It was warm and Constance was thankful she had dressed for it. There had been a chill in the air that morning when she was getting ready to leave and her first instinct had been to dress accordingly. But one look at the clear, blue sky outside her window and she'd known immediately that the chill wouldn't last. Now, as she walked down the street in her light, airy blouse and open toed flats, she would at least be comfortable while she worked. The only concession she'd made to the potential rigors of her day was her jeans, black and somewhat loose fitting. They didn't quite go with the blouse but she'd never really had much care for fashion and, besides, who was she looking to impress anyway?
She turned the corner at Bayview onto Waterside, mentally noting the aquatic connection of the two streets, and headed towards the source of whatever it was that she was following. Whatever it was, it was not easy to track, which Constance felt was cause for concern. She could feel something in the area but pinpointing it was like staring into the sun. If she tried too hard her head began to hurt and she had to shift her focus to something else for awhile. That was bad. Normal energy sources didn't, at least in her experience, cause such pain. It was big and it was strong and it was something she had never encountered before; all of which was a potential recipe for disaster. Damn Them for dragging her into this. Why couldn't They take care of Their own problems? The answer was, of course, quite simple: because They didn't have to. She was Their tool for taking care of Their problems and so long as They retained Their hold over her there was nothing she could about it. Her personal opinion, as well as her personal safety, was of little, if any, consequence to Them.
Twenty feet up Waterside Constance came to an abrupt stop as she noticed all the sounds she wasn't hearing. It had been a gradual shift, there had not been any point that delineated precisely where the silence started, it was more akin to someone slowly turning down the volume of the world. At least now she could be sure she was closing in on the whatever, though she found that she genuinely envied all the other living creatures that had been free to vacate the area. She continued walking, her footsteps on the concrete now seeming too loud in the quiet.
Constance wasn't accustomed to fear. It wasn't that she was immune to its effects, just that she didn't find many opportunities to experience it. She was surprisingly strong given her height and build, reasonably skilled in defense against both normal and paranormal encounters, and more than a little brilliant, if she did say so herself. As such she usually found that she was more or less capable of handling the majority of dangerous situations. Being relatively fearless was a useful trait, most of the time, in that it allowed her to remain calm in situations where others might not. The only real drawback was that she didn't have much practice at dealing with fear and this left her somewhat unprepared when it came. Which was probably why she found herself so uncertain of what to do when she saw the lone figure standing in the middle of the street ahead of her. He was clearly the source she had been tracking. His head was turned in her general direction but not quite directly at her making it hard to tell if he had noticed her or not.
She wanted to hide, which was a rare and interesting sensation, but she was too afraid that moving might draw his attention if he hadn't already seen her. Fear crept into her veins like a virus. Her heart thudded away in her chest. Beads of sweat bloomed and ran down her face and the insides of her arms. It was unnatural, that fear, born of whatever strange energy he was giving off. It wormed it's way into her mind and tapped into the reptilian core of her basest instincts. The urge to run grew stronger but Constance held herself in check. Somewhere beneath the fear she could feel a quiet rage boiling up. She hated this man, hated him for making her afraid, and hated him even more because the fear she felt was almost certainly justified. He was a warning siren blaring at full volume, a walking biohazard symbol, and everything about him screamed “DANGER: STAND CLEAR”.
The man tilted his head slightly and she saw him smile, which she shouldn't have been able to see at that distance, except that his mouth seemed to grow abnormally large. He raised his hand slowly and gave Constance a short, quick wave, before turning to stride off down the adjoining street. Constance did nothing but watch, cursing her own paralysis, until he was gone.
The first car that passed Constance was a black sedan, its revving engine shattering the silence and pulling from her daze. It was going slightly faster than what might be considered acceptable in a residential neighbor and probably too fast for its occupant to notice her standing there. She'd left her own car several blocks back, following an intuitive impression that driving to her destination was a bad idea. Constance listened to her instincts whenever possible and it was clear she'd once again been proven wise for doing so.
That was fast, she thought, how the hell did they get here so quick?
The black sedan squealed to a stop in front of a rundown apartment building further up the block. Two men in brown suits got out and hurried into the building. Constance stepped back into the shade of a large tree, easing her way amongst the leaves of the bushes the lined that side of the street, and kept very still. Another vehicle, this one a black SUV, cruised more casually up the street and parked behind the sedan. A man and woman, both wearing matching black uniforms and armed with pistols holstered to their hips, climbed out of the front seats and scanned the street robotically. Constance slowly pressed back against the screen of bushes, trying to make herself as unnoticeable as possible. Three more people, these wearing more casual attire than the rest, climbed out of the SUV and went around to the back of the vehicle. They opened the rear door, removed several large, plastic cases, and carried them into the building, followed quickly by the black clad guards.
Constance stepped out of the shadows, brushed a few stubborn leaves from her blouse and pants, and made her way up the street to the apartment building. There might have been more vehicles on the way but she was pretty sure they'd take longer to arrive. These were the first responders, there to secure the scene and deal with anything potentially dangerous. They were also not going to take kindly to her nosing around but at least she didn't have to waste time figuring out where Mr. Creepy had come from.
The front entrance of the building was unguarded, which was good. It meant that the whole building wasn't being picked over and hopefully she would have more room to move around. Constance climbed the stairs, listening to the sounds of heavy footsteps moving around several floors above her, and regretting her decision to wear open toed shoes.
I'll have to soak my feet in bleach after this, she thought.
On the third floor she stopped and exited the stairwell. Two doors down the hall the armed man and woman stood, hands clasped in front of them, on either side of an open apartment door. Constance walked slowly up the hall, they hadn't noticed her yet, so she took the brief time before they did to try and figure out what to do next. Overpowering them wasn't an option, they would be well trained, and she'd be lucky to take out one before the other managed put a bullet in her head. Bluffing her way inside probably wouldn't work much better; she didn't really look the part of an agent or anyone else they were likely to let in. She could always wait and come back later when they were gone but by then there would likely be little left that would prove of any use to her. It seemed the best she could hope for would be getting a quick look at the place through the open door, she might even be able to buy herself a little extra look time by pretending to be the residents friend or something.
Constance moved in closer. The female guards eyes flicked briefly in her direction, clearly indicating that her presence had been noted, but otherwise both guards remained still. What were they playing at? In her experience these types were rarely so blasé about potential threats. They ought to at least be warning her off or something. A second later a large, unquestionably male hand fell on her shoulder and held it with a light but firm grip, a grip that said “you really don't want to find out how hard this hand can squeeze”. She did not start of flinch and she did not whirl around to face the owner of that hand, because she already knew who the owner was, and she also knew that remaining calm was the only rationale course of action. Slowly Constance looked back over her shoulder and up into the stern face of Isaac Scoggins.
“Isaac,” she said with a nervous smile, “I swear, it's like you get bigger every time I see you.”
Isaac did not return her smile. “What are you doing here?” He said, releasing her shoulder and watching her closely as she turned to face him.
Constance smoothed out the slight wrinkle in her blouse left by Isaac's hand with exaggerated irritation. “Same thing you are,” she said. “Working.”
“I really don't think that's a very good idea.”
Constance knew she had to choose her words carefully. Isaac was nice enough but he was not someone to be trifled with, he had little patience for games and even less for threats. He wouldn't hurt her, at least not without a good reason, but only because he didn't have to. If he wanted her to leave he had only to pick her up and carry her out of the building and there would little if anything she could do to stop him. Better to try and appeal to what little sympathy he might have for her.
“Can't you cut me a little slack?” She said, “You think I want to be here? I've got an assignment and you know what happens if I don't follow through.”
Isaac relaxed slightly. “That's no concern of mine, dear. This is our investigation now. If you want in you'll have to talk to the agent in charge.”
“And that would be?”
Isaac smiled sardonically. “Basil.”
She wanted to scream. Of course if would be Basil. Why would it be anyone else? Why would it be anyone but the one person who was the least likely to help her?
“Sorry,” said Isaac.
“No you're not and I wouldn't give any of the fucks if you were.”
Constance took several, deliberate steps to the right and walked past Isaac towards the stairs. As she reached the door she stopped.
“I saw him,” she said.
Isaac turned around. “What's that now?”
“The guy you're looking for, whoever was living in that apartment before today. I saw him out on the street just before you all arrived.”
“I don't suppose you happened to recognize him, did you?”
She hadn't, but there was no reason for her to be any more cooperative than he was being. She flashed Isaac a quick, sly smile over her shoulder and walked through the stairwell door.
Alright then, she mused as she descended the disgusting steps, so Basil's the one I have to deal with. This isn't going to be pretty but at least I'm dealing with a devil I know... and I think I have a pretty good idea of where he's likely to head next.
Out on the street Constance turned up Waterside and headed back to where she had parked. The tiniest glimmer of a smile was beginning to form on her lips. Hearing Basil's name had thrown her at first but as she walked she began to feel better about the whole thing, she might even be able to turn the situation to her advantage, if she played her cards right.
First things first though, she thought, and I believe the first thing ought to be a change of clothes.
Constance strode confidently up the street, her smile growing wider with each step.
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