Introductions Are In Order ....

[Argus Steele]

"................................................. ................................. Fuck. My head. How many rounds DID I have? Was it four, or maybe it was five. Hell, in all the excitement I sortta lost count. That imported ale is the most deadliest ale in town, enough shots can take your head clean off ... (or at least make you feel that it did!!) Gotta ask myself a question ... Do I feel lucky? Do I ?

Fuck NO!!!!! ....

-(insert sounds of throwing up SEVERAL times into the toilet here)-

Twenty minutes and a MUCH needed shower later .... I'm dragging my level seven (out of a possible ten) hangover arse to the kitchen in hopes that I had some coffee stored somewhere ... Looking ... Looking ... Looking ... "YES!! There is a GOD!! Neh!! (m) Don't remember buying this brand ... Pft!!"

My kitchen soon smelled of Columbia Blend, which turned out to be not that bad!! After my third cup, and another quick trip to the bathroom, I plopped down onto my stool, activating my laptop that had been place in sleep mode since my last cyber visit ...

(m) "Hmmmmm .... Spam/Delete ... Spam/Delete .... Porn ... Save, just in case ...
(2) Voice mail messages from Jared Rico ... "

-Hey, hey, man of Steele!! You were putting those drinks down something mighty last night ... Guess you can hold your liquor because Amberlynn's sister Angelette hasn't stop talking about you!! Late!!-

(m) "I am what I am ... And on the 8th day God created me. Booyah!!"

<Next Message>

-I hope you're up by now, Steele!! My contact may have found the location of what you've been looking for ... Holla back bro. -

(m) "nuts ... What time did he ... 2 FUCKING HOURS AGO????" That's when I looked over at the led display on my clock ... "12:46 PM??? FUCKFUCKFUCK!!"


Meet one Tohmaz A. Steele the Second, Gulf and Iraq war veteran, honorable discharge, former Master Sergeant, with numerous awards and metals to boot. Former high school jock, All American Wide out with blazing speed. Turned down a chance to play for USC to serve his country.

Those that knew him growing up would say he had a knack, a luck factor about him, always being in the right place at the right time, as well having a borderline photographic memory. Never hung out with the bad crowd, he was the 7th (LUCKY) of 9 foster children, the origins/identity of his true parents were unknown.

Those close to him say that something changed him during his war tour. He came back haunted, withdrawn, dark, moody. It was classified as a case of severe depression, as were many other men/women that fought.

But he knew better .... And what he knew would remain secret, unless he wanted a one way trip to the all white room club, complete with snazzy wrap around jacket w/buckets.

Randomly selected vices would be the answer to fight off those inner demons, or perhaps make them worse??? Kicking the chain smoking habit, only gave way to acquiring a taste for the hard stuff ... And one night stands.

He would form a partnership with Jared Rico. They had a office firm downtown, what started off basically as Private Dectective work, which soon became a door into the ...

Paranormal Zone.

[Argus Steele]

Later That Night ....

All the lights in my office were off, something about total darkness appealed to me, helped me think more clearly. Besides, I had enough of a dull glow coming through my windows from off the streets, as the RLD (Red Light District) was starting to pick up with the approaching dusk.

There's a fine line out there that separates reality from fantasy, and it's becoming a bit blurred. Call me crazy if you want, I've seen madness, and it has a name.

The Nexus Realm, where fairy tales, dreams and nightmares all coexist.

Yeah, I get that look a lot whenever I say that part.

Be as it may, the police actually contacted me in on this particular case. It was dealing with some sort of Gothic cult, you know what I'm talking about, the stupid ones that hope to summon a Daemon from the shadow realms.

Fairytales??? I disagree!!

There was some nutcase out there wanting to kill anyone with the *sight*. A seer. Teller. The best place to check for those types are in any institutions, because more often than not, they are deemed a few cards short of a full deck. Easily dismissed, and left drugged out of their minds. Okay, 50/50 on who's legit, and who's not.

So here I sit, surrounded by so many friggin' files and case reports, I've lost count. When in doubt? Close my eyes and pick one at random.... What do I have to lose ... Mmmm .... This one.
Hmmmm ..... Frail goes by the name Eve. Looks like she's been let go not too long ago.

A scratch of a stubble covered chin, as a desk lamp was turned on, a drink poured, a seat taken, and a file read ...

[Argus Steele]

The coffee shop was one of those smaller establishments, one of the few remaining that wasn't yet owned by one large corporation or another. It was a bit older, a little more broken in and used than the newer ones further down the block. It was a comfortable, easy-going place; it reminded Eve a little of a comfortable pair of sneakers compared to a snug-fitting high-heels. It was what kept the regulars coming back, what drew in new customers.

She had been working there for a little over a month now. Once she'd gotten the hang of it, it was a simple, laid-back job. Even the pay wasn't too bad, and she often made tips; it was enough for her to get by, to start piecing together some kind of life for herself. Getting used to the different shifts, what needed to be done at what time, what the regulars liked. It was more or less a matter of remembering the orders, making the coffee, making sure everything was fresh and keeping the place clean. The last was probably the easiest of all for Eve; she was almost OCD when it came to the cleanliness of the place, which closely bordered how she treated her small apartment.

This evening was one of the first few when she didn't have another of the servers hovering close by to answer any questions, one of the first when she didn't have a few dozen questions. The only other person there was Linny, a blonde girl with a pleasant, round face that just happened to be very heavily pregnant. She sat perched behind the counter, reading a trashy romance, pausing only to ring someone up. It wasn't happening very often; mid-week, it never was. Now and again someone would wander in, usually order coffee to go, maybe one sweet-smelling confectionary or another, and that was that.

Music played softly in the background, something with a rhythm made for movement. Humming softly to the tune, she might admit to the occasional little sway of her hips or quick step of her feet, but for the most part she maintained some semblance of professionalism - or as professional as you had to be to clean the curved outsides of the glass cases that displayed the goodies.

There wasn't actually a uniform, but something more like a dress code - pants of any kind so long as they looked neat, and a white shirt along with the little nametag. It suited her fine; she usually wore jeans and a white tank top, with a long-sleeved white shirt pulled on over it. Two reasons: one, it stayed pretty cool in the shop, and Eve was on the cold-natured side of things, and secondly, it hid the scars on her arms. Not everyone needed to see those; not even those few that she'd become friends with knew the real reasons behind them. There were things she couldn't tell others, after all; the last thing she really needed was for her sanity to be questioned. Bad enough Dr. Maxwell still questioned it.

Tonight her dark brown curls were pulled into a soft ponytail with one or two little strands left to frame her face. Eve didn't wear makeup; she didn't really need it. She was pale, but rather than sallow, her complexion was porcelain with just the right hints of color in her high cheeks, just the right blush in her full mouth. Her features were delicate, classical - even lovely. She wasn't very tall - only a few inches over five feet - and quite slender of build, though she was beginning to gain enough weight to fill out her curves, to push away from looking under fed. No more powerful medications killed her appetite, and it was improving her physical appearance as much as making her feel better. She could cut a striking figure to say the least, but most striking of all were her eyes - childishly wide, the irises the same turbulent grey as storm clouds, with something just a little haunted lingering around the edges.

Thus far, it had even been a good week; granted, she hadn't been anywhere but work, home, and her session with Dr. Maxwell - or 'Doc,' as she called him. It never ceased to annoy him, so she continued to do so. But she hadn't seen anything out of the ordinary. Nothing fluttered along the edges of her vision or faded in, or appeared full force right in front of her, no bone-deep chills breathing along the back of her neck. She'd only Seen something by touch once, but hadn't been anything too bad - something infused with anger, but she hadn't been able to make sense of it. It had been one of those things that had settled into her mind rather than hitting her with the force of a sledgehammer. She preferred not to See at all, but if she had too, she preferred it that way.

The only thing that had really disturbed her was her nightmares. She'd always had them and would continue to have them, she was sure, but it seemed that they were worse than usual of late. Too many dreams soaked in blood and infused with the dead; it was the nervous energy they instilled in her that allowed her to get through her day, that made her stay up the rest of the night and scrub her apartment from top-to-bottom in an effort to forget what she'd seen.

It was exactly these things that were on her mind when the bell on the door chimed, announcing the arrival of someone. She was crouched in front of one of the cases, going over the surface with a microfiber cloth, absently eyeing the reflected male silhouette in the glass.

[Argus Steele]

"Keep the change, bugger."

The crumple twenty was tossed upon the passenger seat of the taxi, an index finger to and from the forehead in a form of a salute, as his attention/direction was already turning towards the address/building his information had led him to. Dark brown eyes squinted over the top of a pair of transitional glasses which offered a darkened tint due to the overcast skies.

Steele had used to the ride down here to mentally rehearse several possible ways to approach the girl without ....

A) Spooking her
B) Having the police called on him
C) Being sprayed with mace
D) All the above.

This time it was all about being subtle. At least it was a coffee shop, and he should be able to blend right in. That is if one disregarded the fact that he was dressed in head to toe in black leather, with boots to match. avoiding the few that were walking up and down the busy street, a fingerless gloved hand gripped the doorknob, his should adding leverage to the glass door, the quaint jingle/chimes of small bells to alert those within of a new arrival.

Finding a stool towards the center of the shop, Steele allowed his glasses to slide down slightly the bridge of his nose, offering a full view of his eyes. He'd order a large Columbia blend. The one who he was looking for wasn't hard to find, as he flashed his best winning/friendly smile.

"Mmmm. Good coffee. Gotta love places like this anymore, that doesn't have a sign that says Starbucks, or one of those made for Internet freaks looking that prime hot spot."

It took all but ten seconds to access what he needed to know from the time he spotted her, to the time he placed his order. At least she looked *normal*. She was even cute in a gothic kind of way. Most were so heavily medicated, they had that zoned out look, sunken eyes, and had less meat on them than a neck bone. Didn't want to stare too long, coming off like some stalker or anything.

Then came the telling moment.

Casually, he reached inside pocket of his jacket, producing a slightly worn, bestseller called Physic Phenomenon, Fact of Fiction. Turning to a page that was already earmarked, and began reading. Sources told him this particular book was always a conversation piece, whether those that chimed in believed in it or not. He had his spin on the subject all set and ready to go.

"I swear, I wasn't going to read this thing, but a friend was adamant that it was the best book he read since the Left behind series. Makes you wonder though. Some of this does make sense when you stop and look at the overall picture."

Bingo. That was all he needed to say, as several regulars had views of their own, welcoming the newcomer into the fold with a fresh topic to banter over. Steele would allow his glance to follow Eve from time to time, and if she caught him looking her way, he would only offer a smile and a nod, like he was doing the causal flirtation thing.

"Mind readers? Hell, that would explain why sometimes certain women looked like they wanted to slap me, like they knew what I was thinkin'!!" That comment received favorable responses ... That was when the hairs on his neck went all crazy. Without missing a beat, he would look towards the door in mid sip, spotting a pair, a man and a woman giving a new meaning to the out of towner look. One went to browse the shop, while the man remained by the door ... Both were wearing dark sunglasses that screamed a warning to him ...

With a bemused grin, he returned to the conversation(s) at hand ... But was ready ...

Just in case.

[Argus Steele]

With the entrance of the newcomer - just how many leather-clad men came wandering in here ?- Eve had put away what she was doing and went about the business of taking orders, refreshing coffee, generally making sure everyone was happy. It shoulder have been simple, an everyday routine.

But she had the feeling that this was now anything but ordinary. As if to confirm it, the leather-clad man pulled out a book on psychic activity.
Time spent in a mental institution taught her a few things about human behavior, even if she was supposed to be something of a guinea pig herself. Eve had learned to read others by facial expression and body language alone (the voice and the body conflicted quite often), and had come to understand when she was being watched more intently than they wanted her to think. The first time or two she realized he was looking at her, she tried to be polite, shrug it off; she'd flash as a polite little smile of her own and continue about her business, listening to the conversation with half an ear.

She'd also gotten a feeling for when she was being baited - or was? Did he know more than he should, or was it just innocent conversation? Chewing her lower lip, she leaned over a table, wiping it down, pausing to scrub at a scuff mark. It wouldn't come up, of course, being something ingrained in the wood, but it gave her something to do with her hands.

Come on, Eve. He didn't know her, hadn't spoken to her before a day in her life. She knew that much; she had a good memory, good to a fault. It was probably one of the things that had caused her so much grief over the years, though being soft-hearted didn't hurt either. But it was just conversation. *Had* to be. You're just paranoid.

"Psychic, or psychosis?" Letting that hang in the air for a moment, she gave a little shrug, glancing up briefly from the table. "...And how could you tell the difference? Physical proof would be hard to come by, and I don't think you could see it under a microscope." Her voice was just high enough to be undeniably feminine in nature, and pleasant in sound, almost lyrical; not what might have been expected from a former mental patient.

The young woman had chimed in with all that she intended to offer; with that said, she hardly listened to the conversation anymore, instead retreating behind the counter to perform one task or another as the bell on the door chimed. She didn't have long before her shift was over. Good. She couldn't wait to -

Eve froze with a count sheet in hand, eyes wide. That...*feeling.* It was a chill that breathed across the back of her neck, a cold hand dragging down the length of her spine. It always felt as if her breath should fog the air, as if her skin should free and muscle begin to quiver from shivers. To her credit, she gave one shudder, and that was it. It wasn't a true drop in temperature, she'd finally learned over time; it was her body's reaction to...something, some energy, some power. Her skin would be chilled, the color drained from her cheeks, but anything more physical was difficult to prove.

Hesitantly, she looked up, expecting to see something horrible, but saw...nothing. Well, nothing absolutely out of the usual. A couple had come in, though the man stayed at the door while the woman wandered. Instinct screamed at her that something wasn't right, and the cold hadn't gone away. What? "...Can I help you?" She stayed behind the counter, and her voice was too soft, not as strong as it had been before. She tried to hide it, tried to keep her expression still, but she'd gone too pale; undeniably, she felt something out of the ordinary.

[Argus Steele]

Being in my line of work, you learn to pick up on the ... Little things. Well, having one of
the servers lose some of color from her face the same time a certain pair entered the shop? Well, it confirmed any doubt I may have had, which wasn't any to begin with. I had to do something, or they were going to lock onto her rather quickly.

Dark eyes squinted for a second or two, before that large Columbian sized cup of coffee he had been drinking was spilled all over the counter top, some getting on Eve as well. That actually got a positive response from some of the regulars, as several started trading dollars bills??? Those blokes had a running pool going to pick a day/shift/time where some unlucky sod would spill his drink. The winner Aaron one a quick $78.00, and was all too pleased to buy me another.

My gambit paid off, now those that were closed by would associate her nervous reaction to that of having coffee spilled on her. Linny would have to carry the load for a bit, while she'd get herself cleaned up. Trying to sound as sincere as I could, by offering a few "Oops!! Dammit!! I'm sorry." The woman would be served by Linny, which allowed me a ... Closer look see.

The accent if heard by anyone else would simply say from Europe, but I knew better. She was asking for directions, while looking over the patrons ... Empathic ability possibly? More like some sort of psychic hound. She fit the profile, countless piercings, and tattoos, which meant her boy was a sender. They were linked.

Oops!! And I was a little too focused, as she suddenly locked those silver contact wearing eyes on me ... I responded in kind, looking her over from head to toe while wiping myself off, making sure my personal line of sight was directed at her ample swelling of curves pushing from behind her jacket.

"Mmmm, nice piercings. "

A black fingernail connected to an index finger was suddenly placed beneath my chin, a less than subtle lifting of my head to reestablish eye contact. And she was actually smiling. Then she leaned forward some, placing her other hand on my thigh ... Rather high up if that, giving a few squeezes as she spoke, her voice coming off like sugar water mixed with syrup.

"Muh piercings be up here yah? Unless you be havin' see through visions, hmm? I be liking the leather attire, perhaps you like to party? Rave bash. Midnight. Club Crimson. Tell the Bouncer Taynia sent you. Find me. Fun had by all."


She would look over at her partner who was not all too please with her flirtatious display, if looks could kill, my troubles would be over. She would thank Linny for the directions, and upon reaching the door, the pair were having a rather heated whispered discussion in a dialect that wasn't from and parts of the world I've been to. She would motion around the shop, while shaking her head to the big bugger who motioned back, before staring over in my direction once again before grabbing her by the arm, and making their way back outside, where a Harley could be heard starting, then roaring down the street.

"Huh... Guess I ought to spill coffee on myself more often. Must be that Columbian flavor that drives them wild." A snort from some, a roll of the eyes from others, a laugh from a few more. Aaron was true to his word, buying me that refill, as long as I didn't spill this one.

My attention was back on Eve who seemed to have settled down some ... Having coffee spilled on you, would take one's mind off certain things, right? What I didn't know is Eve must have been really freaked out for a bit, because she had left a serious residue where Linny was standing (taking Eve's place) by the time Taynia made her way up to the counter.

Those two showing up changed everything ... I was doing some deep serious rethinking, when eve walked back into my line of sight ... "You okay?" Let's hope she was sharp enough to get a vibe that I wasn't showing concern about the spilled coffee.

[Argus Steele]

The coffee had been hot; not hot enough to do any serious damage, but enough so to distract her, give her an excuse to make a startled sound and dart to the back. And get away from the people present there.

Standing beside a sink, she shed the over shirt and laid it aside, then plucked the tank top outward from her skin to swipe at it with a dry cloth. A check of the skin on her belly under it to be sure, but no damage; just a little red. The drink had spilled onto her jeans a little, but it wasn't too bad; with the overshirt on, it wasn't noticeable.
It was about then that she realized her hands were shaking, and she slightly nauseated.

Eve took longer than was actually necessary. For a long moment, she stood with her hands braced on the sides of the sink, just breathing, eyes closed, trying to focus. What was that? Was it from the people that walked in? Or was it something else? Something that just didn't...manifest like usual? It was giving her the strange feeling that reality was on a slant, and the ground was unsteady beneath her feet. She bit her lower lip, fingers tightening on the metal sink. Stop it. She really didn't want to freak out. She was afraid that if she did that, someone would call her doctor, and she'd end up right where she started from....

Another deep breath, holding this one. Nothing is wrong with you. There had to be something there. Had to be, whether she could see it, pinpoint it or not. Opening her eyes, she took a second to wash her face - with warm water rather than cold, in an effort to get some color back in her cheeks - then picked up the over shirt again. Well, the tank top had taken most of the coffee. She pulled it on, buttoned it in an effort to hide the stain. It was a fitted shirt, so it didn't look too bad, and the stain was difficult to see.

By the time she reemerged, hoping she didn't look as on-edge as she felt, the pair had gone. She'd missed the show between the leather clad man and the pierced up girl, but maybe it was for the better. She wouldn't have understood it anyway.

The girl flashed a smile at one of the other regulars as he made some comment to her, but she didn't bother to respond verbally, just refilled his coffee. She didn't have complete trust of her voice at the moment.

Coffee had spilled on the floor behind the counter too. She picked up a cloth and dropped it on there, wiped the mess up, and found herself face-to-face with the leather-man when she stood up. At his query, she turned her head just slightly, stormy grey eyes narrowing a tad. An altogether suspicious look, but one that said she knew he was talking about more than just the coffee. "Yeah. I'll live."

Given the leather, and the girl that was pierced and tattooed-up, she'd made some odd connection in her head. Eve still didn't feel right, so it left her logic a little convoluted, a little twisted - but somehow, she always managed to get from point A to point B without too much trouble. A brief nod toward the door, indicating the direction the two had went. "Friends of yours?" Her voice was still a little softer than usual, a little too quiet, and she sounded only mildly interested at best. Her interest was more than slight, and she disliked the idea of the two possibly coming back.

[Argus Steele]

"With friends like that, who needs fetishes? Sorry to disappoint darlin', I've never seen 'em before. Guess they made the wrong turn on the way to the Red Light District." Steele stared silently at her from over the rim of his glasses, as if mulling something over. Then he took in a very deep breath while closing his eyes before exhaling, those dark browns transfixed firmly onto her own stormy greys.

When he spoke again, those bass tones were toned down to almost a deep whisper, just enough for her to hear ...

"You gotta break or somethin' comin' up, or your shift ending soon?? We gotta talk shop, frail. No time to be all subtle. Meet me outside." Pausing long enough to offer a fleeting glance back at the door where the pair hand left moments prior ...

Steele leaned against the wall outside the coffee shop, reflected images of by passers, could be seen on his darkened lenses. He didn't stay to hear her answer, whether it would be yes or no. He'd simply play the curiosity killed the cat odds, figuring this little kitten would see him from the shop window, waiting.

Unless she got suddenly creative and snuck out the back door as some precaution, but he hadn't present any sort of potential threat ... Right? Popping a fresh piece of gum in his mouth, he'd glance down at his watch, noting the time/date/tempature/sports scores LED reading to pass the time ...

The man hadn't given her any time to answer, hadn't even given her a name. And what had he called her? 'Frail?' Eve's brows had drawn together in a thoughtful frown as she considered the odd encounter, taking her time in going over the counts, finishing cleaning the place up. Her shift was actually to end fairly soon; the regular customers would begin to trickle out of the door slowly...all save one.

Eve was pretty sure that Jackson had been a cop in his younger days, but those were long past; he was an older man with greying hair and a careworn face, but his washed-out green eyes were sharp. He'd taken note of the encounters, both the one between the pierced-girl and the leather-man...then the leather-man and Eve.

He'd waited on Steele to leave before he'd checked with her to make sure everything was okay. She'd said it was, but there was still a tiny seed of doubt in the back of her mind. Then again, was everything ever really okay in her life?

She'd seen the man lingering outside, though the window, so...maybe things were a little more off-kilter than usual.

Jackson lingered until Linny and Eve finally chased him away, gently. He had good intentions, but Eve didn't think the guy outside intended on doing her any serious damage; otherwise, he could have done better than spilled coffee. And after replaying it in her head once or twice, she didn't think it was accidental; it had given her a reason for escape, a reason to be flustered...and time to make some effort of recovery.

The girl still felt a bit out-of-sorts, but put on a good show. After locking the door for the night, she waved to Linny and watched the heavily pregnant girl waddle to her car and get in. She stood in front of the coffee shop, beneath a light post near the edge of the sidewalk.

He was still there; she could sense it like a tickle inside her head, almost like a weight on her skin. Drawing a deep breath, the girl folded her arms and turned to face him, biting her lower lip gently before speaking. "...Who are you?" More to the point..."What is going on?" The set of her delicate features became nearly blank, but her wide eyes were focused on him, unblinking. This should be good.

[Argus Steele]

The glasses had been removed when dusk made its way into the city, he normally kept them on when working 24/7, but he also knew this one would need some assurance by seeing his eyes, especially once he had his say. "Shall we?" A sweep of his arm motioning in the direction of her normal route home, he popped in a fresh piece of gum, his boot covered feet barely making a sound upon the concrete pavement, his voice sounding even more deeper if possible, those bass tones holding a rough edge.

"Name's Steele." That part was simple. "As fer what's going on? Now that gets a little more ... dicey. I what you can do." Pointing up towards his own left temple, tapping it slightly. You have a gift, though I wager it's been more like a curse. Short version? Those two that were looking for you, because of that talent of yours. Don't know if yer up with the local/national news, but there's been a rash of ... Selected disappearances of certain folk ... Nothing out of the ordinary I guess, a lot happens that the majority are too swept up in their own lives to care about unless it happens to them or someone they know."

He pause, giving Eve time to let what he was saying to sink in, before unzipping his jacket all the way, producing a vanilla folder. "Here, take a look at these." The contents of the folder were Xerox copies of newspaper clips of those that were missing. Other clips were of fires, accidents where the bodies were burned beyond recognition. Some within the city limits, while others in neighboring states. There were more detailed articles that revealed each individual missing had a common link ...

A) They had been placed inside an institution one point in their life
B) Mental issues that were treated with heavy medication
C) Isolated form society, or were issued a certified therapist
D) Each case were admitted by/before their 13th birthday
E) Reported episodes of Paranoid Schizophrenia, Delusions, Hallucinations, and other Anti-Social Disorganized Behaviors

"I know it's a lot to take in, but yer not crazy. Never have been. The ones they send you to ... The Quacks, Docs, whatever they call themselves ... It's bloody easy to label something and drug someone out of their mind to take care of the situation, especially when its those same drugs that add to the problem. I'm here to make sure you don't end up on the next milk carton as missing, cuz you know as well as I do that, those close to you will just dismiss it as a runaway ... Given your history, and/or suicide attempt."

While he spoke to her, there was never one time that his stare wavered, nor looked off to the left (Supposedly those that lie had a tendency to look left) His voice held such conviction, such a strong assurance. The bases were covered. The who/what/when/where/why and how were answered. And there was the fact that Steele didn't crowd her as the pair walked, not entering her *personal space*.

"Who am I? Just a fella that's done looking the other way like everyone else is, while the insanity slips through the cracks of a supposed solid foundation called reality. Sorry. I read that from that book I had." Chucking, he pauses long to reach into yet another pocket (Taking the file back from her once she had seen enough) ...

"Gum? It's multi flavor. Who the Hell wants the same flavor all the time?"

[Argus Steele]

She took her time in flipping through the pages in the folder, her expression a mix of mild horror and doubt. Her pulse had picked up when she'd touched the first clipping, when she'd set eyes on some of the images presented there, some of the faces. The young woman didn't even skim the articles; some of it was familiar, but not in the ways he might have thought. "...I've seen of this. In my nightmares." She'd kept her voice low when she murmured the words, enough so that if he hadn't been paying attention, it could easily have been missed.

Deciding that looking at less than half of the file was enough, Eve tightened her jaw and handed it back to him, folding her arms tightly afterward. She was giving him a stare, a little more intensely then she'd actually intended, but there was suspicion there; it was in the slight tilt of her head, the tightened set of her soft mouth. "You've done your homework, haven't you." A tad defensive, but he'd hit a nerve with a remark about her suicide attempt; he couldn't know, of course, but it had been driven by more than just the things that she Saw, though it was great factor.

Stop it. She drew a deep breath, gave her head a shake, which sent her dark ponytail swaying against her shoulders. "Okay...so...you're here to inform me that everything that I've ever been told is a lie. That the things I See,the things I Feel, they're all real. And I've been through complete and utter hell for nothing." Little bitter? You bet. She scuffed one foot on the ground, lightly, but it was the only sound she made as she walked.

Her little bubble of 'personal space' wasn't actually much different from anyone else's, oddly enough; she'd recovered a little after her release, and understood that sometimes, people would have to stand within a block radius of her.

The odd little outburst seemed to have taken the energy out of her - or maybe she was just a person that couldn't stay angry for long. She sighed and gave her head another shake. "I'm sorry. I mean...it's not like I didn't figure that out a long time ago. " A moment of silence on her part, and she shook her head, made a little 'no thanks' gesture at the offer of the gum. "...So...I'm guessing you're hoping to catch the, um, perpertrators too, huh?" A faint smile passed her lips, but there was some genuine amusement in it, even if it was just slightly twisted. "Why do I have the feeling I'd be the bait?"

"Bait?" That comment got a trademark grin from him. Or perhaps it was the fact she didn't run off. That worked for him. "You've been used enough already, frail. I'm just making sure yer not the next on their list. You gotta decent fast food place around here? We need to talk." That line of thought was stopped as a police officer came running towards the pair, waving his arms at Steele.

"Been trying to call you, for the past hour, man!! We found another one, about three blocks from here. Who's this?"

"She's a friend. Lead on, Jacobs. Guess our chat will have to wait fer a bit, frail." <d>

She'd opened her mouth to speak when the other man had come running up, flagging down Steele. She didn't say a word as the exchange went on, her clear gaze just flicking back and forth as if she were watching a tennis match. But she was curious, dammit. 'Another one?' Did he mean another like her, or another like the unfortunates in the file?

"Do me a favor." Eve looked at Steele, dropped her arms to her sides, giving her shoulders a little roll. "Don't call me 'frail.' I have a name. Eve." The arch of a delicate brow. She had the feeling he already knew, actually, but being called 'frail' was just...weird. It reminded her of being locked up, somehow.

The officer chatting with Steele turns and breaks off into a short jog, while Argus smiles at Eve, as he motions for her to follow. "This sort of involves you in a way."

The two men would exchange conversation, as Eve would discover that Steele was working with the police in a under cover fashion, handling cases that were deemed too strange/weird.

"I swear, any thoughts I had about you being out of your fucking mind, is gone after this one man. Looks like some occult gone bad. Been getting a lot of those of late."

"College frat parties and the like. I figured it was a stunt ... well, I hope your partner hasn't had dinner yet. It's not for the faint of heart."

"Don't worry about the frail ... er Eve. She's a tough one." The conversing made the short trek a quick one, as there were countless police cars, news vans, and your usual collection of onlookers. Ducking under the caution tape, thomas had word with two of the other officers, as they looked over at Steele and Eve, before nodding their heads. One would motion in the directions of a certain black vehicle with tinted windows to match. Jacobs would nod before whispering something into Steele's ear. He nodded in turn before looking over at Eve. "You with me on this? Your choice."

"You said it might involve me."

That seemed to be answer enough, in her opinion. Did she really want to see what was going on? ...Yes and no. She had a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, a chill sense of anticipation in her muscles, a feeling that made her want to move. Away. Too bad Eve had a hard time shaking that morbid curiosity, though; it was really what had always gotten her into trouble. Knowing she shouldn't look, but doing so anyway. She'd never been around a crime scene before; it looked like something on TV, people swarming, the media dying to get a look at anything gruesome, hear some horror story about it.

The young woman folded her arms tight again, almost hugging herself, but keeping her hands securely tucked away; the feeling there was bad enough, making the skin on the back of her neck and spine crawl. She sure as hell didn't want to risk touching anything.

<font color="#FFFFFF" size="1">[ October 04, 2007 10:51 AM: Message edited by: Tohmaz A. Steele ]</font>