of his other half doing so and held a hand out.
Malcom smiled and took it, "If you ever change your mind. Or have any questions, call me."
Their hands disconnected and Amaru found Bradford Incorporated's business card stuck to his palm.
His phone buzzed as the man disappeared in the sea of vultures.
He took it out and found a text from Specs.
"If that card has a number on it, text it right now!!!!"
"What? Why?"
"Pack doesn't ask questions. Especially not a Cliath. Do it. #NOW!" Specs texted.
Amaru quickly typed in the number and messaged, "Just checking if this number works, Mr. Henry."
He waited— less than a minute and the bubbling icon of someone texting appeared.
"Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes!" Specs texted as Malcom replied.
"This number does in fact work, Mr. Mawh. And please, call me Malcom."
His phone screen flickered and gnosis flowed across the screen, distorting the text and words.
Specs texted again, "Hell yes! I'm in. That's a good hunt, Amaru. We've been at odds with Bradford Incorporated since our inception. Since the Braunmenn Academy is basically a public school cosplaying as a private school, Bradford Inc wants a piece. Like everywhere else, they've bought up all the public schools and repurposed them into wyrm-tainted academic factories for lower-learning. They can't spread their influence as far as they'd like because of our existence. And we can't take them out silently because we lack Intel. Until now possibly. I'm sure Braun brought you in just for that."
"Happy to help. Even though I didn't do anything."
"Stay positive, pup."
"Don't call me that." Amaru replied.
"If you can't handle that, how will you survive the hazing?"
Amaru felt the grip on his phone tighten at the mention of the word. His past as a football player made it traumatic.
"Come find out." He texted.
Specs sent a laughing emoji, "Man, I get why Pentex put the Red Talons as top priority. You guys are aggresive! #JK!DONTRIPMYTHROATOUT"
Amaru shut off his phone. The hashtags were giving him a migraine. When he looked up, he found the crowd had moved.
Quickly, he began scanning the area for Braun. It shouldn't have been hard to locate him. He was tall, imposing and devilishly handsome. He was also loud and his false German accent didn't make him any less audibly different.
Plus, Amaru had his scent.
It was gone.
He felt himself begin to grow anxious as people tried pitching their business, ideas and start-ups to him.
He had to leave. His mask cracked once already. It would shatter if he kept hearing the modern nobles talk about cement dumping forests and drying out wasteful lakes.
Quickly he—
The ground rumbled.
He stopped dead in his tracks.
Goosebumps traveled down along his skin.
He flinched as a roar shook the skies.
Panick filled him as he looked around. No one heard it. They were too drunk. Too tainted by the wyrm.
Outside the wall of windows, on the rooftop of a nearby high rise, he found a Griffin perched on the spires like a gargoyle made of spiritual essence.
After it roared, it looked up at his building.
It was then that an explosion went off and shook the entire high rise.
Everyone screamed as the lights flickered and sprinklers went off.
Hairline fractures rippled along the ceiling before it ultimately collapsed.
It all faded to black.
When Amaru came to his senses, he was under a block of cement and carpet. The smells of blood and death swarmed his senses where the burn of wood and flesh failed.
He was sick. He was angry. He rag—
He froze as movement and snarls shook the grounds.
Quickly, he pushed the cement slab off himself. His suit was torn up and burnt, but he felt fine. It reminded him of that car accident he survived when he was eight. He blinked back the traumatic memory and sat up on the even ground.
He was at the edge of a battlefield.
The top two floors of the highrise had fallen inward, turning the fundraiser grounds into a maze-like battlefield of cement pillars, fires, electrical spams and rubble.
In the midst of it all were hideous mutated creatures. Humanoid creatures with fatty slimy skin like a slug and eyes with dozens of slitted pupils. Some had multiple arms while others had glowing hearts that pushed lava-like bile out of their snarling mouthes. They all stunk of Wyrm.
And fighting them were….
"Vigilantes….?" Amaru thought as he eyed the cloaked individuals.
Beneath the cloaks, he saw the gleam of armor and sheathed katana's. On their faces they wore mempo masks resembling the snouts of snarling wolves.
Amaru was suddenly thinking back to Braun and his talk about Samurai and their masks.
He was taken out of his thoughts as a stray wyrm creature charged him from the backline where it fell.
Amaru reacted quickly, bringing his foot up to kick it in the face.
It flew backward and fell in a sloppy mess.
While on the floor it was punctured with bullets and throwing stars.
"Good kick!" A slightly Japanese accented voice said.
Amaru recognized the voice as he looked up.
"Braun…?"
"Furia! Get the survivor to safety."
Suddenly, the masked individuals taking cover behind slabs of stone were on the move, shifting in perfect sync. Some jumped out of cover, unsheathing their swords to cut through the wyrm mutants while others shot their pistols, curving bullets with magical potency around corners and through cracks in the rubble.
One of the many made their way towards him. She was large. Her armor wasn't as modern as the others, it was….. Greek. Stylized and marked with characters of the region. It resembled something godlike. Her golden eyes gleamed from the shadows of her hood and stripes of fur spread across her forehead. She smelled familiar—
"Long time no see. Haven't wasted your millions yet have you?"
"Ms. Markos?"
"If you blow my cover, I'll blow your head off. Let's move! You did your job, now we've gotta keep up appearances." Ms. Markos snarled.
Suddenly Amaru was moving through the wreckage. But he couldn't help looking back at the pack of Garou. Masked and masters of sword, gun and magic.
The world felt better the more they cut through the enemy.
He felt better.