Watching, Waiting

[Storyteller]

You sit at your table in the diner, and watch him. He's on the other side of the room, but you've picked a spot so that you can see him clearly.

Your masters in the Covenant ordered you to keep tabs on him, for the moment. No violence. Unless he gets you first. You're not sure what he's done exactly, but you have a good idea. Words like 'herecy' spring to mind, but for all you know, he may just have pissed someone up high up.

He's paying, ready to leave. He's on his own. Leather trench jacket, dark trousers, his hair swept back neatly, polished shoes shining. He looks pretty slick.

When you came in, you just ordered a coffee, and disposed of it subtly. You paid at the time, so you could get up and go when needs be.

Looks like it's time to follow him...

[Treyvon Johnson]

Finally, he's on his way out.

It's not so much that he took a long time. I just could've been doing about five other things tonight. Still, if this man's been dubbed a heretic, I should be honored to be the one on his case. I leave a dollar on the table as I get up and leave the diner, smiling at the waitress on the way out.

In my mind, the man I'm trailing seems more than a little overdone. I'm only wearing a white and brown button down, a pair of jeans and cinnamon colored boots. The key is to blend in and this guy certainly makes it easy for me to follow him.

Still, I keep my distance from him as I follow, trying to remain about a block away.

[Storyteller]

You follow him for quite a way, about 20 minutes walking, and you don't think he sees you. Excellent.

Eventually, he heads down an alley, you follow, but hang at the end of the alley, out of sight, to watch him. He goes to a door in one of the walls, and knocks. After a minute, the door opens, and, after a quick glance either side, he disappears inside.

You hang around here, hoping he doesn't come out some exit. After about 15 minutes, you entertain the idea of going off and leaving him, assuming he's either gone already, or is going to stay there. Your cell phone cuts through your thoughts.

"Treyvon"

It's Michael. He's one of the big players in your Covenant. He's part of the Inquisition, though he's never acknoledged it directly to you, and he calls a fair few shots. You like him though, he's not a bad guy, as they go. Admittedly, that might not be saying much.

"What's the status on the target?"

[Treyvon Johnson]

"I'm waiting for him outside of a dark alley. He's been in there for about," I check the time on my cellphone, " I'd say about 15 minutes now."

After another quick glance down the alley I look out into the street and make a mock sigh.

"As far as I know he knows he's being tailed and dipped out of another exit. I'll wait for a bit longer though..."

I pull out a cigarette and stick it in my mouth. I've never been a smoker, but at least this let's me loiter without looking too suspicious.

"So anything exciting going on I should know about? Or shouldn't for that matter." Normally this isn't a situation for humor but I do like Michael and I'm bored as hell.

[Storyteller]

"Heh, lots of both, as ever, but for now, there's business. Your assignments just been changed. We can't risk the fact that he may be holed up in there. You're to go in, incapacitate him, and bring him in, for a little 'reeducation' as to just what herecy means to us. Shouldn't be too many others in there; none you can't handle at any rate. Try to stay non-violent as long as possible. Blagging your way in, and getting close to him will probably work better than just blasting through, but hey, it's your call."

"Think you can handle that? Or do we have to waste time with backup?"

His voice is somewhat offhand, amused almost. On one level that annoys you, particularly as he's putting your ass in the line of fire, but on another, you can't help be amused yourself.

[Treyvon Johnson]

"Go ahead and send backup if you want. They'll have to find their own way in, though because I'm not waiting."

I put the unused cigarette back in the pack as I turn around and head into the alleyway.

"I'll call you in a bit."

I hang up the cell phone and walk over to the door my query just walked in. I take a moment to ready myself, hiding the gun tucked away underneath my shirt with a touch of shadow for the mind. Then I knock on the door.

{Obfuscate: Touch of Shadow}

[Storyteller]

You wait for a few minutes, and the door finally opens slightly. You can just make out a chain holding it from the inside.

Just above this, a shadowed sliver of a face, peering out at you.

"What do you want?"

The voice, strong, but grating, accosts you.

[Treyvon Johnson]

I take a quick glance at the chain before I look back at the man behind the door.

"It'd probably be better if we talked about this inside. Needless to say, I'm here to help your friend. The one who walked in a few minutes ago."

As I speak, I turn on my 'love vibe,' that thing that draws others into me making me seem even more beautiful, smart and charismatic than I usually am. If I'm gonna be out here, I might as well screw around with these boys' heads.

"We've only got a little time so I'd make my decision fast."

{Majesty: Awe}

[Storyteller]

He undoes the chain, opens the door, and leans out. He looks both ways up the dark alley, and then ducks back inside, beckoning you to follow.

The room behind is quite dark, with no lights on, but when he shuts the door, he flips on a light, and you can see. A wooden door, closed, leads off the room. A small, rickety wooden chair is set by the door, with a table against the wall next to it. The man, who you can make out now properly, and who must be in his 40s, with balding black hair, sits down in the chair, which creaks under his weight.

"So, what the hell is it."

[Treyvon Johnson]

I glance around the room before leaning against a wall where both doors are in my view.

"You're friend is wanted by a very powerful organization that's on their way as we speak. I'm not sure what he's done, but if he surrenders to me peacefully, I can try to negotiate a less severe punishment."

I glance at the door I just walked in for dramatic effect.

"But we don't have much time. If the others get here before I have him in custody, there'll be hell to pay. They'll take him by force and if you or anyone else tries to stand in their way..."

The voice trail. Another classic tool for insighting sympathy and understanding.

"So what're you gonna do?"

[Storyteller]

He squints at you for a minute. Despite the fact you haven't rated this guy to amount to anything so far, being under his gaze. It's only for a few seconds, but it feels like minutes.

"Wait here."

He stands, and goes off through the wooden door, closing it behind him, leaving you along for the moment.

[Treyvon Johnson]

I nod and smile compliantly all the way until that nothing closes the door. Idiot. Now that I've got some time to myself, I begin to take a better look around the room. You never know when something important might show up.

[Storyteller]

There isn't much in the room, the little table against one wall only holding a 3 day old newspaper and a dirty magazine.

After a few minutes, the man comes back.

"What my 'friend' wants to know is: 'Why the fuck should i trust you?'"

[Treyvon Johnson]

I shrug at the man's question.

"I don't know. Probably because I'm the only way he may make it out of this alive. If I knew how to find him, you'd best be sure the rest of my organization knows. He's pissed off some powerful individuals and if I don't get him, the next person to come searching won't be nearly as polite."

[Storyteller]

He glares at you for a moment more, as if apprasing you, before breaking off.

"All right, follow me."

He gets up and goes through the door.

You follow him down a dark, narrow corridor, and then up a flight of stairs. At the top, he heads right, and comes to a door, he reaches forward, as if about to open it, and then pauses, before seemingly changing his mind, and heading a little further down, to a second door.

"In there, wait for him. I'll get him to come to you."