hunter;

He paused a minute, surveying Roan again. Sebastian didn’t know what the kids intentions were, but he had a feeling that Roan didn’t exactly approve of the way Charlie did things, though maybe he was just getting his hopes up for another person like him. 

He unwound his arms and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans with an easy shrug. “Sure, makes sense. Not everyone here has the same experience, right.” And not everyone here had any sense, as far as he could tell, but he was too new and this stranger too unknown for Roan to start shooting his mouth off. 

There was something about the guy---Sebastian---that unnerved Roan. He wasn’t sure what it was, yet, but he suspected the man was more dangerous than he let on; his answers were brief and simplistic, but there seemed to be more going on behind his dark eyes.

“I have a few questions for you, actually. Since we’re both here…in a public place where neither of us can do any real damage to the other. If you don’t mind, that is.” Even if he didn’t want to talk about what she wanted to, Shay sure as hell wasn’t going to let him leave without saying at few words, at least. Hopefully, they’d be useful, but at this point, anything would do. “I promise not to take up too much time.”

“Me?” he said. He pitched his voice slightly higher than normal, wanting to appear as green and nervous as possible. “I don’t work for anyone. Well, I mean, I work for my family. We have a farm in Ontario. Um. In Canada.”

Meekly, he said, “I don’t want anything from you. I was just interested. I just wanted to watch.”

If this guy was writing about Specials he might be worth looking into, though. And this bartender might turn out to be a more useful investment than just killing time with a pretty face.

Pretending to continue with her book search, Shay picked up another one and started flipping through the pages until he approached her. “Hmm? Lost?” She laughed now, shaking her head in amusement. “Really? Well, you didn’t seem that lost a few blocks ago when you started following me. What? Didn’t think I’d notice?”

She gave another small laugh and snapped the book shut before sliding it back into its proper place on the bookcase. “Who are you and what do you want?” Might as well get to it, right? “I’m a busy woman and already killed someone keeping tabs on me last week, so if that’s what you’re here to do, I suggest running the other way.” 

For now, his best---his only---move was to try to get out of here unscathed. If she was paranoid enough to notice him, she probably carried something worse than a can of mace, and she probably knew how to use it. That said, there was no sense retreating without trying to get something out of her, first.

He shoved the ring knife up his sleeve and raised his hands, palms out, in surrender. “Okay, so maybe I’m not that lost.”

He took a step back and said, “I saw what you did in the cafe with the sounds. I’ve never seen anyone do a thing like that before. But, uh, I can see you’re not in the mood to talk, so I’ll just show myself out, shall I?”

He wasn’t entirely sure if this man was good, much less good enough to take on someone like Robert or Sylar, or any of those that could deplete their ranks in a few hours flat if so inclined.

“Thanks,” he said. “I’ll keep that in mind.” 

He nodded at Leroy’s next pronouncement and said, “I’m from up north. Canada.”

Still, maybe a little more information about how Charlie did business would be helpful down the road.

@draugrhunter

With Sebastian’s position in the Hunters, it hadn’t been difficult to get intel on new members, which was something he was highly interested in. If he were lucky, one of them might be interested in changing sides later. It seemed to happen once in a while, where a person regretted coming into the fold. It was almost as it they’d suddenly developed a conscience.

It took him a few hours the night before to sift threw a few of the newest people, but Sebastian finally found one he found interesting. Even if they didn’t switch sides, their history was of some value. Not just to him, but the bureau would have taken an interest in what they could learn from the man.

Adjusting her gaze, Charlie watched as Roan stood up and swiftly walked across the street, effectively bumping into the main and crushing his windpipe with his elbow. It was definitely impressive and he liked the fact that Roan didn’t question whether or not it needed to be done right away. Letting out a small sigh, Charlie watched for a few more minute as the blood started pouring from the telekinetic, making people on the street scream in horror. He couldn’t help a small grin creeping across her face. It was amazing and what was more impressive was how quickly Roan altered his appearance, even though it wasn’t much.

“Excellent.” He was already doing better than some of the others, namely Jack, who was on Charlie’s naughty list recently. 

Without turning her gaze from the growing crowd of people across the street, Charlie pulled out a small manila envelope and handed it to Roan. “That’s your first real assignment. Not all of them have to be done as quickly as the one you just did. Some take time and caution. This is one of those.” She paused, turning her attention to the first responders that had arrived to try and revive the telekinetic.

He slid the envelope into the bag with his jacket and nodded.

“I’ll contact you when it’s done,” he said.

He got up causally and strolled away in a different direction than the one he’d arrived from. It would take longer to get back to his hotel, but that was fine if it meant less people knew exactly where he was holed up these days.

As soon as she stepped inside, Shay gave a small wave to the clerk and asked for directions. She wasn’t looking for anything in particular, but now that Shay was here, she figured it wouldn’t hurt to brush up on Legislation and maternity expectations, two very unrelated topics. Still, they were things that she needed to know about, sooner rather than later. Besides, with any luck, she could find something Robert would find interesting and he’d definitely need to read up on babies. In her opinion.

She walked up to the second floor and didn’t bother glancing at the door as it chimed a few more times. No need to let whoever was following her, if there even was someone, that she knew what they were doing. 

He replaced the book and made a show of browsing for another. Fuck it. This trip was turning into a nightmare anyway, he might as well do what he could on his own before either Charlie’s group or his family decided they didn’t like the way he handled things and Roan was forced to blow town---not that he’d mind getting out of dodge, but he did hate to leave a job half done.

He shook his head and trudged up the stairs, squinting at signage and affecting a clumsy, stuttering gait. He spotted her in the paternity section.

Roan stopped a meter or so away and frowned at the covers for a moment. This needed to be inconspicuous and controlled; causing a scene would be unfortunate, hurting the woman’s unborn kid unforgivable. He took a few hesitant steps toward her and said, “Excuse me, miss? Uh, sorry, um,” he ducked his head and looked up at her through his eyelashes, “could I...may I ask you a quick question?”

This man, however…

“There’s really only one title I can think of. Slaughterhouse-Five by Vonnegut. It’s… here,” she browsed the shelves for the book and stepped forward when she located it. “Hope you haven’t read it before. And if you have, I hope you forgot most of it,” offering the book, Darlene added without thinking, “I’m hoping you think it’s dreadful.”

He said, “Thanks,” and let his smile slide into a lopsided grin. He raised an eyebrow and said, “I prefer not to read dreadful books, but, tell you what, if it’s good, maybe I’ll come back for another.”

He though about adding something more, but decided against it. He didn’t need to be untoward; she seemed happy enough to see him again, and it was just as well to leave it at that---a possibility, not a plan.

Roan sauntered toward the registers, glancing back over his shoulder to offer one last flash of teeth.

She pulled away and he cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah. Maybe not a book of essays.” 

He put the book back. The look on her face, it didn’t seem particularly suggestive, and he couldn’t shake the feeling she was being friendly more than she was trying to flirt. And she was way too young. Way, way---oh, yeah. This was a mistake.

Probably.

Thinking on his first question, all that came to mind was how she would have liked to have been stuck in her hometown a while longer. Then she remembered having long-forgotten dreams of striking out on her own, seeing the world, and she knew she had never intended to live her whole life in a beach city in Virginia. “I like this city,” Darlene said, “But I don’t think I want to live here forever. I know I don’t. Have you ever lived anywhere else?”

He said, “I’m just visiting here, actually. Home is up north, in Canada.”

“Hmm.” He wanted to ask how they’d know about them, but decided to wait until a later time. Maybe when they got more acquainted and trusted each other better. For now, Charlie just nodded her head at Roan, pursing her lips slightly. “Okay, well then, provided that you can prove yourself, I think we’ll get along quite nicely.”

He licked his lips. He didn’t have anything except a hunting knife, which meant a ranged attack was out of the question. He’d have to get in close and very, very personal. Never the safest option, and especially worrying going up against a telekinetic he had no information about. 

Roan didn’t have the option of refusing so he kept his eyes on his prey and said, “Fine.”

The femoral artery was probably the best bet. The man would bleed out quick and it would be less messy than the spray from slicing his aorta. On the other hand, he’d be able to yell, which was a problem. Also a problem was that Roan was running out of time; the man was standing still for now, but that wasn’t likely to remain true for long.

Roan stood. He threw out his coffee cup and crossed the road, walking at a steady, nonchalant pace. The goal was to be anonymous---and to keep his face off the CCTV cameras. He popped the collar on his jacket as high as he could, ducked his head, and stumbled into the telekinetic.

Roan mumbled an apology and he used his elbow to crush the man’s windpipe and a hunting knife to slice through his femoral artery. Roan put the knife in the pocket of his jeans and disappeared around the corner into an ally. He had his jacket off, folded to look like a new purchase inside a plastic bag he’d grabbed out of a dumpster, before the screaming started. 

He licked his hands and ran them through his hair, spiking it up into a sloppy fake mohawk and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, displaying his heavily tattooed skin. To most people, he’d look like someone completely different---or at least, that was the hope as he sauntered across the street. He draped himself across the bench next to Charlie, throwing both arms out across the wooden backing and letting his legs sprawl languorously; different body language could through the casual observer off as effectively as hair dye, when done right.

He frowned, not entirely sure about streets moving, but not wanting to be contradictory. As someone who spent the kind of time tracking and hunting that Roan did, it was hard to envision an unknowable landscape. Then again, he supposed with the kind of construction that went on in a place like New York, the place did change itself pretty routinely.