The Animal

Her eyes followed him as he got up and headed for the restroom, then darted away quickly but not obviously to stare at nothing on particular. He stopped at her table and sat down as if invited.

"I couldn't help noticing you from across the room," he said, his voice low and smooth. "You got a name to go with those smolderingly dark eyes, or do you like being so mysterious?"

She giggled and took a sip of her drink before answering.

“Allison—but my friends call me Aly.”

She brushed a shock of brown hair back behind her ear.

“Speaking of mysteries, do I get your name—or do I call you handsome for the rest of the evening?”

Easy, don’t let him think you’re too easy…men like a challenge--especially the serial killer type.

((OOC WARNING: The next few scenes may contain explicit sexual references. So if there are any small children on the site you should send them here for an education. Seriously, though, adult themes ahead. You have been warned.))

"Adam," he replied, "and my friends call me, uh, 'Adam'," he chuckled to help the lameness of the joke along, but his goofy charm usually saved him in these situations: this occasion was no exception, and she laughed the laugh of one who didn't find the joke particularly funny, but found him particularly amusing. And Rome loved it when women found him particularly amusing. It made him feel particularly awesome.

He flagged the bartender down and ordered a G&T in the hopes that it would help his stomach, and turned back to Aly: "Can I get you another Blue Moon?"

"Thanks."

She accepted the drink with a smile.

"So, what is a handsome, cultured, man like you doing in Gallup New Mexico? This place smells worse than my ex's gym socks."

Ahh, single, available, and obvious about it. Legend, Rome thought. He took a sip of his gin, trying to make the tentative sip appear manly, because he was just not going to succumb to food poisoning with this lady here.

He laughed and kept it general: "I'm here for work, actually," he said with a smile that masked that he was hiding anything. "You don't look like you're from around here, either, otherwise I'd ask you what there is to do in this place, besides camping in bear-infested wilderness. Unless, you know, you like a little danger in your life," he winked.

He couldn't shake the predatory vibes he got from this chick, and that was kind of majorly a turn-on. So he sat back and waited until sheinvited him to her place, as she was very clearly telegraphing that this was her intention.

Further, in the back of his mind, he had a bad feeling about this, Han Solo style, but, in true Han Solo fashion, he also firmly ignored the warning.

She laughed trying not to let her internal alarms show. Another sip of the beer gave her the audacity to continue.

"If I lived here I'd die. I'm headed back to Seattle after this--some friends and I did the Taos Box--class five rapids, now that you mention danger."

She winked at him.

"So ah--where you staying? I'm in this crappy motel across town--has those vibrating beds though."

She drank more of her beer, sliding her hand under the table and resting it on his knee.

Enough of this sleaze weasel--let's get this done.

Rome grinned. "Well, why didn't you say so before? Here I thought we were just going to chat in a crappy bar all night, but if you've got a crappy motel we can go to, by all means," he winked and grinned, showing in every way he knew how that he was nothing if not fun, easy, and more than willing to do the no-pants-dance with her in the frakking car if that's where she wanted to go.

He waited until she stood and grabbed her purse before he downed the last of his gin and tonic and also stood. He cast a glance back at his group--no one missed him yet--and followed her out the back door. Mmm, back door, he mused sophomorically, awesome. Dirty. Awesome!

"Wow, nice car," he commented as automatic remote locks alerted him to the vehicle's presence. Dark, sleek, sexy, much like it's owner. And government plates. "Sweet," he said, deciding he'd better go with the whole FBI-agent-cover, especially as the Glock nestled against his chest was going to have to become obvious at some point, "what branch you in?" He pictured something with a desk and a computer--maybe she even wore sexy reading glasses. And, okay, now he was having secretary fantasies and that had to stop right now or he'd find himself in an embarrassing situation...

Damnit! Think, think, think...

"Oh, yeah...company car. I do research for the DoD. Nothing special or anything. Most of the time I just sit at my desk and play solitaire."

She giggled.

"Why, you a fed too?"

"Uh," Rome laughed disarmingly. "Yeah, actually. I don't like spreading it around, but I actually work in Security. I'm a demon at Solitaire, too, though, so don't worry." He wiggled his eyebrows playfully.

In the car, he placed his hand high up on her leg. Not invasive, not just yet, but a signal that he was 110% ready to go there at the slightest encouragement. She quivered in just the right way, too, mm, sweet spot, he thought.

"So, you like danger do you?" These corny things rolled off his tongue instinctively, with just enough sarcasm to let her know he was absolutely joking and only interested in putting her at ease--though admittedly he seemed to be the one in need of calm right now, if anyone was. "Luckily Danger's my middle name." She laughed, politely at first, and then, once she realized that yes he did in fact just say that impossibly stupid line, laughed a little harder, and her eyes honest-to-goodness twinkled mischievously at him in the light of the moon.

And for being a secretary, damn this chick could drive fast!

She practically fishtailed the car into the parking spot once she noticed that her partner’s car wasn’t there yet. She was literally trembling with anticipation now. It had been so long, him dragging her all over the damn country when she had better things to do. She had been so close to the cult…so damn close and then he had showed up.

She parked took the key out of the car and turned to face him.

“Well Adam, we’re here.”

Suddenly the car was quiet. She ran her fingers through her hair and took a deep breath, ending with a soft giggle. This was the most stupid thing she had ever done—ever.

Allison leaned forward and tried a soft kiss. He was rather hot—for a serial killer. He joined her kiss, with just enough reservation to encourage her to try for more. She deepened the kiss letting him sweep his tongue onto her mouth. She couldn’t help the soft moan that shook her whole body.

Allison cursed herself—three years since her last time and he HAD to be a serial killer.

“Mmmm, wanna come inside?”

"Haha, I love a tease," Rome joked, managing to rein his libido in with the promise it could return in ten minutes. After all, it didn't do to be callous about these things. Making love was an art form, and it couldn't be rushed.

In her room she excused herself to the bathroom but didn't lock the door. Or even shut it. That meant she was in a hurry. Which was awesome, because so was he. He had just slipped off his jacket when she returned, and she eyed the gun with alarm.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, don't worry," he smiled kindly. He removed the holster from his shoulders and rested it on the motel chair. "I'm actually in, uh, National Security," he laughed, trying to make light of it. "So I'm kind of, you know, required to carry it around. Even though I rarely use it."

This seemed to satisfy her, though she still eyed it uneasily. He was used to dealing with girls who were scared of guns, though, so he took her in his arms and held her shaking form for a moment: "It's okay, really, I swear. I don't need that to be dangerous," he growled in her ear: again, just sarcastic enough to elicit a faint chuckle. He leaned down--just a bit, she was rather tall--and kissed her, tenderly at first, and then stronger when she began to kiss him back. He slipped his hands under her shirt, caressing her back, creeping up towards her bra straps--this was his favorite part, unsnapping the bra, though for decorum's sake he ought to wait a bit longer--teasing the area before bringing his hands back down to her hips.

She was going for his jeans now and he reached down to help.

The gun he carried was a frelling Desert Eagle!!! This was a brilliant plan…

She captured his lips again. He felt up her back but didn’t go for it right away—teasing her.

Ugh this is the most…disgusting thing ever! You will NOT enjoy this!

His hands teased her and she went along with it. Her hands went to his jeans and he lowered his hands to her hips. She dug her nails lightly into his back as he moved from her lips to her neck. He helped with his jeans. She slipped her hands under his shirt while edging him closer to the bed.

“Mmm, Adam!” She squeaked as he bit her neck slightly. She pulled her hands back, slipping the cuffs out of her back pocket. With one hand she stroked his arm bringing it slightly behind him…

In one fluid movement he had his pants around his ankles, and she had her cuffs around both his wrists. She broke the kiss and shoved him onto the bed.

She had her Glock trained on him in the next moment, though he was still on his stomach and couldn't see.

Okay, that was new.

Immediately Rome's blood cooled, almost ruining the moment in place of a very real fear of a very real danger, which he stalwartly attempted to ignore.

"You know, I usually Top," he protested, trying not to sound like a complete pussy that had just been handcuffed and thrown on the bed, "but I'll try anything once," he turned his head around to look at her, grinning playfully, and he couldn't quite see her but it looked like she had a gun. Was she playing with his? What the hell was going on? "Maybe we can switch half-way..."

"Romulus Reminton, you have the right to remain silent..."

Rome rolled over to see that, yes, she did have a gun, and that it wasn't his: "Wow, you really take this whole roleplaying thing all the way," he chuckled nervously. This wasn't right. Nothing about it was. But a large part of him would rather go with wrong than believe what was right. Because right majorly sucked.

"Wait. Sh*t. What? Did you just call me 'Romulus Rem...'?" Rome trailed off as the perfectly completely fundamentally terrible realization hit him right in the gonads, simultaneously making him feel like puking while sending all blood directly back upstairs, presumably so that he could use it to be absolutely frakking terrified.

"Oh, this is not good."

Danila watched the scene between Adam and the brunette, but shrugged it off. Ahhh, the young and restless. . . so naive. he thought in silent reprimand as the two exited the bar.

However, the conversation was still going on around him. "Do we knoh any patterns the zkin valker follows?" he asked, his voice just above a whisper but interrupting the chaotic strategizing around him nonetheless.

Georgina folded her arms and exhanged a quick glance with the Russian, than focused on Elenna.
"Yeah, I would like to know that too. Is there any specific connection between the victims? I mean, the skin walker must have his reason for killing this particular group of students, or was it just random choosing?"

"We're not sure yet", Elenna mumbled.

"So, are we just going to sit here and wait until that damn thing attacks other people?"

"No, we're just going to wait for a magical Fairy to turn up and sprinkle each one of us with magical pixie dust, so that we can all magically fly around and find that shape shifter", Elenna replied drily. "Maybe we're lucky and the good Fairy is giving each one of us pretty, glittery magical wands all inclusive."

"You're hilarious." There was not one emotion on Georgina's face.

"Girls, please", the Russian said. "Should I remind you vhy ve're all here? Ve really have to focus."

Georgina and Elenna nodded slightly.
"So, what's our next step going to be?"

That is not fair Rome you are having fun with some girl and I stuck with your Barbie. Lenna sighed and remembered Rome squeezed her hand. He is on my side, not hers. So I guess I have to play along.

"No idea what his pattern is, or who he gonna attack next, but I know that even if we would know who his next victim is that we are not prepared for him. We need these bullets cover in white ashes. And I guess none of you has them ready in your arsenal, right?"

Lenna smiled with a peace-offer at Georgie.

"So I would suggest we go back to our hotel, where James and Danila can made the bullets while Georgina and I can try to work out the pattern of it. And when Adam comes back, well as always the preparation work is done and we can go out and finish the evil son of a b*tch. Sound like a plan?"


I hope I don't change my mind and shoot her.

She frisked him with the Glock to his head.

“Romulus Remington, you are under arrest for the murder of Roger and Mariane Remington, the murder of Arianna Schell, the murder of three unidentified persons, arson, assault with a deadly weapon, three accounts of armed robbery, breaking and entering, attempted murder, assault of a federal officer, possession of a stolen vehicle, identity theft, impersonating a federal officer, pirating the last two seasons of Battlestar Gallactica…and being a general sleaze.”

She finished with the pat down and pulled him to his feet. Then she pulled up his pants, hard enough to make him gasp, and zipped them before shoving him back down on the bed.

“You have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be held against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney--though whoever would willingly represent you dooms their career—if you cannot afford one, one will be provided to you. Do you understand these rights as I have read them?”

He nodded, looking more like a beaten puppy than a serial killer. That didn’t matter. Con artists and liars didn’t always look guilty. She smoothed her hair back behind her ear, her hands still shaking slightly. Then she set her gun down on the table, satisfied that he couldn’t try anything, and proceeded to change back into more professional clothes right in front of him. She wasn’t going to take her eyes off him until he was in a high security federal penitentiary.

“You know how long I have been chasing you, Remington? You always seem one step ahead—and more perverted every single time. Serial killers like you usually choose their victims by pattern, follow an MO—but you—you have really thrown our profilers through a loop. Feel good about it while you still can, creep.”

She smiled a wicked gleam in her eyes as she noticed how he watched her undress.

“Oh, you like this?”

She walked closer to him, pride at her capture taking the place of common sense for a moment.

“Enjoy it, Rome…I’m the last woman you will ever see.”

Then she finished changing and prepared to bring her prize in. She checked his jacket, finding a heavier than normal 50 cal clip in the pocket and the rosary she’d seen earlier.

“Funny, I wouldn’t peg you as religious.” She slipped the prayer beads into her bag, along with his gun and extra ammo. They would go into the evidence locker as soon as she booked him.

“On your feet, time to go.”

Before leading him out though she took out her phone. She wished her tone of voice could be conveyed by text, but it would have to do. Serves him right for doubting her like that.

I have Remington in custody. Meet you at the station.

She pressed send on her phone and then helped Remington to his feet.

Danila downed another glass of vodka, slamming it down on the table for effect. Miraculously, the glass didn't shatter.

"Yes, 'James' and I weel make tse bullets. But first, your real names," Danila said, raising his eyebrow and using a tone that plainly said "What kind of idiot would buy your name-swapping scheme?", then added in a more amiable tone, "And, iv you don't mind, I would like records of the viles on the other attacks - if we can draw a conneczion, we can bait this monster into a trap. I believe that wood be our best plan, da?"

Rome lay in shocked silence as this woman rattled off the list of crimes, each one a notch on his soul. He couldn't even dredge up much of a reaction as she changed clothes in front of him--though he did raise his eyebrows in appreciation--especially at the pink lace--he had a pulse, after all, come on--though he sat up when she took mom's rosary from him and put it in a plastic bag like it was just a piece of frakking evidence than the only thing he had of hers. Which, okay, it was both. But he was going to get that back.

As she helped--dragged--him to his feet he couldn't ignore the cold sweat that broke out along his back and chest as she touched him, nor the uneasy feeling settling in the pit of his stomach. Neither went away. A briefer flash of panic raced through him that, hell, this could be the Skin Walker for all they knew, but no, she had handled the rosary easily enough. No, this--this--was a different level of dread. Rome had spent the past two years or so of his life coming to grips with terror, fear, discomfort, and all associated manifestations. But this was entirely different. This was...permanent. This meant he was going to feel crappy and afraid for the rest of his life. This wasn't the quick-ish death of getting drained by a vampire or devoured by a ghoul. This was a slow death of knowing things were out there that were killing people and you couldn't do a damn thing about it.

Now was the time to start wheedling. And begging. Like a f*cking dog.

"I-I can explain..." he began. His speeches usually started like this. It was formulaic, but opened people up to listen, even if it was the kind of openness with which one listened to a story about dragons and princesses.

"Save it for the court." She said, shoving him roughly into the car.

"That's just it, though," he said, intensely, fixing her with green eyes and jambing his leg in the car door so she couldn't--not necessarily wouldn't--close it. "If you don't listen to me, neither of us are going to see any trial."

"Get your foot in the car or I'm shooting it off, Remington."

Yeah, okay, it wasn't worth it.

Rome reluctantly folded himself into the back seat of the vehicle and waited until she got back in the car. Time to put the game-face back on. Act cocky. Raws would surely get worried in about...okay, 12 hours, but she didn't know that. You're not going to get anywhere by blubbering. When she got back in the car, he had a speech prepared.

"Okay, I'll work backwards. Since I'm on record, you may want to listen closely to this. First of all, you're missing a couple counts of grave desecration, but those were some very evil, pissed-off spirits we laid to rest, so I feel completely justified in those actions. Second of all, I f*cking loved my parents, so don't even go there. Ever heard of demon possession? Well, it happened to me. That's why I can't even remember ever committing crimes two through...whatever, up to the identity theft thing. Because, yeah, okay. We were hunting a doppleganger in Cincinatti, and I just figured turnaround was fair play, there. My bad. And, yeah, I'm totally willing to pay the fine for the BSG thing, it's just a friend hadn't seen it, and, so, yeah. And I am a sleaze. I'm perfectly okay with that."

"Do you know what you're doing?"

"In the back of a police--"

"FBI."

"Really? Well, that's unlucky. Sh*t. Really? Um," he laughed nervously. "Yeah, sorry about that. Didn't realize the real Feds were in town. Look, we're after a shape shifter here. A very special, incredibly dangerous kind of shape shifter called a Skin Walker. It literally takes people's skins and... Oh, hell, I gotta back up. Look, just. I know it looks like I'm the bad guy here, but you've gotta believe me. We're the good guys, we just happen to be following around some sick and twisted creatures, and the bodies left over look like us, but really we just kept more people from meeting the same fate." A horrible thought suddenly struck Rome. "Uh. I. Me. I do this. Alone. F*ck."

You did not just say that, you complete and utter moron. His only comfort, small though it was, but he could take what he could get, was that his phone was password protected, so they couldn't search any of the numbers or anything. Enough time for Raws, Elenna and the gang to get worried and skip town before the Feds cracked it. But of course she knew he had accomplices. She saw them in the bar.

Frack my life.

"Oh, demon possession and shapeshifters? Why didn't you say so in the first place? We'll have this all cleared up in no time then as soon as I call my partner on the X-Files."

She shifted the car into reverse and backed out of the parking lot, setting course for the podunk police station where she would book him and let him stew in an interrogation room while her partner arrived. Then it was a prison transport plane back to where all this started.

He didn't stop though.

"Look, I already know you have accomplices--and I got a few shots of them with my cell phone at the bar. We'll bring them in for questioning."

He was trying to convince her that he was the good guy!

"Right, and I suppose you're just a product of your upbringing and not responsible because daddy, or whoever it was, beat you? I have heard every excuse in the book, Remington--but trying to convince me you hunt the things that go bump in the night--that is just pathetic. Why don't you come up with a real alibi? As far as I'm concerned--you are the thing that went bump in the night, and I have you."

And yet...

"Tell me what you know about a cult practicing satanic ritualism, ritual rape, and child sacrifice. If you're so into this hunting demons thing, surely you've heard of such a thing."

Don't let it sound personal--just another case...yeah, that you lived.

Rome bristled at the callous mention of his father's memory, but making a fuss here, like this, wouldn't have made his memory proud. Well, okay, being handcuffed in the back of a Fed's car wouldn't have made his dad proud in the first place, but...

Then she dropped the bomb. It was almost an innocent question--well, not innocent--but the way she said it made it sound...personal. Satanic ritualism, rape, and child sacrifice? Whoa.

Rome thought quickly. What was this? Was she giving him a chance? Was this a trick? Or was it...something else?

He chuckled mirthlessly, "Let's see, a cult practicing satanic rituals, rape and sacrifice? You could be describing any cult in the book." But before his sarcasm could read too strongly and shy her off, he asked, as if this was just another case he and Elenna and his brother were taking: "Where was all this happening?"

"Puget Sound," she replied, distantly, as if without meaning to.

"Washington? I've heard of some pretty twisted covens up there," he nodded solemnly, catching her eyes in the rearview. "Though it doesn't exactly sound like witchcraft. More dangerous, probably, because at least witches tend to have a goal or a gameplan in mind. These occult types rarely do, you know, like loose canons running around. Are the perpetrators human?"

She glared daggers at him in the rearview mirror.

"What?" he exclaimed. "That's a legitimate question in my line of work!"

"Yes," she snapped, beginning to get irritable.

Okay, this was loaded. This was a case. But it was a personal one. Rome had no choice.

He lied.

He wanted to help. He would help, if he ever got half a chance. But she was asking for him to be a lexicon of supernatural activity. That was Elenna's job, not his. Luckily, he had heard some rumors, and anyway could make a more than educated guess that would at least sound plausible.

"Yeah, I think I've heard of this group. Revenants, possibly in the service of a Lechie. They're not really people--not anymore, anyway--which is why you haven't found them yet. And sacrificing children is common: the rape thing makes me think they're working for something else, though. Let me guess: five victims?"

"How did you know that?" she breathed.

Lucky guess. "That's the usual number with these things. How often do they operate? What's the turnaround between victims?" Maybe if he could keep her interested, give her juuuuust enough information so he seemed useful, maybe she wouldn't turn him over to the--

"It doesn't matter," she said, suddenly quickly, suddenly very cold. The car stopped. "We're here."

Rome closed his eyes. Damn, he thought. What he said out loud was, "Oh. Great."

I wonder if he practise to slam glasses on a table like this? Real names, mh I guess you have the right to know them, but Rome made so clear that I use their aliases. But well Rome isn't here and Raws is silent as always, when it comes to talks like that.

Lenna sighed and whispered looking at Raws to know what he thinks, but as usual she couldn't read his face.

"Fine. You know my name, the guy that prefers the company of a chick that is easier to get than our Barbie here, is called Romulus Remington. The silent James is Rawson Remington. I am not sure if Georgina Gilmore is the real name of Barbie, but I think this can't be an alias."

I hope that was the right thing I did. Why the hell is Georgina freaking me out so much? I bet she is a nice girl, but as soon I have to talk to her I see red. But what if the boys like her more? She looks as if she knew exactly who she is, a perfect girl hunter. I never know how to be a girl, not so much as she is, and a tough hunter. How is she doing it? Maybe when she sticks a little while with us I can, well um ask her? But she will laugh at me. And I bet she doesn't like me because I never met a girl that liked me. They all thought I am weird.

"Sure I can make copies of the files, for you. That is our plan to trap the monster. I think."

Allison tried to keep breathing normally, but her palms were sweaty and they stuck to the leather of the steering wheel. She'd be able to talk to him more inside the station anyway.

Remington came quietly, which surprised her slightly. She checked him in quickly and led him to an interrogation room herself. She wasn't going to give the local middle of nowhere PD mess up her capture. She also kept his personal effects--not worth risking their loss--or was it more? She shrugged.

Allison cuffed him to the table and sat opposite him. She wasn't waiting for Smith.

"Listen, before your lawyer comes, I'm inclined to believe that you at least believe what you've told me. I can cut you a deal if you cooperate with me. Just write down everything you remember and sign it. I would most like to know two things--are you responsible for the local mutilations, and why did your pattern of behavior change so radically not long ago?"

She paused and lowered her voice.

"Then, I want to know more about these...Revenants."

Rome felt like crap. And he was beginning to suspect that it had less and less to do with his currently crappy predicament, and less and less to do with those tacos at lunch. A definite fever coming on, and everywhere she touched him hurt, along with everywhere she didn't touch him for that matter. He hadn't really been listening to the part about the kids in the hospital being poisoned...but it didn't take a genius to figure out that the white, powdery dog breath that the creature had spit on him back at the Thompsons was this "Corpse Powder" stuff.

Great. The odds of Romulus Remington ever seeing the inside of a courtroom have just gone down. Again. Odds of seeing the inside of a casket first? Looking good.

He was so forlorn and limp that it was almost a shock to realize that she had cuffed him to a table in some crappy podunk interrogation room.

And now she was asking him questions.

"Um. Look. Sorry. I'll talk. Don't worry, I'll tell you everything you want to know, and you are totally running the show here. But, um, the rosary? Can I have that back? I mean it's not like it's dangerous or anything and--"

The plastic baggie was dumped unceremoniously on the table. Rome licked his lips, met her eyes to ask for permission, and then took the bag. He struggled to open it with his hands so encumbered, but he felt immediately safer taking hold of the metal. Not just because it was silver, of course, but because it sort of felt like, I dunno, like something lame like his mom was still there, holding his hand. Anyway it felt better.

Which reminded him.

"Oh. Uh. I have a knife in my boot." She looked startled. "I didn't--I don't want to get in trouble for it later," he said quickly. She eyed him weirdly, like she couldn't decide what to do with him, before going for the knife, which was hidden well--not her fault she didn't catch it the first time--like she was trying to take a slab of meat from a tiger. He certainly didn't feel ferocious.

Rome took a deep breath. "So." She wanted a written confession? He could almost feel Rawson kicking his ass for even considering leaving a paper trail. No. That was a bad idea. No problem telling her, though. She was nice. You know, for a cop. At least she gave him the rosary.

"About a year and a half ago, I was, ah, on a training mission in the Appalachians. US Marines Corps 112."

"Yeah, I've got that on file," she said. "You're killed on a training mission according to them."

"Uh. Yeah. That's about right. I don't know how or why, but I woke up not being able to move, to control my own body. I killed, uh..." Man, it was hard to talk about this. He hadn't had to do this in a while. Remembering was as bad as reliving. God, so long as he didn't cry, okay, he was fine. He fiddled nervously with the rosary. "I killed my fireteam and ran off. Eventually the thing that was controlling me introduced itself. It was a demon, went by the name of Andre. I think I was...possessed for about 8 months, give or take. Eventually my--uh--anyway eventually I got out, with the help of some other hunters."

"Those who were in the bar with you tonight?"

"No. Anyway, so I don't know most of what happened during that time. Andre kept me pretty under wraps for most of it. It was a shock to realize how much time I'd lost when I came out the other end, you know? And then...so I've been working solo mainly, sometimes with others, on various evil things that crop up. Lot of evil crap running around, if you know how to look. A siren in California, some vamps in Flagstaff, a nasty poltergeist in Topeka. All kinds of things. You know, some covens in New England, Revenants similar to your problem in Michigan. Any leftovers from the monsters may have my fingerprints on them, and it frakking tears me up inside, but I swear to you that I kept other innocent people from meeting the same fate." He fixed her with pleading green eyes, begging her to believe him. "That's it. I know it sounds crazy, but that's it."

Ariel Buttercup wrote:This post is not a post of Elenna but Alison, it is accidently posted by the wrong player in the moving process from our old home to RA.

"You're saying the three charred bodies in Flagstaff were...vampires? Would these be the Dracula type or the de-fanged emo type?"

"No, actually more like Van Helsing vamp...oh. You were kidding, weren't you?"

Her eyes narrowed.

"Look, I am not going to put in my report to the FBI that you burned a bar with three people inside, but it's alright because those people were vampires. They are going to think I'm crazy--you're already headed for a padded room. I would not like to join you there."

She paused considering what he said about the Revevants. If he had dealt with them before he might be able to track down the ones who had...best not to go there. He was a criminal--a serial murderer of the most sadistic order. She couldn't believe she was falling for this hunting demons load of s***.

"You said you work with others at times...these people at the bar, are they also...hunters of the Supernatural? What was it you were doing when I watched you--passing around that rosary and drinking salted vodka? What does that mean?"

He managed a slight laugh, but he didn't look good. In fact he looked like he was nearing the need of a hospital soon.

"Testing to see if any of us were the shape shifter--and it was holy water, not vodka." He coughed and rested his head on the metal desk.

"Remington, do you have a medical condition I should be aware of?"

"Not unless corpse powder means anything to you...didn't think so."

She leaned back in the chair. She had loads of evidence on this man...of the most damning variety, but somehow he didn't feel guilty.

"The rosary was your mother's, wasn't it?"

He clutched it tighter, like he was afraid she'd take it away. His reaction stopped her from asking what other mementos he had taken from the various murders ascribed to him.

She coughed, preparing herself for the second most stupid thing she'd ever done.

"You say you protect the innocent and you say you're not directly involved in the local murders. If this shape shifter is real, how can you tell who he is? How do you stop it?"

"So you believe me then?" His eyes betrayed a manic, glassy hope helped along by a fever he could feel skyrocketing.

"I've heard a lot of crazy things in my time....yours just might be too crazy."

Ahh... "So that's a no, then."

"You going to answer the question?"

He sighed. It was still in his best interest to be helpful, even if she didn't believe him. People usually didn't, though, not until they saw. It was a preemptive brief then:

"That's just it, though, it could be anything or anyone. A dog, a cat, your neighbor, the sales clerk. This one's taken to skinning other supernatural creatures and wearing those to the prom. I mean, how sick is that, right? Just today I got the crap almost kicked out of me by it as a black dog--which is kinda like an amphibious dog-ish thing from Britain somewhere--and as a werewolf. And yes, there's a difference. What saved me was the silver. Things don't like it. It burns them. That's why my current magazine, if you check it, both of them, actually, are silver. Knife's gilded with it, too." He waited as she verified this: it wasn't pure silver, of course, which was too soft, but a high enough amalgamation usually did the trick.

He continued as she tested the knife, carving with her fingernail a groove in the soft metal coating it. "Though something about white ash-dipped bullets to kill it. I'm not sure. Anyway, that's why we all handled the silver in the bar, because we all didn't know each other." That was true. ...ish. "Shapeshifters of all kinds have an acute allergic reaction to it at the least. And sometimes you can tell because their eyes shine weirdly in the dark, like an animal's eyes. Otherwise, they're perfect mimics, and it might as well be just another person...or elephant...or, I dunno, griffin or something."

He was blinking lethargically. "Could I get some water, do you think?" He swallowed hard. "Please?"