Sonatorrek: Reginsmál - 8

[x-dominion.livejournal.com]

After getting the results, Brand makes her departure.



“I really don’t believe this.” They sat at the Longboat Diner, looking at the test results that the FBI had sent them. Over his mammoth turkey sandwich, Garrison kept saying the same thing as he reviewed the file. “So where does that leave us? That Goldilocks the Biker is what, a god? It’s not just a giant cocktail of crazy?”

"'There are more things in heaven and earth', Kane," quoted Brand as she sipped her coffee. "Whatever he is, he's not our problem."

"We'll see what Fred says. I'm more worried about this pattern of incidences. I've been tracking the pattern by dates and times, and other than a few holes that could represent missing persons, we've got someone who is deliberately spiraling in towards Aitkins." Kane lowered his voice. "I'm waiting for some additional details, but I think we've got a serial killer with delusions of culthood. And the incidents are escalating. Whoever it is, they're ambitious."

"Whoever it is, they're not our case," Brand pointed out. "Unless you think there's a mutant involved, Duncan will hand it over to the Serials and we're back to New York."

"You know them. They won't look at the pattern first. They ask where the corpses are and that's it." He pulled out his notebook. "Now look. You've got three signature elements linking them; this crazy neo-Pagan Nordic bullshit, northern Aryan supremistics, and a spiral pattern. Now, look at the incidents that the ATF forwarded regarding the Sons of Hel. They have corresponding patterns."

She barely glanced at the notebook he was holding out to her. "Again, not our case, Kane. If you want to tread on jurisdictional toes and waste your time on a case that's not even assigned to you - if it is even a case to start with - that's your business. But don't get me involved."

"Didn't you hear me? There's a possible serial killer out there and no one is willing to stick their neck out without confirmation, which means another poor bastard gets chopped. We have to dig into this." He started to make notes. "Now, I think if you can work on the state troopers looking for regular activity on certain logging roads, I can get Arnie's people to do some sweeps up in Helmswood and Onieda. That's where the holes are right now, and I'm sure there's some evidence there. This guy is too methodical to break the pattern."

Brand sighed. "All right, let me try it this way. It's not my problem. I'm heading back to DC today."

"Wait, what? I haven't gotten any orders about DC."

"That's because the orders came from SHIELD." Brand finished her coffee and set the mug down. "Which means, lover, you're on your own."

"-but. Didn't you hear me? These people are on their own." Kane said, stunned at her indifference. "Abigail, look, you can delay an extra couple of days before you need to report in. Just a little more time and I can get enough evidence to warrant a task force coming in and-"

"I'd say I'm sorry I can't join you on your paranoid wild goose chase, Boy Scout, but that would be lying. SHIELD calls and I am out of this dump." Brand signalled for the cheque.

“I need help.” He said quietly. “I can’t do this alone, Abigail, and something is coming. I know something is coming, and I need your help. Please.” The plea was ashes in his mouth, but he couldn’t do it himself.

There was a flash of something in her eyes, something ugly and triumphant. “Oh, sweetheart,” she said, sounding almost sorrowful. “You’re really serious about this, aren’t you?” The cheque arrived and she laid down her FBI credit card. “Too bad you’re wasting your time on someone who doesn’t give a shit.”

Kane stiffened, as if he’d been turned to stone. So this was just what he’d wrought. If he’d done things differently, maybe that was enough leverage to keep her interested, but he’d traded it for a couple of nights of sex that he was ashamed of. It really was his fault.

“You’ll need to rent another car. I’m keeping this one here. Good luck in DC. I’m sure SHIELD will give you a big promotion.” With that, he stalked out of the diner without another word. He had just put the whole town in the crosshairs by thinking with his dick, and now he had to make it right. Otherwise, every death was on him.

He fished out his cellphone. It wasn’t a call he wanted to make but he was out of options. He needed help, regardless of whether or not it was legal. The drums pounded in his head, locked in with the details and case files that clouded his thoughts.

He wasn’t leaving these people to be prey, whatever it cost him. Kane thumbed the number and held it up to hear what he was hoping.

“You have reached Snow Valley Memorial Centre for Mutant Affairs-”