i'm not crazy, i'm just a little unwell...
Apr. 4th, 2017 10:44 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
little_bear"For the last time, Dulac--"
The towering man in the too cramped office continued to pace back and forth, a slow path from one side of the six foot space to the other...
Until he cut off his superior by slamming a fist through the edge of his solid wood desk.
"...you on something, Detective?"
Ellis Dulac didn't answer. Instead, he just stood there, letting the edges of his vision turn red and the wild snarling in the back of his mind roar and snap for a while. Letting the monster just under his skin run amok wasn't the hard part--no, that was easy. He could see the giant black bear clear as day, a film of glossy fur and giant claws overlaid over his own fist (hallucination, man, you gotta keep it together), and it was easy to lift that film off him and let it go crazy. Roar, snap, snarl, growl, rip at a few throats with its spectral hands until it tired itself out. That was easy.
The hard part was making sure the stupid fucking furball did it silently. Not like this, not where people could see.
"I pissed clean for the shrink last week." he finally assured his captain once he knew he could straighten up safely, prevent that hazy vision from turning solid and real and actually ripping out his superior's guts all across the desk...desk full of paperwork and permits and permutations of the evidence--
He shut his eyes, giving himself a chance to absorb it all. It was the one advantage to the thing that had been done to him, on both ends--not the bite, the bite was bullshit. The bite was a fucking crock that could have cost him everything--no, the plus came from the other thing, the one that started last year and forced him to ask Big Brother for the magic auntie's phone number. She didn't know him from Adam, not really, but she'd been helpful. And hot, that was a plus.
Curse of the Furies, she'd called it, during his three month sabbatical after that shoot gone wrong. Vengeance against the crown of Camelot-at-Avalon, old buddy of Mab that didn't like the Lady or her King. Drip by drop, he'd lose his mind until they had to pull an Old Yeller--hell, Lance would probably have to do it his own self.
He still wasn't sure if Nimue kept her word, kept this secret from Lance or not. She'd let him go, made him promise to return if he hurt somebody--probably had him watched, too.
Then he went to Vegas for a week, went running out in the desert to burn off the voices and the visions and the bloodlust--and a goddamn dancing fucking bear thought it would be fun to Hannibal Lecter his ass. I ate his liver with fava beans and a nice Chianti...
Ellis blinked, then shook his head. He could feel his thoughts rattling around in his skull, and thank fucking God they landed in the right spot this time. He'd always had sharp eyes, it was what made him a good sniper, and good perception let him know if he could take the shot or not--but his trigger finger, he was all twitchy now. Couldn't shoot, couldn't work, but now his brain was flexible. That was the good part--it bent in ways other people's didn't, and crazy was good for that.
He hadn't gotten worse since the bite. That was five, six months ago, and not even Nimue knew (unless she was having him followed, probably having him followed, good on her for leaving him the fuck alone) so he was good. Things were solid, five by five--he made detective because he could solve cases with his bugnuts gonzo brain. Couldn't go back to SWAT, but he could play around with puzzles. Do some good.
Like the homicidal chick in their interrogation room, saying dick didley to his idiot partner. She'd killed three guys in the last year, her Maybelline prints were all over the fucking thing but no one else could see it. The one photo was three blocks away, that hot little snapshot on a traffic cam three blocks from the first killing, and of fucking course she was in town for the second one, six miles away--and the third she'd been in another state.
But he knew. He could see, something fuzzy and weird and spread out all across the situation, and it screamed supernatural.
"Cap," he began, keeping his head down so he could get the words out, and in the right order, with the right deference, "I'm tellin' you. Gimme five minutes, off the record, and not only will I get a confession? I'll bring her a fucking soda and danish, she'll look better comin' out than she did goin' in. Lookit my record, Cap. The facts, you gotta bend with 'em, y'know? I can see where others can't, I solve cases. Let me solve this one."
A beat.
"...please."
Jesus, that hurt...
Twenty minutes later, Ellis was walking into the interrogation room. For a second he just stared at the striking brunette sitting at the table--traffic cam didn't do her tits justice. She had nice eyes, too.
Glancing up, then right, then left, he bounced lightly on the balls of his feet, hands jittering as he toyed with a file and approached the table.
Camera was off. Mics were dead, he could hear 'em.
He stood behind the chair across from the woman--then abruptly spun, flicked a cord, and drew the blinds on the two-way mirror behind him. Slowly, he spun on his heel until he was facing her again.
"No ears." he assured her. "No eyes...just you, me, and three dead bodies to explain. So..."
He trailed off, spreading his hands--an invitation to confess, as if now it was a given that she would.
...hey, he could get lucky.
Maybe.
The towering man in the too cramped office continued to pace back and forth, a slow path from one side of the six foot space to the other...
Until he cut off his superior by slamming a fist through the edge of his solid wood desk.
"...you on something, Detective?"
Ellis Dulac didn't answer. Instead, he just stood there, letting the edges of his vision turn red and the wild snarling in the back of his mind roar and snap for a while. Letting the monster just under his skin run amok wasn't the hard part--no, that was easy. He could see the giant black bear clear as day, a film of glossy fur and giant claws overlaid over his own fist (hallucination, man, you gotta keep it together), and it was easy to lift that film off him and let it go crazy. Roar, snap, snarl, growl, rip at a few throats with its spectral hands until it tired itself out. That was easy.
The hard part was making sure the stupid fucking furball did it silently. Not like this, not where people could see.
"I pissed clean for the shrink last week." he finally assured his captain once he knew he could straighten up safely, prevent that hazy vision from turning solid and real and actually ripping out his superior's guts all across the desk...desk full of paperwork and permits and permutations of the evidence--
He shut his eyes, giving himself a chance to absorb it all. It was the one advantage to the thing that had been done to him, on both ends--not the bite, the bite was bullshit. The bite was a fucking crock that could have cost him everything--no, the plus came from the other thing, the one that started last year and forced him to ask Big Brother for the magic auntie's phone number. She didn't know him from Adam, not really, but she'd been helpful. And hot, that was a plus.
Curse of the Furies, she'd called it, during his three month sabbatical after that shoot gone wrong. Vengeance against the crown of Camelot-at-Avalon, old buddy of Mab that didn't like the Lady or her King. Drip by drop, he'd lose his mind until they had to pull an Old Yeller--hell, Lance would probably have to do it his own self.
He still wasn't sure if Nimue kept her word, kept this secret from Lance or not. She'd let him go, made him promise to return if he hurt somebody--probably had him watched, too.
Then he went to Vegas for a week, went running out in the desert to burn off the voices and the visions and the bloodlust--and a goddamn dancing fucking bear thought it would be fun to Hannibal Lecter his ass. I ate his liver with fava beans and a nice Chianti...
Ellis blinked, then shook his head. He could feel his thoughts rattling around in his skull, and thank fucking God they landed in the right spot this time. He'd always had sharp eyes, it was what made him a good sniper, and good perception let him know if he could take the shot or not--but his trigger finger, he was all twitchy now. Couldn't shoot, couldn't work, but now his brain was flexible. That was the good part--it bent in ways other people's didn't, and crazy was good for that.
He hadn't gotten worse since the bite. That was five, six months ago, and not even Nimue knew (unless she was having him followed, probably having him followed, good on her for leaving him the fuck alone) so he was good. Things were solid, five by five--he made detective because he could solve cases with his bugnuts gonzo brain. Couldn't go back to SWAT, but he could play around with puzzles. Do some good.
Like the homicidal chick in their interrogation room, saying dick didley to his idiot partner. She'd killed three guys in the last year, her Maybelline prints were all over the fucking thing but no one else could see it. The one photo was three blocks away, that hot little snapshot on a traffic cam three blocks from the first killing, and of fucking course she was in town for the second one, six miles away--and the third she'd been in another state.
But he knew. He could see, something fuzzy and weird and spread out all across the situation, and it screamed supernatural.
"Cap," he began, keeping his head down so he could get the words out, and in the right order, with the right deference, "I'm tellin' you. Gimme five minutes, off the record, and not only will I get a confession? I'll bring her a fucking soda and danish, she'll look better comin' out than she did goin' in. Lookit my record, Cap. The facts, you gotta bend with 'em, y'know? I can see where others can't, I solve cases. Let me solve this one."
A beat.
"...please."
Jesus, that hurt...
Twenty minutes later, Ellis was walking into the interrogation room. For a second he just stared at the striking brunette sitting at the table--traffic cam didn't do her tits justice. She had nice eyes, too.
Glancing up, then right, then left, he bounced lightly on the balls of his feet, hands jittering as he toyed with a file and approached the table.
Camera was off. Mics were dead, he could hear 'em.
He stood behind the chair across from the woman--then abruptly spun, flicked a cord, and drew the blinds on the two-way mirror behind him. Slowly, he spun on his heel until he was facing her again.
"No ears." he assured her. "No eyes...just you, me, and three dead bodies to explain. So..."
He trailed off, spreading his hands--an invitation to confess, as if now it was a given that she would.
...hey, he could get lucky.
Maybe.
no subject
Date: 2017-04-04 06:51 pm (UTC)Folding her hands together, she continued to stare dead ahead at the two-way window while silently cursing Georgie Lacroix out. Not that anyone would know how restless she was feeling, itching at the seams to get out and away from the box. She wanted to laugh at the people who thought they had caught her too. Who thought that they had her in here against her will.
No, she was right where she wanted to be because it would give her a chance to see the bear in his den. It would allow her to see him dealing with the mundanes and how well he was doing it. He could fake it anywhere else but here would be a true test to his skill and power.
Then, when she got out, she would let Georgie know what her verdict was and it would be decided whether she would put the bear down or not.
She was still mulling it over when she caught a hint of his scent and heard his footfalls approaching the door. He would find her gaze focused on him, zeroed in, the second he stepped in and shut the door. She would continue to watch him with an impassive gaze and expression. There was nothing that would give him a clue as to what she was thinking or feeling. No wave of emotion or scent. Nothing.
She knew how much it irritated her prey and other supernatural beings when they couldn't get a bead on her but that was the point. That little skill kept her cloaked and protected.
"Which three bodies are those again?" Her voice was soft and lilting but again...devoid of emotion.
no subject
Date: 2017-04-04 07:23 pm (UTC)He grinned at that--flat out smiled, broad and bright and just a little too free--just over the wrong side of rogueish, a warning rather than a display of charm.
Then he laughed: quiet, cheerful, and dangerous--a bubbly little chuckle as he dropped his gaze and shook his head. It was nothing he had control over, it just happened, that much was obvious to the observer--but it had the added benefit of letting him breathe, taste the air with the kick ass new senses he got from turning.
...and he got nothing.
His head snapped up when he realized that, and blue eyes that weren't totally focused locked with hers. He stared hard, but his gaze grew no sharper, paying half attention to her, a quarter attention to the chaotic thoughts swirling in his head, and another quarter to the animal inside, the bitchy little fucker he could never leave completely alone.
Especially now, because now--now there was a problem, because the madness was getting worse.
Today, that furry little shit was actually talking to him. With a voice. And words.
Mine.
"The ones you were around for." he pointed out, advancing on the chair across from her. He wrapped his hands around the back of it, holding on as if that grip was the same as the one on his sanity, on the free-form thought process not even he understood, the one that would bring answers and convictions and clarity. "Don't jerk me around, Rirchardson, 'cause Yogi Bear's got his sights set on your pic-i-nic basket."
He reached up to tap the side of his nose, then point to her for emphasis.
"You were there." he continued. "All three of 'em. You were there."
He paused, blinked, then shook his head hard. His thoughts were heavy blocks, rattling and rolling and it actually kinda hurt--until they went plop. Rattled as they filled the holes they were shaped for, each one of them. It was kind of different, too, like looking down a scope at his next target.
"Hang on, don't move." he muttered, shoving the chair out of the way so he could drop his file folder on the table and start paging through it. The murders, she was there, for all three of them. Months working this case, and he hadn't seen it before now--or saw, and didn't realize...
Bitch traveled constantly. All over the damn country, she traveled over half the year--and she'd been there, in town.
For every single murder. He just had to confirm the credit card statements he'd pulled...
He was so absorbed in what he was doing, he didn't realize the chair he'd shoved off to the side had flown so abruptly and hit so hard that the back of the chair was now lodged in the wall, having punctured through the drywall thanks to his strength.
no subject
Date: 2017-04-05 01:50 am (UTC)She fell quiet then, watching him as he tapped the side of his nose after telling her not to jerk him around. Wetting her lips a little, she drew in a breath through her nose before leaning against the table. Every sign that she gave him, every reaction she gave, was measured and meant to happen. She wanted to see what he would draw from it all and how he would react. It would tell her how aware he was of his surroundings.
Then he was telling her not to move and she arched a brow at him as she wondered what he was thinking. She paid no mind to the files, choosing instead to follow the path of the chair as it flew across the room and collided with the wall. It was a shame and also a strike against him. She let out a little breath again, just a whisper as she shifted her handcuffed hands to her lap. She shifted her weight to cover the noise (even to his ears) of metal whispering against metal, using a spell and the distraction to cover her handcuffs coming undone.
no subject
Date: 2017-04-05 03:13 am (UTC)Mine.
He heard the word, but it was so unobtrusive and serene that it was more of a feeling--one that made him shut his eyes for a second and roll his neck, luxuriating in the moment of stillness in his head with a low, trilling growl of pleasure that was definitely not human.
"Lady, I don't know what your deal is, but for a homicidal maniac? You're a good influence on shifters like me." he murmured before he went back to work.
He didn't look up again until he had the credit card reports he needed, and when he did, his gaze was a little more focused--and his victorious little smile showed that the mention was deliberate.
"Oh, I'm sorry." he apologized with mock regret. "Did I--did I give you the impression I went dark in here to intimidate you? You're a human killin' shapeshifters, and my case is iron clad."
Shaking out the papers in his hands, he circled the table, focused totally on her face as he slapped them down in front of her.
"You bought plane tickets into town, killed those people, then flew right back outta town when it was all done. I gotta dot all the 'i's and cross all the 't's on some of it, you're down with the supernatural...but I got enough for a warrant with the right judge. All's you gotta do is help me with the rest, and I can make sure you don't get life without parole. Bonus points if you tell me why, and how, y'know? 'Cause bein' one of these guys? Call me crazy, but I kinda take it personally..."
no subject
Date: 2017-04-05 03:28 am (UTC)She remained quiet as he continued, straightening again when he slapped some papers down in front of her after coming around to her side. Not that she looked. She chose to keep her eyes on him since he was as close as he was, pushing into her personal space even as he claimed that he wasn't there to intimidate her.
"You're wrong." She replied slowly. "You don't have a case. You can try to nail me to the wall but it isn't going to happen. You also certainly don't have enough to hold me, so you can either let me go or you can get me a lawyer which means you will never have a chance to find out the truth. Your choice."
Then her voice dropped to a lower note. "But if want to know what's really going on, you will let me go and meet me off the book. Away from here."
no subject
Date: 2017-04-05 04:11 am (UTC)"Like I said, I'm a shifter. What's more? I been doin' this on the fly since I got bit, so my control ain't great." he explained. "Add to that the fact that I'm fucking crazy, and meetin' you in the eyes of the law's my only option. I can do dark, I get loud or bloody someone's gonna come save your ass, but you take me too far off the reservation? You take me off book, away from here--I'm gonna kill ya. I'll kill ya, and it'll be fun, 'cause you're hunting my kind like dogs and it pisses me off."
He paused, blinking a little as the words tumbled out of his mouth. He hadn't realized that fact until he said it, and needed a second to feel that it was true.
Shaking it off, he refocused on her.
"So how 'bout you save me the headache and stay right here." he drawled, chewing on his tongue thoughtfully. "Been lucky enough not to have killed anyone yet, I wanna keep my streak up."
no subject
Date: 2017-04-05 04:18 am (UTC)Which she was.
"On a scale of one to ten, how close are you to actually killing someone?" She knew there was a good chance that the casual question would set him off but she was ready for it. He could get loud or bloody before anyone came rushing in but he was in for a nasty surprise if he thought that it was going to be easy. He thought she was human and he didn't know how wrong he was.
no subject
Date: 2017-04-05 04:30 am (UTC)He blinked, shaking his head briskly and reaching up to dig the heels of his hands into his eyes. He drew a breath and let Big Furry scream in his head for a moment, snap and snarl and roar at the big mouthed threat in front of him.
"Depends," he replied, his voice dropping an octave with an animal growl, "does suicide count?"
no subject
Date: 2017-04-05 04:33 am (UTC)Her words were soft and almost rushed before she looked at him again. "But it doesn't matter, does it? Your time is up and you don't have a confession. I would like a lawyer now since I have nothing more to say."
no subject
Date: 2017-04-05 06:40 pm (UTC)Ohhhhhh, fuck.
His head tipped, his thoughts rattled, and another point coalesced in his vision.
"You're here for me, aren't you?" he murmured. "Nimue fucking sent you, didn't she?"
He rolled his neck, let that rattle to and fro...and then thought of his brother. Nah, no one Sir Lance knew could be all bad, even if she had stabbed him in the back. It was probably best anyway, right? Get it over, get it done...hell, this bitch worked hard to make her kills look good. The crime scenes were always pretty clean, but grisly as shit.
For a long moment, Ellis stared into the middle distance, at a point just over Emsley's shoulder. He didn't shake, didn't seethe, merely grew very still as he sucked silently on his teeth...and finally something in him gave way, making his shoulders sag and some of that restless energy in him bleed off as he simply nodded.
"Yeah, okay." he murmured. Can't say he blamed Miss Lake for giving him up. Curse couldn't stay stuck forever, could it? The thoughts, dark as they were, came to him with a clarity he appreciated. So he nodded, seemingly to himself, then turned away from Emsley while speaking to her directly.
"Yeah, okay, I'll meet you off book." he relented. "Just gotta promise me you'll remind her 'bout our agreement, 'kay? My brother doesn't know about this--and he especially don't know that Nimue ordered it, alright? That'll fuckin' kill him--so you promise me, or you'll have to take me to the mat kickin' and screamin'."
no subject
Date: 2017-04-19 01:05 am (UTC)"I don't think I know Miss Lake." She said finally, her gaze unreadable as she tilted her head to the side. "Nor have I met your brother, so I won't be telling him anything either."
She waited just a beat before suddenly lifting one uncuffed hand above the table and slipping a small piece of paper across to him. "Meet me at that address at midnight, okay? Then we can have a real talk about what is really going on and I'll give you the answers that you won't get here."
After that, she slid her hand back under the table again.