1x1 Bisque and Cece

Cece

Cece

<3
When they returned to Room 109, the window was wide open, and Mrs. Bentley nowhere to be seen.

"Is that blood? Holy shit. I think it is." Ash hurried to the wingback chair where Mrs. Bentley was sleeping mere minutes before. A deep red stain had sunk into one of the arm rests. Ash leaned down to sniff it, their expression turning more sour with every breath.

"It smells... wrong, for blood. More rank than coppery." Ash waved Taylor over. "Come here."

Taylor could already smell how off the blood that stained the chair was. He could smell the rusty must as soon as they entered the room but he walked over anyway. Maybe she wasn't as innocent as we thought? He wondered, taking in a deep breath, stashing the scent in the back of his mind. "What do you think happened here? He asked, turning his attention back to Ash, carefully surveying the room that they were just in less than an hour ago. Though nothing seemed out of place, there was slight minty smell in the air. Very faint, like light shampoo, that wasn't there when they had first entered the room.
 
Ash sighed, rubbed his nape in frustration. "Willing to bet she bolted," he said. The scent left an unpleasant aftertaste that only an entire clove of garlic could displace. Gross. "She must've gone for the window and... jumped? Flown? We're eight stories up."

He moved to the windowsill to examine it. Sure enough, he found a faint red smear discoloring the wood, just as sour as the armchair. "I knew there was something off about Bentley. I knew it! I thought the old windbag smelled pretty weird to start, but then... I guess human seniors always smell a bit 'bleh'."
 
Taylor agreed, taking this time to freely rummage through her belongings. He didn’t really care for humans, young or old. He could barely stand female humans, only because of the kindness and love his mother showed him when she was alive. See Taylor is a hybrid werewolf, born to a human mother which is forbidden. He couldn’t shift unless he was bitten by a werewolf and he wanted to keep it that way. He enjoyed his enhanced strength and senses and didn’t experience the intense blood lust that comes with letting the wolf come forth.

Taking in a deep breath, he followed the strongest trail of the woman’s stench and found himself in her room, shuffling through her dresser, finding a old journal. "Hey! Come look. " he called over his shoulder. They were little notes scribbled poorly, random addresses, numbers, and names throughout the small journal. "What do you make of this?"
 
Ash followed Taylor into the room and examined the little book in his hand.

"Some of these are crossed out," he said, tapping one such name for emphasis. "Pretty violently, too. I figure it's a hit list, but it could be contacts. An old, leathery address book for an old, leathery hag. Ugh."

Although Ash didn't share Taylor's disdain for humanity, he still began this investigation assuming Mrs. Bentley wouldn't cooperate. Her generation saw shifters as little better than wild animals. Two werewolves interrogating her regarding 'supernatural tomfoolery'? Of course she didn't trust them.

"Take it with you." Ash tugged a familiar scrap of cloth from his jacket pocket. "I took a chunk off the armchair. I don't know what left this stain, but if this is Bentley's blood, she's definitely not as human as we thought. We'll need evidence of anything suspect." He tucked the fabric away, careful to avoid letting the thick silver bands around his wrists rub up against his skin. After having these limiters affixed last week, his aggressive tendencies were completely under control... shame the silver irritated his skin, and it hurt like hell when the sharp edges ran against his forearms.

"Hey, have any painkillers left on hand? These limiters are fucking me up."
 
So the old lady was a hit man? Didn’t seem like it. Nodding, Taylor reached in his back pocket and pulled out a small bottle. Running his thumb over the printed letters on the label, he looked up, finding himself starring into the eyes of his reflection in the mirror that was across the hall in the bathroom. He was an average looking guy, standing about 6’2 with black curls he let hang in his face and deep green eyes, he had no trouble attracting others but he didn’t care for the effort it took to mingle and flirt. Running a hand through his hair, he tossed the bottle to Ash with a sympathetic sigh. Being a half blood, he didn’t have the need for those dreadful self torture devices. Just as he was about to turn away from his reflection, he noticed something flashing as the clouds passed over. A gun sat on the back of the toilet next to a few bullets. "Seems you’re right. Think she was about to load up before what ever happened happened? Maybe she was nabbed."

If that was true, they were on the right trail, it just seemed who or whatever they were after had the habit of being one step ahead. But at least they had the book. Walking past Ash and into the bathroom, Taylor reached for the gun, noticing that the bullets were indeed silver. Just as he made contact with the gun, the flesh on his hand burned. "What the fuck? " he growled, jerking his hand back. Looking around, he grabbed the face towel that hung on the rack and grabbed the gun, wrapping his hand in it. Tentatively touching the bullets, he grabbed them, having no reaction the silver.
 
Last edited:
"Something might've taken her. For all we know, the old lady look was just a disguise--"

Then Taylor swore, and Ash's brows furrowed. "What happened?"

He swallowed two extra-strength tablets, dry, and joined Taylor in the bathroom. The pain radiating along his forearms already kept him on high alert--hearing Taylor exclaim made his animal instincts stir.

"You okay?" He noted the gun wrapped in a towel. "What's up with that pistol?"
 
"Yeah. It just stung like hell." He answered watching the welts heal slowly on his hand. "I don’t know what that gun is made out of but it’s not silver. Try it." Dropping the gun on the counter, Taylor pocketed the small towel, curiosity filling him as he waited for Ash to test the gun. The gun was light weight and simply made, probably coming from some kid trying to make a few bucks, not even knowing the outcome of this creation. The craftsman of the gun was not the question, it was the material. Something that burned hybrids means some one went out of their way to make a point. Why make a weapon that can’t be held but load it with bullets that wouldn’t?
 
After a split-second's hesitation, Ash reached for the gun. No reaction.

"So's not silver," he murmured, examining the frame. "I didn't think there was anything out there what could hurt halfbloods. What's the point? Some racist gunsmith out there really, really doesn't want you guys handling their guns?" Ash scoffed. Before the limiters, this might've made him genuinely angry. Now, the prospect only annoyed him. "What about the bullets? Do they burn you too? There's something more'n sketchy about this Mrs. Bentley."
 
"The bullets are indeed silver." Taylor confirmed, raising an eyebrow at the gun in Ash’s hand. Who was this lady and exactly was this lady involved with?
 
"Looks like she was trying to protect herself from one of our kind." Ash tucked the gun into his coat after double checking to ensure it was empty. "D'you think we should give chase? She can't have gone far without leaving a scent trail."
 
"Hm, i’ll call this in and then we’ll try to track her down. " Taylor said, checking for his partners approval before pulling out his phone and dialing the ‘office’, as they liked to call it. Since they’re we’re other beings that couldn’t really be prosecuted by human laws, they had a system built to help keep people like them in line. Ash and Taylor were like Private Investors with a Universal badge and gun. They rarely worked alongside human law enforcers of all levels but mostly alone. Just them covering their territory, keeping order in their world through any means they see fit. The phone rung 3 times before a feminine voice picked up. "What do you want? He’s in a meeting."

"Nice to hear from you too Yessica. " I mumbled, checking my watch. That sounded about right, it was 5 after 2pm so he was probably in his 3rd meeting of the day. "Tell him that the address was correct but she’s in the wind so we’re gonna track the trail. Have him call us when he has a second. We got something he’s going to want to see." Without waiting for a response, he hung up and nodded to the window. "After you." He said with a playful smirk.
 
You must log in or register to reply here.
Back
Top