Don't go around tonight, Date: September 30th 2013 Time: 6:03pm Location: Soho. Characters: Emerson Sinclair. Description: Well it's bound to take your life, Status: Private/complete. (one-shot)
~~ DETECTIVE CLARK; TWO WEEKS PRIOR ~~
“Look man, I’m not even going to bullshit with you. I’m in pretty deep with all of this supernatural mumbo jumbo around here, I’ve got a stockpile of information on quite a few of you.” I apparently struck a chord because the second that last sentence left my mouth this big ass dude had me by the lapels of my duster and off of my feet in no time. I’d like to admit that I was cool, calm and in control of my emotions, but that would be a bold faced lie. Fuck, it took everything I had not to piss myself. This dude’s strength kind of made me feel helpless, but I didn’t need this situation to leave me face down in some ditch with my belly spilled all over the place, ya’know?
“The fuck’s this got to do with me?” I swear that for a second man, that dude’s voice… It’s like it demanded obedience ya’know? All I could do was throw my hands up in surrender and hope this guy would just rough me up a little, but leave me alive.
“N-Nothing man, I’m just sayin’ that if you, like, ya’know… Need names or information on other people like you, I’m your guy!” I must have talked some sense into him ‘cause, though it took a second before I saw something click in his mind, like an epiphany, he let me go. None to gently, but he let me go. I saw him look to a little marble grave marker with the name Rachel Sinclair carved across it as he turned away from me, like he wasn't worried about me trying to retaliate for wrinkling up my good duster. Truthfully though, I really didn't want to piss this guy off more than I already had. Besides. I kinda needed him, like, as a last resort, ya’know?
“Ey’a, Look man I don’t mean you no disrespect or nothin’ I just figured that we could help each other out.” Speaking of things clicking into place, I realized who this dude was, so I thought I’d see if I was right, even if I did look dumb if I was wrong.
“You’re that Sinclair guy, right? The guy over the “burgermyster” pack?”
~~ PRESENT DAY ~~
“You have shit timing, make it fast.” Not exactly the most welcoming way to answer a phone but with a modern convenience like Caller ID, he didn’t need to pretend to be upbeat. Glancing left and then right before stepping off of the curb, he’d cross the street, hopping slightly on the other side to clear a murky puddle. An extra t-shirt tucked neatly in his back pocket swaying with his every step.
“Hey man, just wanted to let you know that if you’re planning on hitting the gym tonight, there is a chance that the trainer I was telling you about may have a few clients ahead of you.” He understood why the detective spoke in code, his dumbass was probably calling from his office… Which was either extremely stupid on his part, or genius. Emerson still hadn’t decided which, so far his information had been on point and for this he gave the detective credit swaying towards the latter.
With a steady, slightly rushed pace he’d travel along the sidewalk for nearly a block, contemplating his next move.
“How many clients are we talking?” Despite the lack of light down this particular stretch of road, the silhouette for four bodies stood against the dull light further down the sidewalk.
“Just two. One’s a bit hardcore so he should take the longest, big dude, yaknow? The other I heard was new, maybe not that long of a wait.” There was the sound of conversation on the other end of the phone, and you could tell the detective pulled the phone away from his ear trying to muffle it with his hand. Emerson said nothing, waiting for Det. Clark to return while moving closer to the group of four who seemed very interested in his approach. Holding up a hand with his index finger presented to silence the group, he’d stop, looking to each face as he waited for the det to return to the line.
“My bad man, bitch is on my ass about some bullshit paperwork, I swea—“
“I don’t care. I doubt you’ll be able to reach me at this number later so I’ll hit you up when I get the chance.” Just before he was about to pull the phone from his ear, Clark stopped him with a quick. “Hey, don’t hang up yet.” Rolling his eyes while shifting his weight from one foot to the other, he gazed into the eyes of one of the men silently staring back.
“I exhausted a lot of favors to get your this appointment, don’t make me regret it, yaknow?” He could swear the detective pled with him on the other end of the phone.
“Just wait for my call.” With that, he’d pull the phone from his ear and snap the burner flip phone in half, tossing the two half’s out into the street.
“Alright..” Each face that stared at him he’d meet eye to eye while speaking. “New information tells that we’ve got three bodies tonight.” Turning his attention just beyond his gathering of wolves, he’d pull the shirt from his back pocket, presenting it to the small circle. “I don’t care about the other two. This-“his fist would flex tightly around the shirt as he held out to them. “-is the target. It does not leave that room alive and it does not get killed by wolves, so restrain yourselves gentlemen.”
The shirt had been sealed in one of those clear evidence bags used by cops when it had been handed to him earlier that day, not that it was involved in an ongoing investigation -Oh, and he made sure to ask.- Clark thought it would retain the man’s scent better. The fresher the better, ya’know? Truthfully, he had wondered how Clark managed to get the shirt, but he never cared to ask… Clark was one of those people that talked for the sake of talking… Even if everything suggested that he shut up, he’d talk more. For this, he had already dreaded the arrangement the two had made. Emerson would handle some internal affairs agent sniffing a little too close to the wrong things. In return, Emerson got information.
Each of the four wolves took the shirt and gave it a whiff, storing the scent to memory. Once the shirt came back to him, he’d form a tight ball with the fabric and throw it onto the roof of the building they were near. “Home invasion, take whatever, rummage the place good. Text me when it’s done.” Amidst the nods of understanding he would direct their attention across the street, pointing in the direction of a line of duplex townhouses. “Unit B. Remember, no wolves.”
With that the group separated. The four wolves branched off, then dividing by half. Two went around the back of the duplex while the other two approached the front. Emerson moved silently down the sidewalk, reaching into his pocket to withdraw a buzzing smartphone. Sighing lightly he’d swipe to answer the call, the distant sound of a door being kicked off its hinges was followed seconds later by muffled shouting.
“Yes Elena? – Why does it suck? – The guy at the store said it was their better laptop -- No, it wasn’t Walmart..”