(2018-04-22) PrP: Law vs Justice - Fletch Lives
PrP: Law vs Justice - Fletch Lives
Summary: Eddie, Denver and Audgrim go to mete out justice against a corrupt lawyer who beat his ex-wife. Harris has his own reasons for being there, investigating the lawyer. Eddie, Audgrim and Harris end up discussing a lot more than corrupt lawyers…
Date: IC Date (2018-04-22)
Related: None
Player Characters: Eddie, Denver, Audgrim, Harris

Cherry-Oak - Port Angeles

Port Angeles' Famed Cherry-Oak neighborhood holds some of the finest examples of Victorian architecture in the United States. Situated in the heart of Port Angeles and just south-east of the Downtown district, it is the home of the local Masonic Temple, upscale Bed and Breakfasts such as the Tudor Inn and Five Sea Suns B&B as well as some of the most affluential residents.

Despite being in the heart of an urban city, the houses in the Cherry-Oaks Neighborhood retain the sprawling, estate-like gardens of their past, with none of the crowding that might be found in other districts. The streets are large, wide avenues that seem to never be crowded.

During the daylight hours, the Cherry-Oaks Neighborhood is a riot of green growing things in the heart of the city, the clean, prestine sidewalks crowded with people either walking to and from the businesses situated in the area or tourists reveling in the rich history of the many buildings. At night, the area takes a more sinister tone. Although the streets are well lit, there is a subtle sense of menace, be it from the Victorian architecture or the quiet that seems to shroud this place, even in the heart of a major city.


It's not particularly hard finding out where Amanda's exhusband lives or what he does. His name is Harry Fletcher, and he's a lawyer. Of course. He's made his ex-wives life a misery for the past ten or so years before she left him, but she's not been able to make anything stick, and he also had a prenuptual so she didn't get anything from the divorse. She lives in a tiny one-room apartment on Baker street, working as a waitress. He? He lives in a nice big house in Cherry Oak.

He is on Tinder and has already dated a few times - he's been on several dates with a woman named Shelley already. All charming and suave on the surface, with a nice car, plenty of money, a respectable job. The receptionist at the law firm isn't hard to trick into giving the man's schedule away - he's going on a date tonight, she's been asked to book a reservation at a restaurant in Cherry Oak.

Eddie's waiting in his car outside the creep's house when he makes the call, the next day as promised. He offered to stick around and keep an eye on things 'til Denver could get there, so that's where he still is, parked across the street and slouched behind the wheel, working absently on a book of crosswords while keeping most of his attention on Fletch's door. When the ogre arrives he tosses the book and a well-chewed pencil onto the passenger seat and climbs out, waving her down. "That's the place," the nods. "Won't be there much longer. He's got a hot date tonight, apparently. Might be fun to follow him there and let her see you work, but I leave it to the expert."

The door to the passenger's side of the car opens, Denver slipping inside to settle on the seat. "Thanks for the heads up on where this guy is. Did you say he was a lawyer? That might be a little more tricky when it comes to beating him up and getting away with it." Arms fold over the woman's chest as she studies the house, eyes narrowed. I could always force my mien to the surface and flip his car with him in it. Nobody would believe him then," she snorts.

Audgrim is lazy and late - he comes strolling down the street looking faintly lost, having gotten a text. He's checking house numbers to find the right one and is about to walk right up to the place, before he notices Eddie's car; so he lopes over with tail bobbing excitedly, folding his tall frame into the backseat. "Hi," he says, looking back and forth between the other two lost, waiting to hear the plan.

The house itself sits right on the street with a nice BMW parked in front, lights on inside. It's around 7, the restaurant was booked for 7,30 so he should be coming out soon. Though since the restaurant is nearby he might just walk.

"He is," Eddie nods, not sounding too worried about it. Not until that part about shredding the mask, anyway. He doesn't seem to approve of that, Winter that he is. "You've got enough eyes on you after that mess at the laundry a few months ago without going full monster in the middle of the street. Just don't get caught on camera and don't introduce yourself and you ought to be fine." He stops and considers for a moment. "Doing something to his car might be fun anyway, though."

"How do you want to play it?" he asks, a moment later. "I can get the door open, if you want to take care of this now."

"Wait, what are you talking about eyes on me? Are you talking about when the Western Winds broke? Was anyone going to tell me about that at some point? What information do they have?" Glowing eyes shift to Eddie, knitted in concern that it's gone this long and she's only just hearing about it now. Her head shakes, focusing on the now. "Did you see any cameras around? I can go in and beat his ass while you guys fuck up the car?"

"It's alright. It's just Harris and Sydney - they are not so bad," Audgrim says, squinting out at the house - he's found a chocolate bar to munch on. "They won't bother you. Probably." He grins and leans in to give Denver's cheek a quick kiss. "Make sure he knows why he is beaten. And that we will always watch him," Audgrim suggests, approving of this simple hands-on plan.

"I'm telling you now," Eddie says, like that makes it all okay. Not even getting defensive. "They know some girl with a sword bigger than she is fought a monster outside a laundrmat. Beyond that I couldn't tell you for sure, but I've got arrangement with their boss. Just try not to be too magic in public, is all, it makes them nervous." He points to a spot a little over the door. "There's a camera, right there, but I can handle that. You shouldn't tell this creep anything, though, unless you're telling it with your mitts. Like you said, he's a lawyer, and he's already after this Amanda lady. If he thinks she sent you…" He trails off, confident she can figure it out.

"You know about it too? How the hell does everyone but me know about this when it actually effects my life?" They're getting chewed out later, but right now it's time to focus up. "If you can get me in there past the camera and the door, I can handle the rest. I won't say anything, just beat his ass. Maybe you guys can do your sneaking and haunting thing later, help him piece together why he deserved a beating."

"I did not know they look for you," Audgrim says, eyes widening. Uhoh. He's quite relieved when she drops it for now, nodding empathically at her and Eddie both. "I can carve 'Bad wife beater' into his chest with my claws?" he suggests. "He will have problem hiding that to other women." His eyes gleam at the idea. "But maybe other time, let's go there - he will come out soon. Better hit him inside, no people watching?" He's already moving to leave the car.

"He doesn't know anything," Eddie shoots Audgrim a look, "he's just guessing. A good guess, though. Anyway, they're not looking for you. I took care of it." But she's letting it drop, and so does he. He watches the door and the camera for a moment longer, considering his approach, then decides to do things the easy way since time is a concern. He whistles a little birdsong and climbs back out of the car, ducking his head in before he goes. "Just give me a minute, then follow." He crosses the street and walks down the sidewalk toward the guy's house- he'd parked out of view of the camera- then up the steps to the door, whistling the whole way. He looks up at the camera, directly into it, and he gives it a little wave before he reaches into his coat for a little can of spraypaint. Once the lens has a fresh coat of opaque pink he reachs for the door, turning the knob and pushing it open like it was never locked to begin with, just like that.

"Maybe we can tattoo it on his forehead so he has to let everyone see it," Denver says with a little growl. Clearly she likes the idea of letting everyone know what he's done. I'd like to get him put in jail, too. If I could." She watches as Eddie walks up, tilting her head slightly as he just waves right into the camera. "What is he doing?" She asks Grim before opening the door. "I'll be back shortly," she tells him with a nod before following the path the Winter took, moving swiftly towards the door and then inside.

There's nothing happening when Eddie opens the door - it's all quiet, but there's the sound of a TV from in there somewhere. Maybe he's watching some before heading out. Denver can walk straight into a large hallway, with kitchen opening up to the right, straight ahead is the living room and to the left an office and a bathroom. There's a staircase leading up to the second floor. It's one of those disgusting black and white sort of places, masculine, orderly and very tidy; not a fleck of dirt or dust anywhere. Floors are all black tile, with no rugs.

There's a sound from the living room now, a voice. "Hello? Yes, I'm calling to confirm the reservation on Fletcher for 7,30. And I want that table in the corner. Hmm? Yes, that one. Thank you." Footsteps, moving for the hallway and Harry Fletcher will come in there in a few seconds from the living room, probably on his way to the restaurant - he's the type of guy that isn't late and who hates people that are late. He's mid-thirties, hair slicked back, tailored suit, handsome features and ice blue eyes.

Audgrim finishes his chocolate bar, not in any particular hurry, watching Eddie and Denver do their job before he starts sauntering over too.

Eddie grins Smug Grin #4 at Denver as she comes in behind him, one of his better ones. He's proud of himself, even if she doesn't know what he just did, exactly. "Have fun," he whispers, like it's a day at the amusement park, and then he ducks out of the hall to go do some recreational snooping. You never know what you might find in a place like this.

Outside, Audgrim is just happy to leave the two others to the inside work - he goes to work on the car instead. He punches his claws through all four tires, watching with satisfaction as the car sinks down on flat tires. Then he slowly walks around the car, raking claws along the black surface - it makes some noise, very satisfying, but not that bad. It'll leave claw marks.

Denver reaches up to ruffle at Eddie's hair as she passes. She doesn't know what he did, but he looks so proud. Once she's in the house, the tiny ogre's skin begins to shift and harden into that familiar volcanic stone that the boys are familiar with. The wife-beating douchebag can't see it, but it's there, in case the man can actually pick on someone with more experience in a fight. She doesn't say a word, offering a little finger waggle and a wink, almost playful for a half second before her expression shifts into a glower and her other hand comes out to punch him hard, right in the gut.

"What-" Fletcher has time to say, glowering at the short and seemingly not so strong woman in front of him, that just entered his house uninvited. He's tucking the phone away and about to chew her out, but he's getting the surprise of his life when she punches his gut; he doubles over but since he's not loathe to hit women, he tries to swing at her feebly even as his breath leaves his body. "Gah!"

First available room? Is an office. Very convenient. While Denver proceeds to pummel the living daylight out of the wife-beater, and Audgrim is messing up the car, he's got time to rifle through the desk and a filing cabinet. Interestingly in the filing cabinet, which is quick to break into, he's got files on several gangsters he's helping. And some very incfriminating photos, and info - things he's obviously not given to the police, but might be holding as safety for himself. The gangsters? They're all his clients.

Audgrim just continues messing up the car, he's drawing little stickfigures of a man on it with his claws, and writing (misspelled): FLETCER IS ASSHOLE'.

Denver ducks out of the way of his blow, leaning in really close with a mocking sad look. "Weak and pathetic," she whispers by his ear before she shifts her weight, taking a half step back. The second blow lands to his face, connecting with the upper cheek and left eye socket. The force of it is enough to send him back a few steps before he crumples to the ground right at her feet. She takes a couple of stops and kicks, careful enough not to damage him too much more, but enough to leave him aching, bruised and a little bloody for a few days atleast. "Phone's in his pocket," she murmurs to Eddie before she turns and starts to head right back out the door she entered through.

Eddie rifles around a while through desk drawers and potted plants and behind diplomas and things before he gets to the boring old filing cabinet, not finding even a little bit of cocaine. He's a little let out, but once he does get to the files they seem to cheer him up a little. "Oh, Fletch," he says, tucking the photos away into his coat, "What would your clients say?" He'll find out soon enough. The cops probably can't do much with these, but those gangsters probably won't be too happy to know what he's keeping as security against them. He looks back over his shoulder when Denver sticks her head in through the door, then nods and goes to leave, himself.

He stops on the way out, and turn around to look at the prone form on the ground, then back to the door, then back to Fletcher. He can't help himself. He hurries over to the crumpled lawyer and pulls out that marker he carries around and does a quick job on the man's bloodied face before he leaves.

Outside, Audgrim's getting very artistic, almost forgetting why they were here. He's now scratching a very vivid stick figure image of someone being beaten by a tiny girl stick figure. He writes FLETCHER above the male stick figure, and GIRL BEATING YOU above the other. Content, he turns when the two come out of the house, giving them a thumbs up.

"Hope you got something juicy," Denver says as she tucks her hands into her pockets, the rocky form along her skin starting to melt back into flesh. "Nice work," she tells Grim, careful to not use names for the moment. She does stop to kiss his cheek before continuing on towards Eddie's car. "Don't know how long he'll stay knocked out for though, so we should probably scoot."

Eddie steps outside, locking the door considerately behind him, then slipping the cap ostentatiously back onto his marker. "Just let me know if he gives you or the lady any trouble," he grins at Denver, "I'll make some phonecalls." He doesn't go into the details, but he seems pretty confident. He eyes the work Audgrim's done with the car, seeming equal parts worried and impressed. "Yeah," he agrees with the ogre, "let's split before the neighbors call someone, if they haven't already."

It's evening, around 7,15 PM. Harry Fletcher lives in a rather large house on Cherry Oak, one of those ugly modern architect places. But it's not hard to stake it out - it sits right on the street, with just a small space for a car to be parked in front.

Interestingly enough, just as Harris pulls up… Three figures are about to leave the house. And the car, that nice BMW that Fletcher owns? It's got all flat tires, it's got scrapes all over the black surface… four lines in a row all around the car. Like clawmarks? And some crude stickfigures, hard to see the exact details. It's a bit dark, but there's some street lamps to illuminate a little.

Two of those people are probably familiar. Audgrim and Eddie. The short woman? Maybe not so much, depending.

"I was just going to ask if you'd be willing to keep tabs on her. But I'll see about having her 'win' a month of free training a couple times a week. It'll keep her coming in so I can keep a closer eye on her." Denver doesn't know what Eddie found, but she trusts him enough to know that if he thinks he has an ace in the hole, he absolutely does. "We leaving seperately or taking your car out of here?"

Audgrim is lazily hovering around, not especially worried about much. He is now cleaning his claws studiously, looking down at them while he does - but he looks up long enough to nod empathically to Denver and Eddie. "We look after her. I go be outside her place at night, when I can."

The beat up '79 Buick Skylark that pulls up in front of the lavish residence sure as hell doesn't look like it belongs to one of the residents of this particular neighborhood. But it surely would look familiar to at least a couple of those exiting the Fletcher home. And if the car itself didn't ring any bells, the mustache on the face of the man getting out -certainly- would. Lt. Harris' usual scowl darkens when he spies the state of the BMW. "What the -hell-?" he growls softly, taking in the details and… stick figures. His gaze snaps to the house, spotting the three exiting. His spine straightens, tension snapping into his stance as he glances furtively up and down the street. He turns his steps in their direction. "Mr. Brundle," he growls. "We really gotta stop meetin' like this." Audgrim is given a nod as well. "Audgrim. Drag any furniture outta any rivers, lately?" Lastly, his gaze settles on Denver. Eyes go wide. "-You-!" He looks between all three, then back over his shoulder at the ruined Beamer. "Was that you guys?" he asks, hooking his thumb over his shoulder. Then, he pauses. His face pales a bit. "Fletcher… he ain't one o' -Them-, is he?!" Poor Jim, he's starting to see Kidnappers in every shadow now. Or fancy upscale houses, for that matter.

"I can do that, too. The more eyes the better, at least for a while," Eddie says. He fishes into his coat for a cigarette now that he's back outside, doing the thumbnail trick with a match, and he's about to answer Denver's question when Harris rolls up and changes his mind for him. "Seperately," he decides, right then. "You'd better make with the getaway. We'll handle this." He takes a step forward and grins a friendly grin at cop. "Like what? By accident? You could always make an appointment, I'm sure you people have my card." He looks back over his shoulder at the Fletcher residence and makes a face, a disgusted by the idea that he could be one of them. "No, just your average every day piece of shit." He's notably mum on the question of whether or not they had anything to do with the car.

Of all the things for Denver to focus on, her head is snapping towards Grim first. "Why are you dragging furniture out of the river? There's nice stuff in the apartment now!" Just like a woman. Even scary volcanic ones that just flattened a man inside his own home. Her chin snaps up, eyes drifting right back towards Harris when he says 'you' like that. She offers her most innocent smile, which isn't very convincing, before heading Eddie's words of warning. "It's a pleasure to meet you too, sir. But I'm afraid I'm late for an important meeting. Another time, yeah? Yeah." She glances between the other Lost, giving Grim's hand a quick squeeze before she starts to head off down the road and away from questions.

Up closer, the stickfigure claw marks are as follows: A text reading FLETCER IS ASHOLE (yes, it is misspelled) with a stickfigure of what must be Fletcher underneath, very unflattering with giant feet and oogly eyes and a big nose and a, uhm, very small penis. Then the other art-work is a stickfigure man getting beaten up by a tiny girl. Above the man it reads FLETCHER and above the girl it reads GIRL BEATING YOU.

Audgrim's eyes shift when Harris comes up to the trio and he moves to kind of block the view of Denver. "I found a couch, an iron bed, a washing machine…" he lists, since he was directly asked. "No more sticks and stones. I find sticks and stones in refrigerator," he tells Denver. "I tell you all later." Squeezes her hand right back and smiles brightly at her, before she leaves. Even though Harris can't see his claws, he slides his hands slowly behind his back and folds them there, rolling on the soles of his feet. Very innocently. He didn't do it. "Why are /you/ here?" he instead asks Harris. They got a perfectly fine reason, but what's his?

Jim's scowl darkens as Denver goes to take her leave. "Hey, now wait a sec—" And there she goes, before he can make a move to stop her. "-Shit-!" he snarls, looking back at Eddie and Audgrim. "Look. Every time one o' you guys show up, -somethin'- weird, or creepy, or evil winds up happenin' to me." He gestures at the house behind them. "Not that it's any business o' -yours-, but I -was- supposed to be keepin' an eye on Fletcher." He pauses, hand still upraised to indicate the house. "Wait. He one o' -you- guys? Was -he- Taken too?" One can almost hear the capital T in Taken. So he's at least learned that the Lost and the Keepers are not the same bunch, even if he's had to invent his own terms for them.

Taken? Oh, boy. Eddie didn't know they knew about all of that, and his face goes serious for a second, studying Harris. Well, he shrugs, nothing to be done about it. Not right now, anyway. "No," he answers, simple and definitive. "He's just the regular kind of monster. Nothing special about him at all. How much do you know about the guy?" He knows enough about everything else, apparently.

"He beat his wife," Audgrim says - he's much more prone to blurt out information than Eddie is, and besides, he rather trusts Harris. Sort of. His green eyes narrow at the thought and his grin is not the kind one, as he contemplates Fletcher. "Don't think he beat his wife any more. Or any woman." It's all so simple for Audgrim. "What about the sticks and stones?" he asks instead - he was happy to hand that over to the Bureau, and hasn't been in touch afterwards, but now he remembers to ask.

Jim looks between Eddie and Audgrim. The latter in particular gets a -look-. "You -killed- 'im?" he says. He looks towards the sky, lifting a hand to rub at his face. "Jesus fuckin' Christ," he mutters heavily. Hefting a gusty sigh, he looks back to the two. "We didn't know much. Just that there was some things not addin' up. He smelled dirty, so I was supposed to be keepin' an eye on 'im." He scowls darkly. "An' yeah, from what I hear, the guy's a Grade-A asshole." He shoots a look past Eddie and Audgrim, towards the door of the residence. "-Fuck-," he mutters. He shakes his head, waving the two away from the house. "C'mon. Let's not be talkin' here on the walkway." He turns to head back towards his car, pinching the bridge of his nose as he goes. How's he gonna explain -this- one?

"If you don't learn when to shut up," Eddie says to Audgrim, "one day I'm going to have to shoot you." His tone is conversational, even genial. There's no heat to it. He doesn't seem to be joking, though, either. He goes to follow Harris toward the Skylark, eyeing the battered monstrosity with some appreciation. It's a classic, as far as he's concerned. "We didn't kill anybody, don't get your mustache in a twist," he says, shaking loose another nasty little cigarette out of his pack of Panamas and holding it out on offer, "just taught him a thing or two about modern gender politics."

Audgrim looks suitably mortified when Harris thinks they killed Fletcher - and then suitably chastised when Eddie reminds him he should shut up. "Don't talk to cops," he murmurs, and slaps his own cheek hard. He trails along, shooting one satisfied look at the mutilated vehicle. "He beat his wife, he is lawyer, always got away with it." He said A, he might as well say B. "We will look after her."

Jim leads the two back to stand by his old Skylark. And thought it is beaten and battered, it's well maintained. He's already digging his pack of Winstons when Eddie offers out a smoke. Without thinking, he takes the cigarette and puts it in his mouth. "Thanks," he grunts. He digs his Zippo out of his pocket and thumbs it open to light up his smoke. He looks back to the two as he snaps the lighter shut. He visibly relaxes when both Eddie and Audgrim deny killing Fletcher. "Thank God," he says, letting loose a gust of smoke. He nods towards the house. "Probably woulda wound up beatin' his ass myself. So… good on you guys." He pauses to indulge in a pull off his smoke, the cherry glowing hotly for a moment. "Felicia," he says as he lets the smoke loose. "She's not really Felicia. She's one o' those… those -things-. Those fakes, those dolls, whatever you call it." He looks between the two. "She sure as hell don't look like a bunch o' sticks n' stones."

"She wouldn't," Eddie says. He doesn't know who Felicia is, but he can guess what Harris is getting at. So they know about that part, too? Of course they do. He takes a drag off his reeking cigarette to supress a groan. "She's not. Not anymore, not until," he pulls an imaginary noose around his neck and bugs out his eyes. "The walk the same and talk the same. Sometimes they even dream the same dreams. If they're a good job there's not much difference at all, really." Go figure how he knows what anybody dreams, but he seems to be speaking from personal experience on all of this. "Who is she to you?"

"Fakes," Audgrim mutters, moving in to peek into Harris' car curiously - he's missed a lot of cars, being gone as long as he was. But he realises this one is old compared to today's vehicles, so he's curious, walking around it. Thankfully he makes no show of wanting to maul this vehicle too. He gets an odd expression, like he's remembering something, glancing at Eddie; no doubt thinking about his past. And his own fetch. He rubs a temple, because he's supressed it all like Eddie suggested, once he realised his old life is over, forever. To distract himself, he takes out another chocolate bar. Food always helps.

Jim glances over at Audgrim as he starts circling his car. But it doesn't appear that he's going to start slashing tires or keying the sides. Instead, he looks back to Eddie. "Felicia Schwartz was… -is-… an officer on the PAPD," he says. "Her an' Shawn Miller were both Taken." He draws another deep breath. "I… I think I found the… door, the portal, whatever the hell it is… where they came back. It…" He shakes his head. "That place… it ain't… -here-. It ain't Earth, it's nothin' like here. An' there's so many people over there." He looks back to Eddie. "But I was able to reach Shawn. -His- copy is dead. Felicia… the fake one, she killed it. She -knows- what she is. Are they supposed to -know-?"

"There'll be one more over there, if you keep poking around weird doors," Eddie says, kind of quietly. It's not a threat, it's a warning, and it too sounds like something pulled from personal experience. "Cops aren't safe. Nobody is, and the more you poke around the more you get Their attention. I keep telling you people." He breathes out a smoke-filled sigh and tosses what's left of his cigarette onto the ground and crushes it out under his heel. "And no, they're not, but they don't always end up how they're supposed to. Sometimes they find out. Sometimes they go bad. Keep an eye on her, I guess, but she might have did you a favor, I don't know what Miller was up to."

Though Harris can't see it, to Eddie that tail going up straight and going perfectly still is a sign of predator thinking of prey. Audgrim tears a large chunk of chewy chocolate bar off and chews, glaring at Harris a bit. "Fakes should die. Why is she not dead." Yeah, that 'shut up thing' didn't last very long, did it. Audgrim has no concept of the longer plan, like Harris has. "Yes, told you. /Don't go through doors/. Though sometimes they take you. I did not go through door. I fell in water." He scratches the side of his neck, and his tail start swinging again as he gets distracted by his own thoughts. "Doors everywhere."

Jim scowls darkly. "I didn't put the badge on for free coffee n' donuts," he grumbles. "I put it on to keep people safe. From themselves -an'- from those -Things-. Somebody's gotta do somethin'. An' I ain't gonna just stand aside an' let these motherfuckers play body-snatcher just because I -might- get hurt." He takes another hefty pull off his smoke, looking back at Audgrim. His scowl darkens further when he asks why not-Felicia isn't dead. "Because. The -real- Felicia is still in there," he growls. "An' if this fake doll has some kinda connection to her, then -maybe- we can find a way to get 'er back." He doesn't mention his other extra-curricular activities with not-Felicia. No need for them to know about that little detail.

"These aren't a bunch of cheap gangsters we're talking about," Eddie says, his lip curling into a sneer, "or even some creep with knives and duct tape and a nickname in the papers. You might as well try and arrest Global Warming, or bring a tornado up on charges. Sometimes there's no keeping people safe. There's just picking up the pieces." It's a bitter subject for him, and he doesn't bother hiding it. He rubs his temple with one hand and tries to shake it off, but he's only half successful. "I can't stop you people doing whatever you're going to do, but if you go through one of those doors odds are you're not coming back. You got lucky once before. Don't count on it happening twice. That's my free advice, for the day."

Audgrim understands Harris. He understands Eddie too. But he nods respectfully at the cop, studying him thoughtfully now. "Something happen - call me. I will come help," he promises, conceding Harris' idea about the fetch and offering his skills up, not one to admonish another for wanting to save people, when he feels the same way himself. "That door should be closed, Jim. Forever."

Jim takes a last pull off his smoke, tossing it down and grinding it out under his heel. "Y'know… I know I ain't exactly Mother Teresa," he says. "But I really do think that all evil needs to triumph is for good men to do nothin'. Well. I ain't a good man. But I ain't gonna do nothin'. Even if it's impossible." He shakes his head. "Just 'cause we don't know -how- to do it don't mean it can't be done. An' if they come after -me-? Well. I'm gonna make 'em -work- for it." He looks over to Audgrim and nods. "Once we get Shawn an' Felicia back… an' anyone else we can… then I'm all for blowin' it to hell."

Audgrim eyes the cigarette like he wants one, but he eats chocolate instead. Least it's chocolate and not a half rotten rat or something. "We do things many ways Jim, but we all try to keep the Others away." Audgrim has his own words for Keepers, Fetches and the Fairie. He never really bothered with the right terminology, and now he throws more words into the mix for Harris to use if he wants. "Sometimes hiding is best. Sometimes fighting." He mulls something over, shifting his feet, then offers a grin. "We will get them back. There is always a way, you are right."

Eddie spots Audgrim eyeballing the smokes and goes to offer him one, until he starts talking. Then it goes away again, spitefully. "My friend here is an idiot," he advises the detective. "He's new. He doesn't know what he's talking about. Your pals will make it back under their own steam, if they get the chance, and the remember enough. Or they won't come back at all. That happens, too, maybe more than the other thing." He lights up that smoke he was going to give to Audgrim and takes a drag and blows it out, watching it disappear. "I had a badge, too, once. I even had some of your same stupid ideas about it. Now some other guy has it, who's almost as handsome as I am. But you go ahead and stumble around and see where it gets you, and I'll watch and see if the next you is any smarter."

Jim grunts as he digs into his shirt pocket for his pack of Winstons. "Trust me," he mutters. "I seen plenty o' terrible shit. Stuff that'd make even -you- guys puke. There's plenty o' monsters right here, on -our- side." He thumbs open his pack and shakes a cigarette out, taking a moment to get it lit. "I don't do it 'cause I wanna be a saint. Or 'cause I'm some kinda hero," he says. "If you wore the badge, then you know. There's gonna come a time when you -will- abuse that power. I do it all the time. Like I said… I ain't Mother Teresa." He sets his free hand on his hip, regarding Eddie with a stern glower. "But I also ain't like -those- twisted bastards out there," he says. "An' knowin' that they's pullin' the same air that I am makes me -sick-. So don't go thinkin' I'm some knight in shinin' armor, buddy. I ain't. I'm the motherfuckin' Orkin Man."

Audgrim reached a hand out for a cigarette, only to have it snatched away. He glowers at Eddie, but seem mostly upset about the lack of nicotine, not so much what he is called. He's been called worse by his friend, it's part of their whole dynamic. "He got Felicia Fake. He say he reach through to Miller. Gate is there…" He's always trying to shine the light of hope on people when things seem impossible. When Harris explains his nature, he looks the man over and says cheerfully. "I have armor soon. Maybe it will be shining." Audgrim, despite trying to at times, makes for a terrible anti-hero.

Eddie snorts a laugh, at that part about abusing the badge. "Brother, that's the whole reason I got into the business," he says, his spirits weirdly buoyed. "You say you managed to reach them, somehow? One of those tricks you guys have, huh?" He holds two fingers to his temple, like Professor X. He dealt with the Bureau some, a long time ago, and he knows the kind of people they recruit. "Try reminding them of something. Something they can follow back. That's the key, and it's your best bet, if you could call it that." He looks back over his shoulder at the Fletcher residence, and he makes a face. "That asshole's going to wake up, soon. I'd better get going. For what it's worth, I hope they don't get you. I really do."

Jim glances at Audgrim as he goes to put his Winstons back in his pocket. He pauses, then shakes another cigarette out, offering it to the man. "We're gonna get 'em back," he growls. "They got two of our own. That shit ain't gonna fly with me." He glances back to Eddie. He grunts softly at the Prof impersonation. "Yeah. Somethin' like that," he says. "An' I did. I told 'im 'bout his wife an' kid. I think… I hope it'll be enough. He knows he can come back, he just gotta get away." It's about this time that his phone starts buzzing in his pocket. He digs it out and peers at the screen. "Hang on a sec, I gotta take this." He thumbs the screen, and just like that, it's like a switch was flipped. A smile creases his features, and his tone gentles. "Hey babe, what's up?" He listens, smoking quietly for a second, and then nods. "Yeah, I can do that. Want me to pick up some dinner on the way there? My treat." He listens, then chuckles softly. "Okay, honey. See ya soon." He kills the call and looks back up. "That's my cue." He glances between the two. "Look. We're on the same side. We -both- hate the Kidnappers for our… own reasons. I get that. Besides, my boss thinks you guys are okay, so… I'm willin' to trust you. For now." He goes to head back to his car. "I'll letcha know if anything develops," he says. "Walk safe out there, yeah?" So saying, he saddles up in his Skylark and starts it up. Heading back to the less prosperous parts of down in search of some take-out. Like Felicia herself, his relationship with her is entirely fake. But, it's nice to pretend it isn't. Like Felicia herself.

"They'll come back," Audgrim repeats, sometimes stuck like a broken record. Maybe he tries to talk himself into hoping, when he does that. He accepts the cigarette with a grin, and lights it up after finding some matches in a pocket, puffing happily on it while lookina at Harris. "Yeah, time to go." However, before he lopes off, he rushes across the road, punches claws into the front of the BMW and rips lose the BMW logo of the vehicle, pocketing it; some very obvious weird clawmarks leaving holes. He grins over at the cop and then slinks off in a shadow, sort of just melting away - not invisible, but those shadows seem to congeal around him.

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