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April 1st, 1:45 PM.


"The Cline's huh?  I watch their show."  Came the cheery sounding tones of Det. Kirkendahl.  A small smile on his face as he pulled up the rather nice house of the famous super powered couple in the unmarked sedan.  He combed his hair back as he looked up at it.

 

The partner, Det. Boyle, was checking his phone and frowning.  "You would watch their show.  You want to take the lead?  I mean, these people aren't precisely the type we can buffalo easily, and they are going to be hiding things."  The more severe looking dark haired detective frowned, and squinted as he looked up from his phone at their house, the unseasonably warm and clear day had him lifting his arm to blow the glare.  "God, it is too sunny."

 

"Probably not, so I guess we be as honest as possible, and hope they actually have something.  It isn't like these types keep tabs on each other extensively."  Rubbing at his chin Kirkendahl looked to Boyle, and then nodded.  "Let's give it a go."  He reached back to grab at the tablet, and he moved out of the car and up to the front door of the Cline's place.

 

Boyle followed after him, a bit slower, having to get his jacket from the backseat as well.  Moving after Kirkendahl, a bit of a quickened pace to make sure they made it to the door together, and he made a gruff sound.  "Try not to be a starry eyed fan boy, eh?"  And he hit the doorbell, before stepping back and shaking his head as he regarded Kirkendahl.

 

"I will keep my gushing to a minimum, if you can stop being a cynical bastard."  A smirk on his face as he glancing at Boyle, while waiting for the door to be opened.

Edited by TheAbsurdist
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They only had to wait a moment before the door was answered, pulled open rather quickly and violently, in fact, by well-known television personality Paige Cline, dressed down today in blue jeans and a colorful tank sweater. "I swear to god, Richard, if this is one more April Fool's joke-" She cut herself off when she saw the obviously official personages on her doorstep, took a split second to regroup, and gave them a beautiful professional smile. "Good afternoon, gentlemen, sorry about that. My husband just loves the holidays. Can I help you?" Her eyes flicked briefly over both of them, and her brow furrowed slightly, as though she were learning something about them just from that momentary look. 

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Richard Cline may have lacked his wife's sixth sense - but he caught her mental signal quickly, and was downstairs behind her in practically the time it took the last echoes of her words to die off. For all that he didn't like cops (at all, especially not at his house), he was all smiles for the detectives as well. "Hey, everybody," he said with a slightly overcaffinenated air - his usual way of talking when he was doing his level best to be polite. "You guys like this weather we're having?" He didn't say a single word about what they'd just left, the cunningly redecorated bedroom that he'd fixed up at super-speed to avoid a precognitive's senses. It wasn't like Paige couldn't get him back later anyway. He leaned against the foyer entrance behind Paige, wearing a white T-shirt and jeans that looked a bit more working-class than his wife's choice of fashion. Things had been...more sober around their household lately - which was one reason why he liked this holiday so much. 

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They were cops, they didn't even really need to say that they were, but it still happened.  They had their badges out in practiced unison.  Both their suits off the rack, the dirty blonde Kirkendahl's looking a little large on him, and slightly rumpled, whereas Boyle's was impeccable, despite the weather.  STAR squad detectives.

 

It was the dark haired Boyle who said something first.  "Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Cline.  I am Detective Boyle, and this is Detective Kirkendahl, with the FCPD, we're looking into a potential crime, and possibly a missing person's case."  The badge was closed and put back into the breast pocket of his slate color suit jacket.

 

Kirkendahl followed suit, and he opened the case of tablet he brought along, pulling out a photo of a young man they both recognized, though seemingly worse for wear since they last saw him.  "We were wondering if you had some free time to help us, I mean it'd be a bit of an honor really I watch your show..."  He trailed off at the glare from Boyle he caught.   "Yeah, ahm, Elias Silvestri, was a classmate of your son, we had heard that he had hung out here on more than one occasion-"

 

"Actually, can we talk inside your house, if you don't mind?  Purely just for a respect of a bit of privacy, you understand," Boyle interjected past his partner, managing a polite smile, though it was clear he was the snarky one, and Kirkendahl was the idealist.  To fit into Richard's 80's-riffic worldview.

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Paige looked at the picture, her smile disappearing into an expression of concern. She looked up at her husband, the sort of glance that said a thousand words even when one wasn't a psychic. "Of course," she murmured to the detectives, "please come in. Can I get you anything? Coffee, ice water, mago juice, kefir?" She led the way into the small but nicely appointed family room that adjoined the open kitchen, past walls full of pictures that were equal parts family photos throughout the years and shots from the show of them with various celebrities and superpeople. "Has something happened to Elias?" she finally asked. 

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"Thank you, ma'am.  We appreciate it."  Boyle responded softly, before Kirkendahl stepped inside first, and he followed suit.

 

"No thank you Hol- erm, ma'am."  Kirkendahl laughed as he stepped it, tugging a bit at the brown lapels of his shirt.  He waited at the entrance to their living room for his partner, and he fidgeted a little bit with the tablet in it's folio case.  "We are trying to piece that together.  What can you say about him?  His known associates?  Any activities he's done?"

 

Boyle reached out to take the tablet from his partner, Kirkendahl handing it off without a second glance.  One hand a claw as he attacked the the screen to pull up what he needed.  "Specifically the sort of things or people that would lead to him doing this..."  And with that he flipped the tablet around to face Richard and Paige, and it showed footage captured from the train, and it showed Elias fighting off three punks from a couple nights ago.  "If you have any ideas, we're game to hear them."

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"Boy we met wouldn't cause trouble if it wasn't caused to him," said Richard, speaking in the slow, deliberate tones that meant he was dead serious. He looked over the pictures, a quick glance telling him as much as an hour's examination by another man, then back at the detectives as he took a seat on the couch next to his wife. "What happened? These guys have anything to say for themselves?" He found himself unwilling to talk much about Errant's friends - Will, certainly, that big Atlantean girl who Holly liked so much, and a couple of others he couldn't really remember. "My boy says he's New Freedom - I know they cause trouble sometimes if their people stick their heads out." 

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"New Freedom, huh?  Funny, the records says he is Canadian, out of Hamilton, in fact."  Boyle responded back to what Richard said, his expression flat, and he couldn't fight out a little bit of a snort at what he said.

 

Kirkendahl interjected behind what Boyle said, "Well I mean, he does acquit himself well against three people.  Like he's done this before.  Which..."  And he reached out to swipe on the screen and bring up some more pictures, some injuries.  Facial contusions, and a few other things indicating bruised ribs, and the like.  "He does seemed to get injured a lot.  Like, in the way of maybe having a hobby he shouldn't have.  Bites off more than he can chew a lot..."

 

"It is a distinct possibility that something like that came to kick him in the ass.  Since graduation from Claremont he disappeared, presumably visa stuff, and then he came back.  He's got a place in the Fens.  Mostly seems to be a bike messenger.  But you knew that, right?"  Boyle was pointed, whatever sarcasm that might be there, it was well hidden, and he was watching the Clines like a hawk for any sort of tick.  "Gets into a fight, and then sometime after midnight, he vanishes.  Little worrying.  More worrying when you take what his roommates say, 'Always a quiet guy,' y'know the kind of stuff you don't want to hear on the news."

 

Their eyes on the Clines, as they were fishing, but then they wouldn't come here if they had more concrete answers.

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Paige gave the detectives an incredibly bland look. "Detectives, I assume you didn't arrive on the latest turnip truck to Freedom City, so I'm not going to insult your intelligence or experience. A young man who is experienced at fighting and whose movements are hard to pin down might be getting into trouble, but it's hardly the only possible etiology in a city like this." Pursing her lips, she glanced towards the stairs to the second floor. 

 

~Will, honey, could you come down a minute? Something has happened with your classmate Elias and the police are asking questions. Do you know if he might be involved in any hero work right now?~ 

 

"You're right though," she continued with barely a pause, "that it's worrisome. I haven't seen him in, oh, probably six months or more. Do you have any clues to where he might be now?" 

 

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~Well, you know how our friendship works, Mom. We're psi-bros but sometimes we go months barely catching up. Plus, you know, California. But Elias pretty much has hero-ing in his blood.~

 

He dutifully doesn't think anything about his girlfriend or ninjas or any other shenanigans that happened out there. Paige senses him zoom to the edge of the stairs before assuming a normal pace. His parents are known to be supers but he's a bit more cautious about these things still. He jogs down the stairs like a normal energetic teenage boy. 

 

~We sure it's not those jackboots from New Freedom?~

 

Will walked up to the door and acted vaguely surprised.

 

"Oh! Um, sorry, I'm sorry Officers, I didn't mean to intrude, was just going to ask my parents something..."

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"Come in, son, come in. These nice people," Will had heard his father's talks about stop-and-frisk, police brutality, and his rights against search-and-seizure, many, many times - but Richard knew his boy recognized the Let's be nice to these cops smile. "were just telling us about your friend Elias." He was on his own feet in a literal flash, letting his son take a seat opposite his mom. That naturally let him circulate behind their guests, studying the situation with intensity in the same time it would take a normal man to cross a room. "Get you a soda," he commented, vanishing briefly into the kitchen as a way of (temporarily) exiting the conversation.

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"Oh well that-" Kirkendahl started, and then he was talked over, interjected by Boyle.

 

"You're right, Mrs. Cline.  We aren't just off the turnip truck."  Boyle didn't bristle, he stiffened with the umbrage he felt.  "However, we have a job to do.  And that is to..."  And in came William, and he stopped a moment, his jaw clenching and unclenching at the indignities he had to endure because of heroes.  "However all three-"  And Richard wooshed away, and he lifted a hand up to pinch at the bridge of his nose for a moment,

 

Kirkendahl looked at him for a moment, before he moved in, to try and steer the direction of this.  "Let me put it succinctly, your friend, Elias Silvestri, is missing.  My partner and I are trying to find him.  Unfortunately we hit the roadblock of 'He is a quiet fellow' or 'I haven't spoken to him in months.'  And the school... well they told us nothing, and any lead we have hits the wall.  We've got that he currently has a visa, and is a Canadian citizen, and kind of slides off the radar.  From the evidence we have, he is a hero type.  Probably.  And we're not sure how good, considering how often he's been beat up.  So the going theory is he crossed someone doing the masked guy thing, and it backfired on him..."

 

"Or he went rogue."  Boyle posited flatly to the Clines that were there.

 

"Well we don't know..."  Kirkendahl started to counter what Boyle said.

 

"We don't know either way.  Again the issue is that the guy is a cipher.  No one, not even his 'friends' can given us anything meaningful on him.  So this leads to a better question... how well do any of you really know the guy?"  Boyle's tiredness at the series of dead ends they had been slamming into shown, but the scorn, or sarcastic edge faded into that.

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~Thanks, Dad. I'll take a Cherry Coke Zero if we've got them. Something else fruity if we don't.~

 

Will didn't make constant comments about Richard's 80's hair, and Richard didn't make constant comments about his son enjoying fruit-flavored sodas instead of "classic" flavors. It was one of their truces. 

 

At the comments from the detectives about Elias not necessarily being great at hero-ing, Will tensed up.

 

"Look just because he and I don't text daily or something doesn't mean he isn't-"

 

And then Will went completely still at Boyle suggesting Elias had "gone rogue". As in, the only movement was things like "blood flow" and "slow eye blinks". Which is...probably not a good sign. His mother can feel the tension radiating off of Will. The detectives can feel it. His father, in the kitchen, can feel it. Holly can probably feel it unless she's a couple states away and/or in an induced coma (because she's his nosy little sister and also their bond has been a bit tighter ever since The Incident).

 

"Elias would not go rogue. And just because he doesn't blast everything on social media for you to rifle through doesn't mean I don't know him well enough to know that if he's completely dropped off the radar it's not his choice. He's my friend."

 

Will's tone is as respectful as an angry teenager who just got told one of his good friends is missing, and oh hey some of the cops think he went evil, could be. Which is to say his parents should probably not let him carry the conversation on his own too long.

 

If Richard comes into the room at this point he might be able to see a couple of green "sparks" flitting between Will's shoulder blades, and that the back of the chair he's sitting in is fluttering a bit despite absolutely no breeze that could do so being present. 

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Paige quickly rose from her seat and put a hand on Will's shoulder, projecting the low-level wave of love and peaceful calmness that she'd been soothing him with since he was a restless fetus in the womb. ~They're police officers, baby, they're paid to think the worst in every situation. It's not good for their souls, but these two aren't bad guys.~ She rubbed Will's back lightly and focused on the detectives again. "Have you asked another psychic or a precognitive to reach out and try and get into contact with him? It's possible he hasn't left the city, or at least the tri-state area." 

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Richard reappeared around the time he was sure Will was calming down - the better to make sure father and son didn't get each other riled up. He knew himself, and his boy, well enough to know what that was like. "You talk to that Atlantean girl of his?" he asked, launching a can of pop his son's way fast enough to pull Will out of the conversation by making him catch it. "Wouldn't be the first boy his age to get a little mermaid fever." He took a seat, turning it around and sitting on Will's other side, and studied the cops. "But that's not really it," he hazarded. "If you really thought a guy like that had gone rogue, you'd be talking to the regular capes to help you catch him, or you'd be those fancy super-cops. What's the real story?"

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Boyle stiffened, but he didn't respond to Will's anger.  But the two cops looked to each other, when the Paige admitted that the boy was a psychic, and then again when Richard gave them the bite on an Atlantean.  Kirkendahl was the one who ventured anything back to them, addressing Will first.  "We don't know him.  And..."  He paused to look at the elder Cline's, "...As your folks know, we generally have to have negative assumptions of people.  The the issue we have is that everyone we've talked to either can't give us any real information about Elias, or wont give us anything.  So we have to entertain some bad possibilities, but what evidence we have points to him being kidnapped."

 

After a moment Boyle stepped in to this, "The last sighting of him was him getting into that fist fight on the El, and then leaving the station closest to his apartment.  Which was..."  He pulled out a notepad then and flipped a few pages of the smudged paper. "Ten thirty, PM.  As of four days ago."  Sometime between then and the next morning, he made it home and then was taken.  There was a struggle, we know that.  And it looks like he was taken in a van, and was injured in the process.  Just like we knew, before we came, he was some sort of mask wearing type.  That's why Detective Kirkendahl and I are here"  He closed the notebook and moved it back to his breasts pocket as he looked at them.

 

"The likelihood is that he made a mistake or crossed someone.  We hoped you had some additional information.  Unfortunately no one has the same story for the guy.  Do you have any ideas, or a name of who he might have been working against?"  Kirkendahl pressed, though the detective didn't seem too hopeful, but a day full of deadends would do that.

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Will almost immediately calmed when his mother's hand met his own back. 

 

~Doesn't mean they aren't still jerkwads, Mom.~

 

He caught the can from his father without needing to look. The joys of his spatial awareness, one might guess.

 

~Thanks, Dad. But please never, ever call whatever it is Elias and Thaelia have "mermaid fever". Please. Just...ew.~

 

He took a sip, and sighed. 

 

"Look, Elias is a good friend, but he's a private guy by nature. I'm not sharing loads of stuff because he's not here to say "yes Will, it's totally okay". But yeah, he may have ticked someone off. Or lots of someones. Elias is a...persistant...guy. So he may have cheesed off a bunch of gunrunners or people runners or whatnot. He didn't exactly text me names of crimelords he was hunting, though. Maybe if I was in his apartment I could poke at his stuff and figure something out, have more insight than you guys."

 

He seems finished, but then furrows his brow in deep thought.

 

"Wait. There is one name I remember him, ah, mentioning. Might be a codename. Horatio. Some sort of gun-runner, deals in the wacky stuff, not cheapo handguns or whatever. Maybe one or two other names I could remember if you give me time. But that one crops up as a possible?"

 

He seems almost...hopeful?

Edited by KnightDisciple
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"Let me take a listen and see what I can find," Paige offered. Leaving her hand on Will's shoulder, as much to keep herself standing as to support him, she closed her eyes and lowered the mental walls that normally protected her from the thoughts and emotions of the entire Freedom City population. As always, the cacophony was a little deafening for a minute. Unconsciously she raised her voice, though the room was silent to the outer ears. "Just one minute..." ~Elias, Elias, can you hear me?~ She started small, started close by, then moved her perception in widening circles from there. 

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"All right, hang on." While his wife searched psychically, Fast-Forward disappeared into the closet long enough to come out with what was obviously a vintage Walkman - and in his familiar black and white costume. "I've done this before," he commented to the detectives as he slid a cassette tape into the belt-mounted unit, then slid the headphones onto his ears. "Even when I speed up how fast I see things in my head, searching the whole city takes forever and a day. I'm gonna go look for Errant - and this Horatio guy. You go check your room, boy, and I'll meet you outside." There was no reason to broadcast his son's secret ID any further than it already was - not when Andy Griffith and Barney Fife were right there. "I'll be back," he said at the door in a distinctly Austrian accent before he stepped out onto the porch steps - and began to run! 

 

As he ran, the city seeming to slow to a crawl all around him (even as he himself sped up), Richard pressed the button on his Walkman. It was his favorite running song

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Will seemed thoughtful for a moment.

 

"I'll see if I can find anything else he may have mentioned or said or whatnot. If I find anything I'll let you gentlemen know. I shouldn't take too long."

 

It was thin pretext, he knew, but that was how such things worked. He moved up the stairs rapidly but at a human pace. Once out of sight he moved into super-speed, a blur that raced into his room, moved around a bit, then raced outside, all blacks and greens as Thoughtspeed took to the city.

 

His raw, youthful enthusiasm showed through; while he was definitively faster than his father (something that had happened just recently and that he certainly wasn't staying quiet about just yet), his father had far more experience actually noticing things at high speed. Thus, Thoughtspeed restricted himself to areas of the city he knew Errant would have frequented (but this did include his friend's apartment, if he could manage it), and even then it wasn't the most thorough of searches. Still, he had a sharp eye and a good head on his shoulders, he ought to pick something up. 

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  • 3 weeks later...

"Right..."  Came Boyle's response to Richard becoming Fast-Forward, his skepticism showing, before the hero stepped outside, and then the boy disappeared, leaving the detectives with Paige...

 

Whose efforts was like calling out into a stormy ocean.  Elias used that metaphor a lot, it was a comparison he drew in most explanations of his abilities.  But she calmed it, or at least her perception of the sea of consciousness before it.  It was a leaden silence there for what felt like an eternity, then came the snapback, like the string of an instrument returning sharply and letting out it's noise.

 

Screaming.  Eyes open.  Screaming.  Awareness doesn't creep back in, it flares as lightning, jagged, brilliant.  Painful.

 

And as quickly it is gone.  With no crumbs to lead her back, other than that hoarse feeling of sputtering and retching water out of her lungs.  Though, an experienced psionic like her, and it was easy to shake off.  Just like she could know she had touched Elias' mind, for a moment.


*    *    *

 

The city blurred, or stilled, really was a better way to describe what happens to Fast-Forward.  It would be moments like this that could alienating, if Richard Cline wasn't so... human.  But the city is big, and he had so little to go on.  Though perusing the notes of the detectives, gosh the analog notes they had helped with that...  So had leads, rather then blindly hammering through the city, he would be able to laser focus.

 

First was the job, bike messenger.  Detour to downtown.  And to Pegasus Express Couriers.  Which was cleaner looking than the stereotype of such things, though there was the aura of insular club by the bikers, and propensity for more body art.  His locker was cleaned out, and while there was some small recreation drug use that Richard saw, which he totally also didn't take any of, nothing leaped out as a hint of anything wrong.  They hadn't crossed out his name, and a search of the bosses office revealed that Elias' check was being held, so he wasn't a horrible guy.

 

Next stop was the volunteer position.  A soup kitchen in the Fens.  There were posters around there of a picture of the severe looking Elias cracking a smile, though it looked like he was embarassed, or something.  But it was a human expression.  On a kid that might be accused of being a psychic ninja robot.  There was a bit more here, he saw the kids name still on the schedule, here at least a hour a day, four days a week.  The boss here was the one that reported Elias missing, an old community activist who settled for more attainable goals.  The homeless people and low income people who made use of the place didn't seem like they could do something like that, or be able to subdue Elias.  Still it would be worth having Paige reach back on.

 

Last stop... was McNider.  Where people, particular non-League members, would go for medical needs that came up.  The detectives had gotten some information, but they didn't take names, so the detectives would just be going over probably ones that matched his description?  This was the dicier thing to poke in at, because of the implications.  Though, they tended to do things in a way where it couldn't be traced back, and that was where he struck paydirt... sort of.  The cops could be considered right, Elias was hurt, a lot.  Broken ribs, punctured lung, sprains, more broken bones.  In total 12 visits in the last six months, with evidence of other stuff having happened that he didn't come in for.  Each time he had come in under his own power, not in costume.

 

But that wasn't the thing that caught him there.  It was a hospital memo, on an email screen, about drug theft and an increase of security for it.  Someone had stolen a large quantity of propofol.  A powerful anesthetic.  Good for knocking out, say, a superpowered 19 year old.

 

*      *      *

William knew where Elias' place was, though he hadn't seen it (like he said Elias not talking to people wasn't a srsprise), a sort of dive-ish place in the Fens.  An apartment complex around a small courtyard, that had more units then it originally was designed to have.  His was the lone basement apartment.  It was shared, though at the moment his roommate was gone, though someone was putting up a poster in the courtyard, near the laundryroom.  A pretty girl, dressed what you would see a party seeker in during the daytime hours, though looking less hungover than he'd imagine.

 

The apartment was immaculate.  At least Elias' room, and the common areas.  Which was... odd considering that Elias had been less than that way when at Claremont.  But there was no secrets, even space for them, in the place.  There was a fireplace, but it was a dead thing... It wasn't until he did an exhaustive search that he found the kitchen cabinet had a board that was off, and he was able to loosen it and wriggle in... and then he found paydirt.

 

Here was the crazy room with the pushpins and strings connecting it from various black mask mooks that he had been dealing with.  Well several of them.  With stacks of papers and notes and everything.  The one that mattered led back to Horation, covering several fights Elias since coming to Freedom City, and disruptions of his, and other arms dealers efforts.  Crap he had been busy...  But one thing was clear was that this Horatio guy moved through layers of intermediaries.  It would be going down the rabbithole to actually get this guy, though it seemed from what Will found, that Elias didn't believe him to local, and he employed a lot of word travelling mercenaries for his jobs here.

 

They were doozies, but mostly tech theft.  Or use of tech in displays of supervillainy, as a sales pitch for the later sales.  Occasionally more mundane stuff, if you can count cryo grenades based on Madame Zero's designs mundane.  But compared to the other stuff... temporary enhancement serums, systemic cybernetic systems, armor that was way ahead of what STAR squad had, or even a gravitic rifle.  As far as what Elias had, it all went back to this guy.

 

So what his friend had said before about being after a guy, yeah.  He could see it.  It didn't help that some notes indicated he dealt with New Freedom.  Like every button that could be pushed for Elias was here.  And three years of disruption of his cash flow... and that guy would be pissed... And Horatio seemed like the kind of guy that would take it personally.

 

*    *    *

"You okay Mrs. Cline?"  The 'nicer' of the two officers, had moved a bit towards her, reaching out a hand out, but he had stopped.  "Um, so... you uh, got anything?"

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Paige bent double to choke up phantom water, tears trickling from her eyes as she retched for a moment or two before getting herself under control. "God, god..." she muttered, taking hold of the offered hand to pull herself back upright. "They're hurting him..." She said it aloud and echoed it over her psionic link as well, though her control was strong enough that not a hint of the actual experience was broadcast to her husband and son. "He's not far," she managed to add, rapidly regaining at least the appearance of composure as she wiped her face with a tissue. "Somewhere in the city, I think, but I couldn't sense much more than that. His consciousness is overwhelmed. I think he blacked out while I was reaching to him. I hope he did," she admitted candidly. "You have to find him." 

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Richard lacked Paige's ability to actually broadcast soothing thoughts - but he sent her the reassurances he could through their link. He knew his wife well enough to know when she was holding things back - just as he knew what she could handle. "Looks like he's been getting into a lot of fights tracking this guy down. Can't have gone missing that long, his spot's still open at his place of work." He passed on a mental narrative of what he'd seen to the other two, sitting on the steps of McNider with his hand in his chin. "If they did drug him, thief's gotta be around here somewhere. I'm gonna look for people who recently got fired or coulda known who he was. You finding anything, Junior?" he asked mentally. 

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Will spent a few moments just being staggered by the sheer volume of information in front of him. Then he pulled his phone out and started taking pictures. As many high-resolution shots as possible. He could make sense of maybe 2/3 of it. Maybe the cops would-

 

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"They're hurting him..." She said it aloud and echoed it over her psionic link as well, though her control was strong enough that not a hint of the actual experience was broadcast to her husband and son. 

 

Will went still as a rock for several long seconds, before flurrying through taking pictures of whatever he hadn't already caught on "film", before beginning the process of wriggling out from the hidden room. 

 

-Found his room with all his info and theories and stuff.This Horatio loser is definitely in on what's going down. Even has New Freedom connections, on top of selling all sorts of crazy junk. No way Elias is tracking this one dude as much as he was, and boy do I have the pictures to prove he was, and not get nabbed by him.-

 

His voice grows almost desperate as he continues to mind-speak even as he extricates himself and begins to race home.

 

-Mom, Dad, we have to find him. Can't we rustle up one of those scary cowl-types to help or something? I'm gonna show the pictures to the detectives, or Dad can to protect my identity, I don't care, but my friend is in trouble and needs my help!-

 

Sometimes the patience apple doesn't fall far from the tree. 

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The officers were taken aback by her outburst, or at least that there was no warning, even if it was subtle.  They were, however, experienced officers, they read far more than what she was putting down.  Kirkendahl took her hand, and held her steady as it happened.  They both knew about her, not a personal knowledge, but enough to have an understanding.  The history of her and her husband, their career trajectory.  All of it.  So her response was troubling.

 

"Ma'am, we're trying to help.  Believe me.  This kid is really good about not having a trail, and the person we think grabbed him is better.  He was in over his head, and didn't ask for help, and now... no one is talking, on either side of the mask fence.  Any information you guys find is useful.  We do want to get him back..."  Said Boyle, who didn't seem nearly so adversarial at the moment.

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