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Sarah_K_O_M (Offline)
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Default 03-01-2012, 07:53 PM

Constantine sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He made a mental note to talk to Mordred about his son, the way the boy treated every mission given to someone else was getting ridiculous.

"Sir?"

"Hmm?" Constantine looked up to see Gabrielle looking at him, her head tilted. "Ah yes, sorry. Your report?"

Gabrielle passed him a few sheets of paper, both sides covered in her haphazardly elegant looking scrawl.

"I'll have a better one typed up tonight, sir."

Constantine folded it and put it into his pocket. He waved his hand."It can wait. I need you to carry out a mission for me tonight. High priority.”

“Has it to do with this, sir?”

He nodded.

“We found a similar body, just an hour ago. I need you to go to the area, look around, investigate, question the local spirits if you can and keep watch. Whoever they are, they revisited the last body multiple times, they may do so again here.” He passed her a slip of paper. “Here's the address.”

“Understood, sir.” Gabrielle took the paper, scanned it briefly, then tucked it into the breast pocket of her shirt. She saluted once more, then took her leave.

---

It was always the scummiest areas for some reason, Gabrielle thought, nudging a dead rat with her boot. They never picked anywhere you'd actually want to live in, like a penthouse or even just a bungalow.

The body had been found inside an abandoned building near the Border Wall in Washington/Diligence sector. They wouldn't have even found it if a local hadn't called the police when her tv started showing demonic afterimages.
Gabrielle put her shoulder to the rusted iron door and shoved it open, the door screaming against every inch given. She winced. Nice and inconspicuous, that was.

She stepped inside, and was first hit by the stench of sulphur, followed by a sudden pressure that ground itself into her head until she could feel her brain beginning to bleed inside her skull. Then something hit her from behind and things went black.

---

She woke up, shackled to a chair by the ankles and wrists with wooden restraints decorated with strangely wet runes. Her coat, gun and sword had all been removed and, judging by the IV needle jammed into her forearm, she was being bled.

A trap. Of course.


"Without heroes we are all plain people and don't know how far we can go."

-Bernard Malamud
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