As the sun rose over Edgetoun, Nicodem Kaminsky rounded the top of Pratchett road and jogged the last few houses to complete his circuit of the borough. He'd been awake for several hours already, starting off with exercises and some blade work before setting off on his run. In his ears, a dull monotone outlined useful phrases in Polish. After he carefully pulled off his running shoes and left them on the porch, he reached down to pause the walkman, gently remove the cassette tape and place it in its plastic case. If he was a little more at home with technology, Nicodem might have invested in a mobile phone to play music, track his time and distance and generally be more efficient than his venerable walkman. But if it ain't broke, don't replace it was one of Nicodem's mottos so he continued using a walkman bought in the 80s and teach-yourself-Polish cassette tapes found in the back of dusty charity shops. Before going to the shower, he dug around in the pockets of the big black coat hanging on the pegs by the door. After a couple of seconds rummaging he retrieved a small, well thumbed notebook and a pen. He'd seen a few things on his run that could do with recording.

On the page titled 'Opallum' with a photo of a young man sitting on the street and looking into the middle distance, he wrote:
"Subject still seems unbothered by cold, despite intervention of Unseelie, further evidence of demonic nature?"

A few pages on, under the heading 'Incident developments', he wrote:
"Unseele winter continues, protest likely to claim lives any day now. Werewolf murdered in captivity, accused of manslaughter (lost control and killed a child) but not tried due to intervention of 'Helsing'. Requires attention and investigation, speak to Ryan."

He'd been running past one of the shops with TVs in the windows when he's seen 'werewolf' and 'murder' in the same sentence on the subtitles and needed to stop immediately to catch himself up with recent events. On the one hand, the werewolf's lack of discipline had cost the life of and child and, in a round about way, himself. There again, murder is murder and the due process is there for a reason. It's just what the current climate didn't need, however, what with everyone's tempers being inflamed by the Unseelie ice and snow. Perhaps he should talk with the two werewolves down at the station, get an inside view on the problem? Nicholas probably won't respond to that too well but Aila might be more receptive, especially as she's gunning for a new job. Talk it over with Ryan, see what he says.

Tucking the book back into the coat pocket, Nicodem went to shower, dress (another dark grey suit with silken tie of creamy green) and then feed the rats. Normally their hutch stood outside in the garden but the cold had driven Nicodem to let them into the house for now. They squeaked happily and devoured the food pellets as soon as they ascertained that he was here to give them food, not take blood. Rats have surprisingly long memories where syringe needles are involved. With the rats fat and happy, he went to the kitchen to see about some breakfast. Truth be told, he probably didn't exactly need it and who knows what Ryan needs, but eating modern food is just so satisfying he was prepared to put in the effort.

Heating up the pan, he selected one of the many packets of gourmet sausages from the fridge and glanced at the label. "Infused with herbs and spices". Huh. If you saw green bits in your sausages back in the old days, you very carefully ate around that bit and then threw it in the fire when the cook wasn't looking. Modern sausages probably don't even contain any sawdust, he mused as he slapped a few into the pan to a satisfying sizzling sound. To add something more to the meal he put on some baked beans and started some toast, as well as putting the tea on. Coffee was just a little too much effort right now and tea just involves dropping the bag in and waiting, much less investment.

When he'd got a good looking plate of beans, sausages and buttered toast, he picked up a mug of tea and walked up the stairs to Ryan's room and gave a light knock.

"Breakfast, your commissionership?" He said, his tone light but with a definite tone of mocking.

Claire

At the Early Bean

Interacting with: Miles @Murdoc Barachiel @Skelace Talia @13Nightingale

Nope, nothing on her phone. Things seemed to be glacially slow today. Ironic, given the storm coming in. She finished her pastry, but there was nothing to do right now. She really didn't want to go home and unload her car yet.

She saw three people having a chat and decided to join them. Find an empty seat, she asked, "Is this seat taken, or can I join you for a little bit?"

---

---

Patrick was awake well before until the incredibly annoying buzzer on his phone went off. The noise did nothing to break his eyes away from his computer screen though. Instead he grabbed over in its direction knocking two empty water bottles to the floor before finding his phone and sliding the touch lock over to dismiss. The light from his screen was the only other source of light in the room and he could begin to tell they were watering up in response to not having blinked for a while. What was going on in the world this morning was just too good to pass up on though. It sure was going to be a busy day for the news media. And he was sure it would be pretty hectic back at the station with every reporter in London likely calling in for a statement.

Seemed like as good a day as any to use as one of his many saved up sick days. Maybe just blame it on the weather? He had been using his supply of sick and leave days a bit more liberally over the past few months but he doubted anyone at the station was really going to say anything. He always managed to complete his reports on time, and was good enough to give even some of the veterans a tip here and there. Wasn’t that what his generation was known for anyways? Not adhering to the previous generations strict work schedule but still getting the job done on time. He was pretty sure he read an article or two about that somewhere online. He supposed he could use it as a decent argument
if someone wanted to reprimand him back at the office.

Awww who was he kidding. If they wanted to reprimand him at work he’d take it like the poor redheaded step child he empathized with so well.

Finally he closed his eyes, leaned backed in his chair tilting just enough so he wouldn’t fall over before rubbing his eyes vigorously. God what was that awful smell? Oh. That was him. Guess it was time to at least attend to the hygienic portion of the day. Patrick then went about turning the lights on (cursing viciously as his eyes protested to the sudden light), showering, brushing his teeth, inspecting his beard in the mirror before throwing on a pair of his favorite skinny jeans and plain long sleeve shirt, finishing it all up with a pair of converse. He gave one last peak into the mirror to make sure his dark curly hair had just enough bed head that made it seem like he didn’t give shit. Because he didn’t. He just didn’t want to be made fun of for it.

He found himself automatically going out the door putting his head phones in so he could listen to some music for the walk ahead. On his days off he lately he spent most his time over at Liam’s place, preferring to not be by himself in his lonely apartment just staring at the screen feeling bad for himself. Oddly some social interaction with Liam was just enough to keep the young man content and keep his mind off his rather gloomy outlook on life in its current situation. At least until the next big game dropped. Then he’d be stuck in his apartment for a few months again.

About half way to the Churchhill Gardens and Patrick regretted not putting on something heavier, or at least grabbing a coat. He knew there was a storm coming, the weather being pretty much the last thing he read before he logged off his computer but he just really hated heavy clothing. Jackets, layers they all were just extra heavy weight that he’d have to discard and carry around when he got too hot to keep them on which was inevitable. Maybe he’d splurge on his budget and take a taxi or a bus back home later.

He thought his fingers were about to fall off as he finally arrived at the apartment complex. At first he didn’t notice the large men dropping furniture and boxes off right next to his best mates door, but when he did Patrick just stopped in his tracks. He double checked the building and apartment number a couple of times to make sure he was at the right place. He’d gone to the wrong apartment before. That was a rather embarrassing fiasco. But this was definitely Liam’s place. The next thought crossing Patrick’s mind was that Liam finally got evicted like he was threatened time and time again. Patrick quickly reached into his pocket to make sure he hadn’t missed any calls or texts. Nope still nothing. The whole time Patrick stood there the burly looking men continued to awkwardly move around him as they unloaded a literal truck load of supplies outside his friends place.

Patrick knew the only thing he could do would be to go and knock on the door but the thought of someone other than Liam answering made his stomach churn. And so he just stood there his mind yelling at him shouting at him, Open the door idiot. Just open the bloody door. You look more like a fool just standing here in the way. Should’ve just gone to work today. You’re going to look like the biggest idiot ever. But his body just remained ridged locked in place. It felt like he stood there for hours his mind raging a storm in his head before the door finally opened, thankfully to reveal a lanky and pale as ever Liam.

A deep sigh was released from Patrick’s body as his friend walked out. “What the hell is all of this? You win the lottery and go on a massive spending spree?” Was what he meant to say, but it got all chocked up in his throat as a female appeared behind the dhampire. So instead what he really said was, “What the hell, isssalll ack… um _this?” The werewolf felt his face instantly turn bright red and stomach drop at the sight of the incredibly attractive female and decided to recover by placing his hands on his hips in an authoritative stance, causing him to elbow a passing worker and awkwardly rerecover by leaning against the building. A massive grin immediately split across his face adding to his awkward embarrassment as he wished he could make it go away.

---

---

Honest to a fault. The Dhampire told her far more than the Fae expected to learn today. All her information danced around the truth while he went full throttle. She was going to go in more detail later like tonight for dinner, but perhaps she should reschedule her full disclosure for earlier. Hm, interesting. Interesting, indeed.




Glancing at the terrarium where the lizard resided in and then returning her piercing gaze towards Liam, her lips pulled up ever so slightly-- wicked yet welcoming. For the most part, her face was imperturbable and eyes, now showing her shades of blue, was as sharp as a stalactite. Eternity evaluated him like a hawk leering at a small creature. Even though her roommate was taller than her, somehow she carried herself like she was shatterproof resistant. Or at least, that's how the woman wanted to be perceived. Perhaps, at times she was unapproachable and that's why she didn't have many... or any... friends. Life was a cruel mistress and the skeptical Fae made sure people saw the crystal spikes on her ice, cold wall. But for those, who truly took the time to look at her, Ettie was simply a vibrant woman with frozen chains around her heart.

Too bad she's pushed all those, who attempted to get close with her, away. This would be the first time she'd be living with someone other than herself, so that could definitely effect her 'terrible-making-friends' record. At the minimum, Liam and her would have to learn to tolerate each other.

The woman contemplated how much she should share with her roomie later on today. If he truly did have a short lifespan, what did she have to lose?

Before he went in to hug her, she chuckled, "I fully support divorce. Alimony should be for everyone." As they hugged, the fae coolly joked, "But don't you worry, Squeaks will love me by then." Pulling away from the hug, she watched him go to the astray. As he did so, Ettie partially inhaled the smoke and moved her tongue toward the back of her throat making a "O" shape. When he looked at her again, she pushed out a ring of smoke toward his young looking face, slowly and humorously.

"Don't hurt yourself too much, Roomie."

When he headed toward the door, she went to the astray and stubbed her cigarette out, leaving the poison stick behind. Making her way to the door, there was yet another new face.

“What the hell, isssalll ack… um _this?”

Leaning against the edge of the door's archway, she assessed the man but in a quicker fashion (since she didn't want moving in to take all day). Based on how Liam lived, Ettie wanted to assume he didn't have many friends. This bearded man before her being the exception. Was he the 'friend with connections' guy? Of course, she shouldn't assume but for now that would be her theory until proven wrong.

These men were like two peas in a pod, at least when it came to their fashion sense. The darker haired man in particular definitely gave off that intelligent vibe. Though she wouldn't doubt Liam was smart as well, just a smart man who was on death row. There might be a chance her roommate was a smartass too, but only time would tell.

"Hey Handsome! I like your hair. Reminds me of mine when I don't product the shit out of it. Either way, call me Ettie for now. We'll do longer intros and sing kumbaya after I'm settled in. Since you're here, you might as well help! We have a beautiful storm to beat~" Not really caring about the fact that he was a complete stranger, she pulled him from leaning against the wall and brought him into a gentle embrace, "It's nice to meet you!"

She was too distracted to notice him dying of embarrassment. With that, she chirped to her workers (ALL her workers), "Lets get to work Boys!" Before she strutted off to get her things out of the car, she turned to her roommate and his friend, "I'll buy dinner!" That was not an offer, but a rewarding demand.

---

---

Unsurprising that it all came down to this.

Every minuscule atom in the universe, every ray of gamma radiation, every birth of a star - all of it came down to this particular moment.

Whether or not the news tabloids were lying about Netflix getting the six season of Archer the same time it got the fifth season of Bob's Burgers. Aaaaand -

Boom.

"God dammit," Michael cursed at the double buzz of his phone - it pinged with subsequent announcements for both seasons right this instant. "What am I gonna do now?" The dread of it all. Having to choose between one or the other. That felt liked asking him to choose between children, of which he'd likely choose the one he liked the most. That usually didn't translate well into shows because one, he didn't have children and two, this wasn't a life or death situation.

This, however, was deemed a vastly important situation. This was hours of his immortal life that he needed to fill. Michael stood, hands behind his back and his eyes staring into the deep snow drifts wafting outside of the bay windows. The war between nature, humanity, and the fae (the ones with sticks up their asses) raged just as much as the conflict settling in the meat of his stomach. A deep frowned pursed his lips and a Michael turned back to face the TV, finding it harder to pretend he didn't hear Astrid's voice tap away in her room.

Only one way to solve this. Hot potato. Michael slid into the kitchen on the balls of his feet, nearly crashing into the array of drawers he'd left out during his little breakfast tirade. He took a moment to rummage through the pantry for their Sack O' Potats, finding the roundest one and wrapping it in tin-foil before tossing it into the oven. After a good long few minutes of frowning into the oven, Michael deemed it hot enough to toss. With grit teeth, he unwrapped the partially backed potato, breathed in deep, and quietly sang the first verse of 'Anyway You Want It' after the twentieth bar, he stopped and squeezed the steaming potato in one hand and bit down on the side of his hand to keep the shout he gave muffled and soft.

"Alright, I... shit," he mumbled, "which hand was this. Uh. Uh. One. Two. Three. Bob's Burger--Astrid!" Michael looked up to see the girl emerge from her room. He sank his teeth into the potato, deemed it needed more salt and some butter, did just that and look at her. "I don't really need anything, but want me to come with? I could use a day out! And it's a blizzard out there, dun want you catching your death - literally. Dopplegangers are nasty subjects to mess around with." Michael leaned against the counter, hissing at the still raw feeling of his palm before giving Astrid a beaming grin.

Ryan glanced at his clock: 2:30. He sighed in exasperation and closed the ‘low key’ file. He’d have to send it Nico’s way in the morning. Ryan lazily let a hand drag across his face pushing his glasses down off of his face and onto the desk below him. He leaned backwards and pushed his hair from his eyes sighing deeply. He looked at the ceiling and sighed deeply, scratching his beard and looking over to his bed with a hint of lovelornness. “Next time old girl.” He said picking his glasses back up off the desk and reopened the case file, going over some of the key details once more.

He opened his eyes and found himself starting down at a page. He pried his face from the parchment and groaned. He glanced at his clock. “That’s too late.” He said quietly rubbing his face attempting to get the sleep out of his eyes.

“Breakfast, your commissionership?” Nico’s voice echoed into Ryan’s room. He could smell the tea from inside his room.

“Course, Nico I’ll be right out.” He said rather loudly in order to be heard. Ryan groggily got up from his desk and shuffled all of his notes into the dossier in which they should be kept, tying the small twine chord that kept the dossier closed around its loop and tossed them into the duffel bag he kept in the corner of his room. He slowly exited his room, wearing his signature blue shirt and sweatpants combo.

“Nico you’re putting me to shame.” Ryan said gratefully when he witnessed the feast his only friend had prepared for him. He sat down at the table and picked up a newspaper that waited for him, he had set it out the night before. Glancing down at the words he quickly skimmed through the crime section. “Low Key is spreading his influence, I’m no closer to figuring out who he is than I was a week ago. I want Nick on this one, maybe give him a partner – that sound alright with you?” He said absent mindedly sipping from the mug that Nico had given him.

He and Nico often times skipped pleasentries, especially with what was going on now, Ryan knew that Nico wouldn’t want to waste time with hellos and how did you sleeps. Instead, Ryan respected Nico enough to skip the bullshit and get to finding out what was going on.

“Nick’ll need someone who can go undercover with him, someone who can investigate this shit without being tied to the cops, I’ll leave it to you – you know everyone pretty well.” Ryan knew everyone on the force just as well as Nico, but it was a sign of respect – hand pick the person who would be analyzing the case with the most priority. “You have anything for me before we go in today?” Ryan asked.
 


Eve laughed when Blake plunged headfirst into a pillow. “Oh I’m sorry darling, I’ll get decent now I suppose.” Eve said teasingly poking Blake’s side lightly before retreating back to her room. When Eve chose an outfit it was like an emperor preparing combatants for gladiatorial combat. She would grab two shirts and compare them, the winner stayed. She usually managed to do this with her entire outfit before she was able to pick something to wear. Whenever anyone would question this practice she’d pout.

“Have you seen Blake? The whole world is watching her, I’ve got to find some sort of way to stand out sweetie.”

That was a more or less common response from the Lust demon. She finally found her winner of the day, it was a plaid button up shirt and a pair of tight jeans. She exited the room and began buttoning up her shirt up as she greeted Blake. “So, the bar won’t be open for a while – what’s the game plan Blakey?” She said plopping down beside her blonde roommate and resting her head on Blake’s shoulder. She liked Blake, somehow the YouTube journalist managed to ground Eve. She appreciated her company, while she flirted with most people, she wouldn't even consider with spending time with most people, opening up god forbid living with them. But Blake, well she was Blake. She was sweet and kind and... She could live with Eve.

“I’m boreeeed.” She cooed at Blake. She kind of found she was happiest when she was just hanging out with Blake shooting the shit.

Water cascaded from the shiny chrome rain shower head. Wealth was nice, and being able to afford the best things in life was even nicer. In Avalon Point, the water was always hot when you wanted it to be, and the pressure was exactly right. Despite the luxurious comfort of the walk in shower, Loki lathered and rinsed rather quickly.

Stepping out of the shower, Loki toweled off and styled his hair with a bit of mousse before heading to the master bedroom. Wearing nothing but a plush white towel around his waist, as Charles had seen him wearing far less before, Loki walked up the stairs. Sure, he could have showered in the ensuite bathroom connected to his bedroom, but what was the point of having 5 bathrooms if you weren’t going to use them all?

The walk-in closet was as spacious as one might expect, especially for such a metrosexual egomaniac. The left wall had a row of suit jackets and below that a matching row of trousers, both arranged in color order from darkest to lightest. The back wall had multiple shelves of mostly dress shoes, loafers, and a just a few pairs of trainers. The drawers below it contained socks, pants, and belts. The right wall had a row of finely pressed undershirts, vests, and ties, the row below that had a small collection of ‘casual’ clothing: khakis, button-ups, cashmere and argyle jumpers, leather jackets, and a few pairs of dark-wash jeans.

Today, Loki chose a classic suit color combination - black on black on black, with the exception of a silver bow tie. He liked bowties, they added to the charming scientist vibe, like that Bill Nye fellow. Though, Loki was far more attractive. Now well dressed and ready for the day, Loki went to his office.

Tracing his finger along the oversized calendar, Loki determined today’s date. ”The ninth… that would be…” Loki looked up the ceiling in thought, spinning his his desk chair. He used different burner phones on different days of the week, rotating the number associated with the numerical date of the month in a randomized combination from month to month. ”Mobile number 12.” He decided and then opened the third drawer down on his desk. This drawer was full of an obscene amount of cell phones, all serviced by pre-paid cards that were bought in various locations at different times, using dosh only. Loki always used dosh for illicit dealings, anything else is far too easily traced.

Powering up the mobile, Loki dialed in Mr. Richardson’s number. Loki had no idea if that was actually the man’s name, just as the man did not know Loki’s true name. What they did know, is they had an important business to protect, and anonymity and caution was everything. Mr. Richardson would only answer the phone call if it was received at the predetermined time and from the correct phone number from the burner phone assigned to that day of the month.

”Philip!” Richardson answered in an excited voice. It was not Loki’s name, nor an alias, but a random unrelated code name. This entire conversation would be spoken in code, because…. Well, just in case someone might be listening in. Although, that was pretty much impossible. Paranoia knows no bounds!

”How’s the wife, mate? And the kids, getting good marks in school?” The wife was the business as a whole, the kids were the cooks and dealers. This call was mostly to keep Loki updated on the goings on that he didn’t see, but Richardson did. The meeting ended on a positive note, all was well with the wife and kids! Richardson suggested a place where they should ”meet up for lunch and really catch up!” This was how Loki would know where to casually leave Richardson’s handsome payment for the week in the form of cold, hard dosh in an envelope, the amount of which was almost as obscene as the number of mobiles in that drawer.

The location was on the way to Loki’s favorite cafe, the Early Bean. After discreetly placing the envelope in the decided location, Loki went to fetch a hot cuppa. The little bell jingled against the glass door as he entered. His eyes wandered to the employees and he frowned slightly, seeing that his favorite wasn’t there.

”The usual, Mr. Van Stenberg? The mousey cashier girl asked. Loki gave her a crooked grin that instantly made her blush.

”I suppose I am quite predictable… yes, thank you.” Loki said before producing his card to pay. ”No Andrew today? he asked in a tone that somehow managed to sound both curious and disinterested in her answer.

”Not yet, no, sorry.” she nervously mumbled her apology as she handed back his card and then busied herself with making his drink. While Loki waited for his beverage, he scanned the room. Some familiar faces were present - that pretty bird who sold him his current home, and that fae hairdresser. He thought it smelled a little extra sweet in the cafe today. Mmm……

Stumbling out of Farady Heights 24, Freddie felt the cold air sting his red hot face. Damn it, damn it, damn! he thought, unlocking and jumping onto his bike. Of course you managed to make a fool of yourself in front of the beautiful girl next door, of course you did! It'd be terrible if anyone didn't think you were an idiot! The blush that had started creeping up his neck from the moment he saw Eve in the hallway simmered in the frosty air of the Unseelie winter. By the time he reached the library, it had mostly cooled off, even though the events that caused it were still replaying themselves through Freddie's mind.

Swinging round the corner, Freddie's work place came into view; the recently renamed Revelation Library. Not a lot of establishments had any interest in showing support or condemnation for the newly outed others (though Freddie had noticed a lot more signs outside cafés and bards saying things like "show us your fangs, drinks half price" or "faeries who fly drink free!") but those in charge at the library felt the only humane way to react to the Incident was to make an open declaration of support for others. Literally, a banner over the door proclaimed "All are welcomed" with cutesy images of vampires and werewolves drawn on either side of the words. As much as Freddie appreciated the sentiment, he was certainly not ready to start animating objects right out in the open. Wait and see, wait and see.

Locking his bike, Freddie took a moment to breathe in the crisp air. Well, he thought, the morning hasn't gone so well so far. Anti-other attacks, Unseelie still freezing everything and making a complete clown of yourself. Here's hoping it can only get better.

Shyeah, right.



Realising that, of course, Ryan hadn't been to bed yet, Nicodem sighed and walked back down the stairs, leaving the food on the table. Of course Ryan worked hard, that much was indisputable, and of course he wanted to do the best job possible, you only had to look at him. But Nicodem sometimes wondered whether Ryan might benefit from some of his own signature self discipline. Sleep at a certain time, rise at a certain time and work at a certain time. That way he wouldn't work until the wee hours of the morning, fall asleep on his desk and spend the rest of the day tired, only to repeat the process the following night. Still, the commissioner gets to do pretty much what he wants when it comes down to it and Nicodem wasn't going to be the one to tell him otherwise.

As his superior and housemate slowly made his way down the stairs, Nicodem tucked into his own breakfast and carefully sipped some of his tea. Piping hot, strong as an ox and black as midnight on a moonless night, just as he liked it. At Ryan's question, he nodded and gave a small smile. "Nicholas will do a fine job, as always. As for partner, why not Nikita if there's going to be undercover work? She's good at fitting in where ever she's sent and is no slouch in a scrap. Nicholas will nose around, make some noise and rustle the bushes, she can watch to see what tries to fly away." Nicodem's hunting metaphor was dated in the extreme (he hadn't hunted birds like that since before firearms were invented) but the point was clear enough.

His own breakfast now finished, Nicodem was just clearing away his plate as Ryan asked if there was anything else. He turned back and fixed Ryan with serious look. "I'm afraid I have something, yes. The werewolf that lost control and killed the young girl, Nick Bloodfang, was killed in captivity. A group named Helsing have claimed responsibility and apparently intend to commit more murders of others. There's a manifesto on the Youtube but the gist of it seems to be 'Mortals first, Others second'." Youtube, Twitter and Facebook are all too modern and unnecessary for Nicodem to have bothered to learn their uses, functions or correct names. "We need to know what the local wolves think of this development and when there are going to be repercussions, luckily enough we have three of them on the force. I'll talk to Nicholas, see what he thinks and ask him if he can have a few words with the others around. And Patrick, though I'm not sure his pack talks to him much. You should talk to Aila though, she's gunning for a promotion and I think you might be her hero so she'll answer you. We should talk about her promotion soon, by the by."

Drumming his fingers on the counter, Nicodem seemed to consider for a few seconds. "Oh, yes. You and I need to sit down and talk about the 'Low Key' case. As much as you like spending all night staring at the case file, I imagine we might make a little more progress with two heads rather than one and not at one in the morning.". There was a hint of reproach in his voice but more teasing than reprimanding.

---

“Right, right. Alexander it is, then.” He bares his teeth in a grin, and sets his coffee down on the table before reaching out to grasp Barachiel’s hand. If the name wasn’t big enough of a hint, the faint, buzzing warmth that thrummed just underneath the surface of the other’s skin only confirmed his suspicions. In all his years on Earth, he hadn’t met many angels. Hell, he could probably count all the encounters he’d had with them on one hand, but Miles could almost feel the white hot grace coursing through Barachiel’s veins, radiating heat. The sensation was foreign, yet at the same time, familiar, though apart from a momentary pause, his smile never falters as he gives the other’s hand two firm shakes, withdrawing his own soon after. “I’m Miles. Miles Catrose. It’s nice to meet you.”

Barachiel, he notices, stands nearly a foot taller than him, and he makes it a point to pretend like he doesn’t notice, instead just taking another sip of coffee. This difference in stature, however, was likely the least of his worries. In his rather limited experience, angels were, more often than not, a bunch of self-righteous pricks, obsessed with punishing any supposed ‘sinners’, whether it was their business or not. Suffice to say, Miles did not fancy being on the receiving end of a smiting, and he makes a mental note to stay on Barachiel’s good side for the foreseeable future.

As he opens his mouth to speak, Miles is suddenly cut off by the arrival of a stranger. The woman appeared unfamiliar to him, though he held little doubt that she was no stranger to Edgetoun. From the lilts in her inflection, to the confidence with which she carried herself, Miles finds it easy enough to deduce that they frequented very different places in town. Was she an Other, too? If so, what kind was she? For Miles, all this uncertainty was mounting up to no small amount of unease, and almost subconsciously, he takes a small step back from the newcomer when she draws closer. Thus far, she hadn’t done a thing to set off any alarm bells, but he anticipates this peace and quiet won’t last for long.

Murmuring something conventional in reply, Miles momentarily tears his gaze away from the two, only to see someone else approaching - a mousy looking girl who was, surprisingly, even shorter than he was. But as the saying went: two’s company, and three’s a crowd, though it failed to mention one important possibility. What did you call four people? Miles thinks they should coin a new term for such a situation, though he’s quickly snapped out of his train of thought by yet another new voice thrown into the mix, barely concealing an ill-tempered scowl. Amongst crowds, the pixie is at home, but The Early Bean is a far cry from the dives he’s used to. Instead of the press of sweaty bodies, everyone moving in unison to the thumping bassline, he suddenly finds himself having to make polite conversation - with three other people, no less.

Why everyone wanted to sit here remained a mystery to him. He doubts the morning rush was bad enough to warrant such unusual behaviour.

“The snow really is getting to be a problem, isn’t it?” Miles muses to no one in particular, before fishing his phone from his pocket to check the time. As expected, he was now outrageously late for work, but in this weather, would anyone really trek all the way out into town for a haircut? For a moment, he contemplates calling in sick, though perhaps going to work would be a far better experience than staying here for even a second longer. Not that these people (if they even were people) weren’t pleasant company, but he was just starting to feel a tad claustrophobic.

“Ah, would you look at the time.” Miles picks up the two cappuccinos sitting on the table in one smooth motion, smiling a little sheepishly. “It was a pleasure meeting all of you, but I really have to get to work. Can’t keep the boss waiting, eh?”

Briefly, he glances towards the front door of the coffee-shop, though it’s only a moment before his gaze is once again focused on the three before him, eyes glittering with earnest. “If you ever need a trim, come by Mrs. Atkinson’s, won’t you? We’d appreciate the business.”

“Anastasia, come home.” A man said over the phone.

“It’s Alison now.” She said feeling his tears through the corded telephone that wrapped itself around her false ego, constricting it.

“I didn’t raise an Alison.” He said, his own ego clearly not constricted like hers. “And I didn’t raise a woman who would leave her family.” His voice dripped cheap whiskey and club soda.

“Could be said that you didn’t do much raising at all.” Alison said, the chord giving way as her ego inflated.

“You don’t respect what I’ve done for you?” Her father asked, Anastasia. But Anastasia wasn’t there right now, Alison was.

“Goodbye.” She said, letting the chord snap back violently taking the phone, and her ego with it as she grabbed her blanket and covered herself with it. She shook lightly but tensed her muscles and stopped herself. Not today, not for him. She silently apologized to Zoey for the noise of the phone clattering against the ground, her father’s muffled voice saying some incomprehensible insult to her. She didn’t want to hear it, nor did she feel like he’d want her to in the long run.

She probably owed him enough to not listen to his drunken rants. She rolled over towards her window in order to fall asleep but her eyes widened. She glanced back at her clock, it flashed 12:00 AM. It fucking flashed.

“God damn it all.” Allie said quickly rolling out of bed and grabbing some underwear – quickly. She leapt into the corner of the shower, hot water that was undoubtedly too hot for comfort quickly reddened her skin. She rushed the prerequisite scrubs, soaps, lotions. She leapt out of the shower to grab her towel.

Towel.

Towel

She didn’t bring a towel. She immediately seized a hand cloth and got to work.

By the time she was running for the tube, sandwich hanging out of her mouth and bag with scrubs in hand she was ten minutes late and sweating profusely. Allie’s body temperature was very typically much higher than the average person and while she didn’t feel too warm she did manage to sweat a lot. She had to commonly pack a spare pair of scrubs and casual clothes to work as the Hospital’s heating was on pretty high during the winter.

She managed to get to the tube almost immediately before it departed taking a spot on a seat and relaxing laying back onto the window behind her. She took a bite into the sandwich that was still resting in her mouth, catching it in her right hand as it fell. She munched on it and began to truly realize how tired she was. She had gotten home the night before from work around midnight, practiced her guitar until about two in the morning and had begun to fall peacefully asleep in the nest she had created for herself. That was when her father called, they spoke for longer than she should’ve let him but it was the first time they had spoken since she had left that night. It was hard to hang up on him.

She told him about what it was like living in an apartment, how she had met Zoey, put herself into nursing school, starting a co-op there, working at the hospital.

Allison gripped her thigh roughly. Stop it girl. Her palms had begun to heat up.

She immediately got up off of her seat and walked into the bathroom, shoving past some people with her hands in her pockets. She slammed the door shut and quickly used her wrist to lock the door. Jamming the tap on full blast and sticking her hands underneath the water. Steam arose in the room as she quickly shrugged her jacket off of her back and blew the steam back down into the sink as best she could to not trip any alarms. Through the wall, she could hear someone listening to the news, most likely on their phone.

“Werewolf… Killed in captivity… Helsing Manifesto…. YouTube.”

A chill ran up Allie’s spine as her hands cooled down. It was beginning. Others were being hunted, they were officially too different.

It was when they stopped being considered human that all hope would be lost. Screw the fact that werewolves were raised in homes in the same countries as the people who would eventually hunt them, some others weren’t even aware of their status. Some were just humans who had delved deeper than some. That was just how it worked in today’s society.

This is why Allie did not believe in a higher power.

She arrived at work and immediately started stripping her normal clothes off when she hit the locker room and noticed one of the residents enter the locker room. “Morning.” She said quietly nodding to them in her skivvies. She quickly put her scrubs on and walked over to them. “Hope your shift went well, I’m running late though so we’ll catch up soon, yeah?”

---

 


Ryan plunged into his breakfast once it was in front of him. But all the hunger in the world couldn’t have distracted him from the problems they were already having. He gently rubbed his cheek and inhaled deeply.

“This Helsing thing may have to overtake ‘Low Key’ for now.” He drawled quietly. “I’ll get someone onnit maybe I’ll take a rook in tonight and figure somethin’ out. If I do I trust your good with the run of the precinct?” Ryan asked, carefully scooping up a spoonful of baked beans and chomping down on the spoon.

“Nico… I need you to understand somethin’ that’s rather important to me.” Ryan said, his southern accent echoing off the walls as he gently put the spoon in the bowl resting it on its lip. “Nothing is the same anymore, if shit hits the fan and you got someone out there, or somewhere you think you oughta be… You should go whenever you feel the kitchen gets too hot. I ain’t going nowhere, no one’s waiting on for me – but you don’t owe me shit for how bad this could end up.” He said picking his spoon back up. While this was a rather normal conversation – perhaps between two cops, for Ryan and Nico, this was a first.

The two of them kept it as business, or nothing. Pleasantries, sometimes, making meals for one another, typical. Talking about this kind of personal – business was just… Not usually necessary. Neither of the men had much of a love life to speak of, Nico wasn’t aware of Ryan’s status as an Archangel, and furthermore Ryan had no one else but Nico in his personal life. The only other thing Nico didn’t know about Ryan was how much he longed for something… Personal.

It was a strange catch-22. Ryan couldn’t get personal with someone – and it wasn’t just because he would outlive most stars in the galaxy. He just didn’t look at them. He didn’t see people. He saw these little matches that were in danger of going out that he had to protect from the storm outside, which he couldn’t protect from the storm outside. Bringing that into a relationship, it was ludicrous it was unfair and it was wrong.

Besides as far as others knew, he was some young in-over-his head kid from Texas.

“Let me know when you’re ready, I’m good to pick up whenever y’are.”

At Ryan's mention of running the precinct, Nicodem just cocked an eyebrow. They both knew that Nicodem ran the precinct almost as much as Ryan did some days, depending on which one of them was more deeply immersed in case work at the time. With the 'Low Key' case taking such prevalence in the commissioner's thoughts at the moment, his deputy had been handing out shift assignments, signing off on pay dockets and generally doing to more boring, administrative bits of the job for a couple of weeks. Still, it was good to hear him ask out loud, if only so they both knew where they stood.

Ryan's next statement was considerably less routine but somehow no less welcome. Nicodem had never made any attempt to hide his Vampiric nature from his housemate, having long suspected Ryan too was something other than human. They'd never discussed it though, Ryan never mentioning Ryan's rat hutch with accompanying syringe and Nicodem never asking how a normal human could survive on as little sleep as the commissioner seemed to. A silent, implicit agreement that the job came first, that everything else was secondary had always been present and, to be honest, Nicodem had never really thought further than that. It was... heartening to hear Ryan say, in effect, that he'd rather Nicodem left than be burned at the stake by the Helsing brigade. Not an open declaration of undying love (something neither of them were equipped to say or receive, even if they wanted to) but something you might say to a friend.

He looked into Ryan's eyes, the eyes he'd always thought looked far too old and tired for one so apparently young, and said "I hear you, I understand you, I thank you. But I don't see myself leaving Edgetoun at any time in the near future. This house, on the other hand, we should both leave if we want to be at the station in time."

It took only a couple of minutes for the two of them to gather up their coats, files and other things they'd need for the day before walking out to the attached garage. Neither man had ever spent the time or money necessary to legally own a car and so instead they'd found an alternative solution; they would borrow cars from the undercover department, use them for a few days and then return them before anyone important noticed. While it might not be strictly legal, the pair reasoned that if they couldn't get to work then they'd hardly be doing any good, so better this small infraction than not help anyone at all. It also meant that every few days they came home with a new flashy car, causing many of their neighbours to suspect them of everything from car thievery to corporate sponsorship.

The drive to the station was passed in silence, not least because Nicodem turned on the radio to an obscure Estonian Classical Music station and punched up the volume. Both men had much on their minds, the 'Low Key' Case, the Helsing incident and all its ramifications. It was going to be a long day.

Mona blinked, then grinned wildly, ”Can you do that? Oh, my gosh! Do you know how great it would be to not be ignored by all those humans out there?” She floated close to Felix, circling around and around the medium with a look so real and so bright that it couldn’t possibly belong to her. It was so easy to smile like that around the medium, so simple. Just a twitch of the lips and a single thought of happiness. Mona didn’t quite understand love, platonic or not, in real life as easily as she did in the soaps she often frequents. The people on TV are always grinning at their friends and lovers. Emotional, was the word she would mutter when they laughed or cried. Those actors knew how to relay such things even to someone as mindless as Mona. They’re always happy, always sad, always something. Mona wasn’t always something.

Sometimes she was simply nothing.

Her smile faltered at the thought, then picked back up as she kicked towards the window and leaned (to the best of her ghostly ability) against the windowsill. Her eyes traced the clouds, endless gray and black, and her ears keened to the sound of bustling wind and an apartment close by that seemed to be blasting rock music. The thumping bass and whistling notes of the wind were so dissonant together, so lacking in purpose and beauty. Mona adored it. Her forehead pressed against the window, felt nothing, and pressed further until she was basically hanging out of the apartment. Small dots of white dropped through her, and the smile turned into a cheesy grin.

”I think I see some flurries already, Felix! Oh gosh, oh gosh!” Snow drifted by, falling away from her as if she almost existed. But she didn’t, she couldn’t feel the chill of the loud wind more the brush of wetness from the flakes. She was as dissonant to the world as the wind and bass were to each other. A splotch of lifeless color to an otherwise living, breathing land.

She pushed back into the living room and turned back towards the witch. Ah, Felix. The other girl was much taller than the ghost, boasting seven inches up over her when Mona felt like connecting to the ground. The height difference made Mona feel a bit squirmy for some reason, a bit thoughtful over her own stance, and she straightened her hunched back nonchalantly as she lifted a good five or six inches off the floor. Another smile, small and dreamy, pressed against her lips. ”Do that hocus pocus bullshit on me, I wanna enjoy the day like a normal person for once~!” She purred merrily, drifting closer and closer to the witch until she was able to glower down at Felix a bit too coy-like.

Claire

(The Early Bean)

Interacting with: Miles @Murdoc Barachiel @Skelace Talia @13Nightingale

Just as she joined the group, one of the men left. Apparently, he had to get to work, where he was a hairdresser or something similar. Fine with her. "Goodbye, then."

She turned to the others, realizing that she hadn't introduced herself. "I'm Claire O'Malley. It's a pleasure to meet both of you." Obviously, she wasn't going to reveal the fact that she was a summoner, especially in this climate. No need to tempt anyone into getting the torches and pitchforks out.

”Morning.” the nurse said quietly in greeting. It was now well into the afternoon, but Suriel wasn’t about to correct her. Instead, the angel turned to smile in return. Seeing that Alison was in nothing but her unmentionables, Suriel quickly looked back into their locker. It was too late though, their mind went there. The sharp pain in between their shoulder blades functioned like a warning bell. This sin would darken yet another feather… how much longer could this doctor remain white?

”Hope your shift went well, I’m running late though so we’ll catch up soon, yeah?” Alison said, sounding much closer now than she was before. Suriel turned and prayed, actually prayed, that she would be wearing scrubs this time. She was. So, God was still listening; That’s a good sign.

”It did! Thank you for the well wishes, I hope your shift is much of the same.” Suriel said with a beaming, warm smile before closing the locker and heading for the exit.

The news reports weren’t lying, it was a tundra outside. Suriel buried their chin into their neck in an attempt to duck away from the blustering winds. Otherwise perfectly styled platinum strands of hair were sent into utter disarray upon leaving the hospital. It didn’t help that their hair was getting longer and would need a cut soon.

Suriel took the tube home after a painful wait in the cold. Doctor or not, they didn’t have much money for a car or the like. Being a resident hardly paid well, and what excess the angel did have, they gave away to charity. It was better this way, to live simply, it functioned as a means to keep focused on the end goal.

The apartment was dark and quiet upon their arrival. Barachiel, or Barry, as Suriel sometimes called them, must be out at the moment. Setting their keys on the counter, Suriel decided they would enjoy the peaceful solitude with a hot cup of tea and whatever makeshift meal they could put together quickly.

---

Once the faerie and his rather distracting scent took their leave, Loki staked a claim at one of the only free spaces left in the cafe. He took the cap off of the cup of tea after setting it down on the table and steam billowed off of the liquid’s surface. Hopefully it would be safe to drink sometime this century, that seemed doubtful, though.

Loki sat his leather messenger bag on the table next and then took a seat. He opened the bag and retrieved a shiny black laptop. Loki took to people watching briefly while the machine booted up, which didn’t take all that long. He wouldn’t head into the lab today, but he could still get a decent amount of research done right here in the Early Bean. Wifi, what a glorious invention!

The hangover headache still pounded in the vampire’s ears, but the show must go on, as they say. If there was ever a person who epitomized the “work hard, play hard” motto, it was Loki Van Stenberg. He pinched the bridge of his nose as his eyes swept across the computer screen. Minutes, maybe even hours, had passed by as he scanned countless articles, studies, and publications. Loki took to studiously writing down notes about the findings and test methods used in the most interesting reports. His head swam with ideas on how to change his own procedures… the RNA modification was simply not going the way he intended it too.

Loki let out a deep exhale and rubbed the stubble that had already started to form on his chin since shaving this morning. There was no use reading the same paragraph for a third time, so he went back to people watching. With his elbows propped on the table and his hands folded together just under his chin, Loki played a little game of ‘guess the supernatural’ for each person in the cafe. That is when the idea struck him, and what a glorious idea it was!

A wide smirk spread across the vampires lips. With Loki, it was always closed mouth smiles and deviously charming smirks, toothy smiles were reserved for those that knew he was a vampire. You can never be too careful, racist bastards are everywhere, and Loki preferred not to deal with them publically. That could get… messy. Nevertheless, creepy smirk and all, Loki unfolded his hands and retrieved his mobile - this one being his actual mobile, not a burner phone for the business. He dialed a number and the recipient picked up after the first ring.

”Charles! Call in the full crew to ensure that the estate is in top notch condition for this weekend. I had the most grand idea and I know, I knoowwww it’s short notice, but just trust me, this is going to be fan-tas-tic!” Loki emphasized each syllable into the receiver with signature dramatic flair.

Ryan drove calmly down the snowy roads. Maneuvering in order to adjust for the lack of traction on his tires as his partner placed a hand on the dial and slowly cranked the music he was listening to up. Ryan attempted to clear his mind from the many cases, files and other important documents that surrounded his consciousness as he attempted to focus on the road. He quietly grunted, noticing that the brakes weren’t as stiff as they usually were causing a slightly less bumpy ride than he was used to. He drove by Faraday Heights noting that it was a rather centric place to live, both the school and the station were close to the apartment building along with a few bars and some old run down record store.

Ryan pulled into the parking lot slowly noticing Aila was walking towards the station just behind them. He noted her and waved with one hand as he reached into the back seat in order to grab his suitcase and got out of the car, nodding at Nico to do the same.

“Ms. Atleo, how have you been?” Ryan said nodding towards the secretary.

“Oh jeez, hey Chief I’m alright.” Aila said gently smiling, noticing how cold the corners of her mouth and her ears were when she did so. “I haven’t got in yet, but I know that you’re going to be pretty busy today.” She said rubbing her hands together and blowing between them in order to warm them.

“With all this Helsing business I’m sure tons of people will be coming in today.” Ryan said nodding with the secretary. “I need to speak to you with Mr. Kaminski here, so if you could meet me in my office once your set up this morning I’d appreciate it.” Ryan said nodding to the girl as he turned to Nico and gave him a part on the shoulder – walking towards the station with a patient smile.

It was here that he had spent so many nights already, trying to clean up the messes of those who had made them. Ah well, the coffee was pretty alright and there could be far worse ways to spend one’s days. At least this way he felt some amount of fulfillment while living his day to day life.

Aila turned to the co-commissioner and smiled. “It’s nice to see you looking so well rested, especially compared to the chief.” She said jokingly pointing at Ryan. The two of them walked towards the station. “I’ll be in the office soon, I just gotta check messages and all that.”