It wasn't that she felt sorry for the homeless, the downtrodden, or those who had fallen on back luck and hard times. It wasn't a matter of pity. Nor was it was it an attempt at being martyr as so many volunteers did, complaining or whining about their time in the cess pools of society. For Laurel Richards it was a way to help people who were in the same situation as she'd been once upon a time in a hovel of a trailer out in the middle of the bayou where people had about as many teeth as they did brain cells, which wasn't saying much.
There had been a million times when she was a kid growing up with clothes too small and filthy, going to bed hungry and waking up with hunger gnawing a whole in her stomach until she'd finally been able to sneak some stale something that Laurel had wished for someone to swoop out of nowhere and carry her off to some place safe, warm, and comfortable where she wouldn't have to be hungry or dirty, too cold or too hot. That day had never come for her, but Laurel had set her mind to making a new life for herself. When she was old enough, she took off out of that trailer park with the nicest of what hand-me-down clothes she owned and headed for the city of New Orleans. It was a hard life for a while, living on the streets and eating whatever she could get her hands on, but that was a life Laurel was used to. She had frequented some of the city's soup kitchens, and while the food wasn't all that great tasting, it was warm and filled her belly. She'd begun volunteering then to help around the different places, and occasionally would be paid a little stipend for her work. It added up over time. She got enough to take her GED exam. And passed.
It had been a whirlwind of events after that. She had spent a little time as a waitress, then hostess. She'd done a short stint as a receptionist, but none of that allowed her to work creatively, artistically as she desired to. That was when she'd found a job at a florist's shop. It wasn't painting the Mona Lisa or anything, but flower arranging seemed to suit both her artistic side and having a steady paying job. Eventually when the elderly couple who owned it decided to retire, they sold it to her for next to nothing. It was the beginning of a new life for Laurel; a life she was in charge of. She became the expert in exotic flowers and catered to thousands with the usual favorites. A favorite among wedding planners and brides alike, her business soon was flourishing and she was able to move into a comfortable, stable lifestyle like she'd always dreamed.
A coalition of local businesses in the downtown area decided to all come together to create a soup kitchen and safe haven for individuals down on their luck in the Ninth Ward. It was in the area where Laurel had made her first start in the city. The least she could do now that she was doing well was help others who were in bad straits now. Donating a percentage of her proceeds to the project, being a funder just wasn't enough. That was why every Monday, Wednesday and Friday evenings Laurel went down to the Haven to work side by side with the other volunteers with whatever needed done .. be it cooking, cleaning, doing laundry, acting as hostess, dishwasher, friend, counselor, encourager and listener.
Tonight? Wednesday night. And Laurel was locking up her shop. She'd head home for a change of clothes and to hop the bus to the Ninth Ward where the Haven was located for her volunteer shift. Not like she had anything else to do anyway. She wasn't the sort usually to go out to clubs or bars to dive into the night life. Stepping into the Haven, she headed for the back, sending a greeting to Gus, a chef at a restaurant downtown who whipped up inexpensive, but tasty cuisine for the masses several evenings a week. "Where do you want me tonight, Gus?" A peck to his cheek was given, he grinned and pointed her in the direction of hostess duties.
"I'm on it, Chef." She grinned and winked before headed out through the dining hall to the table that acted as the reception area near the door. Several visitors were already seated and eating, the line for food was growing as she greeted the usuals and the occasional visitors she recognized.
Logan Ramsay wasn't one to really visit Outreach Programs. The soup kitchen just happen to help the downtrodden. The hidden cop inside of him screamed for joy. There was actually people out there that cared. Of course the criminal in Logan was rather pissed off. He needed these people out on the streets; the more junkies buying his shit the more chance he'll have getting those bigger fish he was after. He had been watching a rival Enforcer for the better part of an hour though the man hadn't budged from the hood of the car he was sitting on. He also had a couple of rival soldiers with him. He wasn't impressed they had a sloppy operation.
He hoped that once they closed shop in this area that they'd walk if not he'd be screwed because he had no mode of transportation. Of course he's hope was shattered when a black SUV pulled up and the three men got in and the SUV drove off. Logan sighed and moved out of the darkened aclove of a doorway. He leaned aganist the brick watching the SUV turn the corner disappearing. He shook his head and glanced up and down the street and waited for another half hour before he finally tucked his hands into his jean pockets and started walking down the street.
He was just passing the soup kitchen but something made him pause. He slowly turned towards the door noticing several homeless people entering the kitchen. He sighed and glanced down the street before looking back to the kitchen. He really didn't need the soup kitchen. He wasn't homeless and as an Enforcer he had a lot of money already hidden on him. He smirked though; he had to check the place out. This kind of place made him feel good, people do care for other people and that type of emotion is something that he had to see for himself.
He turned and headed over to the soup kitchen door. He glanced upward looking at the small sign hanging above the door. He then looked back down reaching over grabbing the door knob and turned it. He pulled the door open and headed inside. He shut the door behind him and glanced around the soup kitchen noting lots of homeless and downtrodden. He even recgonized a few junkies, runners and low level dealers. He reached behind him and removed a ball cap from his back jean pocket and pulled it over his head with the bill facing backwards. He then headed over to the front desk.
In the lull of visitors and guests, Laurel had taken up a lazy lean against the counter. One foot crossed behind the other, forearms crossed and leaned against the countertop to hold up her weight. A magazine was flipped open in front of her, reading an article on how blending up cauliflower would make it taste just like mashed potatoes. From the wrinkle of her nose while reading it, it was obvious she was filled with disbelief on that one. Really? That'd be like blending up a cheeseburger and then calling it something else. It'd still be a cheeseburger. Shaking her head a bit, she made a face before flipping the page.
The movement just outside the door followed by the tinkling of the little silver bells attached to the door drew Laurel's dark gaze up from the hidden secrets of perfect derriere sculpting to the man who stepped through the doorway. My, he was a tall one. Of course, a lot of people were taller than she was a just an inch over five feet. Curse her mother passed on to her. None the less, a smile was fixed to her lips as he headed for her at the front desk.
"Good evening! I .. don't recognize you right off. I'll take it that this is your first visit here? I'm Laurel. Welcome."
Her hand was extended to shake his, never shying away from a dirty or grimy hand, if that were the case. Her smile was warm and genuine, seeming sincerely glad to welcome someone new to the place.
Lucky for her his hand wasn't dirty or grimy. He had a strong but rough and calloused handshake before he motioned to the place beyond her. "I've had to of passed this place a hundred times. I don't know why I haven't come in since now." He offered her a rather tired smile. All an act really. He slid his left hand into his jean pocket before looking back to her. "Hello Laurel. It's nice to meet you, it's actually nice to be someplace where someone actually smiles. I'm Logan." He glanced around once more before returning that gaze to her. "It is my first time here so could you tell me a little about the place? I could use a hot meal and a shower." He offered her another tired smile before waiting for her reply. -d-
Even if Logan's hand had been dirty, Laurel wouldn't have shied away from the handshake. There were people who came in here in a lot worse shape and Laurel had never turned them away. Her handshake was firm and inviting, her smile widening a bit with his words. "Well, I'm glad you did. Pleasure to meet you, Logan. I believe we can help you out with both of those things. If you'll just follow me, I'll give you a tour real quickly before I let you get to your meal and cleaning up." Leading the way away from the front counter, she moved into the dining hall with him trailing behind her.
"Sometimes the lines are long, but it is definitely worth the wait. We do a lot more than soup here, every night has a different themed meal." She leaned over an empty table to snag a meal schedule. "Looks like tonight is Italian, so it'll be spaghetti most likely. You just start with your tray there .." Pause as she pointed before continuing. ".. and end up over here. When you're finished, you just take your tray around the corner to the window there. Scrape your plate and stack everything neatly. Any questions so far?" Laurel handed him the menu to take with him in case he decided to stop in more often rather than continue walking by it.
He gave a slight shake of his head. "Naw it's pretty self explaintory isn't it?" He offered her a tired smile before motioning to the long line. "Bad I guess. A lot of us were hit pretty hard after Katrina even all these years later." He almost said them and not us. He was getting more and more tired lately concerning his keeping to his cover. It was hard not to become one of the bad guys and forget he was actually out on these streets for a completely different reason.
"I assumed you guys are a twenty-four hour place? Do you have showers and beds I mean? It's always nice having a soft bed rather then a card board box, know what I mean?" Sticking to his cover he had to ensure he didn't speak like he was completely educated. It was important for his cover afterall those on the streets that knew his name knew his past. At least the fake one he created to ensure he could dive into the criminal underworld and not worry about his true past bubbling to the surface. He followed the beautiful woman further into the building. -d-
"It is." She commented before nodding her head slightly. "Yeah, some folks never got back on their feet, but hopefully we can help that happen. Every Saturday afternoon we have some classes on skill building and vocational training. It really helps some people get back on their feet. Just tossing it out there in case you're interested." A small shrug of her shoulders was given, fiery shaded curls shifting with the movement as she turned to lead the way past the dining hall and into a hallway with several doors on each side.
"We do. You're free to come and go as you please." Coming upon two doors, one labeled 'Men' and 'Women', Laurel gestured to them. "Those are the shower rooms. There are several different stalls in there. A rack to the left has any toiletries you might need as well as towels. There's a bin at the back for the used towels. We just ask you clean up after yourself." She continued down the hall to the next door. "This is the laundry. If you have clothes you want washed, there's machines and soap to do the trick. If you just want to toss or donate your clothes, there are bins back there as well." Moving on to the next doorway, she opened it to show a huge room full of clothes racks. "If you find yourself in need of new clothing, just hop in here and pick out something for yourself." She closed the door once he'd had a good look and went on down the hall. To the left was a female bunkroom and to the right was the males. Opening the door to the males, he'd see two long lines of bunk beds. "You're welcome to spend the night with us. Bedding is on those shelves to the right. When you're done, just drop it off in the bins on the left. Easy enough, right?" She turned back toward him with a small grin.
He continued to follow her and paused as he glanced into the shower room and giving a nod as he backed out and then followed her towards the long rack of clothes and finally the dorm style room. "Very impressive. You said that local business owners donate money to this? That's pretty cool. Who knew that there are actually people out there that care." He chuckled and then turned away from her as he faked rather rough coughing. He kept to his cover well enough before he turned back to her and shrugged his shoulders. "Sorry. Been smokin' since I was a eleven. Catchin' up on me I guess." He grinned and motioned outward again. "Anything else you want to show me? Because my stomach is growling for some of that cooking I'm smellin'." He offered her a rather handsome grin of his own before he waited for her reply.
She nodded her head as she turned to lead them back down the hallway toward the dining hall again. "They do. Down here I guess we're a little more laid back than some other cities in the country. We like to look after our own and make sure they're doing okay.. especially after Katrina. We've all gotta work together to get back on our feet. This seems like a good step in the right direction." A concerned glance was sent toward him as he sounded like he was hacking up a lung before he offered his apology. "Don't worry about it. As long as you're all right, that's all that matters." She smiled as they neared the doorway back to the dining hall and offered him a slight shake of her head. "No, that's it. Enjoy your meal." She opened the door to the dining hall, smiling and gesturing for him to go through first to get in line for his food.
He nodded and headed into the main dining room and paused waiting for her to join him at his side again. He glanced over to the line noting that it wasn't that long. He shifted his hazel gaze back to her. "Alright well, thank you so much for showin' me around, Laurel." He extended his hand to her again. "Maybe I'll see you here again. We can have a cup of coffee or something from the kitchen? My treat." He grinned giving a little joke before he took his leave to head over to the end of the line to wait for his plate of food. It's not like he had any place to really be at the moment. His crew could wait for him. A rumbling stomach had to be answered.
Laurel smiled and took his hand for the offered handshake. "Sure, Logan. Just let me know. Sounds like a good time." A wink was offered, watching him slip off to get in line before she moved back toward the front counter to cover her hostess duties. A couple of regulars were waiting for her with wide smiles and missing teeth. Laurel greeted them as if they were long lost family members, chatting it up for a good while before the pair moved off to get their meals. A quick glance was stolen toward their most recent newcomer, a small smile finding her lips before she turned back toward the door.
Logan gathered his plate and a drink and headed over to an empty chair at a nearby table and had a seat. He glanced around the dining hall even recgonzing a few of his customers. He gave a slight shake of his head and glanced over to the Laurel before offering a soft sigh and turning back to his plate and began digging into the food.
"Fucking bitch. Who the hell does she think she is?!? Ignoring us. Flirting with some lowlife." Mitchell Gavin was one of those homeless downtrodden losers that lost it all after Katrina. He took to drugs quickly and got hooked on heroin in a short time. His wife left him and headed west with his little boy. After all that the one person who showed him a beautiful smile and a loving attitude was Laurel. Mitchell was sitting at one of the back tables watching her glance over to the tall asshole who just sat down. He slapped the side of his head and then slammed his hand down onto the table. "She's mine...she's ours. Yes. Ours. All ours. Not his. Ours." He slapped the side of his head as the voice in his head spoke again. "We can't lose her. She will be ours. Won't she?" Mitchell nodded and stood. "Yes. Yes she will. Ours. All ours." He turned and headed towards the back where the bathrooms were. He needed a hit. A little fire. Yes just a small hit.
Oblivious to the nutjob that was Mitchell, Laurel went about her work at the soup kitchen. She greeted several more regulars and gave a couple more tours to a couple of new faces. Although she wished they didn't have so many new faces to attend to, she was happy to welcome them and give them a little place of respite and peace away from their problems and issues out in the world. She remembered those hard times herself. It made it so much easier to have a helping hand sometimes.
Brown eyes lifted as a tall figure moved beside her again, smiling as Logan again came into sight. "Take care, Logan. I look forward to having our coffee sometime." Grinning, she waved as he headed out on his way before tucking a fiery lock back behind her ear. Shaking her head a bit, she shook off the silly grin before getting back to work. She continued on her tasks for the next few hours until her shift ended at midnight.
"Night, Gus. See you Monday night." A peck of a kiss was placed at the man's bearded cheek before Laurel turned to head through the dining hall toward the exit. Purse tugged over her shoulder, she waved to the few remaining guests in the dining hall before heading out into the balmy night. It was four blocks down to the bus stop where she'd catch her ride home. In no particular rush to get home and with about fifteen minutes until the next bus came round, Laurel took her time walking down the sidewalk. It wasn't the best of neighborhoods, but she'd never had an encounter before. No reason to think she'd have one now.
"It's easy. Either she comes with us. She stays with us. She loves us or she loves no one. We can't be denied. We are kings. Kings rule either with fear or respect. She will respect us or she will fear us. Yes. Yes she will." Mitchell watched as Laurel slowly walked down the sidewalk heading for that bus stop. He's done so many times before. He loved Laurel and she loved him. Didn't she?
Mitchell slapped the side of his head and grinned. "Yes. Yes she loves us. She will be with us. Forever or not at all." He backed into the darken aclove as she walked past them. He darted out and moved so swiftly behind her, grabbing her arm and tugging her into the alleyway. He slammed her aganist the wall so hard it hurt so much. "Laurel. Laurel listen to me. I love you. Come with me, okay? You and I. Together. We will be together. Yes. You and me." Mitchell slapped the side of his head. "I'll told her. Okay? Just wait. She will come with us. Just wait. Watch." Mitchell glared at Laurel. "Come with me or I will...just look come with me. I love you. You love me. Right? Right. Come with me." He grabbed for her hand.
Laurel had just started to hear the footsteps coming up quick behind her when the tight grip of Mitchell's hand locked around her upper arm. She gasped and yelped as she was yanked hard, losing her footing and nearly turning her ankle as she was dragged into the alleyway. Her scream died into a cry as her head connected with the brick wall, lights flashing behind her eyes with the strike of the impact, closing her eyes as the world spun around her. She didn't pass out, though she could have easily. Instead she was bringing Mitchell's blurry face into view, trying to blink past the dizziness.
"MItchell? Mitchell, please let me go!" She shook her head slightly. "You're hurting me! Please! Let me go!" She glanced toward the street, but saw nothing but a dark empty void. Turning her attention back to Mitchell, she struggled against him, clawing, hitting, slapping, punching where she could, trying to swing her legs toward him as well, but he had her wedged "No, Mitchell .. I won't come with you .. please, just let me go ... let me go ."
"What? WHAT? WHAT?!? Won't come with us? She won't? Yes YES SHE FUCKING WILL!!!" That voice roared in Mitchell's head before he slammed his hand forward into the brick wall and broke the bricks when his hand connected with it. The shattered pieces flying past her and Mitchell and falling onto the ground. She'd watch as his Mitchell's usual blue gaze shifted sharply to rings of yellow and red. He snarled and suddenly a knife was in his hand.
"Yes you will. Yes you will come us. You will be with us. That's how it is." He drove his free hand upwards into her hairline. He was so fast, so strong. He gripped her fiery red hair and started to pull and drag her down the alleyway. "You will come with us or I will gut you like a stock pig. I will fucking rip you open. I will eat you." He snarled sharply. What Laurel didn't know or wouldn't understand is how truly sick Mitchell really was. He was a were-lion; a lycanthrope. His lion though was sickly looking, malnourished. His domian was charred and burned not lively or thick with life but near death. Near total and utter madness.
Laurel screamed and flinched as Mitchell's fist drove into the brick wall, shattering the stone into chips that scattered down to the ground. Her eyes widened against as she caught the gleam of a knife coming into view and Mitchell's eyes had shifted to something eery like she'd seen in a horror movie once. "No, Mitchell, please .. don't do this .. " Her words broke off on a cry of pain as his hand clenched into her hair and he began to drag her away from the wall. Her heart raced and her body surged with the adrenaline, knowing that she had to act now if she ever had a chance to get away. Though it nearly made him tear chunks of hair from her head, Laurel twisted her body around and managed to connect her knee with his groin. Once he howled and bent forward, she was able to wrench herself out of his grib and run toward the street.
"HEEELLLLLLLLLLLPPPPPPPP! Please! Someone!" She screamed loud as her feet pounded against the pavement, making it to the side walk and running for all she was worth toward the bus stop as she saw its lights swing onto the street a few blocks down. "WAIT! WAIT!" She was screaming and waving her arms for the bus driver.
