@waatched // starter call: Even the dead tell stories.
The soft creak beneath his shoe masks itself among the many stemming from different corners of the building. Old wood and dust were a perfect match, stretching seamlessly down every hallway; peppering walls among torn bits of wallpaper and crumbling plaster. Perhaps at one point, it had been lovely, a welcoming home to many, and now it sits in ruin, occupied only by the homeless and the occasional felon looking to lay low somewhere with ample hiding spots. In this case, it was the latter that brought them there and had them combing musty rooms: one of their -- his, targets had made their way in here, and unlike other jobs, this time Aiden has help tracking the bastard down. However, as it turns out, finding the guy he's after isn't going to be a problem.
A single step and he's pushing a door open, wincing at the sharp creak that pierces the quiet, and as Aiden follows the movement inward, he nearly collides with the battered wood just it collides with...something. Another push yields the same result, and he's not foolish enough to try the same thing a third time, so the next comes with two hundred pounds thrown into it, his shoulder taking the brunt of the hit and finally jarring the door enough to make room for entry. And upon squeezing through the gap, he's soon face-to-face with the cause of the blockade...and his target. On the ground and unmoving, limbs at weird angles, his skin turning a rather unnatural shade of...
"Ah, Jesus..."
Dead, he's dead, long before Aiden ever laid eyes on him, which doesn't help the whole job situation. Dead was the end goal, after he got the information he needed, but Aiden was supposed to be the one to take him down. The immediate thought was, someone else got to the guy first, but the more he looks at the aftermath, the more it seems...off. Everything from the unnatural position of the body (though that, in part, could be attributed to his stunt with the door mere moments before) to the jagged, bizarre wounds all over it to the expression solidified on what was left of the face and the fact that the corpse was left at the scene -- it all seemed sloppy for a fixer's work. Too sloppy...but he'll file that away in the back of his mind for the time being, and keep his guard up until they had the other half of their prize and got the hell out of there.
He'd made a point to block the entry the moment he'd seen the man on the floor, and still he hadn't budged to make any semblance of room, ensuring he obstructed even the slightest view the boy behind him may have had. Death was nothing new to either of them, as he's well aware...but something about that man does not sit right with him. Gavin doesn't need to see it, too.
"Look around out there -- but don't wander off too far," he says lowly after the tension begins to fade into something more manageable. An order meant as both direction and distraction. "Apparently, he spent a lot of time here, so there has to be something."
