Who: Lindsey McDonald What: Plans in motion When: Late evening Where: Parking garage Rating: PG-13 Status: Complete, narrative
Stephen Mills was damn good at his job and that put a target on his back. After hours of painstaking research and fact checking, careful interviews and shadowy contacts, and a few death threats that had floated across his desk, his article was ready to submit to his boss for publishing. In a few days, the city of Los Angeles would find out what CEO John Gerstine was using his business to hide. His stomach felt like it was in knots, and as much as he wanted to chide himself for acting like a rookie reporter, he felt it was warranted. His mark had contacts in powerful places.
He fumbled in his pocket for the keys to his BMW, hitting the unlock button as he drew closer to the car. The headlights flashed, briefly illuminating the wall in front of it. A noise behind him made him pause. Stephen turned to look back, his grip tightening on the key ring. When nothing but silence met his ears, he turned to continue to his car and hit something solid. The reporter stumbled back, eyes growing wide as he took in the obstacle. Over six feet, skin a dingy green color, and a mouthful of needle sharp teeth, it was unlike anything he'd seen before. He could guess that its presence in the parking garage could mean nothing good.
Two steps back and he slammed into another barrier. A loud snarl followed and he spun around, stumbling back until he made contact with his car. The two creatures advanced on him, one tearing the briefcase out of his hand while the other grabbed him by the front of his shirt and threw him. Stephen made contact with the wall just to the right of his car and slid down, stars bursting in his vision. The second creature was still trying to open his suitcase while the first was advancing again. He closed his eyes and began praying like he hadn't since he was twelve and desperately wanted that new bike.
He waited for the long claws and sharp teeth to tear into him but the creature never reached him. Instead, he heard an angry snarl and heard the sound of metal crunching. Stephen opened his eyes, spotting first his briefcase, battered but unopened, lying on the ground, and farther away, one of the demons picking itself up off the ground. He crawled forward, peering around the edge of the SUV parked beside his car.
The other demon was down for the count already, possibly dead from the dark patch on the pavement beside it. Standing beside it, in a defensive position, was someone Stephen assumed to be a normal man, just like himself. Between the dim lighting of the parking garage and the dark knit ski cap pulled low, he couldn't make out his features. The man aimed a sidekick at the demon's stomach but it was caught and he was shoved off balance, landing on his ass. The demon advanced but he was ready, swinging up with a kick to the knee. An inhuman screech of pain followed and he lunged up from his position on the ground. Stephen saw the glint of light off the long knife briefly before the demon fell, going still as it joined the other on the ground.
What the hell was all that? Those things? With some effort, he used the trunk of his car to pull himself up. "Hey!" Instead of coming towards him, the other man backed up a few steps before turning and jogging away. Stephen forced himself to run after him, his need for answers a little stronger than common sense. "Hey! I just want to ask you a few qu-"
He turned the corner and stared down the next row, completely empty. Not even holding his breath for a moment gave him a clue as to where the man had gone. "Damn it," he whispered, holding back from slamming a hand on the hood of the Silverado truck to his right. He stared down the row again before turning and limping away. I'm going to need a good, strong drink when I get home.
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Lindsey waited patiently as the reporter muttered to himself. From his position, all he could see was the man's feet but he didn't seem too badly hurt. A little shaken maybe but probably not enough to call off, or even connect the attack to, the damning article he was working on, one that was going to make one of the lesser Wolfram and Hart clients very unhappy. Not quite as much of a voice at the firm but he planned on starting small. The bigger plan was more about harassing the minions than their bosses anyway.
The feet disappeared from his sight, the footsteps from his hearing soon after. As soon as he heard the engine roar to life and grow farther away, he rolled out from under the truck and dusted off his clothes. He paused briefly to check the mirror, scowling as he brushed away the blood on his lip with his sleeve. The first M'Fashnik he'd caught off guard but the second hadn't gotten in a couple of good blows before he'd managed to knock him into one of the vehicles. Visible marks weren't good for his plan, not if he wanted to keep what he was doing quiet. After the rest of the brief check, he grinned, sliding his hands in his pockets as he headed for the stairs.