Hamish listened to every detail his brain could pick and file away as Isolde spoke to him of the tools necessary to bring down the woman Darcy. She had access to a blade and knowledge of toxins needed for the mission, he had the skills to put those tools to use. They would be a deadly team indeed but she needed training in delivering death and he had no experience fighting magic. Most disturbingly to Hamish, however, was their severe lack of intel. Was Darcy still holed up in the castle? Was she still surrounded by German soldiers as guards or had she managed something even more wicked? Was the creature who had appeared at Isolde’s escape a helping hand for her or punishment sent by Darcy for the ineptitude of the guards?<br/><br/>More questions to find answers to and Hamish knew they needed help. Myra and Josef would help as they could but they could hardly move freely around the city nor ask the right people for answers. With a quiet sigh, Hamish watched as Isolde relaxed into the chair and let the firelight dance its shadows across her face. He could feel Chaya a few feet behind him and the tension coming from her was nearly palpable. So young to hear such nightmares coming to life but Hamish had no doubt the woman would handle it fine. She was rather resilient that way.<br/><br/>Hamish stood slowly and announced, “I will be back with your items within the hour. Should you need anything, Chaya will see to it. Tomorrow we will begin gathering your strength and your training to the best of my skills.”<br/><br/>Hamish made his way to the front door a wisp of a shadow attempting to follow him. Hamish smiled as he opened the large closet by the front door. He turned to see Chaya still hovering a few feet away, trying to blend into the shadows.<br/><br/>“You must walk on your toes if you wish to quiet your footsteps,” Hamish told her with a grin. “No shadow can hide you if you are heard coming.” Chaya looked surprised at her feet, as if she had never considered them before. Hamish had only meant that as a joke but she seemed to take the criticism seriously.<br/><br/>Hamish shrugged into his large gray overcoat, placed his Luger in a shoulder holster, and as an afterthought slipped his badge over his right arm as well as clipping the more formal version to his lapel. The badge would be a very useful tool for being left alone so he let it remain visible. He saw Chaya looking darkly at the badge but dutifully said nothing.<br/><br/>“The badge is a tool, Chaya, nothing more,” Hamish said as softly as he could. “It allows me the freedom to move around without question, and brings a measure of safety to this house.”<br/><br/>“I understand, Herr Buchannon,” she replied softly but her eyes betrayed the rage and fear. Hamish could only nod at her acceptance. He had no idea how to begin mending her spirit. Perhaps it was a question for Isolde at some point. He had as much to learn from her after all as she did from him.<br/><br/>Without another word Hamish covered his bald head with a warm fur hat and stepped into the cold evening. Isolde’s flat was not far and he felt an hour was ample time to walk there and back. He moved easily through the streets, his badge worn so openly was unusual for him. It made him noticeable as people moved out of his way and soldiers offered a crisp salute. The term<span style="font-style: italic">reich inspektur</span>had died in 1933 and been renamed<span style="font-style: italic">reichsleiter</span>but maintained its political power. There were not many in his position as it was as high as a rank as could be attained outside of the army, second only to Hitler himself. It had been part of the contract when Baird had made the arrangements that Hamish be given an appropriate rank to do his work wherever he was needed.<br/><br/>Hamish was almost certain that his fellow political officers had long forgotten about him but it made the badge no less powerful. It told anyone who saw it that he was a direct line to the Fuhrer. It gave him no military power over officers but he could easily pulls strings and send even a General to manage the latrines of some Gods forsaken camp. Hamish was lost in his thoughts of how messy the Nazi operation truly was. Before he knew it he had arrived at the flat, having made no attempt to hide and yet finding he was instinctually drawn to the darkest side of the street.<br/><br/>Hamish approached the door boldly and turned the handle. It was locked but Hamish simply pulled out his tools and within seconds had popped the flimsy lock. Hamish entered the flat and spent only a moment glancing at the set up. The flat was simple and certainly not what he had expected for a woman such as Isolde. The furniture was simple but practical, the walls a rather dull white, but the sense of comfort invaded the very pores of the place. It was the right amount of messy and clean that Hamish had not seen in his own surroundings. His training forced him to be meticulous, never leaving a trace, never proving he was even alive.<br/><br/>Hamish quickly shook that depressing line of thought away and went about gathering her requested items, finding a large satchel in which to pack the things away. He carefully wrapped her paint supplies and placed them in a separate bag. He felt relief when he found the knife. It was a heavy thing but perfectly balanced for fighting. Holding it in his hand, Hamish felt a glimmer of power course through him. This was a blade that could conquer demons and kill immortals. The power such a tool could bring him was beyond measure!<br/><br/>As with most other thoughts, this one could not find a grip in Hamish’s heart. With no more thought than he gave anything else, he slipped the knife into his belt and went back to packing her few belongings.