When Angels Fall

[Easton]

Sometime in 2015

Despite the sun sitting high in the sky, the wind was cold as ice as it whipped through the her hair, causing tendrils of chocolate to obscure her vision. Behind her, she heard the familiar grunt as her partner dropped into a crouch, his hand heavy against her shoulder. The scent of pine and cigarettes followed him, and when he leaned forward, she had to fight against the nauseating urge to gag. She’d begged him not to smoke before they left. His laughter had followed her all the way to the car, only dying when she slipped from the passenger seat to disappear into the crowded streets of Times Square.

“What do we got today, beautiful?”

The question was whispered against her ear, the scent of stale smoke and whiskey dampening each syllable. Rolling her shoulder back, she tried to push him from her, but he only leaned closer, the pressure of his chest causing her to push into a deeper kneel. The metal of the roof’s edge bit into her palms when she leaned over it, dark eyes tracking a hooded figure as he stepped from the station . Dressed in all black, they should have blended in, but to an eye as trained as hers, she caught sight with ease. Her answer was nothing more than a silent tip of her head, and then she was standing, fingers moving to pull her own hood into place, concealing her pale face from view.

“Interesting choice. If he’s coming from there, he might have something on him that could help us,” Kyle whispered, the smirk clear in his voice. His excitement was palpable, but she kept her attention ahead, not daring to meet his eyes. As silent as before, she hooked her leg over the edge of the building, preparing herself for the climb down, when his hand clamped around her bicep. Surprised, she had no choice but to glance up, brown eyes locking with dull blue.

“Be careful, E. In and out, remember. I can’t have you getting caught, too.” The concern that darkened his eyes almost gave her pause, and she felt a bitter laugh build in her chest. She didn't dare voice the words that clung like poison on her tongue, and instead, kept her smile small and sweet.

It won't be me going down this time, love.

[Dekker]

Victoria Dekker had only just made Detective the previous year before her transfer. Narcotics hadn’t been her preferred choice, but it hadn’t been uneventful, either. In comparison, the busy streets of New York City were in constant motion unlike the quiet streets of Harper Rock. There were your typical gangs and drugs, homicide, but at least she didn’t have to hear about the rumors of vampires lurking within the shadows. She didn’t have to think about Thornsdale Park, where her sister had been ripped from her arms… As she lifted her gaze towards the roofs edge, movement caught her attention and the nasty thoughts faded from her mind. She had almost thought she’d missed them, almost. “Red has left the building.” Eilish’s crackling voice had her rolling her eyes before turning her radio down lower, her back pressing back into the stone wall, behind a rather large planter as she watched the man dressed in a hooded sweatshirt beginning to walk away from the building.

If he blew their arrest…

She had agreed when the department thought Easton had rolled on her partner with way too much ease, but she’d not questioned it. The arrangement had been made - she would walk in exchange for full cooperation and testimony. Dekker had memorized parts of the younger girl’s file, the mile long rap sheet. “And it looks like the two wolves are moving.” She thought, glancing upwards from her spot before she eased backwards and up behind a low adjacent wall where she could follow the man that had been dubbed as ‘Red’ if needed. Her partner had laughed at her when she’d shown up wearing running shoes to their last playdate as he liked to refer to them as, but she’d had the last laugh when he’d gotten blisters running in loafers.

“Remember, Red. If they take the bait, Dekker’s nearby.”

Eilish spoke and she heard the jingling of keys as he passed her, a curse escaping past his lips. She heard him drop his bag, startled. She closed her brown eyes, silently thinking about how she’d been paired by idiots as another clatter told her that he’d dropped something else. Lifting her right wrist to her side, she pressed the microphone and hissed, “This is what you get for using a civilian.” He tapped his microphone in response twice, telling her to be quiet. As she made a mental note to punch the man later, knowing he was likely somewhere above her in an office and cozy while she was outside, Dekker began to focus her chi and felt the way power flowed through her veins.

[Easton]

When her feet touched the ground, she took a quiet breath, her eyes falling closed for a second. Just a second, so she could collect her thoughts. A second, so she could brace herself for what was to come. As soon as she stepped into the street, she was going to be enemy number one. There wouldn’t be a place in the world that she could hide, but it would be worth it. It had to be worth it. Anything was better than living under his thumb and enduring the nightmare the crew put her through. In and out, E. In and out. Repeating the mantra in her head, she pushed herself off the brick and smoothed her hands down her jeans, her dark eyes tracking the target.

It had to look real.

She would approach him, dip her hand into his pocket, and take the case. The case, she prayed, held the tracker that would lead Dekker to her. If not… If not, well. This would all be for nothing, because she would be dead. Slipping into the crowd, she kept quiet, a few paces behind the hooded figure. Her eyes tracked his every movement from where he dropped the bag, to where he started to stand again, and she watched as his shoulders bunched, as if he could already sense her. He’s going to notice. I swear to god, if your people get me killed, Dekker, she hissed in her mind, and picked up the pace before the man could blow everything they had worked for. Pretending her foot caught caught, she went flying, lithe frame connecting with his.

As she had suspected, he was tense, and instead of falling, he sent her bouncing back. Gritting her teeth, she windmilled her arm, fingers twisting into his hoodie to keep herself upright. Her free hand came around, and she reached inside, snagging the object. His hand came out to steady her, and she watched his lips curve into a nervous smile. “I’m sorry, miss. Are you okay?” His voice was soft, and the feigned concern almost made her chuckle. However, she just offered a nod of her head and straightened, dusting herself off. In a second, she was gone, winding her way back through the crowd, towards where she knew he’d be waiting. Get in, hand the case over, and get out.

She was ten steps from freedom.