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The Day- April 30th 2022. The Time 1:30 PM.
Where: The Headland of Bodega Bay, The Festival Grounds.
Bodega Bay a shallow, rocky inlet of the Pacific Ocean on the coast of northern California in the United States. It is approximately 5 mi (8 km) across and is located approximately 40 mi (60 km) northwest of San Francisco and 20 mi (32 km) west of Santa Rosa. The bay straddles the boundary between Sonoma County to the north and Marin County to the south. The bay is a marine habitat used for navigation, recreation (including swimming and surfing, especially by the Dillon Beach area), and commercial and sport fishing (including shellfish harvesting).
Bodega Bay is protected on its north end from the Pacific Ocean by Bodega Head, which shelters the small Bodega Harbor and is separated from the main bay by a jetty. The San Andreas Fault runs parallel to the coastline and bisects Bodega Head.
A small Town on The Northern California Coast. Highlight of the year is the Blessing of the Fishing Fleet. Tomorrow is that day. Today, the festivities begin with the many Inns and Lodges filling to capacity allowing the town to double its income for a few days from tourism.
The Festival Grounds have several food trucks as well as boots set up from local business' . Venders from all over are here selling their wares and later today will be the Bathtub Races which will have many teams racing decorative hand made boats .
Live Local bands are playing and the atmosphere is festive.
Youve come here to enjoy the weekend much like everyone else.
Welcome to Bodega Bay.....
Arriving in Bodega Bay the night before Sariel had forgotten about the festival, unpleasantly surprised by the hubbub of vendors and local nonprofits setting up their tents and booths. He ‘casually’ circled the festival areas twice, double checking the quickest routes out of town, before he eventually made it to Aunt ‘May’s’ house just after dusk.
Mack had sent her a text, He told her ‘Patrick’ would be headed her way, the boy would probably stay the summer. Added to go ahead and let him ‘play’ the old guitar he left. That was code for her to give Sariel his bug-out bag, which was strangely enough hidden in a guitar case. After riding the old Triumph around the block a couple of times, and watching the house for a half hour or so, Sairle eventually rode the bike up the driveway of the two bedroom bungalow. When he knocked, Aunt May gave him a big hug and they chatted a bit. He asked if he could park the bike back by the pool house and she gave him the keys to the little house and the heavy guitar case and he pushed the bike around back.
Unlocking the gate to the privacy fence Sariel pushed the bike into the back yard. Fortunately it was still too cool to swim and the pool had its cover on it. Sariel would have to remember to ask May to let him take care of the pool and the yard. No need for any menial’s poking around while he was staying with her. Unlocking the little two room cottage, he pushed the bike into the middle of the kitchen living room.
Setting the heavy guitar case on the counter he opened it up, taking out the acoustic ‘Martin’ guitar, Sariel had forgotten Mack played. But that's not why it was here. Setting the Guitar on the small sofa he took out the odd key and inserted it in the hidden slot, opening the back of the case. Mack had told him the fifteen year old fake I’D’s and burner flip phone would be useless, but the cash and 1911 would still function just fine. As would the three foot longsword that Mack had left there back when they visited the last time, still sheathed in the well oiled lambs wool scabbard. Mack had come to the west coast to pick up a pair of the blades. Both were AISI 5160 steel treated to a spring temper made by the master craftsman Angus Trim. Mack had purchased two. One went back with them to Chicago, the other stayed here with May, just in case.
Putting the sword, old phone and fake ID’s back in the case with the guitar, Sariel pocketed the old money, all bills without the magnetic strip. Taking the 1911 and gun cleaning kit out to the pool side, he lit the day’s last Lucky Strike and gave the gun a good cleaning there in the warm California night. Once he was satisfied, he tucked the gun in the leather lined inner pocket on the jacket’s left breast and the two extra mags in the right inner pocket. Taking a stroll around the block one last time. Satisfied that everything was as it seems he went to bed.
Sleeping as fitfully as always, Sariel awoke before dawn, Checked his wristwatch to make sure it was on west coast time, then took a cold shower. Unpacking his duffle bag he put his few clothes in the small dresser, putting on a clean pair of jeans and a navy blue t-shirt. Grabbing his boots and jacket he exited the small cottage and checked the backyard, then circled the house, just in case.
Going to the kitchen he realized May had been kind enough to stock the small fridge with a few necessities. Starting a small pot of coffee he grabbed the only pan, a small skillet, he cooked a couple three eggs and put some bread in the toaster. Seven grain bread, May was still on the health kick. At least they had been real eggs.
After breakfast: Three eggs, two pieces of toast and one cup of coffee; he turned on his ‘business phone,' checking for any new messages, then turned it back off. Tucking the ‘business phone’ in the inseam of his right boot, he put the thin wooden stake on the inseam of his left boot. Checking his jean pockets: Wallet, bandana, keys, burner phone, cigarette lighter. Leaving the guitar case on the small sofa, putting his jacket on he stepped outside the small cottage. Squinting as he stares at the rising sun he takes the Lucky Strikes out of the left pocket of the leather jacket. Lighting the first cigarette of the day, dropped the lighter in the right jacket pocket beside the cold iron knuckle duster.
After the cigarette, he knocked on May’s back door. She had just started cooking her breakfast. He sat down in the familiar kitchen, it hadn’t changed since they visited back when he was in junior high. He had stayed in the pool house then as well. Mack had stayed in the main house. Sariel knew Mack and May had been in a relationship back when they worked together with the BPRD. Sariel didn’t ask, Mack didn’t tell. Sariel wasn’t Mack’s confessor, not ten, not now. As May finished her breakfast they sat in comfortable silence.
Eventually she asked how things were. He gave her vague positive answers. He did remember to ask about letting him take care of the yard and pool while he was there. She nodded, understanding why. As the small talk came to an end he told her he would walk about town and visit the festival. Told her it was because he had been on a bike for two days and needed to stretch his legs. She knew he would walk so he could ‘casually’ get a good look around while keeping the bike hidden for a couple of days, just in case someone was looking for it. But she did appreciate him being polite enough to inform her of what he was doing. Or at least enough to have plausible deniability.
Finding his way to the event, he walked past the booths, tents and food trucks all the way to the Bodega Head Trail. Heading back to the southern end of the festivals perimeter, making sure to stay upwind of the restroom. Looking out at the boats for a while, his right hand resting on the knuckleduster in his jacket pocket, wondering how difficult it would be to convince a boat captain to take him up the coast if he suddenly had to flee.
Shaking off the sensation of feeling watched he headed back up through the festival, towards the park. Stopping near where one of the local bands was playing an old blues tune. He smiled, remembering Mack singing it, one night he'd "Had one too many."
Zania came downstairs early and helped Amanda close up the shop and pack up her stuff so she could go over to set up her booth at the Fishing Fleet Festival. Kendra, who apparently had a reserved parking spot down by the bay, came to pick them up, and after they helped Amanda set up her booth, Zania and Kendra started walking around, looking at everything, tasting the wares, and having a good time, bringing some food back to Amanda now and then, and occasionally swapping places with her so she could look around without leaving her booth unattended.
Zania was amazingly pleased, still loving this small town and wondering about staying here permanently. She'd still travel a lot of course, but there was just something really cool about this place, and the people were lovely, so she was considering it, and the more she learned, the more she felt like maybe this was her place.
Getting up early to do the dreaded morning calisthenics instilled in him from his last life, Jon went about it with the usual aches and pains that started to creep up on him the last year or so. He sets the coffee pot to start as he showers. Finally done with his preparations, he fills his large coffee mug and grabs a bagels and cereal bar and heads out the door, hoping to beat some if not most of the traffic. He hopes to have a good time at the festival...he had some new "survivalists" booked for the weekend.
Some time mid-morning, Toni stopped her bike at the edge of the Festival Grounds. Before her father's accident the Festival and Blessing of the Fleet had been her favorite holiday, and she was hoping that maybe this year she'd start to feel some of that again.
With all of the food stalls in one place, and with the music and entertainment, these few days were generally a quiet time for food deliveries, so she knew that she had some time to relax and check out the Bathtubs before the race.
Ven Vinder had been talking about what stock he needed for his stall, and Toni decided to drop by and see how things were going for Vin and Sherry
Locking her bike to some secure metalwork she set off into the Grounds.
Waking up late, Freddie rubs the grogginess from his eyes. He tries to make coffee, and finds the filters are all gone. Eyeing yesterday's coffee filter on top in the trash, he tries to shake if off and reuse it. It is less than appetizing, but the man needs his morning jolt of caffeine.
Taking a quick shower while the coffee brews, he gets dressed in light, casual attire - a Hawaiian shirt, light beige khaki pants, and leather sandals. He looks at his phone and sees the text: "Sorry, can't make it today. Rain check?"
"Well, I guess I should have known. She didn't seem like the type to walk along the Bay. Better luck next time, I guess."
He fingers the chip in his pocket. He desperately wants a morning shot to push away the pain, but he recites the steps in his head and tries to remember all of the reasons not to drink. Five years sober, and yet it is still a struggle every day.
Just out of habit, he grabs his taser and clips it to his belt. Keys and wallet in place, he heads out the door looking for his red and white 57 Buick Roadmaster.
"Nice day for the top down!" That's what he likes about California - most days are nice for driving in his convertible.
Driving up to the docks, he sees the festival is already drawing a crowd. Finding a isolated spot to park, he walks into the area, and straight for the first food truck he sees. "Got coffee?"
Cayden woke up early. The little vacation rental he'd checked out was a nice place, if small, and so he decided he'd go for a morning ramble along the Bay. At best, he'd attune himself to the voices in the wild. At worst, it would be a nice way to spend the morning. After a quick shower, his morning routine of pushups and sit-ups, and some meditation he's ready to go.
His attire is simple and practical, jeans, t-shirt, warm flannel, hiking boots. Why make things complicated?
The closest thing to the rental is a food truck, so Cayden makes his way there to rustle up some breakfast. A man in a Hawaiian shirt who looked vaguely familiar from somewhere is the only person in front of him in line.
Movies? No, not the right vibe. Probably not TV either. Big guy like that, sports, probably.
Cayden shrugs. Nothing lost if he just asked, "Ah, excuse me sir. Kind of an odd question, but do you play sports? Some kind of athlete, maybe?"
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"Big football fan, are ya? Yah, I used to play. Seems like forever ago. You want an autograph? I don't get much call for those anymore, but always happy to meet a fan..."
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"Football...oh, s#!t, you're Freight Train Freddie! I'm not a huge football man, myself, but my old man's from St. Louis. He was a massive fan of yours back in the day. Every Sunday like clockwork, sittin' in his favorite chair with a beer cheering on the Rams. Well I'd love a picture or an autograph for my dad. He'll get a kick out of it."
Cayden chuckles at the situation before saying, "Any case, sorry for charging up on your morning. What're you getting? I'll buy."
”Yah, St. Louis certainly likes their beer. Just looking for a decent cuppa joe, actually, but thanks! You know who I am, so tell me what’s your story.”
Catden extends a hand to Freddie, ”Name’s Cayden. Cayden Winters. I’m from just south of here, around San Francisco, though I’m up north in Humboldt country now. Compared to pro football, well, my story’s not all that. I’m with the Forest Service, mostly wildlands data collection. It’s a sweet gig, I get to spend my job roughin’ it in the best forests in California.”
He suddenly realizes where they are, ”Ah, damn, we’re holdin’ up the line.” He motions to the workers in the truck, ”Excuse me, two coffees, please.”
Once the coffee is gotten and paid for, Cayden asks, ”So, ah, where’s the world taken you after the NFL?”
Enjoying the blues for a few moments, Sariel can't shake the feeling of being watched. He realized running down a path into the woods, nor hijacking a fishing boats were very good options. So if he needed to leave in a serous hurry there must be a better option.
Remembering there had been a parking lot for motorcycles, he casually made his way that direction. Older motorcycles were notorious for being easy to 'borrow.' As he neared the lot, he noticed a young lady getting off of a dirt/street two-fifty. He didn't love the color but it would be easy to make off with. He paused for a moment, laughing to himself as she dismounted and chained the bike to a metal bracket.
'Maybe I am being paranoid.' He begins to reach for a cigarette, but reminds himself 'Moderation in all things.' Walking up to the young lady, he runs his left hand through his dull black hair then tucks it back into the brown leather jackets pocket. his voice soft and low Speaking in mild mid-western accent. "Nice bike, it's a KLX right?" He nods with his head in the general direction of the bay. "I left my Triumph at home. Didn't want to take the chance of it getting lifted." He gestures towards the chain with his chin. "I see you've figured out how to prevent that." Smiling at the young lady, he takes his right hand out of the other jacket pocket and extends it. "Names Patrick Knight. Call me Pat, you ride a lot?"
Toni turned at the voice behind her, and looked the guy up and down.
"It's normally OK round here. But there's a lot of tourists around."
Trying to put images of her father's rock LP covers out of her head, Toni decides the guy's probably one of those tourists.
"I do deliveries, so yeah, quite a bit of riding. Triumph's a bit of a rarity round here. You up for the festival?"
'Up for the festival, Mack always said 'the best disguise was the truth.' Shaking his head no, he finally takes both his hands out of his pockets, trying to look relaxed. "No, just a lucky coincidence. In town on sabbatical. Came out to visit an old friend of the family."
He turns and looks at the bike. "So deliveries, local stuff huh. I thought maybe with the duel purpose bike you'd ride trails." He smiles, "Probably not very comfortable on the highway." He looks back at the girl, "Sorry, I didn't catch your name."
"Didn't throw it." Toni grins at him. "Get off road a bit when I get a chance, but a smaller bike's useful around here as well."
Deciding that Pat's probably safe if he knows somebody from the bay, she introduces herself.
"Toni Smith. Thing's'll quiet down again in a couple of days, if you were here to relax."
'Didn't throw it. cute. Ah Toni, I wonder if it's short for something.' As she continued talking he looks over her shoulder, 'Quiet down in a couple of days, the crowd makes it easier to hide.' Looking back at the goggle wearing young lady. "I don't know if relax is the word, but I don't mind the crowds. I'm used to the big city."
Smiling, slightly. 'And if someone's looking for me they would expect me to be by myself or possibly with May, not with a young attractive local woman.' He gestures towards the festival, "The last time I was in Bodega Bay I was in junior high and it was late in the summer so we missed the festival. Since your obviously familiar would you like to show a tourist around?" He pauses, "Or were you meeting someone, I don't want to intrude." He smiles politely, obviously giving her an out. 'But a group would be even better.'
"Junior High? Not here though, I'm sure I'd remember." Toni tidied her hair as she spoke, then put her hands in her pocket and tilted her head to one side.
"I was going to check in on a friend who'll be working, then I thought I'd check out the bathtub races. Keep meaning to have a go at building one, but never find the time."
Heading toward the food stalls she looked at Pat as she asked, "Where're you staying?"
'Not here indeed. I'd wager I've got a couple years on her and I doubt if she went to the local catholic school.' Chuckling at the idea of her remembering him, he shake his head no as he follows along. "Nope not here. Was visiting 'Aunt May' lived in Chicago back then, only stayed a couple of weeks." Pausing while Toni tidies her black hair. 'Just long enough for us to visit May and pick up the swords he ordered up north.' He gesture across the bay. "That's who I'm staying with." Not wanting to be too specific, but neither wanting to seem paranoid. "over off of Kent Avenue."
Quickly changing the subject back to her destination, he asks, "A friend working? One of the tents?" He paused for a second turning and looking at the woman again in a different light. Noticing a smudge of oil on her boots, honestly curious he asks. "Wait a minute, you were meaning to build a bathtub boat for the races?"
"Yeah. It's not like they're anything complicated. Don't think they'd let me put a motor on it either."
"I'm pretty sure Ven said he was having a stall for the Deli. Pretty sure Sherry'll be running it. She always likes to talk to the tourist guys."
Jon parks his jeep in one of the parking lots that sprung up to accommodate the tourists. He slings his messenger bag over his shoulder and grabs his nearly empty coffee mug.
Refill time... he says to himself as he gets out and stretches. He pops a couple of Tylenol and downs them with the last of his morning brew. He heads to the food truck area and looks for a coffee vendor. He heads to one where a few customers are chatting in front of.
This place any good? he asks the two men. The larger of the two has on a Hawaiian shirt and looks like a walking tank. The other looked like a guy who spent a lot of time in the bush.
Huh...a somewhat kindred spirit...
Fill this with the strongest you got, please...and a couple muffins...might need to munch on something was I'm wandering around... he asks the barista as he turns around to chat to the two men.
I reckon you guys are here for the big show?
Bringing some frybread and honey butter back to Amanda's stall, Zania tells Amanda that she'll watch the stall for a while because she wants to eat and people watch anyway, and Amanda and Kendra go back out into the crowd.
Zania is conscientious in her duty to make sure no one steals anything, and she takes care of transactions when someone decides to buy one of Amanda's interesting inventory items, but mostly she just dips bread in honey butter, munching and watching the crowd, smiling and singing a little to herself... happy.
She tries to compose a song in her head that would catch the feeling of this place, and then she wants her guitar, but looking around, decides that she probably shouldn't summon it here. Mostly people wouldn't believe seeing something like that anyway, but she really liked this place and didn't want to mess it up, so she just put the idea in the back of her mind and thought about what already existing song would capture the feeling. She toyed with the thought of something from Oliver, but then decided to go with something else.
She starts singing
Blue skies, smiling at me...
Nothing but blue skies do I see.
Bluebirds, singing a song...
Nothing but bluebirds all day long.
She notices some people turning to look, and wonders if she should stop, or just belt it out and own it...
The Festival was well underway. As folks walked around the festival grounds on Bodega Head, they couldnt help but notice the abundance of motorcyclists this year.
Driving along PCH (the Pacific Coast Highway) was always one of the finer rides, but rarely did a festival bring more than a handful. Today however was different. There were at least 5 separate bike gangs represented in town. A recipe for disaster. Bikers flying the Hells Angel, The Ghost Mountain Riders, The Vagos, The Lost Souls, The Misfits colors...all Outlaw Biker Gangs, were present.
despite the festive atmosphere, there was an underlying tension as the day went on that that was getting worse. By midafternoon, folks started drinking...and the powederkeg was waiting.
Freddie tries his coffee and responds to the new guy. ”Yah, coffee’s pretty good actually.”
”What’s with all the bikes?”
Later, when things started to get tense, Zania suggested that her friends pack up early and go home. It seems strange in this context, in this town that she liked, but from her travels, she could see that the signs of a coming conflict were there. She sort of wished she had come armed. She had the requisite licenses, but she knew the only thing in her bag was a taser.
Of course, that might be a good thing. Introducing a weapon to a situation like this seemed like the exact thing that would push it all over the edge. She helped Amanda get packed up and then helped carry all of her stuff to the car. With the addition of the purchases from the fair, it was clearly not all going to fit, so Zania begged off, telling them she had seen a friend that she would get a ride with.
She wasn't sure how convincing that had been so she added
Okay, well, I saw someone I *want* to get a ride with, and you guys will cramp my style. She waved her cell phone at them. Go on now... I'll call an Uber if my plan doesn't work out.
No idea...first time I've seen that many here at once...mind you, I've only been here a couple years...but that can't be a good sign. I've dealt with bikers a couple times before in my time in the Army. Always looking for a fight and anything that has a high and tight haircut at a bar is a target. Hopefully there isn't anything bad going to happen...but I'm not holing my breath...Jon said, mentally double checking to make sure he is ready to go loud if anything kicks off. He does a mental checklist of his gear and where there are places to hole up should things go downhill fast.
Cayden looks around a bit nervously at the bikers. He could protect himself if need be, of course, but that would lead to levitating objects and making plants grow wild with his brain. With the two bruisers he’d started chatting with, he decided it was a good first line of defense.
”Say, ah, if fists do start flying, mind if I stick with you fellas? Give me a pack and tell me to cover fifty miles off trail, I’m your man but in a biker brawl? Forget about it.”
Not a problem with me...just make sure no one comes up on my six and we're good. Not likely things are going to pop off though...but that's not a guarantee... Jon says as he looks around at the potential non combatants.
Walking back from the car, Zania wonders where to park herself in case violence breaks out, and she spots some burly types that at least looked sober over by the coffee kiosk.
She didn't drink coffee, but she slid over that way, trying to put them between herself and any drunk bikers who might start something any minute.
'Not complicated, so a craftswoman.' Chuckling when Toni comments about not putting a motor on it, he smiles, "Pity, everything's better with a motor." He looks the direction she's pointing. 'Ven and Sherry from the deli. Ah the nice brush off, 'I've got a friend' she'll like you; but that means I'm back to being a tourist. He looks from the black haired woman towards the festival. 'So I'm down to delaying the inevitable.'
'Well, she's no Ella Fitzgerald, but she has a nice voice.' Hearing someone singing "Blue skies" a cappella, Sariel turns realizing the voice is coming from a shops booth. Stopping, Sariel points towards the booth, "Do people normally break out into song here at the festival?" Seeing another group of bikers walk past he adds in a softer voice. "And are all the Californian outlaws so interested in fishing?"
Nodding towards the booth with the singer, Sariel begins to walk that direction, about the same time the attractive woman begins to wave a cell phone, and then looks like she's leaving. He asks Toni, "do you know the singer?" Looking at the sign, [b]"The booth appears to be from "Eclectic Amanda"{/b]
As she is headed over to the coffee stall she spots the young man who had listened to her sing earlier, and swerves to join up with him and his companion, who also look sober.
Hey, I saw you earlier. I know this is a little weird, and I'm not trying to butt in if you two are on a date or something, but I feel like trouble is going to break out soon with the bikers. You guys feel it too, right? And I was thinking... strength in numbers. Those guys over there at the coffee kiosk look like they might be good in a fight, and they aren't drunk, or bikers. Let's maybe wander that way and uh, maybe we can help when things go bad? What do you say? Safer together?
"The good singing usually happens on the stage, not from the stalls, but..." Toni shrugs.
"I dunno what's with all the Outlaws. This many gangs in one place can't stay quiet. No idea why they'd pick on the Festival either."
Toni looks round, gauging the distance to her bike, to the food stalls, and to the area where the Bathtub boats are being assembled.
"I'd say keep out of the way of the trouble, but I've got friends around the place who I'd rather not leave stranded."
'It is a lot of bikers, and not the friendly happy type. One percenters to be sure. But would they start a gang war here? And why so many different clubs?' Distracted Sariel realizes the unusual woman who had been singing was talking to them. 'Out on a date, well I don't have a collar on, I guess.' He stopped and looked at Toni as the other woman kept talking. 'Yeah, no, not in a hundred years. We'll I mean we both like bikes.' He looked from Toni back to the other woman, who was pointing out there could be a fight, then towards the growing crowd of burly men. 'Yeah they all like bikes too. Doesn't mean much.' Shaking off the thought of he and Toni, had they been born in a different world, ever dating, Seamus released the 'knuckleduster' he had been clinging to in the pocket of his jacket and reached his hand out to the singer. "I'm Pat, this is Toni, we just met."
He turned towards Toni as she said she didn't want to strand her friends. Shrugging, then looking back at the other woman. "I'm good either way, I'm not real worried about the bikers, I figure I can out run them." He gestures at one of the heavy set Hell's Angels with a long beard and beer gut. "Have you ever seen someone in chaps try and run?" He smiles, putting his hand back in his pocket, weaving his fingers through the 'knuckle duster.' 'And I figure I'm a match for a couple of them.'
Jon casually asks the coffee attendant for a roll of quarters. He slips her a $10 bill and rolls the coins in a shemagh he drags out from his bag.
So, you're an outdoorsman? Like survivalist or a nature lover? The back country is nice here... Jon says trying to calm the smaller of his companions down a bit by distracting his mind.
I teach outdoor skills and survival training around here...it's nothing that is going to let me buy a yacht, but it puts money in my pocket. Put that with my pension from the Army and I get by pretty good. How about you, big guy...get outdoors much?
[ooc]if i can use the quarters as either a sap or a knuckle duster, that's your call...[ooc]
”I’m a forestry technician, mostly doing wildlands data collection, though I’ve gotten a few assignments overseeing surveying ops. Past all the technical mumbo jumbo though, it all adds up to me spending most of my time in the woods.”
He looks around, ”All of this, though, makes me a little uneasy.”
Despite acting like he’s nervous, Cayden’s actually fairly calm about the situation.
That sounds like a pretty sweet gig...probably don't get bothered by many people out there. I like the peace and quiet...lets me get myself centered again...
Zania shakes Pat's hand.
Nice to meet you. Hi Toni. My name is Zania.
When he mentions outrunning them she smiles and says
Yeah, we could all run, probably, but like Toni says, there are people around here that we probably shouldn't leave stranded. Plus, I like this town, and don't want to see it busted up too much. If we team up with that other group, I think we might be able to do some good.
Overhearing some conversation as they draw near to the Coffee group, Zania says
Hey, we're a little uneasy as well... thought maybe we could team up with you guys and make sure this place doesn't get trashed too badly when things blow up, as seems inevitable with the combination of alcohol and rival gangs.
I'm Zania by the way. What do you you guys think? Want to join forces?
"Are you all seeing signs of trouble? I mean, sure... some gangs are just prone to violence, but a lot of your 'motorcycle clubs' just look tough. They're just folks that enjoy the open road and the feeling of belonging. Of course, when the alcohol gets flowing, I would expect to see at least a few conversations get outta hand."
"Zania - interesting name. Where you from? I'm Freddie, this here is Cayden. And I didn't catch this guy's name," he says, putting a hand on Jon's shoulder. "I just think I'll call him 'Army'."
Hey Freddie, Cayden, Army. This is Pat and that's Toni. Well, you have to admit that underneath the festive atmosphere, there is a lot of tension. Rival gangs I think. I just want us to be prepared to step in if it comes to that... and hey, if it doesn't, then we just had the opportunity to meet new people, right?
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"Don't normally get this many different clubs at the festival. Hopefully it's just paranoia, but like you say, alcohol don't help"
Jon chuckles as he gets Freddie calls him "Army"
Jon...butbI've been called a lot worse than Army. Way I see it, better to be prepared for trouble and nkt have any than the other way around, right? The Angels are an unpredictable bunch. Drank with some, fought others...Vagos are a left coast thing as far as I know. If they declared Bodega Bay neutral ground wr should be good. There's repercussions for not respecting that...but all bets are off when booze and drugs are involved... he says as he takes a swig of coffee.
'Well, at least I don't have worry about not mixing in with the crowd.' Keeping his hands tucked inside his jacket pockets, Sariel nods at the others, "Nice to meet everyone."
The group stands in the food truck area, and besides the families enjoying the festivities and moving the through the various booths, the only other groups of more than 2-3 are the motorcycle gangs, who are mostly hanging together in different areas, and another odd collection of individuals. Ameiko, the owner of The Inn at the Tides,
Her Brother Sato; who is reputed to have ties with the Yakuza,
some rather large muscled bound guy who keeps looking around with narrow close set eyes,
a well groomed man with a fierce looking goatee,
and a scholarly looking gentleman with glasses.
They are talking with Ameiko doing a lot of head shaking and Sato talking dramatically getting a little emotional with his hand movements.
Ameiko and Sato were locals, their father being a wealthy landowner and owning the RV park/Marina/and sight seeing boat tour company near it.
walking towards the group however was Nishka Mvashti the elderly owner of seagulls gifts and collectibles. She is leaning on her walking stick and looking at you
'Freddie, Cayden, and the army guy is Jon.' Raising an eyebrow as Jon describes some of the groups. 'And he knows a little about these gangs.' Seamus looks from the coffee guys, back to Toni and Zania. 'So the bikers are sticking together, but not really near each other. Still plenty of families.' Seamus out at the crowd, still concerned that someone might be looking for him. He tightened his grip on the knuckleduster as he looks around more, 'Curious, that is a very eclectic collection of individuals.' Taking the group of six people in at a glance, Seamus notices the older woman heading their way. Stepping closer, he whispers, "Hey folks, we've got a little old lady heading our way, anyone recognize her or her friends?"
Zania turns to look when Pat mentions a little old lady. She moves forward to greet the woman, smiling.
Hello. Is there anything we can help you with, or are you just here to get some coffee?
"Of course, let me step out of the way, little lady."
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The woman who Zania recognizes as the Owner of Seagulls Gifts and Collectibles. Nishka Mvashti is the oldest person in Bodega Bay. Noone really knows how old she is. Shes of Miwuk Native American/Persian descent.
Her shop is filled with oddities and collectibles.
Seagulls Gifts and Collectibles
She pauses before them and looks at each saying cryptically. The Gathering has begun. when she looked at Freddie The Warrior then Jon The Killer then Pat The Hunter Then to Cayden The Protector Then Toni The Sneak Then to Zania The Mentalist. You should leave them alone for now. her cane motions for the gathering with Ameiko and Sato. For now. There will come a time...Coffee? No Im more a Tea drinker.
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Toni is caught somewhere between confusion and indignation. "Excuse me? What do you mean the gathering? And what do you mean the sneak?"
Zania laughs good-naturedly, but inside she echoes the questions that Toni has already voiced.
She waits to see if she will answer Toni, but if she doesn't seem inclined to, then Zania adds
Ms Mvashti, right? I have been in your store before. Lovely place. That sounded like a prediction. Is it from a book you read perhaps? Or a television show maybe? I think I remember a show called the Mentalist, come to think of it.