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Sometimes the walls closed in around him. He spent most of his nights locked up in his cold, unadorned room typing up documents for the deceased and stuffing said documents into the 1930s filing cabinet in the corner of the room once he was done. As weird as it might have sounded, he would have preferred to be behind the autopsy table as opposed to being behind his cubby desk. Kaj had always had strange tastes, a leaning toward the macabre, but even he had been surprised to learn how peculiar he’d felt when he came face to face with his first dead body. It wasn’t exactly a career he had imagined himself in, but he soon found the work was well suited. Kaj preferred a quiet environment where he had the opportunity to be himself without judgement, to just get stuck into the work. Sometimes he could be particular, too much so for others to tolerate and too much so for him to tolerate others and their messiness. Kaj wasn’t much of a team player because people were often stupid and incompetent. While he was capable of working with others, Kaj simply enjoyed the serenity of isolation more and the dead didn’t seem to bother him at all.

Kaj had started working at the local hospital’s mortuary at 16 when he was still living in his home town of Gothenburg, Sweden. Due to a demand for people like him, he had recently transferred to the General Hospital in Harper Rock. The wages were incredibly tempting, and since Kaj wasn’t close with his family, it was easy enough to get a Visa and travel part-way across the globe for opportunities like this. Kaj had always liked the idea of leaving his cramped little world and travelling abroad after all and despite his reserved nature, he wasn’t timid. The pay for his new job at the hospital was healthy enough to afford him a house-share with a young couple just across town, which was a convenient half-minute walk to the train station. The couple he was house-sharing with worked regular 9-5 shifts and so when Kaj was catching up on sleep for his night shift, they wouldn’t be home to disturb him too much. They were pretty quiet for the most part anyhow, and friendly, even if the female was overly so.

Katie, who was 24 years old and had lived in Harper Rock all her life, who had never changed the colour of her hair because she liked the honey shades in the Spring sunlight and the auburn shades in Autumn, who had her mother’s blue eyes and her father’s smile, and who only worked at the local coffee shop because she hadn’t decided which path to take in her life yet, would take it upon herself to engage the Swedish man in regular and one-sided conversations. Kaj’s English was good, not great, so he could pretend to not understand half of what she was saying and duck his way out of conversations when he was lucky. Tom, Katie’s 28 year old boyfriend who worked in construction, was happy to give a polite nod in passing to the Swedish man, but he never stopped to chit-chat. Kaj preferred Tom over Katie for many reasons, but the man’s aloofness was certainly holding the top spot.

Kaj may have preferred the peace and quiet of alone time, but that didn’t mean he enjoyed being locked away in a dim, cold space for hours on end. Since his shift was nearing its end at 3am, Kaj engaged the ceiling in a staring contest as he began to think about his ever-growing book collection. Being the inquisitive type and a little old-fashioned, Kaj had gathered quite the collection of books. It had been difficult to ship his collection overseas and some had been lost in transit, but importantly, his beloved ones had arrived and arrived in tact no less. He never hunted for specific books because he enjoyed visiting old book stores or routing through boxes at junk stores. When he found something interesting, he swooped them up, took them home and found a place for them amongst his collection. While he only occupied a single room in a two bedroom house, he found he had enough space to store everything he owned – which, in the grand scheme of things, probably wasn’t all that much to begin with.

Kaj never did win those contests with the unblinking ceiling, though. Most of the time his brow furrowed deep with thought, or he was forced to blink with a blank expression when those thoughts and emotions swept up in him. On any night that he wasn't boiling in reflection or working or sleeping, he was out on the streets learning his way around. While the city didn’t seem particularly dangerous, it had an odd feel about it. Since he’d moved here some few weeks ago he noticed like a constant hum was running through him, like this place was teeming with a hidden energy buried deep beneath the concrete and the earth and the people. Even in the early hours of the morning the streets seemed to be flooded with individuals, strung to some mysterious persuasion that they couldn’t be free of. He often wondered where these people were heading so late at night, but he never dared to follow one of them. Not until tonight that was.

When the clock struck 3am, Kaj checked out of the hospital, but instead of going directly to the train station – which was just a block over – he walked in the opposite direction. Kaj had walked this way a number of times before, so he knew the area pretty well. Since he was starting to get hungry and was by now in desperate need of coffee, Kaj began heading west toward the Voodoo Cybercafe in Gullsborough. He sat at his own table, three empty chairs his sole company, and began to watch the people who strolled in and out. Tonight it wasn't too packed, only a sparse couple here or there spread out across the place. Having inhaled his double espresso, he began revolving the tiny mug slowly between his hands. Once he spun too hard and the small cup pirouetted into a mad dash across the table, spilling over into a clatter across the hardwood. Too mindful of the people who had glanced at him, he collected the small cup and put it back neatly on the table. Kaj let out a long sigh and stared at the cup briefly, his mind passing into sadness with a heavy, sour speculation before he slowly built up the courage to begin spinning the coffee cup again.

Mortll had mentioned days.. or as it weeks ago, that the lower level of the Voodoo Cafe was complete and soon to be open to the public. Vampire public that is. Apparently she had securities in place to make sure no human types made it down there. He was late in checking it out. Hell it could be open now and he wouldn’t know. But he did tell Mortll he would check the area out and tell her what his impressions were.

Before entering the Voodoo Cafe, he absently straightened his tie and adjusted his collar, so as to present the proper appearance upon entering. He was sure that if anything was the least bit out of place that tattletale Jane would be the first to tell Mortll; and he had no doubt she would slant it to the negative.

Upon stepping into the cafe, he was rather surprised to find people in there. All humans at that. He glanced at his watch, it was just after 3am. Why the **** were people even here at this hour? The night was supposed to belong to him, and now here it was spoiled with humans. He pressed his lips together in a grim line. Now he really did have to be on his best behavior. At least ‘Jane’ wasn’t working tonight.

**** him. He couldn’t remember what Mortll had told him about checking it out, did he need a key? Mortll would laugh at him and say, she knew he wasn’t listening to her. And maybe she would be right. But he wasn’t about to admit that was right. Shoving his hands in his pockets he pondered his options. Too many humans about for him to suddenly shadow and head down there.. unless… He cast his gaze around at the patrons. None of them were paying much attention to him, except maybe one.

It was as Doc studied him, he felt he had seen him some place before. Just as he seemed to lock on where he knew him from the person’s espresso cup spun out of control and clattered about. As the guy bent over to collect it, it dawned on him. The morgue guy. The hospital morgue guy; not the county morgue guy, Eddie. Doc liked to have a good relationship with the morgue staff, so that when he went into check out the unexplained deaths, they wouldn’t give him grief. He needed to meet this guy.

Going to the counter, he ordered an espresso. Once it was ready, he carried it to the guy’s table sat it down, and pushed it over to him. “You work at the hospital, right?” He hadn’t take it upon himself to sit yet, he would wait to he invited, and if he wasn’t no harm, no foul.

Kaj only looked up from his spinning coffee cup when another person walked into the café. No bell or chime above the door had signalled the person’s arrival, it was the quiet that gave him away. The sound of footsteps against the hardwood was as bold as a full moon. Pale blue eyes set on the individual in the sharply-tailored suit before looking down again. By now, Kaj had stopped spinning the cup and was pretending that he was focused on the sable liquid at the bottom of it. Well, that was only half true because his attention was divided. Nobody would dare call Kaj an artist, but he did have a keen eye and he did marvel at the darkness of the coffee drop that paled at its edges from the underlying porcelain. So his focus was partially on the small masterpiece he clutched between his hands and partially on the man who had walked in fresh out of the cold. He didn’t know for certain why he was interested in this one person in particular, but they did seem to have this air about them; something self-assured and faintly nefarious. On the other hand, it could just be that this man seemed to have taken an interest in Kaj.

The dilemma of the chicken and the egg popped into Kaj’s mind at that moment and he debated with himself whether the man had acknowledged him first and thus caused Kaj to watch him, or if it had in fact been the other way around. While he wondered about the senselessness of when and why, he barely registered the shadow looming over the table. Two big eyes looked up to perceive confidence dressed in cool flesh and a black suit before the sound of two solid objects skidding against one another pulled them right back down again. The man who’d been watching Kaj had come over to the table and had pushed a coffee cup toward him as if it was some kind of offering. Not knowing what to do about the gift – if it indeed was a gift – Kaj looked back up to the man again, his soft features clearly registering his confusion. His bottom jaw dropped half an inch, preparing a question or some faint sound of awkwardness, but he was saved from anything stupid he could immediately say on behalf of a question from the other.

Kaj’s brows pulled together into a gentle frown once more as he came to realise how blurry this dilemma was. It seemed the man recognised him for his work at the hospital, but perhaps not for too much more than that. Ordinarily he was sharp with names and faces, but he wasn’t sure about this one. Slowly, Kaj nodded his head and formed words. He was subconscious about his English and his heavy Swedish accent, but he couldn’t possibly have a conversation with body language alone.

“Uh… yes,” he managed at first; blue eyes flickering at the man, then the chair ahead of him, then the fresh coffee cup and back up to the man again. “Are you a doctor at the hospital?”

Doc took the quick glance at the chair for an invitation. He pulled the chair out, sat and then nodded in silent agreement, that yes the espresso was for him. “They do a very good espresso here. A solid twenty-six second pull. Less than that.. too weak, very much longer than that.. could be too bitter.” In his previous ‘life’, he had been a coffee snob. On more than one occasion he had reduced an anonymous teenage barista to tears, b be berating them for ruining his coffee because of their attempt to speed a process that should not be.

Relaxing back in the chair, one leg crossed over the other, his left arm resting easily on the tabletop, he finally answered the earlier question. “Yes, Doctor Charles Nilson.” He didn’t offer his hand. One might presume it was because the male across from the Doctor didn’t seem the sort to want to leave his comfort zone; but the truth of the matter was, Doc liked to keep his right hand where he could pull his gun easily from its shoulder holster. “I am surgeon on-call for third shift at the hospital through the week.” It was said apathetically, as though it wasn’t that big a deal. A dichotomy with how most surgeons react. Most tended to have god complexes. Perhaps, once upon a time, he could have been accused of having a god complex as well; but not now. Not now, now that he knew there was so much more out there, to be discovered, and he barely scratched the surface.

“I also work at Genesis Labs, doing research and development into,” he shrugged, “various and sundry items. Once the time is up on some of your John Does, if they meet my scientific parameters, the lab collects them. I swing by the morgue to check out them out every few weeks. You’re relatively new to the morgue, aren’t you?” It was a polite question. If he didn’t wish to answer, it was fine. Doc was merely trying to get a feel for the new guy. Eddie, the night shift guy at the City Morgue, was a wealth of information. Most of the time Eddie wasn’t even aware he was being helpful. But Doc believed that knowledge was power, and the more knowledge one had, the more power one had. The key was learning how to wield that power effectively.

When the man took a seat without any vocal affirmation and began a lecture on the fine art of espresso-pulling, Kaj sat back and listened. It was by far the general perception that the USA was the most caffeinated country in the world, but not a lot of people knew that it was actually Finland that consumes the most coffee. As a matter of fact, 12kg of coffee or an average of 2 cups per day are consumed in Finland every year. It’s said that 8kg of coffee are consumed in Sweden per year, per capita, and while Kaj was sure he had attributed his fair share to that statistic, he still wearily eyed the fresh espresso that was offered to him. The man wasn’t wrong about the coffee here and since Kaj had a sweet tooth, he preferred his coffee not to have that bitter tobacco flavour. On the other hand, given that Kaj had inhaled his first double espresso little more than five minutes ago, he wasn’t sure if it was wise to drink another so soon and risk beginning a chain of events that might actually keep him awake for 24 hours. This was not a wise idea; Kaj worked 10 hour shifts and he would have to sleep eventually.

By the time the man – Doctor Charles Nilson as it were – had confirmed that he was indeed a doctor at the hospital, Kaj had almost forgotten the question was asked. Still, he was relieved at the news. The alternative would have been quite dreary or disturbing. As a mortician’s assistant, or more accurately, an Anatomical Pathology Technologist, Kaj didn’t mingle with enough people at the hospital for them to recognise him. He certainly didn’t associate with any patients, so if anyone were to recognise him for being employed at the morgue, it would only be a doctor or a grieving individual. Kaj was barely capable of socialising with a stable human being, and he certainly had no expertise in counselling or consoling. That wasn’t to say that Kaj was cold or utterly heartless, he was simply not a passionate individual and felt far more comfortable speaking in a strictly practical manner. Worse still, the man before him could have been a police officer or detective and that possibility was deeply troubling.

As Dr Nilson continued, explaining how he worked for a laboratory undergoing research with the deceased, Kaj leant forward ever so slightly; his interest mounting. Two cool, pale hands slipped from their place around the espresso cup to grip the edge of his chair either side of his thighs as one leg was crossed over the other. He looked to be in complete contrast to the male in front of him, who had thrust his shoulders back to make himself look bigger. By crossing his legs and pushing his body forward, Kaj had managed to make his slim frame diminish further, almost as if he had collapsed into himself. He would have preferred to discuss the man’s research a bit more, but as it happened, he had to answer a question and quite possibly even introduce himself.

“Yes. I moved here, from Sweden, few weeks ago. To work in the hospital,” he said, becoming silent almost immediately.

He felt the nagging urge to introduce himself seeing as how the other man’s name had been given already, but it just felt strange to come up with it out of the blue. He also didn’t know if Dr Nilson would ask him any more questions on the subject, so Kaj had to leave a gap for him to do so. Most people wanted to ask him about why he’d moved here, if he liked it so far and how long he was thinking of staying. Also, once they found out about his profession, they tended to either stop talking altogether or begin to ask very immature and inappropriate questions. It was a little intrusive, but Kaj grinned and bore it for the most part. Kaj would grin and bear it again if it so happened to be necessary in this instance too, because he was curious about why this doctor, surgeon and researcher had come to sit at his table for chit-chat.

After the male confirmed, yes he worked at the hospital, he ended his turn at conversation. It wasn’t an abrupt or rude end. But it was in the manner of reply that Doc, had himself adopted with some people. The manner that clearly said, without actually saying it, ‘mind your own ******* business and leave me the **** alone.’ Perhaps he didn’t like small talk, or perhaps he was tired of overly pushy and nosy people, always trying to dig information out of you.

Doc wasn’t one for small talk either. In fact, he probably wouldn’t have bothered introducing himself at all, if not for the possibility that he might need to get into the morgue in off hours and having a good rapport with the other employees went quite far, when you wanted to skirt the red tape. This was a lesson he learned later than he should have. While he was still human, he had been a self-important ***, that was generally hated by all the nursing staff. At the time he hadn’t ******* cared that they hated him. It wasn’t like he lost sleep over it. But now, yes now, he saw the value in having a good relationship with the regular rank and file workers, because they were the backbone of the hospital.

A hospital was it’s own little village. It had its leaders and followers, as well key members that might not be a leader, but if things went bad, you wanted and needed that key member to be there. The Hospital administrator was like the mayor. He looked out for the well being of the village as a whole. He didn’t get bogged down in individual feelings, unless it was his wealthier citizens.. or surgeons. Then the mayor did what he had to, to keep them happy. The regular followers were usually low on the list of priorities.. until voting time.

It was after Doc was turned and he couldn’t just demand what he wanted from Administration anymore, because, well, the things he needed to know, like how a series of bodies died, was not under his purview. So demanding access to a bunch of bodies was only going to raise red flags, if flags were raised, people would then connect the dots that there was something suspicious about these bodies, and then the masquerade could be at risk. So he learned he had to go through the rank and file to get what he needed. And usually that meant getting to know them. Remembering they had a dog or kid.. or both. Remembering to ask about their ******* dog, or kid while trying to look interested.

Doc glanced at the counter, to if Jane were back. Jane wasn’t really her name. It was just a convenient name he chose for any female he didn’t need to appease. So, he knew it wasn’t her name. But he also knew that no matter what he did, she was never going to like or help him for that matter, so there was no point in him going to the effort of remembering her ******* name. He didn’t know whether to be relieved or not that she was not behind the counter. One the one hand he could say he came by, since Jane wasn’t around decided to wait until Mortll was there. Or on the other hand he could say the place was busy and Jane wasn't there, he didn’t want to draw attention to the entrance to the basement. Sure Mortll said she had security in place to keep humans out, but didn’t mean one or two might raise a stink about wanting to go down there and not being allowed; and it would all be his fault. He sighed derisively at his own thoughts. He glanced at his watch. It was closing on 4 am, he still had to make rounds at the Asylum, check in with Wolffyn, Lucretia and China, all before he crashed for the day. He really should be pushing off.

Reaching into his inside jacket pocket, Doc withdrew a business card and laid it on the table. “If you find you need another job, or need extra money a few days a week, give me a call. I know quite a few people, and would hopefully be able keep you close to your field.” Doc didn’t figure he would need his name, if the male did give him a call, he figured he would recognize the Nordic accent. He stood up, nodded, straightened his jacket and headed back toward the counter.

While anxious, some people tended to talk a lot and others talked too little. It was probably normal for people to do the former and chatter away uncontrollably given any verbal cue. Kaj, however, fell into the latter category and barely spoke a word. He answered efficiently, hoping not to bore his companion and provide details that simply were not needed for this time. As it happened, however, his economical way with words had appeared to displease Dr Nilson. The man had gotten up sharply, presented a business card and made an offer of employment that Kaj couldn’t be certain was genuine. It all happened rather quickly and the Swedish man was left frowning and studying the card in his hand while inconspicuously glancing over at the gentleman who’d wandered off toward the counter. Granted, Dr Nilson hadn’t gone far, but with the way he’d left, Kaj didn’t feel confident in pursuing him.

Blue-grey eyes made their way back to the espresso which was cooling quietly in its small cup. He thought, perhaps, that he had been rude which had caused the Doctor to depart so promptly. On the other hand, it was nearing 4am and perhaps the man had work to do or had to get home to sleep. Kaj was no mind-reader, but he sighed nevertheless. Any hope of letting the feeling go died as the next thought brought more explanations of how he’d caused the other man to leave so quickly. Ever the one to take an action to heart, it seemed that no matter how he tried, Kaj kept coming back to the same conclusions. He tucked the business card away in his shirt's front pocket.

Anxiety made the man’s hands shrink in his shirt sleeves and he thumbed the cuffs from the inside almost as if he was picking holes in the garment. It wouldn’t do him any good to ruin a perfectly good shirt, but a compulsion wasn’t by definition an irresistible impulse for nothing. As he was staring down at his arms, Kaj soon realised that the normal whiteness of his shirt was suddenly flickering in shades of blue and red. The man frowned, looking to the window directly ahead to see that a police car had stopped nearby. Kaj wasn’t alone in his discovery, however, and it seemed like everyone within the café had stopped what they were doing to look out the window.

“Hey, what’s going on?” said one patron approaching the glass.

“I dunno. There’s cops outside though,” said another nearby.

“How pathetic. Mind your own business,” snivelled a woman in the corner who had covered her face with a book.

“It’s just a prankster getting what he deserves,” said a man finally, turning away from the window and sitting back down somewhere behind Kaj. “It’s like these kids don’t have anything better to do. Should be sleeping, not out vandalising other people’s property.”

As the reality of the situation settled amongst the crowd of the café, the patrons began returning to their seats. Watching some teenager getting fleeced for a small prank on a neighbouring café was no big deal to this crowd. The staff, however, were more annoyed than bemused and were probably wondering to themselves about how lucky they had been to not be next on the prankster’s list. Kaj sat back into his chair once the commotion had died down, his hands having slipped out from the cuffs to lie flat across the table. He had probably been here long enough, and while it might have been slightly dangerous to meddle in official affairs, Kaj was too curious to remain seated any longer. He got up and headed outside before making a slow, wide circle of the immediate area. He didn’t want to get too close to what was happening, but he did want to see.