(1940-03-05) The Warehouse: Interview with a Werewolf
Details for Interview with a Werewolf
Summary: Auror Rena Lee questions the unregistered Werewolf, Pete Jagger about why he was at the warehouse.
Date: March 5th, 1940
Location: London - Ministry of Magic - M.L.E Department Interrogation Room
Plot: The Warehouse
Related: The Raid

It is a late winter afternoon. The weather is cold and clear.

The Department of Magical Law Enforcement is the wizarding world's equivalent of the Department of Justice. First thing in front of the main elevator is a waiting area with a few comfortable chairs lined up against the wall and some tables with old magazines on them and a small potted plant. All of it facing the duty desk. Behind the duty desk one of the officers of the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol sits the watch, doubling as receptionist and bouncer. Further into level 2 of the Ministry of Magic is a large open space with desks full of paperwork where other officers of the M.L.E.S. discharge their duties. Deeper behind the collection of hit wizard's desks is a blue tiled half wall to separate them from the collection of desks provided for the Auror's Office. Which promotes an obligation to work with each other and get along. Along the blue tiled walls of the large room are large bulletin boards full of maps, wanted posters, pictures of dark wizards and witches and other criminals, clippings from the Daily Prophet, and other miscellaneous items important to cases. Similarly decorated standing boards are available to roll about the large room, stationed close to the desks of those working on the case displayed. Scattered throughout the level are bookshelves stacked with numerous books and scrolls on magical law.
Furthest from the main elevator is a secondary larger elevator that is for criminal escort only. Next to this security elevator are holding cells for minor infractions. A corridor next to these simple cages leads back to a cell block for crimes not punishable by Azkaban. Between the wall hanging billboards surrounding the open space there are offices with large windows to look out at the collection of desks. These are the offices for the authorities in charge of those at the desks. Just off of the waiting are is a corridor that houses the offices of those whom are apart of the Judicial Law and Wizengamot Administration Services of the department and across from this corridor is another one that leads to the Improper Use of Magic Office, the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office.

Pete Jagger is brought into the interrogation room in chains. Not just the typical cuffs, full on mannacles with runes carved into them. The chain links as well are etched and the iron band collar around his neck too. Another set of chains come off of the cuffs to hug him around the outsides of his arms and behind his back. Twice they circle about his torso before they go around his waist threaded through an iron belt. From the belt they dangle again until they meet the iron bar that's chained up between his ankles that only allows him to shuffle along like some old man. But even shuffling and all those chains and irons does anything to lessen the intimidation factor as the werewolf is brought in. Similar to the rod between his ankles, a longer rod is used as a leash that ends in a hook that attaches to a loop in his collar.

Pete is forced into his seat at the end of that pole like some stray dog and the jailor some pound worker. A growl escapes him and a bit of spittle flicks off of his saliva coated lips. "I didn't do anything!" He roars at the jailor who attaches his chains to the walls. With a flick of his wand the jailor has the chains clattor up a thunderous choir as they slip and slide through hoops in the wall and constrict aroun the werewolf so he can't do much at all but sit hunched over some. Huffing and puffing the werewolf awaits his interrogators.

For a soft-hearted fool like Rena, these things never really get any easier. She stayed well out of sight as Pete was brought to the interrogation room, more for her own sake than anything else. She needs time to get a grip on her facial expression and strive for neutrality. She mustn't show pity or sympathy for the man in chains because it will give him the advantage.
Bearing up, the young woman pulls a compact from her purse and checks her makeup carefully in the little mirror until the clank and clatter of chains becomes stilled. Then, taking a deep breath, Rena closes the compact with a click, slips it back into her handbag and begins a slow walk to the room. Closing her eyes momentarily, and counting to three in her mind, she then opens the door and enters.

"Hello, Mister Jagger." Rena says cautiously. "I wish the extra precautions weren't necessary - I really, do… Also, I 'ope you've managed to recouperate from our run-in the other night."

Pete narrows his eyes. It's a look that is pissed off and confused, more likely an anger seething because he is confused. "Lady, I don't know who the hell you are, or what you are talking about. These chains aren't necessary. They are just a manifestation of what is wrong with the system. Prejudice and hysteria. That is what the runes on these chains really mean. As for recouperated, I'm fine. Not the first time I've had a broken nose." He lowers his face all the way down but even that's not far enough. Only a light brush of a chewed up yellowed long nail can graze his nose where it is black and blue with some lovely shades of purple down the ridge and swooped up like owls wings under each eye. Those eyes still locked on Rena even with his head lowered.

Try as she might, Rena just can't keep perfect composure under the circumstances - not perpetually. A pained look flashes briefly in her eyes, and she forces herself to look away quickly in an attempt to hide it. "Regardless, I am very sorry that I 'urt you." She replies in a quiet voice. "I 'ad to defend myself. But, I know you weren't in your right mind at the time."
Drawing up her courage, the redhead lifts her chin and looks Pete in the eye once more: "My name is Lee. Rena Lee, Mister Jagger." Not that it helps much to say so. Clearly, she isn't the prostitute Pete initially thought she was that night in Knockturn Alley. "I'm an Auror." She then states matter-of-factly, trying to keep things calm. "You're 'ere because you took part in an attack on several Aurors, and the Magistrate of London, Peregrine Urquart. 'Owever, be that as it may, the Ministry would like to know why you and the other werewolves were located inside of that warehouse on the night in question."

The eyerolling that Pete does finding out her name is must pain him, but he masks any grunt in a growl. "Fuck. Course you are. Rena Lee. Fuck. You don't know lucky you just got little girl." He snaps his teeth in a clatter at the air towards Rena. "The question is, what the fuck were you doing at the warehouse on the full moon? Someone set you up right billiant. Stupid fucking Auror's can't leave well enough alone. Breaking into the homes of werewolves that just want to be left alone. Bravo. Thought terrorizing some werewolves minding their own would look good for the papers huh? Cheers love. Well done. Any more stupid fucking questions or can we end this dance?"

Part of Rena is so affronted by Pete's behavior and words that she wants to snap back at him and tell him where to get off - and the flash of anger shows plainly in her eyes. But, it rapidly dims and fades away. How would she feel if she were in his place? The young woman's jaw tightens, and it's all she can do to keep herself from shrinking away from the werewolf completely. "I don't understand why you know know my name, Mister Jagger… Or why you speak of me so." She says at length, regaining some small measure of composure.
"It weren't my idea to conduct the raid at night! I were dead against it." She adds, a touch defensive. "And furthermore, terrorizing werewolves wasn't our goal. We 'adn't a notion that any of you were inside the warehouse until we arrived. Then, it seemed like an ambush and the others acted accordingly." She can't bloody control the impulsive behavior of her colleagues, being the youngest and most inexperienced of them all.
Drawing herself up, Rena then takes one step closer to Pete: "You say we were set up, and there were nothing to find. Fair enough, but prove it. Of the two of us, only I know what we found after you were carted off."

Pete snorts, again it must be painful but there's no outward sign and he must have dislodged something from his wounded nose because he spits out a glob of congealed blood onto the table. For that act the jailor pressed the rod into the soft underside of the werewolfs chin like someone handling an alligator. "Sorry ma'am." The jailor apologizes and with a flick of his wand in his free hand the blood on the table is scourgified into oblivion. In fact that spot on the table is the cleanest part of the whole table. Pete's body shakes in a silent bit of what some might call maniacal laughter. But he can't exactly talk with his jaw being shoved up into his skull. He and the jailor await Rena's decision on how to proceed, if they will at all.

Rena has seen just as bad in her time in the East End of London and in less than reputable theatres from even less reputable patrons. She is not particularly phased by the blood spat onto the table - even if her nose does wrinkle slightly.
Nodding to the jailor appreciatively, the young woman sets her prim little mouth in a hard line: "Mister Jagger, I can be lenient with you as you please. Merlin knows I've tried. Or, I can play 'ardball if you wish. I can 'ave them throw the book at you six ways to Sunday if I put my mind to it." She says stiffly, leaning on the table and giving the werewolf a stern look. "I'm sure I could find out some very interesting things about you. Interesting things what might put you in Azkaban for the rest of your life." She isn't remotely sure, but it sounds grand to say.
"Now, are you going to be straight wi' me and tell me the truth so that things go easier on you?" Rena asks, pointing one finger at Pete. "I'll warn you. I can be the best friend you ever 'ad if you get me on your side. I will go to the ends of the earth and back to try and 'elp your case. But, on t'other side of the coin, if you decide to make an enemy out of me, I am a dog wi' a bone and I don't ever let go until I've made a case so heavy it'll pull you down like a millstone 'round your neck. Now, are you going to 'elp me so I can 'elp you, or are we staying at an impasse?"

East Ender spittle couldn't possibly turn her into a slavering beast if he hocked that clot at her instead of the table. Hense the jailor's reaction. When Rena seems to wish to proceed the jailor eases up on the press of the werewolfs jaw. There's a popping noise at his jaw as he exercises it around some. A thick yellowed fingernail shaped to look like claws is pointed towards Rena while his dangerous gaze is leveled at the jailor. "She's protected mate. Yah aren't. Wotcher." He certainly sounds like he belongs in the same places as Rena. Any hint of his actual upbringing are long gone.

That dangerous gaze swings back to Rena. "Sorry for that love, nearly choked, and it's not like I could reach for a kerchief now is it? Course I'll help. I've been helping since I woke up. Everyone's so riled up… and I'm supposed to be the monster. Like I said, it was you that did the attacking and tresspassing. Something that I'll let yah in on pretty… It's no use asking me what happened last night. I wasn't there. You can answer all those questions much better than I can."

"I live there, my friends stay with me on the full moon. It's our safehouse. Don't know who owns the place or even runs the place. Just know to go there and lock up behind us. The owner probably knows that we make good guard dogs, if anyone were to break in. They would be real sorry, wouldn't they? Well, why am I asking, you know first hand how fucking stupid it is to break into a warehouse. I get lodgings for free and my lodger gets top notch security. Only people that would get hurt is thems that was breaking the law and breaking and entering in the middle of the night."

"Keen on what I'm saying? The only crime done was by the law-dogs, not the werewolves. From what I've gathered, you broke in, paid the price, and now want to send us to jail because you all fucked up. If you were there for us, you'd of had a RCMC agent with you. But you didn't, did you? Auror's always think they can handle anything and go running head long into the jaws of a werewolf and then go blaming the werewolf. Then everyone wonders why many of us steer clear of that registry of yours. Give up our human rights and sign our lives and safety over to the lot of you?" If he had another clot he'd probably spit it out right now.

Rena keeps her dark eyes fixed upon Pete throughout his explanation, her expression shifting and changing only slightly now and then. Mostly, she's keen to watch him while he speaks to see if she can tell whether he's telling the truth or not. He certainly seems to be honest in this…
The young woman's features ease and relax. She breathes a small sigh and takes a step back: "As I said before, I am very sorry about the breaking and entering. It were bloody unacceptable be'avior on the part of my co-workers… I'm twice-over sorry now, understanding your situation better." She says, her voice belying the fact that she is quite sincere. "As for the rest, believe me, I know that the system is flawed in places. Not one of your kind ever asked to be made into what you are, and I see you as fellow 'uman beings."
After a moment's silence, the young redheaded woman seems to make up her mind: "Look, Mister Jagger, I doubt you'll remember me kindly; but, I prefer to be the Auror people know they can come to when they're in trouble. Word of honor, I'll do my best to get you released as soon as possible. And, if you intend on continuing to use that place as your safe 'ouse, I'll get the word 'round to bloody leave the place alone and leave you in peace." Apparently, she tries to kill her victims with kindness.

That said, the little woman thanks the jailor for his trouble, and then turns to go. Pausing at the door, she glances back at Pete and says: "I know it's not much… but, I 'ope it will make up for things - if only a little."

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License