Who: Drake and Eli What: EIT hunting in action. Where: A house outside the city limits When: Backdated to last week Warnings: Eh, not much.
The day dawn cold and crisp, and Eli was thankful there was a job to do for EIT that evening. No matter what else was going on in his life, his work with EIT was a constant, one he believed in. It wasn’t something he made public knowledge, his involvement in the team, because being a Creation that hunted Creations - well, it didn’t make for very good small talk at parties. But it was undeniable that they - Creations - had impacted the fabric of humanity in a way no one had expected. It was easy to pretend no one took care of those problems, that they just went away somehow, but someone did take care of them - they did.
He’d gotten a call from Kenna the night before, giving him location to meet Drake at, one just outside the city limits, in what had once been an affluent suburb, along with a download of the information for the case.
In Eli’s experience, everything supernatural that happened in Seattle was a direct result of a Creation somewhere. Ghosts were generally the result of a Creation that manifested them. Demons were generally the result of a Creation who could call them. Werewolves were Creations who shifted at the full moon. Vampires were Creations who drank blood. He would have welcomed something otherworldly that wasn’t Creation related, really. He even suspected Big Foot and the Loch Ness Monster of being little more than Creations with abilities that involved changing shapes.
This case, in particular, mirrored urban lore too closely for Eli to believe it to be anything but a Creation with a sense of humor. The house, long uninhabited, seemed to be haunted by the former occupants, who (the landlord claimed) had been killed in the house. A male and female, killed by their young daughter. After years of sitting empty, the house was finally rented, and the family had spent only one night under its roof before their torment began. In the place of rattling chains and flickering lights, however, the haunt had managed to attack the young girl who lived in the home and put her in a coma.
Eli pulled his car, a vintage Charger in black, up to the meet-up spot, and he waited for Drake to arrive. He has his theories, of course, and he’d worked with Drake long enough to expect the other man to have his own.
As far as Drake was concerned, ghost stories were only good for scaring the pants off little kids and exploiting the hell out of anywhere that fit the archetype of being haunted. He didn’t exactly believe in the supernatural because he knew what the real monsters were, and they weren’t ghosts or vampires or any other sort of boogeymen. They were people, plain and simple; people who were capable of things that rivaled anything from even the most terrifying of horror stories. Without abilities they were bad enough, but with them they had the potential to be so much worse depending on what they could do and what kind of power levels they could reach. Working with EIT had taught him that even the unexplainable often had an explanation and it usually had something to do with Creations and their abilities rather than myths and legends being true.
He’d read over the case the night before and on the ride to meet up with Eli, which was more than enough time to formulate his own theories about what was really going on inside the supposed ‘haunted’ house. As always he had a duffel bag in the trunk full of supplies, because it was better to be overly prepared instead of caught unaware - besides, he never did any EIT work unarmed. Eli was far from inexperienced but he wasn’t exactly the brawn of the team either.
Music was blaring when he pulled the Impala up alongside Eli’s Charger, but with a quick flick of his wrist it fell silent along with the car’s engine once the keys were removed. He slid across the seat and got out from the passenger side door, giving Eli a wave while he made his way around to the trunk. “Guess you beat me here,” he commented idly, leaning against the rear bumper. “So, what d’you think?”
Eli was definitely not the brawn of any operation. He could defend himself, if it was required, and he most certainly would if he was threatened, but what he brought to the job wasn’t firepower.
He watched Drake lean against the rear bumper, and he quirked a brow. “As I was here before you, yes, I beat you here,” he said, the corner of his mouth tipping up in an entertained almost-grin. “My current theories are that we’re either dealing with a truly vengeful spirit, brought out by a Creation in the area, possibly unknowingly, or someone who is using their own ability to ensure free rent in an abandoned building.” He paused. “Or it’s just a sick bastard.” He pulled a smoke out of his pocket, and he offered the pack to Drake before lighting his own. “I visited the hospital, spoke to the family under the guise of working with the building management company, and I don’t think they’re involved. They’re too concerned about the girl, so that discounts publicity, which was my initial thought.” He took a drag of the cigarette, and he exhaled slowly. “I take it we’re taking the vehicle awash in testosterone and guns?”
Drake pointedly ignored that almost-grin in favor of actually listening to what Eli had to say. None of his theories came out of left field in terms of the shock factor, but based on the information and evidence they had all the logical possibilities were presented. Personally he hoped it wasn’t an actual damn spirit since those weren’t as susceptible to guns or most other forms of weapons, but the source would still be a Creation who’d brought the thing forth in the first place. At least that was something. “Could be faking the concern,” he said thoughtfully, shaking his head at the proffered pack of cigarettes. “But jumping to the conclusion that a pair of crazy attention-seeking parents are at fault is too impulsive, at least right now.” While it was nearly incomprehensible how families were capable of turning on each other so viciously, he did know it happened; but they could focus back on the family if all their other theories turned up empty.
“This is no harmless haunting. It crossed the line when that girl ended up in a coma, so I’d say it’s either a vengeful spirit or some sick bastard getting their kicks and possibly abusing their ability. Guess we’ll just have to wait and find out.” He scowled reflexively. There was a big difference between scaring some homeowners and actually causing physical harm. The latter made him more inclined to shoot first and ask questions later, unfortunately. “Damn right we are, but I have more than just guns in here.” He rapped solidly on the trunk, eyebrows raised. “Give me some credit, Eli.” Of course it went without saying that he’d be the one driving, which was why he opened the driver’s side door without a word. No one other than Drake himself drove this vehicle, end of story.
Eli rolled his eyes, because he knew about Drake’s love affair with his car. It wasn’t that the car wasn’t impressive, because Eli appreciated it for the antique it was; it was that Drake treated the car every bit like Eli suspected he treated women.
Eli climbed in the passenger’s side, slid onto the seat and began rattling off directions, as if Drake didn’t know perfectly well where they were going. “Best to take the long way ‘round, in case it is something with eyes and ears that can see us coming. Approach from the rear.” Because the house was in the middle of nothing but trees, which was both a blessing and a curse. It meant that they could do whatever they needed to do under cover of those trees, but it also meant a car would be noticed approaching.
“How’ve you been settling in?” Eli asked, making small talk and pointing out the turns. “I was telling Kenna we should look into this thing with the water, the deaths. It sounds right up our alley, and I don’t think the police have realized it has to be the same woman, given the state of the corpses.” He made an unimpressed sound as he continued. “And the vigilantes don’t much seem to care, even though the woman impersonates them.”
Drake didn’t need to have directions rattled off in his ear even when he didn’t know exactly where he was going, but he bit his tongue and let Eli do his thing. The music was left off this time and he resisted the urge to see how fast he could go before Eli commented on his speed. “Long way around, approach from the rear.” He smirked. “I think I can manage that.” He may have been a thrill-seeker but roaring up to the front of the house was highly impractical and, despite outward appearances, he did take his job seriously.
His initial plan to head off small talk by claiming he needed silence to be able to drive went down the drain when he started pointing out the turns. This was even worse than when he’d driven with his father, and he’d had real issues with being a passenger. “Well, I haven’t taken off yet. That’s a good sign.” Sometimes he got a little restless but so far he had no intention of leaving Seattle and hitting the open road again. “Right, that masked woman. I wouldn’t count on the cops here to do much about it. They don’t seem too capable of handling a lot of the shit that happens, never mind something that out of the ordinary.” He was only slightly biased when it came to law enforcement. He’d met a couple of good cops, after all, but for the most part he wasn’t too impressed with them on a whole; his own run-ins with the law notwithstanding.
“What’s Kenna think we should do?” Drake hit another turn and spared a glance towards Eli, raising his eyebrows questioningly. “If I were a vigilante I’m pretty sure I’d give a damn if someone was wearing a mask and killing people. You know any personally who told you they don’t care?” He thought of Warren - well, apparently he was Rorschach now - and couldn’t imagine him being okay with something like that, especially if he was anything like he’d been in the monastery.
“She agrees it’s a good idea,” Eli said, “but I don’t believe she’s moved on it at all.” She hadn’t, not to his knowledge. “I’ve been here a few years now, in Seattle, and the vigilante number seems to be growing daily. It doesn’t seem to be bringing about a lowering in the crime rate, however. If anything, for each vigilante created a matching villain seems to emerge. He shook his head uncertainly. “And we have more people to hunt daily. It seems we’ve brought Musings’ violence with us.”
The house came into view, just beyond the trees, and Eli leaned forward in his seat to get a better look. “It’s old,” he said, unnecessarily, because the house was falling apart. “Teenagers, perhaps?” he asked, because he couldn’t imagine anyone else wanting the place. The family at the hospital, he’d been able to tell they’d fallen on hard times, but it was a challenge to believe anyone would live here, whatever the rent.
Drake wasn’t deterred by the fact that this masked woman was dangerous; if anything it only made him more inclined to go after her since it meant she posed a higher threat to the general population and doing nothing would only increase it. “The papers don’t give away too much. If we could get some more detailed reports so we have a better idea of what we’re dealing with it’d be helpful.” For all his impulsiveness he did recognize that some things were too important to fuck up, and a murdering mask was one of them. He slowed down as they rounded the last bend, watching the house grow closer and closer with a critical eye. It was old, which was obvious even without Eli’s observation, and certainly fit the ‘haunted’ archetype. “Maybe. Or someone who wants somewhere secluded, somewhere that looks abandoned.” Drake had encountered numerous men back in Musings who met their end in houses just like this, but he wasn’t about to mention that.
The car was parked a fair distance away, half-hidden by the trees since there was no way a vehicle of decent size could be completely hidden out here. At least no one would see it unless they specifically came out back and looked. “Flashlights are in the back,” he said, turning the engine off and tucking the keys in his pocket. “I assume you won’t want a gun, but at least carry a knife or something just in case.” Not waiting for Eli’s reply, he headed around to the trunk and unlocked it. He kept it stocked not only with weapons but items he’d acquired ‘just in case’, mainly things straight out of those books on the supernatural that Kenna had a ton of. It never hurt to be careful, even if he didn’t believe in most of it.
He tossed a flashlight to Eli and took one himself - wiring in these old places was never reliable - and tucked a handgun into the waistband of his jeans. He already had a silver-bladed switchblade in his pocket, but Eli could take his pick from the ones he had in the trunk. No heavy firepower yet, not until they knew what they were dealing with, while the rest could be returned for if they needed it. His level of preparedness might have bordered on paranoia, but that was the result of past experiences.
Eli could shoot perfectly well, but it was a last resort, and Drake was right in assuming he wouldn’t want to carry a gun into the house, not beyond the small firearm he had concealed. When his ability kicked in it was hard to differentiate from what was real and what was memory, and he didn’t want to be heavily armed when it happened. Drake had never experienced it either, because they’d never gone into a place like this together, but he preferred the other man not have a gun either. “My ability. You’ll see things that aren’t real when I enter, things that happened in the space. Best to make sure the place is empty before I step inside,” he told him, glancing up over the car at the building as he picked out a knife without really looking at it. There was no way to know what memory they’d get, of course, but it tended to be a recent one, and he was hoping they’d get lucky. “It happened in the girl’s room, the attack, so we’ll want to head there rather quickly, or we’ll be stopped by memories along the way.” He looked over at the other man, and he gave him a rare, genuine smile. “You enjoy this, don’t you? Why?” he’d never asked what Drake’s motivation was, they’d never worked closely enough for that.
He began walking, even as he waited for Drake to fall into quiet step beside him, and once they got close enough he fell back and let the other man approach first. There was a door in the back, an old thing that led up to the kitchen, Eli suspected, and he pressed his back against the wall beside the door itself and gave Drake a nod. I’ll wait until the count of ten to follow, he mouthed, looking back at the door.
Even if Drake had known exactly what Eli’s ability could do there was no chance of him going in unarmed. He suspected that he might actually be physically incapable of it, since some lessons were so deeply ingrained within him they’d been adapted as natural instinct. Fortunately for the both of him he wasn’t so quick to pull the trigger anymore, at least not the majority of the time. “Gotcha. I won’t shoot at anything until I’m sure it’s real.” Maybe he’d allow for a small margin of assumption, since shooting a memory clearly wasn’t going to cause it any harm, but that all depended on what - if anything - was inside the house. “Yeah, I do.” He tilted his head to the side and considered the question. Since the full truth was out of the question he opted for the shorter version, which was still true but left a lot out. “I like the thrill of the unknown, the adrenaline rush that comes with the job. I’m a take-action kind of guy, so when I do something I want to actually be doing something.” He flashed a quick smirk-slash-grin before going quiet and falling into step beside the other man.
The itch to hold the gun grew stronger, but he resisted for the moment and gripped the flashlight instead. Not yet. He could draw the gun fast enough if he needed to. Drake nodded and gave Eli a thumbs-up before nudging open the door with his boot, aware that his ability would ensure that no one inside the house would be able to hear him enter. His footsteps were silent as he crossed the darkened kitchen and shone the flashlight’s beam over the particularly dark spots, able to move far quickly than the average person due to his ability. He’d ascertained that the main floor was empty in a matter of seconds, and nothing he saw looked like it could belong to someone other than the previous family. He headed for the stairs that led to the girl’s room and hoped that Eli’s ability would prove helpful where traditional detective work was less likely to be.
A brief glance was spared back when he was on mid-step to ensure that the other man was following, but from then on he kept his attention alert and forward. Only when he neared the top of the stairs did Drake finally give in to the itch and draw his gun, just in case.
Eli moved quickly once he entered the house, keeping just a few feet behind Drake and hoping momentum would keep his ability from kicking in until they were upstairs. It was hard to gauge how quick the memories would come in a new space, however, especially one as old as this.
Halfway up the stairs, a man with a musket ran past Drake’s shoulder. The man was dressed in suspenders and tan pants, his shirt and the gun marking him as someone who wasn’t from the present day and definitely not who they were looking for. Still, he looked as real as Eli or Drake, and he stopped at the top of the stairs, turned and fired the musket at them without warning. Even knowing it wasn’t real, Eli ducked for cover, and the sound of returning shots came from behind them, followed by a woman’s voice, her screams loud and piercing and getting closer. She passed them a moment later, and Eli could smell the blood on her before he saw her, half of her face blown off from the musket.
“It’s not real,” he reminded Drake, because it certainly looked real.
Drake caught the movement instantly and reacted, lifting the gun as he paused and taking aim without even having to think about it. What kept him from pulling the trigger was a combination of the man’s outdated appearance combined with Eli’s warning, since the guy looked too real and solid to be a memory. “Who the--” His question was cut off by the sound of the musket being fired as he dropped into a crouch despite the knowledge that what he was seeing wasn’t real, and he stayed in that position as return gunfire came from behind him. “Looks fucking real enough to me,” he growled in frustration, wincing at the sound of the woman’s screams and looking up at her as she passed. She made a grotesque sight, face half gone from the musket’s fire, but he’d seen worse so it was the fact that she looked so real that bothered him more than anything. Eli’s ability had the potential to be as dangerous as it was useful.
“This place has one hell of a past.” He got to his feet warily, reminding himself that the man with the musket wasn’t actually there and thus didn’t pose a threat. Now that he knew just how difficult it could be to discern between a real person and one from a memory Drake was on even higher alert than he’d been before. Without indications like old-fashioned weapons and clothing he’d be a little more inclined to shoot instead of hesitating.
The girl’s room was on the right in the upstairs hallway, so he did his best to ignore the memory in favor of continuing forward until he reached the door, where he turned the knob slowly with one hand and pushed. What happened in long-gone days was interesting, sure, but it wasn’t what they needed.
The memory in the room began harmlessly, as soon as they entered the doorway. A young girl with shabby clothing and dirty bare feet knelt on the floor, playing with a doll that had seen better days. Still, the child was happy and laughing, and after a second the sound of her mother calling out to her, sending her to bed, could be heard. The little girl climbed into the bed, which had no sheets or bedskirt, and she closed her eyes, doll clutched tightly in her arms.
That was where the harmlessness ended. A moment later, the girl began fighting with something that was not visible, even in the memory. But it was there, there was no doubt that it was there. It was holding her down, tearing at her clothes, and she was struggling to get air into her lungs fruitlessly. It was hard to watch, and Eli pressed back against the wall and swallowed down bile and the urge to try to stop abuse that had happened in a memory. The child’s screams were muffled, and then she went quiet and still.
The thing that walked past them to the door was felt, rather than seen, and it laughed once it was in the hallway, a man’s laugh, a very alive laugh. Eli turned to Drake once the memory dissipated and the girl disappeared from the bed. “He’s invisible.”
Bingo. Drake moved into the room and leaned against the wall next to the doorway so he could get a clear view of the room and what was unfolding within it. He felt a pang of sympathy for the girl and her living conditions that didn’t register in his expression whatsoever, but when she started struggling with an unseen attacker his displeasure became obvious. Even though the events he was watching had already happened he too felt the urge to do something to stop it, and the hand holding his gun made a small jerking movement upward as though he’d started to raise it but caught himself first. Shooting at nothing would be pointless and cause unnecessary noise.
“Son of a bitch.” He scowled reflexively and immediately began running through possible ways to catch the bastard, ideas forming and solidifying even as he stood there. “He’ll be tricky to catch, but not impossible. Invisible doesn’t make him invincible.” Drake could have kept talking, but he realized that they couldn’t be completely sure that the house was empty anymore. They’d already made their presence known and of course he wouldn’t have seen anyone invisible when he’d checked out the main floor. “We can talk outside,” he muttered, glancing around the room suspiciously before moving back out into the hallway.
Eli followed him, and it was only halfway down the stairs that the telltale smell of a gas stove reached his nose, the scent an artificial one added by the gas company in old units for the safety of consumers. They were absolutely not alone, and it was all he could do to run down the remainder of the stairs, his hand pushing at Drake as he passed. Whether the goal was to cause an explosion or render them unconscious, he couldn’t be sure. But there was no doubt that the intention was to do something.
Drake wasn’t as panicked as most other people in his position would have been when he caught a whiff of the gas, having faced far worse situations with much slimmer odds of survival. He pulled his t-shirt up over his mouth and nose, held his breath, and practically lept down the remaining stairs. Once he reached the door he didn’t waste time with opening it the proper way, ramming into it with his shoulder and sending it swinging out wildly on its hinges instead as the adrenaline kicked in and took over.
“Damn it.” He only exhaled once he was outside, grabbing Eli’s arm and ensuring there was at least a few feet between them and the back door before stopping. “Be ready and keep an eye out. He’s not driving us out like this.” The gun was aimed at one of the windows as he turned away, and when Drake spoke again his voice was much louder. “Show yourself or I blow the place sky high, asshole. Time to start acting like a big boy.” It wasn’t one of his best plans, admittedly, but if nothing happened they were no worse off than they were before. If he could end this bullshit now then he was damn well going to do what he could to lure the guy out and into the open.
Eli respected the bravado. He, too, had no intention of leaving this damn place with that bastard inside, and there was no doubt the man was inside. He pulled the concealed handgun out of his holster calmly, without Drake’s yelling or his expert aim. Still, it was better than the knife, and he went wide and neared the side of the house, hoping to get near a window while Drake drew attention.
The Creation inside took the bait, as they often did when they were accustomed to being in control, and the front door opened, revealing nothing at all. Eli was at the side of the building by then, back against old wood and gun raised as he looked around the corner. There was no way to know where the man was, but he was there, and it was only a moment longer before he began playing with them, making sound from one part of the yard and another.
He tried to get Drake’s attention, motioned to the ground, where movement could be seen somewhat, and he made as if to fire the gun, hoping Drake would understand to do the same thing. He’d fire low, try not to kill, but it was hard when you couldn’t see what you were going after. A moment later, a knife blade shown in the empty air near Drake, the movement a fast, slicing arch.
He was secretly pleased that Eli had a gun on him all along and was more than willing to continue providing a distraction. The door opened just as he’d expected it to but still he refrained from pulling the trigger, instead focusing on trying to pinpoint the man’s location as best he could. Drake didn’t intend on shooting to kill, but with an invisible target there was an even higher chance that whatever shot he took might be fatal.
If it came down to it and that was their only option -taking a risk and shooting regardless - he was willing to take the blame for whatever happened. By now he was practically an expert at shouldering responsibility.
Eli’s attempt at getting his attention worked, but Drake didn’t make it obvious that he’d noticed. He watched the ground for the right spot to fire but the invisible man saved him the trouble a moment later when the knife blade appeared near him. The guy moved fast, he’d give them that, but a little cut from a knife was nothing compared to the opportunity it provided. With the speed of a man who’d been handling weapons since he was just a kid he turned, bringing the gun up in one quick fluid motion and pulling the trigger at the air just below where the knife had been and then fired again for good measure, this time a little lower. It was difficult without a visual target but both shots had been fired where he approximated non-fatal parts of his body would be, and personally Drake thought that kind of courtesy was more than Mr. Invisible deserved. He didn’t plan on lowering his guard one bit until he knew he’d scored a hit with at least one of his shots.
Oh, Drake scored, and Mr. Invisible became quite visible once the blood pooled from the wound at his side. The man fell to the ground, but he grabbed Drake’s leg as he fell, the knife out and ready to inflict a mortal wound to Drake’s gut. Eli stepped out from behind the side of the house, and he ran (it felt like slow motion, and he hated this part of the job), and he shot as he moved, the aim shitty with the jostling. He’d intended to get the man through the wrist, but he got him through the stomach, and the knife fell onto the dead, iced grass as Eli stopped beside the bleeding, now still man.
Now that he was visible, their prey was young, not more than a teenager, and he was bleeding from his stomach and side and thigh. Eli looked up at Drake, breathing hard, and he let his own gun fall to the ground. “I hate this bloody job some days,” he admitted. “Is he breathing?” he asked, not wanting to look too closely himself, already pale and shaky as a result of what had almost just happened, of what he’d done.
It was somewhat fortunate that Eli fired his gun first, because when the kid grabbed his leg Drake was seconds away from putting a bullet in his head to make sure he didn’t end up with a knife sticking out of his abdomen. Only experience kept him from losing his balance, and he looked down at the bleeding teenager with an unreadable expression to hide his lack of sympathy. Their invisible man wasn’t much of a man after all, but age wasn’t an excuse for putting a girl in a coma and trying to gas two strangers. He didn’t regret pulling the trigger whatsoever.
“We gave him a chance. He brought this on himself.” Drake knelt beside the teen and listened carefully, searching for a pulse at the same time. Seconds ticked by before he lifted his head and sighed, nodding in affirmation. “He’s still alive, but his breathing is shallow and his pulse isn’t strong either.” This was always the part he had the most trouble with, since he didn’t mesh very well with most cops and even paramedics asked too many questions sometimes. “I guess we need to get him medical attention,” he said reluctantly, not overly thrilled about potentially having some asshole bleed all over the interior of his car.
That was problematic. Walking into a hospital wasn’t exactly an option, and Kenna was the one with the police contacts that could make paper trails disappear when needed, make arrests happen when they were convenient. Eli bent over, picked up the gun and pocketed it, and he slid his hands under the boy’s shoulders. He had a bad feeling about this one, and he didn’t know if it meant the kid was going to die, or that they weren’t out of the woods yet themselves. Regardless, they had to get him in the car, and they’d have the drive to figure out the rest. “Lift his legs,” he said. “Seattle Grace? Or do you have a contact in mind?” he asked, so busy with the question that he didn’t notice the boy’s eyes fluttering open or the last ditch effort for the knife that he swung first at Drake’s stomach, then at Eli’s stomach.
Eli dropped the boy’s arms when the knife sliced through his shirt at the abdomen. Nothing deep or dangerous, but surprising nonetheless.
Drake hesitated, turning his head back towards the house as though it had the answers to their problems. “I’m a little lacking in the contacts department right now,” he admitted with a shrug. Kyle was a cop but he didn’t want to drag him into this, not when he had his own shit to deal with, and he was coming up empty on anyone he knew in the medical profession. All the people he’d known were either dead or too far away to be of any help anymore. “It’ll have to be Seattle Grace. Maybe Kenna can come up with something.”
The only reason he managed to avoid the knife was because of his reluctance to pick up the kid’s legs, which gave him enough space to step back but not enough time to stop the blade from slicing through Eli’s shirt. Drake scowled, holding the boy’s arm in place with his boot as he yanked the knife from his hand and stuck it in his pocket. “Wrong move, kid.” Then, with an ease that came from years of experience, he delivered a solid blow that effectively rendered the boy unconscious without allowing him a chance to fight back. Satisfied that there would be no more trouble out of him, he briefly turned his attention to Eli. “He didn’t get you too deep, did he?” From what he could tell the wound didn’t look bad at all, no worse than the cut on his arm, so he wasn’t overly worried. Without missing a beat he slipped off his jacket, wrapped it around their invisible culprit in an attempt to do something for the bleeding, and lifted the unconscious body with a grunt of effort - the dead weight was heavy, but Drake could manage the distance to the car. Now he was briskly efficient, pushing past the temptation to just leave the teenager there in favor of what he knew he should do.
Eli shook his head. “No, nothing serious,” he said pressing a hand to the sliced shirt. “Thank you,” he added, following after Drake with a hand pressed to his stomach. “We can drop him at the stop just short of Seattle Grace. I can follow in my car and divert attention while you make the drop.” He grinned just a little. “This would be easier if you drove a Ford Tempo in sedate white, you realize?” he asked, but the grin only lasted a second before he reached the car. “They’re getting worse, I think, these things we hunt,” he said, motioning to the unconscious boy. “Kenna can alert her contacts once we finish up,” he added, an afterthought, almost, dealing with the aftermath.
“Kenna should be sequestered at Reliquary” Eli added, opening the passenger’s side door. Kenna had taken to practically sleeping in the office she’d claimed there for EIT. “We can meet there, after the drop.”
He managed to maneuver enough to get one of his hands free so he could open the back door and laid the boy out on the seat. Seatbelts could be overlooked this time around. "Sounds like a plan." It wouldn't be the first time he'd had to move fast while someone else provided a distraction. "Yeah, except I'd rather kill myself before driving a Ford Tempo in any color, especially white." He slid into the driver's seat and started the car, expertly backing up while avoiding the surrounding trees. Drake knew that Eli was right, that these rogue Creations were getting worse and worse with time, and they might end up reaching a point where their usual methods didn't work anymore.
The drive back to the spot where Eli's car was waiting didn't take long, since he wasn't as concerned with the element of surprise like he had been on the way there. "Make sure you can keep up," he smirked as he pulled up beside the Charger. Once Eli was out and Drake was sure he was ready to follow, he hit the gas again and headed towards the hospital. All in all, save for a few minor scratches on their part, the job was a success. The kid wasn't going to be able to use his ability to hurt anyone ever again. The drop would be no problem and afterward Kenna and her contacts would help clean up the mess. Maybe the kid would pull through, maybe he wouldn't.
Either way, no big loss. He glanced back at the unconscious boy and still couldn't muster up even a hint of sympathy. On people like that, who put little girls in comas, it would just be wasted anyway.