<span class="bbc_u"><strong>Name:</strong></span>Narrator/Ellen/Maria<br/><span class="bbc_u"><strong>Location:</strong></span>In Route to MacEwan, downtown Atro<br/><span class="bbc_u"><strong>Time:</strong></span>12:30 a.m<br/><span class="bbc_u"><strong>Tagged:</strong></span>HangedMan, Kythia, Monfang (briefly through phone)<br/><br/>Maria picked up her phone. She was a kind woman, strong hearted, and she'd served the pack of the Queen Ant for a long time. She was just a human, but serving the pack had its merits; she was protected from any harm that might come to her, she had a good career serving the last alpha of the pack, and she knew that retirement would be cushy when she was old enough to get there. If she was old enough to get there. That was the funny thing about working with werevolves—you couldn't assume that you were going to live a very long time. Then again, secretaries lived a long time, so she heard.<br/><br/>But that assumption had always made Maria careful, and when the secretary, a woman in her middling years, yet still quite attractive in a roguish sort of way, heard her phone ring, she picked up. Normally, she didn't take work calls, but James was always an exception. He was trying hard to keep things steady as the new leader of the pack, balancing the needs of nature versus the needs of the humans and their city, as the last leader had done.<br/><br/>She listened to what he said, wincing at the information about the Pure. If they were involved, it was only going to get worse. She said, “I'm on it. I'll get on site and investigate before hitting up contacts. I'll see you there.”<br/><br/>Fifth, was it? She'd need to be there to see what had happened. She needed to investigate the scene before digging up info, otherwise she'd be in ass over head asking her contacts for the wrong stuff. She was already downtown, seeing as today had been her day off, but her mind came roaring back in with the idea of work, and off she went. It wasn't even ten minutes and she was at Fifth, which was a long street that intersected a large part of town.<br/><br/>She recognized Ellen, who was explaining to Xuxa, “Um, I know you don't know me, but I'm the night secretary, and yes, I should be at work, but I was worried about something like this, so I was being escorted.” Maria felt something wrong in the air. Something....it wasn't magical. Obviously a Pure had been here, true, but that wasn't it. When Maria got there, she said, “Xuxa, it's me. James sent me to take a look. He's on his way.” She politely bid hello to the new fellow by Ellen and said, “Maria of MacEwan. Ellen's coworker. Been some problems in the area and....”<br/><br/>She caught it out of the corner of her eye. Years of living around werewolves had taught her to use her peripherals. Someone was there! But a shadowy arm flung something, and there was a flash of light. Ellen screamed. The blinding flash lasted longer than 30 seconds—obviously some sort of flash grenade. Perfectly timed, too, Maria realized, through the pain in her eyes. This assailant had lain in wait, waiting for things to get crowded and disorganized, maybe even waiting for people to get near to frame for the crime.<br/><br/>When the light dimmed, Ellen was gone. Maria's jaw dropped in astonishment.<br/><br/><hr/><br/><span class="bbc_u"><strong>Name:</strong></span>Narrator/Daryl<br/><span class="bbc_u"><strong>Location:</strong></span>In Route/Safehouse<br/><span class="bbc_u"><strong>Time:</strong></span>12:35 a.m.<br/><span class="bbc_u"><strong>Tagged:</strong></span>lockepick (brief conversation snippet), Saxa<br/><br/>Daryl replied, “Hyde Park it is.” He didn't waste time with idle chatter; he hung up the phone. Daryl wasn't about to meet with anyone without protection, now that he thought about it. This wasn't his game. The reporters were the ones who risked their necks for information; Daryl was just a researcher. He was a Hunter, too, but a Hunter who wasn't careful was just as dead as any other mortal.<br/><br/>He made the drive to Kiara's safehouse. When he got there, he was sure to go through all protocol needed to gain entry, ending the complex rituals he had by saying, “And yes, I still love and hate my job. Now let me in. I have news. Not only news, but I need a favor.”