A Trapped Wolf Will

Baxter leaned back slightly as Emily worked through the possibilities. He didn't interrupt. Didn't rush to fill the silence. He simply listened, eyes fixed on the laptop screen as if the right answer might eventually emerge from the glow.

When she mentioned crossing the traverse, however, his expression tightened.

"Yeah."

The agreement came a little too quickly.

"Don't do that."

His gaze lingered on her phone.

"Not yet."

For a moment he looked as though he was about to elaborate, then seemed to lose the thread. His eyes drifted toward the office window.

The glass reflected the room behind them.

Emily.

The desk.

The laptop.

For an instant, Baxter wasn't there.

Then the reflection shifted and he was standing exactly where he'd always been.

His attention returned.

"If Alyssa's dead, we'll find evidence."

The statement sounded clinical. Professional.

A DEA agent discussing a case.

"If she's alive, we'll find evidence."

A beat passed.

"If she's neither..."

His jaw flexed.

"Then walking into town looking for her is probably exactly what whoever, or whatever, is involved wants."

The overhead lights hummed softly.

Baxter rubbed a hand across the back of his neck.

It was an oddly human gesture.

Habit.

Muscle memory.

The kind of thing a living man did without thinking.

"I gave you the lead because something about it bothered me. I couldn't tell you why at the time."

His brow furrowed.

Truthfully, he still couldn't.

Sometimes information simply surfaced in his mind now. Names. Places. Fragments of conversations he'd never had.

Sometimes he knew things before he should.

Sometimes he woke up convinced he still had a pulse.

"I keep getting the feeling we're already behind on this one."

The words came out quieter than intended.

He looked toward Emily.

"But you're right about one thing. Silent Hill hates being followed."

A faint smile touched the corner of his mouth.

"It'll let you wander around lost for weeks."

The smile vanished.

"The second you show up with a map and a plan, it starts lying."

He folded his arms.

"So let's assume Alyssa wants to be found."

A pause.

"And let's assume something else doesn't."

His eyes settled on the disconnected number displayed on Emily's phone.

"There's going to be a body if there's a body. Can't draw any early conclusions on motive, and I don't really have it in me to theorycraft on what it would want with her right now. Starting from behind is..."

Normal. "Fine, it's fine. I'm no stranger to picking things up as I go." She's scrolling through previous emails, one hand on the laptop's keyboard, the other holding her phone. Verifying that everything discussed is still the same.

"I'll wait, and hope an invitation shows up. Frankly, I'd rather not normalize the practice of going to it rather than the other way around." A few seconds of silence, during which she glances up at him. Smiles wryly.

Baxter glanced up from the file he'd been looking over.

"No luck?"

The question came automatically, the same way it might have years ago. Just another lead. Just another witness refusing to pick up the phone.

He watched Emily's expression and the familiar rhythm faltered.

The room had grown strangely quiet.

A radio sitting on a nearby desk crackled with a burst of static before falling silent again.

Baxter frowned at it.

"You think Alyssa's gone."

Not dead.

Gone.

The distinction felt important, though he couldn't have explained why.

His fingers tapped absentmindedly against the desk.

"When somebody disappears, there's usually something left behind. A financial trail. Witnesses. Phone records. Somebody who saw something they weren't supposed to."

The words sounded practiced. Comfortable. The sort of thing he'd said a hundred times while working cases.

Then his gaze drifted toward the disconnected call on Emily's phone.

"Sometimes, though..."

He stopped.

For a moment, he looked tired.

"Sometimes it's like the world starts forgetting them before anybody else does."

The fluorescent lights overhead dimmed slightly before returning to normal.

Baxter didn't seem to notice.

Or maybe he was pretending not to.

He offered Emily a faint, reassuring nod.

"All right. Start from the beginning."

His tone suggested they were about to work a case together.

Like they always had.

Like nothing had happened.

She barely loses a step between being alone and having Baxter in the room with her. Frankly, she'd already been sort-of discussing it with him in her head, and lately Silent Hill has seen fit to remind her a little more pointedly of how intertwined her life is with its machinations now. "Goddamn it."

A short, sharp breath. Resetting herself mentally. Emily clears her throat, opens the laptop (not her laptop), and starts all over again.

"We can assume that Alyssa was... "contaminated" at least a couple weeks ago. First contact was, I don't know when. Within a few days of when you came to me about her involvement. So, working forward from there... assuming I wasn't able to get in touch with her in between, then..."

She looks at her phone and weighs the benefits of redialling it, but she knows she didn't get the number wrong. Either Alyssa's crossed the tracks in a more permanent way, or... maybe something's getting in the way of the connection.

She had plenty to say on the fall of Umbrella, but today wasn't the day to tap into her well of energy. Going from limitless to dragging this carcass around places was a kind of pace change that really got on her nerves. Patience hadn't really ever been her virtue. She had to train that, and being sick had tested that. Her body didn't even feel like her own these days, but that was going to be fixed... eventually.

Alyssa held on to the cup of coffee atop the table like a lifeline.

"Thanks for the extension. I'll get you a draft of something when your friends call me back."

She can not go into an environment with a toxic pathogen... It wouldn't be good enough to write something substantial. Her coffee steamed under her fingers as one of her palms warmed over top of the cup. She shut her eyes and sighed through her teeth.

"I've been on worse deadlines. Anyways, I could go on about the RPD corruption case. It was my evidence in court that helped postmortem get some justice for people. Sure, everyone was dead and gone, but it set precedent that could be used to upend more p-"

Pigs in the pen.

"Police departments in contempt of the law. Provided a template and mandate for external investigation- eh. It's not much, but I've watched some pretty foul perps get got from it."

Raccoon City kept meeting her like an old friend in weird places. She missed it.

Emily's mostly done with her "breakfast" now, cleaving the hard crust of her slice in two and spearing one half to crunch on. A couple more people have filtered into the cafe now - a long-haul trucker or two, people who are going to be opening stores themselves a little later in the morning. When the agent sighs, it's just about contented.

"Yeah, don't worry about it. You're kitty corner to being a star witness on this, so I can cater to a reasonable request. I guess there's no guarantee that the other publishers won't renege on their word, but." Shrug. "That's the game."

One finger taps against the scratched surface of the table between them, those watchful eyes narrowing slightly as she ponders something. Weighing this and that in her head. Running the math.

Suddenly, a hand comes out. "Emily. By the way. Sorry, we did the whole introduction thing but you're such a big name I felt like we already pretty much knew each other. I'd show you my credentials, but they're in a company-provided car that's going to be ending the day as a battering ram, so..."

A soft, dry chuckle, with another shrug to follow. "Just gonna have to take my word. I'm sure you'll be able to find some places to stick whatever you're writing. Not idly does Alyssa Ashcroft lift her pen, and all that."

Plus, he had learned a long time ago that there was no point in asking questions. Only thing it did was cause trouble; and usually the kind that got you kicked off the team and unable to do anything anyways, or killed. The sword had always seemed plenty mighty to him.

“Whatever you say, Em.” He continues leafing through the folders he pulled from the cabinet with little clue what he’s looking for until he finds a couple of random medical reports. He doesn’t bother trying to read them because he’s not going to understand anything anyways, just rips them out, folds them up into a neat little square, and tucks them away in a side pocket.

The next drawer he goes for is stuck fast. The metal warped inward like it’s been kicked, jamming the top of the drawer against the lip of the cabinet. His first attempt to muscle it open just breaks off the handle, so he reaches for the knife at his belt, intending to pry it open until Emily glances his way.

You, uh, want to go... watch the door?

He pauses, noting how much faster she’s clearing the room than him, and nods. Fair enough. He sheathes his knife and moves to the door, peering down both ends of the hallway with his gun held at the ready.

It’s silent.

He keeps a steady watch as it stays that way until the sound of Emily rustling through paper after paper is interrupted by a far away squeak of boots on concrete. He whips his head to the left and dials in. It sounds like one set- no two, and coming this way fast. He ducks back into the room and signals to get her attention.

“Possible hostiles approaching.” It’s more of a guarantee. They’re the only two members of the team and of the BSAA period that should still be here; which left the only other occupants as Blue Umbrella or whoever had left this mess in the first place. “At least two.”

Different strokes for different folks. Emily's like a fine mesh, catching just about everything as she passes through and wanting to know as much as possible. It's a good way to make sure she's ready for anything... but it's also a good way to never be able to sleep at night. Maybe that's just part of what the job entails for her.

Looks like she's finding some good stuff in that filing cabinet, though. She's in the middle of emptying a whole file into one of her dump pouches when he alerts her to someone on the approach...

The drawer's left open, and Emily shuts her helmet light off. With the only illumination in the room being the warning lights on the far wall, they'll hopefully be harder to spot. Of course, there's a more significant advantage on their side: it's doubtful the PMC is expecting to see anyone who can shoot back.

What is your first impression of the mun of this blog?

Feel free to send on or off anon!

"The Supreme Court didn't do shit," she sighed, "The States haven't put their foot down on Anti-Trust laws and monopoly breaking in a long time. Umbrella's collapse was all over the place mismanagement, bloated infighting, and the Trials were just a single part of it."

Though, that was an entire other conversation for a different day, or no day at all. This woman was skipping town like a legion of whistleblowers before her.

"I'm not a lesson giver. I'm just a Pulitzer-chaser."

Though that made her eyes spark with a little liar's mischief. She could spare a little pride and sarcasm in what she chose to do on a daily basis, and how many people wanted her dead and gone for it.

"Pen's the best kind of lesson you get on this stuff anyways. Take it from me. I hope the places you decided to put this stuff in are good for your sake. I know I'll do my job well, but-"

Again, there it was. She knew the landscape right now, and the kind of extremism and denial that was swelling in the country to heights that she couldn't imagine just a couple of years ago.

"I'm gonna let your other guys publish something first while I do my research, alright? Better to be right than be first with this stuff. And better to be reporting on a disaster week one after the election cycle peters into criticism anyways."

Alyssa took Grace's folder back and nested it comfortably back into her bag. Her coffee was cold enough to top it off with a refill.

A second passes. Her brow furrows, eyes going off to the side. "-no, you couldn't have, that was... seven hours ago. At night. Never mind."

The veneer of professionalism isn't impenetrable, but Emily isn't really trying to be opaque. If anything, this represents a refreshing opportunity to be completely, directly honest, and Alyssa pushing back against the idea of the Supreme Court having had anything real to do with Umbrella's fall makes those blue eyes light up.

"Sure, and the RCPD corruption case was primarily laid at the feet of a man who was conveniently unavailable to defend himself due to having been charbroiled by a thermobaric missile. Or infected. Or both. Point is that it was more important to be seen to be doing something than to actually be doing something, and that objective was accomplished."

Of course, there were barely any senior members to hold accountable in the first place, but it's the principle of the thing. Emily sits back, clearing her throat and lifting a finger in response to the reporter's concerns.

Izzy glanced over the new pins that Emily added, humming thoughtfully.

"Or hey- we may even have a few openings soon, if worse comes to worst."

The joke is decidedly in poor taste, all things considered, but who was going to call her on it?

"The work is the point," Izzy parroted in agreement, letting her arms unfold from her chest to rest her hands on her hips, "I like this job. Sure beats selling beads by the road or being a cashier at the Mizoil. I'd actually prefer fighting Oozes and zombies to having truck drivers splashin' mud on me or dealing with a dumb customer any day of the week."

Still, if Vivi was interested in the work (eventually), Izzy would still make her have those kind of jobs that dealt with putting up with the worst of people.

It builds character.

If Izzy was angling for a laugh with the crack about job openings, it might be surprising just how successful she is. There's a brief snort that almost gets stopped by Emily clamping her lips together, but when it escapes the field researcher lets her head fall forward and laughs it out.

"Ugh. Yeah. Maybe I wouldn't take this over some jobs, but I tried desk work already and it didn't agree with me."

A good segue, in fact, into the next question being asked. Emily puffs out a breath, chuckles again in a slightly more self-effacing way, and leans against a bookshelf, elbows back against one of the shelves.

"Depends how far back you want to go. I went to the BSAA from federal work - undercover with the DEA. That's part of the reason I've taken so well to this new operation. I've worked alongside some pretty questionable people before... you'd be surprised how often taking out criminals puts you in line with other criminals. Gangsters are pretty good at tipping us off when their enemies are going to be doing something."

GIRLS NIGHT

[Horrific Shrieking]