29
Head of Security
Played by paradise and sin
Posts: 69
Likes: 1
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Post by Adam Byrne on Jun 9, 2016 7:53:22 GMT
Was the detective even home? Not a bit. After all, he had her house on twenty four hour surveillance, and at last check she'd left somewhere around eleven, and hadn't been home since. It was ten after midnight when he arrived. Didn't quite matter where she'd gone. Back to the station to slave away and find more shit to stir, or to some close by watering hole to drown herself in whatever the hell Cam had said was her drink of choice. All he knew was she was gone, and he was going to be there when she returned. Getting into her house was easy. If there was an alarm system, he'd simply had Cameron remove it's triggers before picking the lock on the front door of her one bedroom rental -- confident that she'd not boost the lock system there since it wasn't a place she owned, and up until a week or so ago, she wasn't aware that there was any kind of danger to be had as cause for it. The door carefully relocked, so when she arrived home there'd be nothing to suspect. Then she got snoopy. That night, Adam had let Tomas take the reins, content in watching and gauging what he could of the cop they were up against. Tomas had already had eyes on the woman before, and she'd already had eyes on him, and there was something about that unknown exchange that made the Irishman think something personal had stemmed between them. So sure. Take the bitch, beat her with that bat, and show her the world the Network's way. But that wasn't really Tomas Esteban's job. When it was clear that the place was indeed empty, Adam explored. Cameron had been right when he said in his own weird fucking way that she lived simply. Started in the bedroom, by passing shit like clothing ( he wasn't a pervert after all ), and instead looking for more personal things. Diaries, journals, whatever the fuck girls kept these days. And weapons. When going through her medicine cabinet, his nose wrinkled at the lady creams and what have you inside. If she had music or movies displayed anywhere, he looked through that -- even took one or two titles that called to him; tucking them into the inside pocket of the light black jacket he wore to cover the shoulder holster and his weapons. Adam made himself at home in her kitchen -- using the fridge to light his way in the pilfering of the meager items in her pantry. Typical single workaholic lady food, and he settled on some bullshit low carb low fat crackers that taste more like cardboard sprinkled in salt than any other fucking thing. At least there was decent beer in the fridge. Well versed in the art of waiting, the man found her small dining table, there in the dark of the room with only the lights from outside coming through the windows to cast their glow as far as it would reach. Pulling his weapon from it's holster, the heavy Glock met the tabletop quietly, and Adam sat back to settle in. He'd positioned himself where he could plainly see the front door -- and now all he needed was Detective Fox herself. It might take till just after last call, it might take til dawn broke through the night, but he'd be there, waiting in the peace and quiet of her empty apartment. |
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35
Vice Detective
Played by virtues or vice
Posts: 4
Likes: 2
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Post by Detective Fox on Jun 9, 2016 18:01:29 GMT
The rambler he found himself looked far more like a bachelor pad than anything else, one in which said bachelor hadn't even finished settling in to. It was spartanly furnished with essentials: kitchen table, two chairs, coffee table, TV, couch, bed. There were no Martha Stewart touches or decorations that gave the place any semblance of being lived in. For all intents and purposes it seemed more like a home base than a home. If he was looking for personal effects, Cadence Fox's stark domicile offered little. It did paint a telling picture of the woman that lived there if one were looking carefully. Most of her belongings were still in a few cardboard boxes that sat in both the living room and the bedroom. Of them many were still taped up, marked with black Sharpie as to what they were. As to the media in one in the living room, there wasn't much to speak of and that which was there was primarily documentaries or books. The case for a DVD of The Seventh Seal sat on the TV stand, the disc still in the player. As to her medicine cabinet? Not so much full of "lady creams" as it was orange prescription bottles. A bottle of Sonata (zaleplon) to help her sleep, antihistamines should that not work, and a colorful array of antidepressants. And a diary? The only time she'd ever kept one was when her work therapist required it of her and that had been promptly set ablaze the moment she stepped out of her last meeting with the woman. No, Cadence kept no memoirs or any such thing. If Adam was looking for typical girl things, he'd be disappointed to find that she was not a typical girl. Maybe she wasn't quite so boring as Cameron had made her out to be. The den, at least, was made use of but not for its intended purpose. Instead of a desk there hung a heavy bag from the ceiling, a speed bag set up in one corner, weight-lifting bench in the other. A tote was on the floor beside an array of free weights and in it were sparring gloves, jump ropes and other such equipment befitting a boxer. Some time around 2:00am a car pulled into the drive, the beams from the headlights did not penetrate the heavy drapes that hung over the blinds in her windows but the engine was loud enough to herald her arrival. It idled for a moment outside before she eventually turned it off, got out, and shut the door. Less than a minute later she was unlocking the front door, casting a look over her shoulder though she didn't see the car belonging to her usual tail parked across the street. No sooner than she was inside did she flip on the light switch and reveal Adam Byrne sitting cozy as could be at her kitchen table. It gave her the briefest of frights, causing her heart to leap up into her throat for a second before she recovered. She eyed him from just inside the threshold, unmasked distaste curling her lip just so. "... Typical." She observed, unimpressed. These pricks are all the same, she's thinking, unable to escape the feeling of deja vu she's hit with right now. After the night she's had, she's in no mood for cordial small talk. Her hand was already resting on the SIG holstered at her hip, thumb poised to flip open the holster strap. She made no move to walk any further into her little place. "What the fuck do you want?" Because how he got in was irrelevant, that he was making himself at home in the dark was irrelevant. He sure as Hell hadn't come just for a drink, to judge the glock sitting on the table near him, so out with it, she hasn't got all night, guy. |
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29
Head of Security
Played by paradise and sin
Posts: 69
Likes: 1
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Post by Adam Byrne on Jun 10, 2016 17:17:11 GMT
"Well," he drawled out in that lilt of his, a brow raising up at the expletive she'd spat at him. "You know, girl," the big man leaned in now, his elbow hitting the table and a tattooed finger pointing directly at her. "I'm not the one who took that bat to ya, or claimed some sort of ownership on yer ass like it was the last cupcake up for dibs. Ought show a little more gratitude for that, then. See, it were me .. " He sat back then, and a grin spread across what many might call a handsome face. "I'd have used the bat to dent yer pretty head. Trespassin' the way you did." As if he had room to talk.
"You'll do fine to take your hand off yer weapon, and have a seat. I'm only here to talk. Just answer a few questions, and I'll be on my way, quick as a lick."
In the time he'd had between taking that seat and the opening of her front door, he'd had a bit of time to think. Surrounded here by her sad life, and her meager belongings, he decided that perhaps she's just not had a good opportunity for living. Worked herself to the bone up in that Maryland cesspool, so close to the goal she'd set for herself in finding the dirty cops in the ranks of the Baltimore PD and just before she wrapped her ambitious little fingers around their throats, the rug was pulled right out from beneath her feet and she was sent here.
Paradise. It'd do her good, Adam figured, to treat it like such. The man was sure that the right offer was out there. Because everyone had a price, in the end. You just had to find it.
Knowing full well she'd take her sweet time to sitting, or probably wouldn't do it it at all, he simply crossed his arms over the wide of his chest and watched her a heartbeat or three. Whether she sat or not, he went on with the business that brought him here.
"I want to know yer true purpose here. I want to know who sent ya to Marathon, and why they picked it.. I want to know who yer lookin' at that it brought you to the yard that night. I want to know if Clark has any idear what you've been up to when yer not behind the desk assigned t'ya. I want to know what you've already uncovered, and what y'plan to do with it."
Maybe Tomas has already asked her these things, and maybe Tomas had relayed any answers she gave -- if any. Didn't quite matter. There was Tomas, and the way he heard things. And there was Adam, and Adam felt his hearing was slightly better than the older Puerto Rican.
"Because, y'see," his head shook now, and he allowed confusion to knit into his brow. "I can't seem to figure out for myself who over there at that station of yers wouldn't have simply said t'ya, ``Och, Cadence, not a good thing yer thinkin' of, climbing that fence at the boat yard. There's hungry dogs there, and dangerous men come to call when the alarm is tripped.`` See, that's where it's confusin'."
He shot forward then, in a cobra strike quick lean, and the heavy palm of his hand smacked hard against the tabletop; making the Glock dance a little for show.
"They all know better."
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35
Vice Detective
Played by virtues or vice
Posts: 4
Likes: 2
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Post by Detective Fox on Jun 10, 2016 19:52:50 GMT
Show a little gratitude he says. A high pitched little snuff of a laugh escaped her at the very notion. No, he might not have taken any swings, but he'd stood by idle and let it happen which made him just as guilty in her estimation. Eyes roll at the grin he sends her way. Nothing will be more satisfying than seeing this dickweed behind bars, bent over and learning what it really means to be someone's bitch. Tomas Esteban could posture all he wanted but no one owns her, not him, not Adam, not anybody.
"I'll do fine right here," She assures him, no more inclined to take her hand off her gun than she was to take a single step closer. The human instinct to be cordial was overrode by a much stronger instinct to survive.
His appraisal of her humble lifestyle was fairly accurate. She was dedicated to her job, too dedicated if you asked anyone else, hasn't taken a vacation in years. To be perfectly honest she preferred it that way. If she kept herself busy it kept her mind from straying to dark places. Unfortunately for Adam and the rest of his cartel, her keeping busy meant trouble for them.
Her goal in Baltimore had not been on unearthing corruption in her department, it was just an unhappy coincidence that she had been unaware of until her own partner had sent her off. Incidentally it made her incredibly wary of Monroe County's precinct right off the bat.
It's well that he just went on talking without waiting for her because she was perfectly comfortable waiting by the door. She hears him out, her face stony, expressionless. Jesus but does he talk a fuckin' lot. Cadence doesn't care for people that like the sound of their own voices. By the time he finished she was looking at him the way a mother impatiently looks at a child that's throwing a tantrum, unaffected by the threatening hand he laid down on her table. Are we done yet, Addie? Yes? Good.
"Whoever you've got tailing me is goddamn useless if you don't know the answers to those questions yet." She's astute and far from stupid, it doesn't take much for a keen observer to realize that they in fact are being observed.
Her true purpose? "I'm on vacation."
Who sent her here and why? "Baltimore Chief, said I needed a fucking tan."
Who brought her to the truckyard? "The guy you got working there's got a nice ass, was just trying to give him my number. Didn't realize he was a dog person--it just wouldn't work."
Did Clark know? "You should probably ask Clark that."
What she'd uncovered and what she planned to do with it? "I've uncovered that you're a prick and I plan to blow the Lucky Charms out of your skull if you don't get the fuck out of my house, or can't you seem to figure out for yourself where the door is?" She's concerned is all, big guys like that tended towards being dimwitted, all the blood pumping through those rippling muscles and not in his brain, no wonder he was so confused by the situation.
A real ball-breaker, this one.
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29
Head of Security
Played by paradise and sin
Posts: 69
Likes: 1
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Post by Adam Byrne on Jun 11, 2016 10:41:04 GMT
Sadly, the truth of the matter was .. he wasn't normally so chatty. But with her silence the night at the boat yard he was already prepared to do most of the talking, and look, she was just proving him to be completely right. He did rather smugly like to be right.
He was also more than alright with letting her think he was in the dark about the things he was asking. Girlfriend, he knew the answers. Maybe he's just got a biiiig ol' leeeesbian crush on her. Completely unsurprising that she'd picked up his tail, as he'd told that tail to make it obvious on occasion that he was following. Made it easier to slip in a fast one when you're already watching for someone else if need be. What'd they call that in some movie he watched? Kansas City Shuffle!
Listening to her tick of the answers to his question in rapid fire, each one more and more sarcastic, the brute of a man just tsked a little at her with a shake of his dark, ink lined head. There really wasn't any need for name calling here, Foxy. It was just a conversation. And maybe a little warning.
That warning might be a little unclear to some. Maybe it had more meaning than just one. He hadn't forgotten, no matter how Tomas may have taken the burden of the lady cop himself. And he could always get to her. But, he'd consent to one thing. Time to go. Riled her up enough to bring some color into her cheeks. Baltimore Chief was right. She could use a tan.
Ambling up to his feet and full height, one big hand collected his weapon from the table; taking his time in fitting it into the holster that rested reassuringly against his rib cage. Who needed a woman, when this Adam could pull that heavy steel from his ribs? Ba dum tiss. Bad jokes are bad.
He was going to have to get nice and close to bypass her on the way to the door, and did so while watching her angry face, and amusement pulled his Irish features into a smirk when he reached the portal that would take him out. "Oh, well, now here it is .. the door. Y'know, you ought have someone see about that .. " The very thing she'd found secure as if it'd been when she left was yanked open now, and bracing it with one hand, the strength that made him a big ol' dum dum pulled the plated panel that housed the doorknob and dead bolt typical to most front doors clean of the thing; splintering the wood of the door in the process around that area.
"Be seein' ya, Foxy," he called on his way through the useless door, whistling now and letting his hand swing with his stride -- took that piece of the door right with him. Mebbe he liked souvenirs. Let's hope he doesn't have an ear collection.
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