Summary:Dr Morbius runs afoul of crooks…and cops. Log Info:Storyteller: None |
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Staten Island is a shit hole. Okay, so not /everywhere/, drive through the right neighborhood and one would think they'd found the hidden heart of Beverly Hills or the Upper East Side, mansions and high rises commanding unpresidented lots of land in a New York area code. But this is not the right neighborhood. Nope. This is decidedly a shit hole. Bars cover every window on every building for at least the first 3 floors. Fire escapes that exsist here are rusted and when the wind comes off the river, creak and groan in a chorus of tortured cries of agony. Power lines criss cross the sky here, making any upward glance feel like one were looking up from beneath a giant spider's web, trapped and knowing it. Looming turn of two centuries ago brick and concrete buildings tower overhead with a feeling more akin to prison walls then the housing projects and slum lord low rent hovels they clearly are. Years of exhaust, car fires, greasy resturant vapors, piled rotting trash leakings, and human waste left to be washed away by the rain have stained nearly every surface at street level with varying shades of black on charcoal gray. What splashes of color there are are almost exclusively related to gang tags, anarchistic musical acts 'flyers', or missing persons posters plastered on every flat surface.
If there were a bright and shineing heart of New York, this is the point furthest from it. It is here, in the abject poverty, where crime flurishes almost unabashed, that Michelle's car has decided to stage it's own protest. It is also where Dick Grayson, Detective Third Class, Homocide Division, is sitting his thirty-sixth straight hour of an endless stakeout staring at the same grime covered third story window, waiting patiently for the idiot inside to make a mistake.
Oh yeah. And there's Gibbs. Grayson's partner, slovenly, overweight, broken, and currently snoreing like a Harley on bad gas, his seat dropped all the way back in the old Lincoln and his sweat and Korean fusion BBQ stained suit jacket dragged over his face to cut out the glare of a nearby flickering neon advertisement.
It's official. Being a vampire SUCKS! (So to speak.)
In spite of her allergy to sunlight, she is still expected to honor her commitments, like the lecture on virology at Staten Island University Hospital. The director was all smiles as he introduced her, and she had given her lecture on the current state of viral strains to an audience that seemed not to care that one of the top people in her field was instructing them on life-saving techniques. So she was already in a bit of a foul mood.
THEN there was the girl. Alisha. The one she and the girl called Eve had rescued from that bully at the night club. She had returned to the club a few nights later, and Alisha had pulled her into a back room, and pledged her undying (ha) devotion. As her lover? No, not at all. As her "ghoul." A willing blood donor.
Dammit, she was a NOBEL LAUREATE! She was not some vampire queen looking to establish her dominion over the city. She was a SCIENTIST!
She tossed her briefcase in the trunk of her rental, got in, then turned the key,
Click-click-click.
What fallowed was an impressive amount of profanities for one full minute, in Greek and English, and without repeating herself once.
Dick Grayson doesn't wanna look. He might miss something! But. But… this is soooo boring! And someone's speaking Greek, which he's only a little okay at. Which is intere-fuck it. He turns away from the window he's been staring at for over a day, and blinks, clearing his eyes enough to see what's happening. Ah. Lady. Car. Bad night. He winces a bit in sympathy, but lets it slide. He has a job to do and being galant in this part of town doesn't sit well with the mandate of 'stake out' as it draws all the attentions.
She tries the key again. Nothing.
She yanks the car door open and gets out, fuming, unaware that her eyes are starting to go red again. She was getting thirsty. She had two bottles of O-Positive in the cooler in the back seat, but those were for emergencies.
She took out her phone and looked at the screen. One solitary bar. She shook her head, taking off her glasses (which were simply window glass now) and rubbed her head. Could this night get any worse?
"Hey, baby. Ya got car trouble?"
She froze, then looked over to her left. Three men were advancing on her, all of them with the same sly-stupid smile.
Annnnd it just got worse.
Dick Grayson's sympathetic wince goes still and becomes somethind a bit harder, more intense. This… this could be bad. Everything about the body language is wrong, off. He can see it from there, aggression, arrogance, it's written on all three of the guys as clear as the flashing neon around them. He frowns and slips his hand down to the clasp of his seatbelt, gently clicking it open. Just in case he has to move fast.
"Don't." comes the mumbled utterance from beneath the disgusting suit coat. Gibbs looks for all the world like a sloven flat lump of lard and cheap tiquila poured into a suit that's 1 size to small and 2 sizes to big all at the same time. He spits, his hair is both greasy and falling out, his shoes are old and uncared for, his watch is a digital timex /knock off/, and the high school ring on his finger has clearly been resized at least three times to keep fitting, though how he gets any circulation to that pinky any more is nothing shy of a medical miracle. But. He's not stupid. Nor is he unobservant. He's /very/ good at his job in fact, or he would be, if he gave half a shit. It's the one thing that Dicks hates most about him. If he was a failure due to ineptitude, it could be forgiven, but this much talent actively not trying insults him to his core. And scares him. But for the grace of god and all that. Dick keeps looking out the window, "Girl out there, couple of thugs. Could get ugly." he says. There's a grunt and a shift from his partener that makes the whole car rock slightly, "Hooker." he says, knowing that's not the case, "Walk the street, pay the toll." he mumbles through fat lips before wriggling again to get comfy. Dick doesn't sigh, doesn't shake his head, just feels sadder. "Still not right." he says softly. Gibbs just snorts as if that were hilarious then begins a deep rhythmic breathing.
Her senses suddenly sharpen, and she realizes three things. One…she and her three paramours are not the only ones here. There is one…no, two others. She can smell them. One of them is almost putrid. The other is…different. Clean, sharp, healthy.
The second thing is that should hold herself back somehow. She can't…jus release this beast that has taken up residence within her.
The third thing is…she doesn't WANT to hold back.
But how is she going to handle them?
"Pardon me, sirs. I ma having a little trouble with my car. I don't suppose one of you could call me a Lyft?" She backs up slightly. A few steps and she will be out of sight of the two she smelled.
The lead guy smiles. "Oh, don't worry about that. We'll GIVE you a lift, won't we, boys?" He pronounced it "byes."
Dick Grayson's eyes narrow a bit as the group starts to drift out of his vision and he reaches for the door handle, "Don't." Gibbs says again into the car, and this time his tone holds the barest hint of warning. "We're cops man." he says back to his partener, "And more then that, we're /people/. We'll get Trick Boy next time." "And when he drops four more bodies with his shit? Cause you couldn't make the collar?" the fat man asks coldly, "Gonna feel okay with that?" Dick eyes his partner in the reflection of the car mirror, "You could keep watch." he points out. Gibbs snorts again, "You forget, I don't give a fuck. Go play hero. But imma be here singing I Told You So like Lady Gaga when that tainted shit is on the street this time next week." and the suit coat goes back over his head.
He's out of the car and half way across the street before he can think to heavily about it. If he's lucky, maybe all of this can go down without blowing his cover… … …sure. Cause he's lucky like that.
Maybe this can be done quietly. She wished she'd paid more attention in that self-defense class.
"Thank you, but I'll be…"
"Get her!" the leader yells, and rushes forward.
And when she moves, it's almost too fast to see. She grabs the leader by the arm, whirls around, and THROWS him awy from her. He flies through the air a full 25 feet before hitting the pavement and rolling.
As the other two pause, seeing their fearless leader get tossed like a bat after the batter hits a grounder, she hisses at them in Greek: <Do you know what kind of day I'm having? What kind of LIFE I'm having? Do you realize what kind of a FAVOR you are doing me by showing up like thissss…?>
There is a bit of a hiss on the last word, and the two of them can see the crimson eyes and the sharp, white fangs now, awakening childhood terrors.
"So…WHO WANTS TO JOIN THE FOOD CHAIN??" she snarls.
Dick Grayson freezes when he hears the voice… That is not a victim. Then a guy goes flying by and Dick's hand snaps out his asp, the little cylinder instantly snapping open into a full police issue billy club, "Boys." he says in a calm and even tone, "Think you need to take yourself a walk. Away." calm it might be, but there's authority in the words, and one look at his face makes it clear in a heartbeat he's not playing games. Not tonight. So much for keeping himself under the radar, "Ma'am. Think maybe you wanna calm down." it's not a question.
The other two men spot Grayson, and one of them recognizes Grayson. "Ease back, Clint, he's a damn COP." The last word is spoken with a fair amount of venom to it. "Let's motor."
They move away from Grayson and Michelle, grabbing their stunned comrade.
Michelle takes the opportunity to head to her car and open the back seat. She feels both gratitude and resentment towards the other man, which bothers her. She pulls the rubber stopper and begins to chug the bottle's contents, throat working as she drinks and drinks…
Dick Grayson grins a bit, and while warm, it's a touch mocking, "Dennis! Didn't notice you without the make up this time." he gives a little wave with the point of the asp, "Now get. We'll catch up later, I'm sure." and he waits for the two to go before his attention completely returns to the woman, "Um. Not that I'm the preachy sort, but are you hitting that bottle a little hard for someone with a pitching arm like that?"
She lowers the bottle, and looks at Grayson with clear, blue eyes, the color of glacier ice. She smiles pleasantly, displaying even, white teeth.
"For…medicinal purposes," she says politely. It is then that he can see the blue dress under the white doctor's coat (unsplashed with gore, luckily) and the name tag she had been issued as a visitor:
Dr. Michelle Morbius
Visitor
Staten Island Univeristy Hospital
Dick Grayson doesn't quirk a brow, he's to good for that, but he's also not the sort to forget what he saw. Have to walk back through his recolections later, play that tape over agian. Just to make sure… "Medicinal." he says evenly, then shrugs, "Seems legit." and he uses the heel of one hand to drive the asp back into itself, collapsing it neatly. Though, you're really not supposed to do it that way. "You shouldn't be out here thsi time of night Doc, it's not a nice part of town."
She looks at him and bites back the immediate first response: <I'm not a nice person anymore.,,> she only thinks.
"I'm afraid I have little choice in the matter. I was asked to give a talk on virulent disease at the hospital, only I did not know I would be given so little to work with." She points to the car. "It simply would not start."
Dick Grayson is, luckily for everyone, not a telepath! Oooo. Would be so handy though! "Ah. Well then." he looks around and rubs the back of his neck, glancing behind him. He spots a shadow in a window on above them, back lit, staring, and sighs heavily, "Never gonna hear the end of this…" he jerks his head, "Come on. I can give you a ride."
She covers her mouth with one hand, looking almost comically prudish. "I don't want to put you out, sir. I suspect you have better things to do than escort biochemists home, Nobel Prize or not."
She blinks as she realizes what word she used. "I'm sorry. I'm not trying to make fun…"
Dick Grayson snorts, "Yeah, I have to annoy my partner. He's taking a nap and there's nothing quite so enjoyable as inflicting the company of an urbane attractive woman on him. He gets… befuddled. Which is rare, and my shadenfrude is just strong enough to wallow in that small victory. Fair warning, we've been on the job for over a day, car's a bit uh" he looks embarassed, "ripe. But I'll keep the window down and febreeze the Old Man. Come on. You really shouldn't be walking around this side of the river at night."
Michelle took a deep breath, then nods. "All right, then. Let me get my briefcase."
And get the second bottle from the back, as well. it fit nicely at the bottom of the case.
She steps out, smiling pleasantly to Grayson. "I have everything." She takes a step before realizing she shouldn't know what direction his car is in. "Uhm…lead the way, please?"
Dick Grayson nods, letting her gather her things and not at all being nosey… nope. Then he heads off, letting her follow but keeping a wary eye all the same just in case, "Biochem, eh?" he asks curiously, "I did alright in that in Uni. Got room for some competition? Might go back one day, pick up the extra degree, make the next uh… something. Then you'll be in trouble." the Lincoln is an old black beater of a car, and he was right about the smell. He also wasn't lying about the whole febreeze thing, as he gets a small bottle from the trunk and then opens the passenger side door and liberally covers a suddenly sputtering and swearing Gibbs. "We got company." he says in a voice that's to sweet to be sincere in his partners direction. Dick winks at her over the top fo the car, "Promise nothing in the back will bite. Just… look like it."
Michelle eyed the car. Yes, this was the smell, only after her little "nightcap" it didn't smell as bad. "All right…duly warned." She sat inside the back seat, relaxing slightly.
Of course, being the biggest biter in the back was a factor. "Biochemistry is a growing industry, officer. The one i'm most proud of is my definitive paper on infectious diseases. It was received very well."
Enough to get the Nobel, but she's already mentioned that once, and fishing for compliments was never her style.
"I suppose some parallels can be drawn between police work and the treating of infections. Diligence, detective work, and attention to detail is highly-regarded in both fields. Oh, this is my lab." She rattles off an address.
Dick Grayson makes a face, "Not a lot of money in that." he says as he climbs back into the driver's seat while Gibbs, true to Dick's word, is a bit flabber gasted if his expression is any indication. He sits up suddenly, looking mad and wipeing at his jacket as if trying to get the smell of 'unoffensive' out of the fibers, before he stiffens at the sight of Michelle, and starts chewing the inside of his cheek. He shoots Dick a questioning and shrewd look as the younger man climbs into the driver's seat, then looks up at the window they were watching earlier. Seeing the sillhouete there, he gruns and smirks knowingly. Grayson fucked up. And this is payback for the inevitable I Told You So that's coming from Gibbs later. Well played. He grunts again and seems to deflate a bit in his seat, tugging to get the seat belt around his but. He mutters something that /might/ have been a greeting. Maybe.
"Unless you're curing something heavy duty, then I suppose that patent could get you loaded. Any companies I should invest in? Pad my retirement account so I don't walk a beat forever?" he's playing up the stupid a bit, something about the chick doesn't smell right and its easy to underestimate a pretty NYPD kid. Gibbs, catching the odd nature of the conversation quickly, shoots Dick another shrewd look and deflates into hismelf further, listening curiously.
Michelle sighs. "I'm a doctor, not a businesswoman. Most of my wealth came from the family business in Athens. They're all very proud of me, of course, but any grant money I get goes right back into research. I'm sure you don't want me to bore you with my current project. though. It's…a rather personal one, if I may be so bold."
Dick Grayson nods his head, "Yeah, a doctor in the family, never a bad thing." he flashes another even smile, "Oh I don't know about all that, I do like the idea of testing my education against your fancy Nobel science. See if all that debt was worth it ya know?" he doesn't so much 'stop' at the red light, as slow down enough to check traffic and slip through. No one stops at the lights down here, bad idea. "Not trying to push you to spill your secrets or anything, just don't usually get Doc's with science projects rocking it out down here. Color me curious."
Michelle sits back. She looks like she is trying to relax, but she is trying to keep away from the slight pulse of his heart. She wondered if this what what the madman of THE TELL-TALE HEART heard.
"I…well, ever since the paper was published, I'm considered the highest in my field, so I get these invitations, and it's an important subject to cover in hospitals…even with current safety standards…and then I get promised dinner, travel, and lodging. This hospital, though…I had a friend who did his reisdency there."
Dick Grayson winces, "With friends like these, right?" he asks, and his New York accent is just a little thicker then before. Not a ton, hardly noticeable, but enough to make him sound less refined. More like a braggart trying to talk up a girl and less like someone who might actually /know/ what she was talking about. Just a little. Still smart. Just not as smart as he lets on. Still educated, but what he was elluding to as being a decent school is likely something more state like. "Want us to swing by someplace? Get you a bite to eat?" he asks randomly, glancing at her in the review mirror curiously, "Food and liqour, only things a decent person can get out on the street after 2am."
Michelle blinks. "No…! No, I had something before we left. I just want to get back to my apartment, curl up in a nice warm couch so I can yell at my coordinator about the <triple-damned abortion of a> vehicle and the local hospital security <that couldn't find their own genitals with both hands, GREY'S ANATOMY, and a sniffer dog>…" she says, lapsing into Greek for the more colorful parts.
Dick Grayson nods his head in a manner that suggests he hears all of this and only understands bits. Still. Tone translates in some cases far better then Google ever could, "You know, I got some buddies on the force, do some moonlighting, if you need security next time we could rent you a couple of badges. Off duty you understand, private side business of theirs." see how helpful he is?
Michelle chuckles. "I might have to figure it out. I don't know if I can afford personal security, and it might raise issues. I know two colleagues who would cause no end of gossip if I started walking around with a bodyguard…"
Dick Grayson makes a face, "Naw. Make 'em jealous. We'll get you a coupla strapping young lads. Got some guys from the FDNY who land in the calander each year? Plus I get to spend the rest of my life mocking them for being an accessory to you, so it's win/win for both of us." Gibbs can't help himself, he snickers softly at that. "Tell you what," he wriggles around in his seat a bit before fishing a card out of his shirt pocket and extending it over the back of his seat, "Got my number on there and everything. You think you might need an escort to get you in and out of some place, you just call me. I know a few guys, and if they're busy well then, I /suppose/ I could Uber you about. I've had worse passengers in my car." he shoots a suspicious glance Gibbs' way, who just seems to scruntch down a little more in irritation at being singled out.
It…would be impolite not to take the card. As well as suspicious. She just hoped Alisha would not show up anywhere.
She takes the card, looks at it, then slips it into the pocket of her white coat. "Thank you, detective. Please do not be offended if I say that I hope I do not need to call on you."
Dick Grayson nods his head at her, "Sure thing Doc, sure thing. Better to have it and not need it, then need it and not have it, ya know? Besides, I'm not so bad a traveling companion, swear." another easy smile. His mind has already filed away everything he can glean from her, there's to much wrong with the picture she presents. Or maybe he's just to familiar with wrong and it's coloring his perspective. He might have to bounce this off of Babs later. Sigh. Prolly gonna get a lecture. He pulls up in front of the address she gave him and lets her get on out. He offers a little wave, waits for her to disappear into the building before the car drifts off down the road.
Gibbs eyes her, then looks back to his partner, "Wanna tell me what the fuck that was about? Havn't seen you bee that stupid since we did that shit at the Lounge." Dick's expression clouds a bit at the mention of the Lounge and he shoots Gibbs' glistening greedy grin a disappointed expression, "She smells wrong. I mean, it was hard to pick up over your aroma," Gibbs belches in response, "but she didn't sit right with me. Doctor like her? This side of town that late? Fought off one of Dennis the Menace's idiot boys too. Not saying that's hard, but its not nothing either. Maybe she's on the up and up, maybe not, all I know is that if I got invited out here at this time of night to speak and somehow ended up being the last one to leave and walk alone down the street at night afterward, I'd have some questions about the sort of 'friends' I have. Whole thing just…" he trails off. Gibbs swats Dick's shoulder, "Stinks." he finishes for his younger partner, "Gonna make a cop outa ya yet, son." another pause, "You heard her mention she was rich right? Good pull. Always like protecting the rich ones." Dick just sighs and makes the turn that'll take them back out of the educational quarter and back down to the precinct. He has to explain the loss of their target to the Lt. As he starts to pick up speed, Gibbs begins to hum something by Gaga and muttering something under his breath that sounds suspicially like 'told you so' in time with the tune.