Hi! My name is....!

[Rhett Keyes]

Some lessons would need to be learned the hard way for some people, and Hudson was no exception to that saying. While his counterpart, Rhett was more of a passive presence, Hudson was anything but. Even with the deck stacked fully against him, Hudson only knew one mode. Survival, because that's what street life was about. So, even though most of everyone in the crowd was armed with some sort of 'weapon' Hudson wasn't feeling anything but the need to get out alive, however he could. Nothing spectacular, he knew he would probably take a few bumps and jabs, but his ultimate goal was to get out and live to see another day.

The first swing of a metal pole came from the right, which was easily duckable being the one delivering the blow was somewhere in his late fifties, to early sixties. As he came back up from the duck, something hit him from the left, then another jab from the left. Something round and solid. A metal garbage top, Hudson could hear it ringing from the impact of his body. Once one hit came, many more ensued, making it damn near possible to 'survive.'

Hudson dropped to the ground in a ball, and wrapped his hands over his head, protecting what he believed to be the most important part of his body to protect. He'd had bruises before on his body; anywhere from his side, to arms and legs. But heads homed brains and he was sure he needed that. More metal hit Hudson from virtually anywhere and everywhere, and as he peeked out through a small gap in his arms, he saw the chance to escape. To potentially survive. A small space between a set of legs of some woman he hoped to never see again after tonight. At least not with everyone else in this place. Hudson jumped through the woman's legs, who was a lot quicker than he gave her credit for, as she tried to clamp him between her two ankles. Hudson wasn't above kicking a woman's ***, especially if she was holding her own, so as one of her leg's clamped around his, he used the other one and kicked her as hard as he could at the back of her leg, forcing her to break her hold on the other leg and allow Hudson to bypass two rows of people, before coming into a person who was hellbent on keeping him in the angry mob. Large burly hands grabbed at the back of Hudson's shirt, the shirt ripping as he thrashed around, using both his arms and legs as if he were born as a helicopter propeller. Hudson could fight-a little if one on one or even two on one? But twenty or so on one? There was no finesse. Hudson was looking to get the hell out of dodge and not going to look back. Arms thwapped against the guy who tried to keep Hudson with him, but just couldn't. When Hudson was met with the sense of freedom, he took it and didn't look back.

[Marisol]

The door was shut when they got there. Marisol frowned, her lips pulling down at the corners as she realized she might've been a little too quick to worry. Rhett wasn't a fighter, but she was sure if something had happened, he could handle himself. The man was built strong, after all. She dug her keys out of the pockets of her jeans, opening the door as she did every other day. Even if she didn't have the keys, she knew how to pick a lock. It wasn't too difficult. Logan had been useful when he wasn't rude to her.

Her hand pressed against the door as she swung it open, a slightly metallic scent slipping past her mind as she took in her workplace. “Right." She said, in acknowledgement to Jesse's words. “What the hell went on here." She muttered quietly to herself. Someone had moved things around as if they were looking for something. The safe remained closed, Marisol going to the computer. She would have it booted within a few minutes, the steady hum filling the room from the machine. As she waited for the screen to pull up, her amber gave looked out of the office towards the security camera's direction. There was a glint of something on the floor.

The smell still hadn't been recognized as she logged into the computer. She pulled up the logs, making a mental note that she needed to go through and clean up the hard drive when she had some free time. The time span and date were easy to find, her fingertips tapping against the keys before she took a seat on the edge of the desk. Her arms folded across her chest as she clicked play, her gaze narrowing as she watched the playback. At the sight of the teens turning against Rhett... “Jesse, we've got a problem." She called as she didn't want to see any more, sliding off the desk in the same instance.

Still, she kept her chin towards the screen so that she could see it from the corner of her eyes. When she saw movement in the office playback, she scowled. “Those little bastards." Their backs were towards her, but Marisol could tell that they were trying to get into the safe - one that was opened by combinations. She didn't let her gaze linger, the woman pulling away from the computer before making a beeline towards the door that would lead downstairs to the living arrangements. “Completely ungrateful little rats." She muttered to herself.

[Jesse Fforde]

Where Marisol was unwilling to watch what had happened, Jesse was. Whether it was because he had a better stomach for it, or because he wasn’t romantically attached to Rhett, it didn’t matter. It didn’t even matter if he didn’t want to watch it. One of them had to. This was why they had come, wasn’t it? They needed to figure out what had happened to Rhett, and who had been playing Rhett on the Fforde CrowNet.

The latter question wasn’t answered, but the former had some explanation. Jesse flinched at the first gunshot, but focused and narrowed his eyes until the second. The teens ran off and ransacked the office, and Rhett remained. Solid, a body still. He remained. He hadn’t died -- that was something, at least. Two gunshots to the head could be survived, though it would leave one feeling a little stupid for a while.

It was a good thing that they’d come looking for Rhett. When they found him, they could take him home, patch up his head, tuck him up in bed somewhere and wait for the wound to heal. Jesse wasn’t too worried. This could be fixed.

His fingers moved to the keyboard, where he fast-forwarded the footage until he saw Rhett stir; he hit play again, though watching Rhett’s movements around the place and then eventually seeing him leave gave absolutely no clue as to where he could have gone. But he was bleeding. If they were hunting dogs, he couldn’t be too hard to track.

Pushing away from the desk, Jesse followed after Marisol. He was heading for the exit, just as surely as she must be.

”How are your tracking skills? He’s got two bullet holes in his head. He can’t have got far. Even if he did, he’s sure to have left a trail, right?” he said. They should go on foot. It would be easier to track him on foot. Out on the street, he looked to his right, and then to his left. To his right, he could see the blue and red flash of police sirens, and a small gathering on the corner of a street. Jesse sighed, and headed in that direction.

”I’m going to guess this way,” he grumbled. Sure enough, when they got close enough, he heard the words; vampire. There’d been an attack. The guy had run off with the body. There were sirens blasting a couple of streets over.

Yes, Rhett was leaving a trail. Hopefully they could find him before he got into more trouble than he could handle.