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The Half Moon Club (EvelynWillows x Collector of Rarities)

Collector of Rarities

Collector of Rarities

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Joined
May 25, 2011
Carla winter had just left a job she loved as a woman's MMA star. She'd spent a good seven years becoming the undefeated champion in her weightclass, landing several advertising deals and making a nice deal of money for herself. Unfortunately, she'd had to leave because it had been long enough that people would start noticing that she wasn't aging; being a werewolf had its downsides.

Carla was a bit on the tall side for a woman, standing at 5'6", although there were plenty of men that towered over her. She had snow white hair, which she kept in a short, boyish cut, and icy blue eyes. She was well-muscled for a woman and, although a good deal of it was tone, her physique was a little too hardy to qualify as athletic. She had C-cup breasts, a narrow waist and wide hips, although not many would describe her as feminine, thanks to her muscle. Her movements were always confident, perhaps even a little cocky; she knew what she was doing and where she was going and she wasn't the type to let people stand in her way.

Carla was a bit of an anomaly in that she was a lone wolf that had survived perfectly well on her own for just over a hundred years, although she still looked to be in her mid-twenties. Most lone wolves were either killed off by alphas who didn't like loners in their territory or by vampires who just wanted a good hunt. Carla, however, had dedicated most of her life to learning the martial arts. Her parents had traveled a lot when she was young and during a tour of Asia, she'd become enamored with the martial arts. Her father had let her train in karate and, after both of her parents had died in a dispute with a Japanese pack, Carla had dedicated herself to learning as many fighting styles as she could.

This was why, when she finally arrived in Boston in the early 2000s, she'd entered underground fighting arenas for money. She'd started out fighting mostly human opponents, but quickly started fighting other wolves exclusively for progressively larger amounts of money. A few years later, she had been contacted by a talent scout for women's MMA who'd seen her in action at her gym. All of that was behind her now, though and she was looking for new work. Fortunately for her, she'd attracted the attention of every pack in Boston and each of them wanted her working for them. She'd turned down several job opportunities since they involved actually joining a pack, which she did not want to do: she knew the way males tended to operate and she didn't particularly fancy becoming someone's bitch. Fortunately, one of the packs owned a nightclub, The Half Moon Club; it was a very high-end club with a discriminating guest list that also happened to be neutral ground, not just for the packs, but also for the local covens as well. With any luck, she'd be able to land a job working security at the Half Moon without actually having to join the pack that ran it.

Carla wasn't wearing anything particularly dressy, although she had put on her nicest casual outfit: a black t-shirt that hugged both her breasts and her biceps, a pair of dark jeans and a pair of black leather biker boots. It was 10 AM, still far too early for the club to actually open, which made it a good time for an interview. Carla put on a cocky grin and strode into the club like she owned the place before taking in her surroundings and looking for the owner.
 
"We're closed!"

The voice came from a cherry picker in the middle of the dance floor. The bucket was high up in the rafters where a man was working on the spotlights and cameras hidden in the black painted ceiling nearly three floors up. He had his shirt off and was using a torque wrench to loosen the flange on the light. The man looked down to see who had entered the club. The woman below looked somewhat punk-rock.

Probably a stoner looking for a fix, he thought.

Joe had only been back in the States for a few months now. He had impulsively taken the last tour on impulse after losing his kids to a drunk driver. He needed to be out of the country; otherwise he might have killed his wife himself after learning that she had missed picking them up from school because she was busy with one of her many lovers. The kids had decided to walk the three miles home, and half a mile from their LA apartment they had been mowed down.

By their own mom.

She was drunk and running late to pick them up from school, and in her haste had dropped her phone. As she dug around on the floor to fish it out of the mess near her legs she didn't see the kids stepping out into the cross walk or the red light she had just ran through.

Joe still had nightmares about it, but he kept them quiet and made it through the last four years needed to retire from the Army. Boston had been a good change for him. He accepted his grandfather Bruce's offer to work maintenance at the club while he figure out what he wanted to do with the rest of his life. So far he had enjoyed the mindless work and the ability to remain anonymous in the new city. He spent the early mornings running and the afternoons working out at the local iron club. Otherwise it was assorted maintenance, which fulfilled his desire to fix what little of the world he could, and evenings annoying the cooks in the club kitchen.

He was a tall man, broad shouldered and lean from years of hard work and a love of running. It seemed like the activity kept him from thinking too much of the people he had lost. One day he'd see them again, he hoped, but for now the city was a very lonely place. He had dark, short hair and kept his facial hair trimmed short. His brown eyes had a tendency to either dance with mischief or stare with an intense seriousness, but he tried to not stay serious too long. He'd spent twenty-odd years being serious with a uniform on; this life was finally his to play with.

Joe lowered the bucket to the ground and hopped over the side. He casually walked towards the strutting woman and repeated his message. "We're closed. Come back tonight."
 
"Actually, I'm looking for Bruce," said Carla, swaggering over to lean against the bar. "He said that there was an opening for security here. Go check with him: I'm supposed to interview with him right about now."

Carla couldn't help but give Joe a once-over. Carla could appreciate both attractive men and women, and Joe certainly fit the bill. It certainly helped that he wasn't wearing a shirt. She didn't make any pretense about looking him up and down, a wry grin spreading across her lips. Depending on Joe's disposition, she might have considered flirting with him once he was done with the interview.
 
"You have to be joking. A tiny thing like you for security?" He shook his head and scoffed. "Alright, whatever." Joe turned halfway around and put a hand next to his mouth. Using a field command voice he bellowed towards the small office on the second floor, overlooking the dance hall. "Bruce! There's a girl here for you!"

A door opened and an older man peeked out. "Is she cute?" He hollered back.

"I dunno!" Joe turned around and looked Carla up and down. He raised an eyebrow at her and gave her a lopsided grin. "He wants to know if you're cute. Show me your tits."
 
Carla chuckled as she strutted up to Joe. "Tell you what," she purred, a sensual smile on her lips. "I'll leave my shirt on, but you can feel one of them."

Carlahad no intention of letting Joe touch one of her breasts. If his hand came within an inch of her breasts, she'd put him in a finger lock and, using her Aikido training, he'd soon find himself face-down on the ground with her knee on his back.
 
Joe shrugged. "I wouldn't know the difference between real and Memorex," he said with a smile. "But you have moxie." He stepped away from her and started walking back towards the cherry picker. "Yeah, Bruce ~ she's cute! Better snatch her up before the wolves do!" He hopped back into the bucket and gave her a little salute before raising it back to the ceiling.

The elder man was coming out of the office and raised a hand to wave at Carla. "Hey, glad you're here." He took the steps spryly. Considering his apparent age of about seventy he still had a lot of strength and spunk to him. Carla could tell right away that he was a wolf; their sense of smell acute enough to discern human, wolf, and vampire. He reached out to shake her hand. "Carla Winter, six time MMA champion and lone gunner of Boston! It's good to finally meet you." He glanced up at Joe, who was already back to work. "I see you met my grandson. He doesn't know," he explained, "so we try to keep it that way for now, eh? Let's go talk."
 
Carla smirked as Joe walked away; she decided that she liked him. However, she couldn't pay too much attention to him at the moment since she had a job to interview for. Later, though, she might come back to him.

Carla nodded, although a little irritation flashed across her eyes when Bruce mentioned that she'd only won her title six times. She would have the first year of her career, but the title fight had fallen on the night of a full moon and she'd had to feign having bird flu when her manager was unable to move the night of the fight. It had always irritated Carla that she hadn't won seven titles in seven years, but she'd been much luckier with the timing of her matches in subsequent years and still boasted a very successful career.

"Yes, let's," she said, smiling and following Bruce up to his office. Once the door closed behind them, Carla flopped down in a chair opposite Bruce and put her feet up on his desk. "Before this goes any further, I have one rule that I will not budge on; I am not joining your pack. I will work security and I will enforce the neutral ground treaty, but I will not get involved in pack business and I will hospitalize anyone who tries to claim me. If you aren't willing to work with that, tell me now so that we don't waste anymore of our time."
 
Bruce chuckled. "Of course, Carla." He leaned forward and looked at her earnestly. "Listen, I heard that you've turned down several jobs around town because of this whole pack mentality. This is neutral ground for all involved. I have a pack, sure. But it's not required. Heck, if this had been a normal pack I'd have turned my grandson a long time ago, but I think everyone deserves to live their life their way. Joe's dad wanted to let him have a 'normal' life, and I can't say I blame him. There's no turning of any kind allowed on the premises. Not wolf nor Leech."

He shrugged and leaned back in his chair. "I have a few humans and vamps who mind the store on the nights of the moon; in return our pack looks out for them off-site if we happen to see them in danger. It's a win-win situation, and it keeps things peaceful."
 
Carla grinned. It was always nice to meet an employer with a similar mindset. Granted, if she'd been running the place, she wouldn't have hired leeches, but she understood the necessity: if a vampire tried to break the rules on the night of a full moon, there'd be no one there to stop them.

"Well, in that case, let's get down to business," she said, taking her feet off the desk and leaning forward in her chair. "What are my hours, what are my benefits and when's payday?"
 
Bruce smiled. It wasn't necessarily a friendly smile. "You'll be on probation for ninety days. Screw up during that time and your ass is fired; I don't care how cute or famous that ass is, either. You'll work the shit shift; seven to three AM. Tonight you come in early at five for your orientation."

"Until then; I don't want you acting like you own the joint. You're the low dog on the pole; the bitch. There are plenty of humans and vamps here who outrank you. The humans don't know about us. Keep it that way."

He leaned back in his chair and selected a cigar from the humidor. Slowly he rolled it in his fingers before cutting off the tip and slicing a 'V' in the other end. "Go get a couple of shirts from Joe. The other stuff you wear is up to you; just don't come in here naked. Unless you want to dance," he grinned. "Your pay is shit until the ninety days are up and the benefits are negotiable then. Got it?"
 
Carla wasn't particularly concerned about pay: she had quite a bit of money leftover from her time in the MMA and could live comfortably without for a few years: more if she decided to start investing it. However, she still had her pride and she wanted the job more to keep herself busy than to provide income for herself.

"I'll play along for now," said Carla, shrugging, "but I am not going to debase myself for this job and I can find work with humans if I need to. I'm not desperate for work, Bruce: I'm just bored and I will walk away the moment this job is no longer entertaining. If you're going to haze me, I walk and I might even sue. If I get treated like any other potential hire, I'll stay and work harder than any other security you've got here."

With that, Carla stood and walked out the door downstairs, pulling out her iPhone as she did. She activated the audio recorder and prepared to hit record. She walked out to find Joe and gave him a coy smile, pressing record as she did. "I'm guessing you're Joe?" she asked. "Bruce told me that you're here to give me what I'm supposed to wear for my probationary security position."
 
He had finished up the lights and was in the DJ's booth, checking the lights and sending strobe lights across the dance floor. The booth was on the second story, with rails running behind the equipment. "Yeah, I'm Joe." He flicked off the lights and turned off the power. "So you passed Bruce's interview, huh? Well I shouldn't be surprised; he hired me, after all. Come on," he said, hopping over the rail down to the ground level where Carla was waiting.

Landing easily he bent down to pick up a tool belt and walked casually back to the back of the club. He pulled a circle of keys out. "So how tight do you want the shirt? Are you an exhibitionist or will you be carrying?" He glanced back at her as he unlocked a storage room door and shouldered it open and noticed the iPhone. "Ah, you're one of those. You like being owned by others."
 
"Oh no," said Carla, chuckling at Joe's remark. "I've just dealt with wolves like Bruce before and this is just insurance against sexual harassment. I don't use guns, so let's go for something between "exhibitionist" and "I'm carrying"." She leaned against a shelf as Joe lead her into the storage room. "I don't really go for the whole "owned" thing; plenty of men have tried dominating me and it didn't go well for them. The ones who got the message ran off with their tails between their legs and those who didn't got a few bruises for their troubles before I showed them the door."

She starred at his bare chest, grinning openly as she did. "You sure you don't have a bit of exhibitionist in you? Or do you usually go around with your shirt off?"
 
Joe laughed. "Well, Bruce is a flirt but I wouldn't call him a wolf." He thought about the young college girls who were always going over to his Gramp's house for 'tutoring' sessions. "Actually, maybe he is kind of a rogue. You'd better watch out for him. But I don't think you need to take him too seriously." He eyed the phone. "You're not going to sue me, are you? I don't have much. Not even a shirt," he joked.

He rummaged around for a couple of medium shirts for Carla. One was a black polo style shirt and the other a tee shirt, both with Half Moon Security across the back and front. "Nah, what I meant by 'owned' was that Crapple phone of yours. You don't really 'own' any part of it. All your music, your apps... everything. All you do is pay rent to access the stuff, but they control how you get to use it all. Not that any of us have any privacy anyway, but you might as well join a socialist commune if you're going to invest in iFraud products." He shrugged. "I guess you can tell I don't like their stuff. I mean, once the iPhone 5 came out all the previous support equipment was obsolete because the plugs changed. What kind of crap is that?"

Joe did blush slightly when Carla mentioned his lack of clothing. "Ah.. nah. I was on a run when Bruce called. My clothes are drying and I had these jeans... " he shrugged. "Or maybe I am. Why? Are you single?"
 
"Nah," said Carla. "This thing was a free upgrade; I pretty much just use it to make calls. I've got an iPod back home, but I get all of my music from CDs and just use iTunes to get them on. Those two things are really the only Apple products I use; you can't get any good games on an Apple computer unless you install Windows on it and I'm not really that tech-savvy. And I'm not going to go after you; it's really just kind of force of habit for me nowadays to cover my ass. It's hard for a girl to make her way in the world, you know?"

She laughed when he asked if she was single, but it was good-natured. "I might be," she said, examining the two shirts and choosing the tee. "Depends on what kind of a guy you are. How about we keep talking and find out if I'm single?"
 
Joe put back the polo and got her a second one. "For the blood," he said. Then he handed her a large pack of zip tie cuffs. "For the assholes."

"I'm pretty sure Bruce didn't have you fill out any paperwork or give you a manual, right?" He pulled two packets off the shelf and handed them to her. "Read the manual before you start work. There's a page on the back you need to sign and bring to us, and fill out your papers here. Make sure to fill out the next of kin and your emergency contacts. We tend to need that here."

He grinned. "So, ah... yeah. I don't date girls I work with. But if you flunk out we can talk, hm? You win either way." His phone buzzed and he glanced at the caller ID. "I gotta take this. Is there anything else?"
 
Carla accepted the packet and the zip ties and shrugged. "Well, I don't have a next of kin," she said, "so you don't need to worry about that. I wouldn't worry about me dying, though: I'm a lot tougher than I look. As for emergency contacts, that's pretty much just me and I'll probably be the first to know if there's an emergency. Still, if you see an emergency before I do, be sure to give me a call."

Carla frowned as Joe said that he didn't date coworkers. "You're, what? A handyman?" she asked. "An electrical tech? Either way, I've got the graveyard shift, so I doubt we'll be seeing that much of each other. Besides, I don't hold grudges over relationships unless you do something really, intentionally hurtful, so don't be shy if you decide to change your mind on the whole "don't date coworkers" thing."

She shrugged when his phone buzzed and deposited herself in one of the bar stools to go over the manual. She was a fast reader, so she finished the entire thing fairly quickly. She pulled a pen from her pocket and signed her information, simply writing N/A on the next of kin and emergency contacts. She filled out the rest of the paperwork, mentioning that she didn't have a gun license nor was she particularly interested in getting one, then slipped the paperwork under Bruce's door before heading out. She might as well grab a quick nap if she was going to start work at 5.
 
"Yeah, well I'll keep that in mind," Joe said as he walked away and turned on his phone. "Hey Freddy, what's up? What? Yeah...okay give me ten minutes."

On the other end of the line Carla could just make out a Puerto Rican male sounding very upset and very flamboyant. "Ten minutes? This is ah eh-mergencee! Ah need you now, Joe! It canna wait!"

"I'm at the club. I can't get there any faster than that, okay?"

"Gawd daham, Joe. You're killin' meh. Gawd. Okay, okay, but hurry. Ahm aboot ta explode ah canna stand this!" ~click!~

Joe looked at his phone and shook his head. He grabbed his keys and went in the back to change.
 
So that was why Joe hadn't been interested in her. Carla smirked to herself and shook her head. Why were all the attractive, non-wolves gay? She headed for the door at the same time as Joe did, although not intentionally. She took a couple of strides forward and got the door for him. "Have a nice time with your boyfriend!" she called after him before heading off in the opposite direction.

She hopped on a bus, using her Charlie Card to pay for the ride and took it to the T station where she took the red line home to Harvard. She had a loft apartment there where she'd been living for the past five years. It was a bit sparsely decorated, containing a TV, a desktop computer, a few gaming consoles, a kitchen, a few book cases, a stereo and a bed. She had a small bathroom, which was the only part of the place that was walled off from the rest of the apartment. She flopped down on her bed, set her alarm for a couple of hours from now and drifted off to sleep. She napped lightly and awoke with the alarm to change into fresh clothes, including her new t-shirt. She slipped her phone into her left pocket, her wallet into her back pocket and a few of the zip tie cuffs into her left pocket and headed off to start her first night on the job. She managed to time everything perfectly so that she arrived five minutes before her shift started.

She strode up to the guy at the door and said "Hi, I'm new. Who do I report to?"
 
Joe drove the old Chevy he had restored in high school to Freddy's place. It was an upscale, Boston townhouse with a roof garden and ultra modern decor, way above Joe's pay grade but perfectly suited for the over-the-top prosecutor by day, bartender at night. Freddy Hernandez was a man's man. And only a man's man.

"Mah Gawd, Joey baby. Ah about dahd wahtin' for yew! Come in already!" Freddy was a lean, urban man. His body was perfectly manscaped, even down to the clear nail polish and manicured eyebrows. He was handsome man in every way. He was lean and graceful; a man of poise and good manners. Today he wore a purple silk shirt with a red and gold scarf tied loosely around his neck. His pin-striped pencil trousers did nothing to hide his long, slim cock nestled in the hammock briefs he preferred. To finish off his ensemble he wore pointed Gache shoes that had never seen mud in the entirety of their existence.

"Okay, where's the emergency."

"Here, here," he said, leading them through his immaculate living room and into the luxurious, uber modern kitchen. "It fehl," he explained. "Ah fahllowed the recipee and the fondunt fehl flaht on eet's face! Help me Joe. No one can fondu like you."

Joe looked at him with a raised eyebrow and opened the smoking oven. "You do know that fondunt and fondu are two separate foods, right?"

"See? What would I du without yew? Yew 'ave to stay, Joe. Yew must fix this dinnah for me." Freddy plopped his hands on his waist and leaned on one leg. "Puh-lease?"

"Your boyfriend's coming over for dinner, isn't he?"

"EX-boyfriend," he said, putting one hand up palm out. "Enrique ees mah EX."

"And he's bringing over his new lover."

"Yes! And it's a GIRL!" Freddy waved his hands and theatrically flopped into a tall stool, burying his face in the countertop. "Pleeeeaase, Joe. Stayh ahnd 'elp me survive thees ordeal! Ah beg yew!"

Joe leaned on the marble countertop and signed into his hands. "And you already have an outfit ready for me, don't you?"

"Yes!" Freddy squealed and clapped his hands. "Oh theese es sooo perfect! Thank yew! Thank yew!" He waved at the kitchen. "Ah bought everah thang yew need to mahk dinner, yeah? Yew start and ah'll lay out your clothes. Oh I love that man!"

* * *

Garth crossed his massive arms and looked through his sunglasses at Carla. "You report to me," he said, not smiling. "You're early. That's good. Early is on time, on time is late...and late is fired. Come on, I'll show you around."

He made sure she knew where all the exits and fire extinquishers were and showed her the cage where they sometimes locked up the rowdies. "There are cameras everywhere, so your ass is protected if someone says you went too far. Of course it works the other way too," he warned. "So only take it as far as you have to to get the job done. Usually we give them one warning for the small shit, but a major infraction gets them booted for the night. If they keep messing up we ban them permanently."

He leaned against the the wall and looked over his new hiree. "So, there's usually three of us on the floor during the peak hours. Sometimes there's more if it's a holiday or shit like that."

The whole tour took about an hour, and it was getting close to opening time. Garth finally gave Carla a small smile. "Any questions?"
 
"Where do you want me to be, exactly, when I'm on the floor?" asked Carla. "Do you want me standing around the edge of the crowd? Near one of the doors? Do you have a route I'm supposed to patrol? Also, I wasn't entirely clear about the section in the manual about the cage: do we keep them in there until they've calmed down and let them back out? Or do we keep them in here until someone comes to pick them up? Oh! And do I get one of those earpieces?" She shrugged. "Other than that, just tell me where you need me to be and I'll be there."

Carla didn't know if Garth knew about her condition, or the condition of his employers, so she decided to keep her mouth shut on questions about supernaturals. If any of those came up, she'd ask Bruce or any of her lupine coworkers.
 
"Just wander around. Get to know the regulars. Figure out people's habits." He gave her an earpiece. "It's a short waver so just touch it if you want to speak. It's pretty good about canceling background noise. Everything's recorded though, so don't get stupid."

He sighed. "Ah... the cages are on a case-by-case basis. Usually it doesn't come to that, but it gives us a safe place to hold assholes until they sober up or get picked up. Sometimes it's just not good practice to kick a drunk co-ed on the street, if you know what I mean. They wind up raped and dead."

The side door opened and Joe walked in, dressed very differently from that morning. For one thing, he was dressed.

"Hey man, you look...different." Garth chuckled.

"Yeah, Freddy dressed me." He gave Carla a smile. "So you came back to the torture chamber, hm? Must like pain. Anyway, he's going to be a bit late tonight so I told him I'd work the bar till he got there."

"Hot date?"

"Something like that," Joe grinned. "His ex got re-upped for another Tour de Freddy." The men chuckled and Joe smacked Garth's arm. "Alright, take it easy," he nodded to Carla and went to make sure the bar was stocked for the night.

"That man's such a player," Garth remarked. "Damn. Pitching for both teams I think. Alright, we have about fifteen minutes before the college kids get here so check out your earpiece and look around. Find all the hidey holes, if you know what I mean."
 
"Hmm... I couldn't say," said Carla in response to Joe's question. She had to admit, he looked good in a suit. "I've got a pretty high pain tolerance, so you'd have to hit me pretty hard for me to get anything out of it. Guess it's why I never really got into that scene."

Carla chuckled at Garth's observation and filed it away for future use. She didn't like players. Sure, she could be friends with them, but that didn't mean that she wanted a relationship with them. Carla lived most of her life alone, and she was fine getting by just making friends, but she didn't really look for a relationship unless it was serious. Carla liked the idea of having a companion: someone who'd be there to watch her back and curl up next to at night. Someone who she could rely on. If Joe was the kind of person who'd flit between women on a regular basis, she'd stop their relationship at just friends.

She nodded and began looking about the club. It really wasn't that hard for her to pick out the "hidey holes"; through a combination of excellent eyesight and predatory instincts, she knew where she'd go to hide for any number of reasons. She also looked at each of the cameras and figured out where their field of view was so that she could cover their blindspots with her own eyes. Once she'd done that, she walked over to the bar and talked to Joe just before the club opened.

"Well, I guess your "no dating coworkers" rule doesn't apply if the coworker's got a cock, huh?" she teased. "Whatever makes you happy. So, do bartenders usually dress so formally here or are you just feeling classy tonight? 'Cause you're making me feel seriously underdressed."
 
Joe grinned as he wiped down the bar. He set a couple of iced glasses on the bar and filled them with seltzer water, then put fresh mint leaves and lemons in them before sliding one to Carla. "I'm not dating Freddy. He needed someone to make his ex jealous, that's all. Well that and to cook dinner. I've been told that I have way with meat." He winked. "Anyway you should see the way he dresses if you think this is classy. He's... ah, he has an eye. I'm usually not even on the floor when those doors open."

"Anyway, I hope it's not going to be a problem for you to work with someone who's gay. He has enough to deal with in the courtroom; this is his down time and he likes to be able to cut loose." He took a sip of the water. "By the way, non-alcoholic drinks and food are free while you're on the clock. Bruce probably forgot to tell you that too."
 
"Hey, so long as he isn't rude, I won't have a problem with him," said Carla. "I don't really care what his sexuality is, although I might be a bit disappointed if he's cute." She let out a disappointed sigh. "The cute guys are always gay." Her expression turned more serious. "So, if you aren't usually here when the doors open, what do you do around here? Are you a techie or is that just your day job?"
 
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