ellectrical | June 2007, Three Weeks

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June 2007, Three Weeks

After three weeks, everything had finally come into place. It had rained until late into the previous night, but the sky was clear by morning, and Elle had packed her bag (a large black purse) with what she'd borrowed from X, her map, her gun, even another plastic bag of Girl Scout cookies, before locking the door to her room and heading out to the street.

She gets an early start, making her way to the alley a couple hours before she thinks he'll show up. After double-checking that the employees of the club have really cleared out, Elle checks her surroundings, then moves to the double doors, and sets her purse down on the wet pavement.

About ten minutes later, with the aid of a torsion wrench and bump key, the padlock on the door has slid open. She leaves it hanging on the chain, puts her tools back into her purse, and moves away.

There's a space on the other side of the alley - it gives her cover in the form of the hair salon's dumpster and is kept dry by a short, striped awning that juts out from the wall, over the dumpster and the door on the other side. Elle positions herself, and waits.

Patience is not one of her virtues.

But sometimes, when she wants something bad enough, it doesn't really matter.

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Jamie doesn't stop as he walks by the alley - he wants to get home before he bruises the apples in his bag - but he looks back again once or twice as he walks on. Does that alley even go anywhere?

It's after one of those glances that he slows, eyebrows lifting under his baseball cap. It's not a windy day at all . . . and he could swear those old newspapers near the entrance to the alley just shifted over by a half a foot.

It's sort of Jamie's job, in a way, he tells himself, to notice things that are out of place in the worlds. (He also tells himself it was curiosity killed the cat, but, as usual, that voice gets drowned out.)

Quietly, he starts to head back towards the mouth of the alleyway.

The street was mostly clear the last time Elle turned to look. And if she does this right, it's not like there should be much to see. Not anything that wouldn't be easy to explain away, in any case.

Something shuffles on the other side of the alley. She edges closer to the front of the dumpster - of course, there's nothing in view.

And then, a nearby puddle splashes up, as though someone's shoe had stomped right through it. She's been waiting for that sound for weeks now - Elle whips forward, and a bright white electric bolt shoots out of her hand, and toward the standing water.

The electricity crackles up out of the shallow pool, at first what appears to be through thin air, before the figure of an unkempt man in a long black coat appears from nowhere, and tumbles forward onto the pavement.

. . . bloody hell, it is Elle.

She steps out from behind the dumpster, looking to both ends of the alley. Her eyes pass over Jamie, lingering for only a moment before she looks back to the man now lying flat, face down on the concrete.

No one calls out, or even stops - Rains already looks extremely scruffy, and as Elle seems to be approaching him, it doesn't look like anyone else is very interested in getting involved.

Elle kneels down next to the man, putting her hand over his wrist.

. . . . well.

Jamie was never one to look a gift mark in the mouth.

"Oi, Elle, do you need everything in his wallet," he asks, stepping forward into the alley, "or do you mind if I grab the cash?"

Her back stiffens, and she freezes in place.

Elle looks up, meeting Jamie's eyes with a blank expression. That she recognizes him is clear, but this seems to dissipate after a moment, and she shakes her head.

In a low voice, "Kid, you should get out of here."

"- something dangerous coming?"

If she says yes, he'll get gone; Elle can take care of herself, and he's got no call to lay his life on the line over one of her missions.

Elle pushes herself up from the pavement.

"Who are you?"

"Don't pull that," Jamie says, and glances over his shoulder to see if anyone else is wandering by the street. "I know you recognized me. And I wouldn't know who you were if I wasn't the right one, would I?"

He looks back at her and offers a shrug and a guileless grin. "I wandered into these parts a few months back. Didn't realize they were yours."

Jamie's reasoning doesn't entirely work, but it's enough that Elle puts a hand to her forehead, and with honest exasperation she mutters to herself, "Fuck."

It looks briefly like she might actually grab his shirt and shove him up against the alley wall. But after a few moments during which her frustration doesn't seem to let up at all, it's -

"Fine. Whatever. You're helping me."

"All right," says Jamie amiably, who considers himself a go-with-the-flow type of fellow. "What do you need?"

She never did answer him about the cash - but maybe he'd better ask her again later.

She doesn't answer this immediately, either - Elle kneels back down next to Rains, again assessing that he's really unconscious.

"Get on his other side," she says, without looking at Jamie. But she gestures toward the other side of the alley.

"We have to get him to the doors over there."

Jamie heads around the unconscious body of the man - whoever he is - and crouches down, knees bent, balancing on the balls of his feet. He shifts his grocery bag so it's hanging off his shoulder rather than his elbow, and slides his hand under Elle's victim's arm.

"Out of curiosity, how were you planning on carting him off by yourself?"

"He's not that heavy."

Well, for Elle, he is still a lot to push around on her own. She hadn't planned on being too careful about getting him down the stairs inside, and now, she is privately glad for the help. But she's still right - he has the look of someone who hasn't eaten much in a while, his coat even becoming somewhat loose.

Without much difficulty, Elle lifts one of the man's arms, and pulls it up around her shoulder, then pauses to look over to Jamie.

"Heavier than either of us, I'd bet, anyway," mutters Jamie and drapes the man's other arm around his own shoulder, hauling the body up with a grunt.

"Do I get to know why we're toting the fellow around in a dark alleyway, or is that classified?"

"You'll get to know when we get to it," Elle mutters, pulling herself as well. She checks that her purse strap is still securely over her free shoulder, and glances to the ends of the alley again. A few people are looking in their direction, but with nothing more than dim curiosity, and they all continue on as Jamie and Elle turn in the direction of the other side of the alley.

The doors are still closed, with the chain in place around them. Elle doesn't let go of Rains, but foists some of the burden off on Jamie as she leans down to pull off the already opened padlock, and take down the chains. They all have to lean forward as she pushes the door open, and leads in to the now silent club.

All it really looks like is a concrete hallway, with a short stairway on the left that leads downward. Elle drops the chain and lock on the floor, and uses her foot to shove the door closed behind them.

"Come on, we're going downstairs."

Jamie is struggling, without much success, to keep his grocery bag from banging into the fellow's head every time they move forward.

Well, it probably won't do him any more damage. (Might bruise up the apples, though they're probably a lost cause at this point.)

"What's down there, a dungeon?"

Starting to sound grumpy, "Does this look like a castle?"

It's not a dungeon, in any case, but with the lights out now, it's increasingly difficult to see as they head down. The only light comes from the windows at the landing back at the top of the stairs, but once they reach the basement, Elle guides them to the right, and slowly against a wall.

"There's a switch somewhere near you," she mumbles, shifting some of Rains' weight to the wall.

"All right -"

Jamie fumbles backwards towards the wall with his free hand, finally managing to hit the light switch more by luck than anything else.

He's tactful enough - or wary enough of Elle's mood - not to make any more remarks about how she might have had a little difficulty juggling the man and hitting the lights, without an extra pair of hands.

Contrary to what Jamie might think, Elle has handled a body before.

Or maybe several times before.

The fluorescent lights lining the ceiling blink on at once, illuminating the brick-lined basement. It's mostly stocked with cardboard boxes and wood crates, and Elle nods to the other side of the room - a few pipes line the far wall, and several fold-up chairs are stacked against it.

"Open one of the chairs."

After a moment, she thinks to add, "Over there."

"Cozy," remarks Jamie, eyeing their surroundings. "You've got him all right?"

He shrugs himself out from under the man's arm and heads over to the fold-up chairs, casting the occasional glance over at Elle and her - captive? victim? - as he pulls out the top one and sets it up, trying to minimize the clatter.

It is tempting to slide down to the floor, but Elle holds herself up, also looking carefully over Rains, and even at one point checking her watch.

"Come back and help me get him there when you're done."

Jamie dumps his bag of groceries down next to the chair.

"Yes ma'am."

He heads back over and grabs the arm again.

"And any time you want to add that explanation -" He's breathing a little harder as the weight shifts back onto his shoulders and they start heading over to the chair. "- would be fine by me."

Whatever that explanation is, it still doesn't come.

But once he's been shoved somewhat upright into the chair, Elle walks away and calls after him, "You can take his coat off."

In the meantime, Elle drops her own bag to the floor, and starts to set up a small, plastic table just more than an arm's width away from the chair.

It's not enough to capture the fellow; now they've got to strip him, too?

Jamie sighs and starts dragging the coat off, taking the opportunity to search the pockets while he's at it. He comes up with a handful of ancient half-wrapped candy, some spare change, a crumpled five-dollar bill, and a tube of lipstick from one; bicycle keys, three different house keys, a set of ID cards on a ring, the wrapper off a cheap sandwich, an empty neon-green wallet, an empty brown leather wallet, and a pocketknife in the other.

"Thief?" he hazards, talking to himself as much as Elle. "Drifter?"

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