Starring:
Date: October 17, 2009
Summary:
Matt hits the streets looking for another lead on the recent wave of kidnappings.
"Look Within"
Brooklyn
Kevin, 'Irish Kevin', as he is known by those that know, has recently been fired from his position as bartender for, allegedly, sending particularly wasted customers to get clipped by a couple of confederates up the street. Nothing could be proven, of course, and he skated again, as he always seems to when fingers point at him. These days he can be found busing tables at a dingy diner primarily frequented by pimps needing a place to count their cash and druggies who like the dollar-eighty-nine scrambled egg and coffee deal. At the moment he is sweeping out the alleyway, whistling with the cheerful confidence of someone who knows that any setbacks are merely temporary on what will no doubt be his inevitable rise to the top. According to rumors, he's been digging around the sudden and recent disappearances of a few street and crime figures who might, maybe, have had just a touch of the supernatural about them, if you believe the rumors. Kevin believes, of course, or so they say. He believes in all that stuff.
Matt believes in all that stuff, too, and for good reason: he is that stuff, and so is his sort-of-daughter, who disappeared herself for a few days. Since then, he's been in touch with half a dozen others, gotten a rough idea of the big picture. Also, he apparently has a son, but it's hard to feel an emotional bond with a kid that until recently you assumed was the spawn of your ex-wife and your ex-boss. Anyway, while the timer counts down to Rebel's strike date, Matt is using what free time he has to chase after any remaining leads he can find. A slice of apple pie and a twenty-dollar tip later, he's directed back outside and around to the alley, squinting to get a better look at things.
Kevin is back there pushing a broom around, cigarette butts and a couple of free zines swirling around. He grins at Matt. Looks at him closely. Then he drops the broom and begins to backpedal. Matt knows that backpedal. It comes before running.
Why do they always run? If this was a normal bust, then Matt would go ahead and run the perp down on foot - despite his age and build, he can still maintain a pretty quick pace. But this situation calls for keeping things quiet, and so he turns his head ever so slightly: the flash of base instinct that he sends toward Kevin might be verbalized as Don't run - this guy is cool. Or maybe Don't run - this guy will shoot you where you stand, depending.
Kevin seems to relax. Matt is cool. So he is cool. Kevin's brain is sharp but not bright, like an obsidian knife. He's easily lulled but not easily gulled. "Hey there, officer." he says. "I help you with something?"
Matt nods to Kevin. See, he really is cool after all. "There's been some kidnappings lately," he explains, getting right to the point. "Rumor going around that you might have some information." A brief pause, watching for a first reaction.
Kevin says, cautiously, "Kidnappings? Well maybe. You know, someone goes missing maybe they just ran off. Maybe they owed someone some money and they didn't want to pay, so they took a train. Are you investigating them? Was there some kinda report or somethin'?"
A train. Ha ha. "Could be, but we figure at least some of them got grabbed, we're trying to grab them back before anyone catches on. Now if you were to pass anything along…" Reaching into a pocket, he withdraws a card for a nearby dry cleaners, but with an extra number handwritten on the back. "Well, I'm sure we could make it worth your while." If nothing else, they can look the other way next time Kevin pulls something small-time.
Kevin says, "Who's 'we' exactly? I mean, maybe you're in it with them. Some theory is that the cops are behind it. Maybe someone saw a SWAT type dude hanging around looking like he's about to serve someone a warrant." awfully cautiously.
Matt leans forward again— not to use his ability, just to shoot Kevin a death glare. "They took my daughter." And then let her go, but that's none of this guy's business. "Still wanna tell me this is a police sting?"
Kevin says, taking a step back, his voice quavering, "Your daughter? She one of those mutant superpower types too? Crazy, that's crazy man. Look, from what I hear you ought to be looking in-house, then. I'm not saying it's cops, but if it's not, cops are gonna know about it. Someone has to make sure if anyone calls 911 it doesn't go anywhere, right? I mean, if there's a ruckus." Kevin is used to having information squeezed from him. He's good at it.
Declining to answer Kevin's question, Matt instead mulls over the theory he tosses out. It does make some sense, the black ops budget could probably bankroll a mole in a particularly large city. "Yeah, you might be on to something there." He'll have to see who's been following up on the local cases. "All right, I should go, but if you hear anything else—" He sets the card down somewhere nearby, tapping it for emphasis, then leaves it for Kevin to pick up.
Kevin picks it up dutifully. "Oh…okay man. Hey so. So your kid, can she like fly or something? Because…because that would be cool?" he says to Matt's departing back. "That would be cool." He looks around and tucks the card away. "Wouldn't have to ride the bus to school or anything." he says, to himself, starting to sweep again. That's Irish Kevin. World shattering events happening all around him and he's enthused about not paying busfare.
Matt shakes his head. "Yeah, and when she's older, she and her boyfriend won't need to call a cab." Let him watch the skies for junior high students if it makes him feel better. "I'll see you around."