detectivetroll | [001 | Open Commentlog]

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[001 | Open Commentlog]

[A lot of really strange things have been happening to Nick lately, but he can safely say that somehow getting kidnapped on the walk from his aunt's trailer to his car, without actually seeing anyone or even being aware that he'd been knocked unconscious, was pretty much the last thing he was expecting.

So, of course, it's what apparently happened. At this point, Nick's pretty sure he should just stop not expecting things. As soon as he doesn't expect something, that's when it's going to happen.

He takes a quick stock of the situation - not exactly liking the look of the cell he's ended up in, but at least, for some reason, whoever captured him didn't take the duffelbag full of weapons he'd had with him. A peek in the bag says they're all there, along with his both his Glocks. And a try of the doorknob, which'd been half-hearted at best, because he really hadn't expected it to open, proves to be successful.

See? Never expect things.

His cellphone isn't getting any reception, so Nick shoulders his duffelbag and pulls his gun out from its holster before ducking out into the hallway. If he can manage to sneak his way to a place that gets reception, he can call for Monroe or Hank. Or, better yet, maybe he can just find a way out of here.]

[So, uh, nonhumans, let me know if you don't want Nick to be able to tell that your character isn't human? And also feel free to have any nonhumans be able to sense something strange or dangerous/predatory about Nick!]

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[And while he starts fumbling with the gun, she starts scrambling away. Following the wall.]

[... Unfortunately, the bad pun just brings a bad memory. It's pretty much all Warren's fault that she's panicking this badly.]

I don't know who the fuck you are, but get away from me, and you won't get turned to charcoal.

[Coarse language, even for her, but hey, she's stressed.]

[And now he's even more confused, that she didn't use the distraction as an opportunity to jump him. What the hell is going on? Since when did Angelina actually scramble to get away?]

Isn't playing the amnesia card a little too soap opera for you? If you're hoping I'm going to let my guard down so you can try to kill me again, it's not going to work.

[Also, no, seriously, what the hell. If Blutbaden can do fire tricks like that, Nick is going to have to have a serious talk with Monroe.]

[And of course it would be a dead end. She stops, back to the wall, turning around to face him.]

I don't know you. Why the hell would I want to kill you?

[Is this someone who was after Jacob? Some other crazy wizard? But why would he think she wanted him dead? In 140 years, she's never seen this man before. She's sure of it.]

Right. You don't know me. And next you're going to tell me that you never killed anyone, that you're just some poor innocent woman who happens to look exactly like a serial killer.

[Except now he's not so sure, any more. She hasn't Blutbaded out at all, and there's - something else about her, something different. She's not acting like Angelina, and Nick could attribute that to her trying to trick him, but-

If Nick didn't know any better, he'd swear this woman wasn't a Blutbad.]

That's exactly what I'm going to tell you.

[Because it's all true. Well. Mostly. There had been a few incidents with the fire getting out of control -- but that had been decades ago. He couldn't know about that, could he?]

[She keeps her back to the wall, looking almost wildly for a way to get past him. All the while trying not to summon up the fire -- it fights, just below the surface. But what good is it going to do against a gunman?]

[Nick watches her for a long moment, and still nothing. No Blutbad, but still that something else strange, that he doesn't know what the hell it is.

And he's starting to believe her. Nick'd give anything for his books right now, or for Monroe, who could probably tell if this was Angelina or not a hell of a lot better than Nick could.]

If you're not her, then - you look exactly like someone I tried to arrest once. You don't happen to have a twin, do you? A twin who turns into a wolf?

[...wow, that sounds ridiculous.]

[She watches him -- wary, and a little scared. Not that she'd ever admit to the latter, but it's there. As much as the fire is. The air temperature round her has climbed.]

[And she can't help it. Her lip curls at him, and her tone is sharp-edged, almost bitter.]

If I did, she died in a fire. In nineteenth-century Chicago.

[Now that sounds a little more like Angelina, sharp and bitter.

But the rise in temperature definitely isn't Angelina, not unless she's somehow managed to both learn some new tricks and figure out how to stop being a Blutbad. Which, yes, okay, is possible, but there's no way Angelina could even know about that, let alone seek it out. Okay. So. Not Angelina. Some kind of Wesen, involving fire, but not a Damonfeuer, which pretty much exhausts his knowledge of Wesen that us fire.

He puts up his hands, palm out, backing a few steps away from her.]

Sorry. It's just, you're pretty much a dead ringer for someone I know, and the last time we met, she was pretty intent on killing me.

[The heat doesn't abate. It actually shimmers in the air around her, just short of igniting across her skin. She's scared -- plain and simple. Usually, it's difficult to faze her this badly. But this encounter just smacks of Warren. And she can't deal with that. Not yet.]

I've never seen you before in my life, asshole. Not once. I'd remember.

[Despite the smart comment, the strain in her voice remains. She doesn't look away from him. Doesn't move. Her eyes snap to his hands, looking them over, as if she expects them to start sketching runes in thin air.]

[And that air shimmering thing is pretty much the opposite of encouraging. Great job, Burkhardt, piss off the unfamiliar woman who can do who the hell knows what with fire.]

Yeah, I'm starting to get that.

[All right, he's just going to stand perfectly still now, hands still up and motionless, doing his best to look nonthreatening and apologetic. Which isn't too hard, considering he is sincerely apologetic, and he doesn't want to hurt her, weird as it is looking at Angelina who isn't Angelina.]

Look, I'm sorry for pointing a gun at you. I'd say it was an over reaction, but really, waking up in a strange cell with no idea how you got there and then running into a woman who looks like someone who'd tried to kill you is probably the time for over reacting.

About time.

[He can look as placating as he wants. She still doesn't want to move from her position against the wall. He can't change his mind and get at her back, this way.]

I woke up in the same place, and didn't point a gun at anyone.

[Seriously, she looks so much like Angelina, it's weirding him out. And given how much he must have pissed her off, he's not exactly certain she's not going to be going for his throat.

Or trying to burn him, whatever her thing is. So he's just going to take another few steps back, now.]

Did you get the 'run into someone who's apparently a doppelganger of a serial killer who you permanently carry a warrant of arrest for' part, too? Or am I just special that way.

[The thought crossed her mind. If only out of sheer panic, rather than any desire to go on a killing spree. Hey, anyone would go to crazy lengths if they were pressed against a wall. Literally.]

[Him backing off only cools the air by a few degrees.]

No, I got the 'sudden flashback to being locked in a cell by a crazy bastard with a gun' part.

[It wouldn't be the first time someone's attacked him out of panic. He's apparently really good at instilling panic in people who aren't exactly human. Though this is the first time that he's managed that on his own, rather than just because of what he is.

He grimaces slightly at her response.]

...which I'm sure I didn't help with. So, I'm going to apologize again. I don't normally fit the bill of 'crazy bastard with a gun.'

No, you really didn't.

[Ever so slightly, she eases off the wall. She doesn't pull away from it completely, though. The heat shimmer begins to fade from the air around her.]

And you'll understand if I don't believe that right off the bat.

[Really, this is pretty typical for his life, as of late. Not the whole doppelganger thing, that's new and incredibly disturbing, but the whole accidentally scaring and pissing off the wrong person.]

No, you're well within your right to completely hold this really poor first impression against me. So if you want me to go, I can do that. I should do that, actually, escaping's more difficult when you're staying in one place.

[Except he'd really like to try to get any kind of information about this place, and who's behind the kidnapping, from her, but he's not going to push after he'd already pulled a gun on her.]

Yeah. I want you to go.

[Because, she won't lie. Him standing there is making her uneasy as hell. Even if all he's doing is standing. Her eyes don't leave his hands, like a cornered animal's.]

Slowly. And no sudden moves.

Yeah. No problem.

[He keeps his hands raised and motionless as he backs away, nudging his gun with the heel of his foot, until the motion just becomes way too awkward.]

...I'm going to need to get my gun, before I leave.

[She frowns, but nods at him. Although she'd almost like to be an asshole and tell him to keep scooting it.]

Go for it. Slowly.

[He doesn't hold back the look of gratitude at that, despite that he doubts it will be well received. Then he slowly crouches down, retrieving his gun and putting it in his pocket, holding his hands back out before standing.]

I doubt it means much, but I really am sorry.

[He'd say more, but, well, he doesn't think he'll ever see her again.]

[NOPE, it really isn't. She just stares at him, her expression flat. The whole while, she stays up against the wall.]

No. It doesn't. You just keep right on going, and save your apologies.

I'm going.

[Yeah, that flat stare isn't at all helping her not look like Angelina. He'd been planning on turning around to walk away, but it's enough that it changes his mind. Instead he hitches his duffel bag back up his shoulder, and walks slowly backward until he can turn the corner, and she's out of view.]

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