Blood was nearly undetectable among other wastes and liquids. Insignificant specks of rusty reddish brown on the pavement, on the wall, dried and flaking from the metal of the dumpster, and stained and soaked into wood. Hours old, but not days.<br/><br/>The Fox had followed the trail from its beginning, his brow furrowed in disappointment at the curb. The trail disappeared completely. A few spots on the cement; spots that blended well with other, older sidewalk stains. There were those who jostled roughly past him, squatting on the sidewalk as he was, careful not to disturb the hours dried blood. Wondering who had picked up the little birdie with the broken wingâ€¦<br/><br/>The Ghost took his scrapings and pictures and made his measurements. And after, he cleaned the scene. Destroying usable evidence that a man had even bled there. Likely not the first time something of the same had been done. Not for The Ghost, whose economical movements ascertained that this was nothing more than boring routine.<br/><br/>Within moments of their arrival, The Fox and The Ghost had gone, leaving nothing.<br/><br/>They went in two separate directions; The Fox walked and The Ghost drove. A hospital was a foolish place for the injured quarry to go, but if the blood spatter was any indication, he was very hurt. Had spent more time in one place than was entirely safe, and had obviously gotten help away. Neither had come to the conclusion that heâ€™d have a car.<br/><br/>So The Ghost went to check hospitals for known aliases and John Does. While The Fox asked questions of employees in shops, showing a badge that either wasnâ€™t his or wasnâ€™t real.<br/><br/>The same story from every store with a window that could see where that trail was left. No one saw anything. No one wanted to see anything, even if they truly had. And there was a Process involved in getting security tapes. One that meant revealing a part of their hand. That they knew where the quarry had been and approximately how heâ€™d gotten away.<br/><br/>The Ghost fared marginally better. There had been a John Doe at the local hospital, just today. And doctors were willing to give out that information to someone they assumed represented Law and Order and All Civilized Things; especially when said case was missing. What they were slow to give out was a name. The name of the woman whoâ€™d come in with this John Doe, who had answered questions, who had been free with her address out of pure gut-level concern for a man she didnâ€™t know.<br/><br/>The Ghost assured hospital staff that if he located their wayward John Doe he would return the man, but also of vaguer things that had the shape of honesty and lawful intent.<br/><br/>A short exchange between The Fox and The Ghost in coded phrases on a secure company link said otherwise.<br/><br/>The Fox changed tactics and quite naturally trotted down a flight stairs from an apartment above the alleyway. There was somewhere to start now, and a person that had definitely come into contact with the quarry.