#wiredtosurvive

Dean had been following the guy for a while, and when he walked into an alley, he sped up.  Grabbing him from behind, he wheeled the guy around and shoved him up against the wall, holding a silver dagger to his throat.  ”I hate fucking shapeshifters.  Now tell me, what are you doing with my face?” he snarled.

Emily's snooping around, natural for her. She is rustling through some papers she snagged, when she hears the nearing sound of shoes beating against the pavement. Apparently, she has company. Quickly, the brunette expertly hides behind an old crate in the warehouse. She carefully listens as she sits facing a dark wall, her back to the old crate and the new people in the room. One of the voices is familiar, no pun intended. It belongs to her older brother, Ames. He's talking to someone. A transgenic. She's able to gather that intel from their conversation. 

~

A couple hours pass and Emily is still hiding out, legs falling asleep and incredibly bored. She decides to risk a peek through a hole in the crate. The transgenic kid is in a chair now as something probably not good is injected into the back of his neck. She winces. Ow. That couldn't have felt good. From their conversation she'd been eavesdropping on, the transgenic had agreed to sell out his own kind in return for his life. She's not sure if he's bluffing or serious. One thing is for sure, her idiot brother seems serious about the arrangement. She doesn't doubt he won't hesitate to detonate that pop bomb in the guy's head. 

The transgenic is given a watch and then disappears out of site. Soon after, the government guys in suits, including her brother, clears out. She pops up from behind the crate and dusts herself off. Ew. Why do super secret meetings have to be held in dingy warehouses all the time? Why never a place that isn't crawling with dust and who knows what else? 

Emily hastily creeps out of the warehouse. She catches up to the guy and ducks behind a wall, tripping over a can littering the ground in the process. Great. Genetically-enhanced clutz. You'd think with all the spying I've done I'd be better at this. Stupid soup can. ...I have to do something. If this guy's serious about killing transgenics for my icky brother, I can't just let him walk away and get to work.