Alone In The Dark


abby2_icon.gif azrael_icon.gif cassidy_icon.gif coren_icon.gif

Scene Title Alone In The Dark
Synopsis Creepy guy walks into a bar, leaves his phone behind, and prank calls the establishment from another cell phone. When Coren arrives to investigate the location of the phone that's been calling him since early May, he makes a rookie mistake. He goes out into the alley before backup or his partner have arrived.
Date May 31, 2009

Old Lucy's

Old Lucy's has a vibrant and lively feel to it, from the dark wooden floors to the shady crimson walls lit up by neon lights and many times, the flashing of cameras from the oft-crowded floor. The mirror behind the bar reflects prices of various drinks, bottles lined up, as well as the entire saloon as seen from the bartenders; bolted-down stools line the other side, and there are loose tables and chairs placed all around, though many times they find themselves pushed back for more space within the center of the saloon. A few speakers are placed at strategic places and around a raised stage to the far corner from the bar. Above the counter, an obviously well-used bar is hung; it is this that the girls working will use should there be dancing, which is one reason many patrons choose to come aside from the drinks. Across the bar and near the back, there is a door that leads to the owner's office and just inside a stairwell that leads a apartment on the floor above the bar.

Quarter to eight. Music is blaring, people are drinking away their Sunday. Pious Abby is in her Sunday best, cross at throat, red hair in two braids and exiting the kitchen of the bar with a plate of wings and a basket of fries for someone at the bar. Short handed they are tonight, she's not officially working since she's the kind of woman who doesn't believe that you work on the lords day. She gets around that by demanding she not be paid. She's just pinch hitting here and there right now. "Here you go. Buffalo wings, and a basket of fries, that'll be 15 even" She's not the bright shining perky waitress, but she's smiling and kind enough so most folks aren't paying attention. "You need anything else, you just hit up Natalie! Take care now!"

Despite the warm breeze, the man who walks in is bundled up tightly. A charcoal fedora covers his head and a gray scarf hangs on either side of his black overcoat, hiding the man wearing the crimson turtleneck. His head is inclined downwards, making the tip of his pointed nose and his yellowed teeth the only real parts of him visible as he takes a seat at the bar. A glowing ember of his cigarette only helps to case more shadow on his face. Two gloved fingers tweak the cigarette out of his mouth long enough for him to say, "Scotch on the rocks, honey."

She could shovel him off on Natalie but she's there and the woman is … well, she's letting a guy take a body shot off her. wow. Right. "Can do Mister. Welcome to Old Lucy's, I'm Abigail, you can call me the Nun though. Anything else I can do for you?" Even as she's pulling a lowball from it's resting place. She's a twenty times more dressed than she normally is. '"The weather get that cold outside while i've been in here?" a couple clear ice cubes, literally in cubes, is scooped up and dropped into the glass and the amber colored liquid is then poured over it.

"Now why would I go calling you anything but your name, Abigail?" the man asks in his airy voice with only the slightest tip of his head. "This?" he asks, gesturing towards himself with the leather-gloved hands. "This is just what I wear." He scoops up the lowball and takes a drink from it. "Ah. Such a wonderful remedy to such parched lips," he says, giving them the slightest lick. He drains the rest of the Scotch and leaves the ice behind. "But you'll have to excuse me. I do have some business to attend to." He pulls out a new but inexpensive-looking cellular phone. "How much do I owe you, luv?"

"Some people call me by the nickname. Their choice. But you more than welcome to call me just Abigail and well, red looks very nice on you if I may say so" She wipes the bar down "Five even and you're in the best spot for reception. Hope business is good!" She flashes him a smile, waiting only long enough to take the money before she goes about trying to tidy up the bar. The weak water and vinegar solution sprayed onto the rag and wiping down the work end of the counter, clear laquered fingernails gripping the cloth and sweeping it across the steel molded workspace as she hums along to the music playing.

A bill is tenderly placed on the bar. "Why thank you. You're too kind," the man says. "It's about to get a whole lot more interesting, that's for sure." He raises his head only long enough for her to get a glimpse of his entire face before he takes his nearly consumed cigarette with him on his way to the door. Despite carrying the nearly gone cigarette with him, there's no sign of his phone on him or around the bar. Where did it go? The door closes behind the man, and he stalks away into the darkness.

It isn't 'til he's out the door, it's closing behind him that she realizes he hadn't slid it in a pocket or anything of the like. So Abigail, being the - well goody two shoes that she is - Leans over the bar, looking to see if it's on the counter or maybe he put it on a seat. He wouldn't be the first to forget it, or a wallet, or keys. Be amazed what people forget in a bar.

No, the man certainly wouldn't be the first to forget a personal effect at a bar. Of course, that particular effect he left behind — the cellular phone — well, that was intentionally left behind. It's about five minutes later when the person sitting next to where the man was stands up holding the offending object. "Did someone misplace a phone?"

Glad he found it instead of her. "Yeah, I think the guy who left not long ago. I'll take it" Abigail leans across the bar to take it, abandoning her cleaning efforts and serving so that she can take the brand new phone. "Thanks" Because some folks might just walk off with it. Who knows. The red head turns to grasp the phone and move to the side. Whipping out paper she writes down the description of the man while flipping it open, heading for the phone book to see if there's any numbers there that might be labeled "home"

The new, pristine phone has never once been graced with the luxury of its phone book being filled in. In fact, there's not a single recorded incoming call, either, although that's because the few there have been were deleted earlier. There is, however, one phone number that is repeated 48 times in the outgoing list. That number Abigail should recognize, as it belongs to Dr. Coren James Shelby, Detective-Investigator. Old Lucy's house phone rings.

She's closest to the phone and everyone else is serving so Abigail puts the cell phone down, picking up the corded receiver of the bar phone. "Old Lucy's bar, Tuesday night is happy hour from five to seven, Abigail speaking how can I help you?"

There's not a sound from the other end. Not a sound, a seemingly impossible feat, given the level of ambient noise in the city, even at night. No breathing, no whistling, no static. Just … nothing.

Is the line dead? Abigail glances at the base, to check the number, if there is a number and to ascertain that it's still connected. "Hello? Can I help you? Sir? Ma'am?"

No, the line is not dead. At least, there is nothing to suggest it is aside from there being nothing on the other end. 'Unknown Number,' reads the phone's call display.

She's on the phone. Well, that explains the busy signal he got on the entire way over here. Coren Shelby enters Old Lucy's, passing the bouncer by holding out his badge. No, he's never entered like that before. If not for the fact that he does not want to scare any patrons off, he'd have his gun drawn, too. He makes his way swiftly over to the bar. "Abigail," he calls out.

Abigail looks over as her name is called. Hanging up she flips the other phone closed, and puts it down. "Detective Shelby" The red head greets him. The pulling of the badge did not go unnoticed. "Something wrong?"

"I've been trying to call. That your phone?" Coren asks, actually going behind the bar and eyeing the phone with suspicion. Yes, he's invading the personal space of bartenders everywhere. He doesn't care that it's improper. He has a very, very sinking feeling.

"Phone rang, been answering it." The flip phone is glanced to and she shakes her head. "Five or so minutes ago, customer left it behind. Was writing a note for it and going to toss it into the safe in case he came back to claim it. Got no phone numbers stored so I couldn't call and leave a message at his home… Detective?"

As soon as she mentions a customer leaving it behind, Coren pulls out an evidence bag. Yes, he carries them around in his jacket. He opens it and holds it out for Abigail to put the phone in it, after which he will write on the bag that it will have her fingerprints. "I want you to stay in here, keep everyone from leaving."

Very cautiously, the phone is held up by two fingers, forefinger and thumb. The smile wiped off her face. Hearing the orders, the bouncers start to move, closing doors and the bartenders are already imagining how much free alcohol they'll have to give out to keep folks calm. *plink* goes the phone into the bag and then she's holding up the yellow paper that had the description of the guy, utterly silent right now.

"I'm going around back," Coren says, slinking off towards the back of the bar and its side door. He glances to his watch on the way. "Where's my backup?" He turns back to Abby, "Stay inside." He draws his sidearm and flicks off the safety as he exits into the alley.

Abigail follows at least to the side door, that emergency exit that leads out into the alley. She sticks her head out but closes the door soon enough to wait, a glance towards the other bartenders with a shrug. She doesn't have any more a clue than they do about what's happening.

There is a sharp rap on the front door and the muffled sound of "Detective O'Shea.. Let me in." When the bouncer opens the door, her badge is waiting for her eye level. Cassidy gives her a firm nod as the bouncer opens the door wider to admit the detective. "Thanks." Glancing back to make sure it shuts behind her. He told her he needed her, so she booked it there. Petal to the metal so to speak. She turns her attention back to the room, frowning a bit as she searches for her partner. Instead she spots Abigail and heads her way. "You seen my partner?" She doesn't look dressed for work in her faded and worn jeans and tennis shoes. Closer look would show she's wearing only a spagetti strap tank top, so it looks a bit odd with her shoulder holster and trench coat.

While Coren lurks about the back alley, two patrol cars and an ambulance pull up in front of Old Lucy's. Four uniformed officers in total move to the front of the building, also knocking to be let in, while the paramedics also follow with their gear. No, nobody has any idea what's going on, and when they get inside they're equally clueless as Abigail. And that's just making the patrons a little anxious.

"Oookay, creeeeeeepy" Abigail's by the back door with Cassidy, looking back towards the front door as the girls at the bar start issuing shooters. "He uhh, he went out the door here… You should probably go, since even I know that going into an alley after dark is not a good thing." With that, she's pressing the bar to open it and shuffle out to let Cassidy pass by.

Coren waits until Abigail has closed the door before he walks the length of the alley, away from the bar proper. Flashlight in hand, he looks in dumpsters, garbage cans, cracks. But he finds nothing, and is not comfortable enough to be out there alone, so he heads back towards the door. It's only the chill running down his spine that holds him up.

"I just want you to know: I hold your life in my hands," comes a deep voice. It's likely something Cassidy will see and hear with remarkable and unbearable clarity. It's merely a shadow, and there's only the light flash of a muzzle as two gunshots ring out. Coren doesn't even get the chance to turn around.

"You're telling me." Cassidy agrees with her sentiment, slipping a hand under her coat to pull out her own weapon. There is a soft click of her safety as she moves past Abigail and quietly motions her back into the bar. She starts as the deep voice echoes in her ears, gun coming up to sweep the area. Moving down the alley way it happens. Two gunshots. She ducks down to a crouch at the gunshots. "Oh god.. Coren." There is a glance back at the bar. If Abigail is still out there, she frantically motion her in, whispering… "Lock it." Before fishing out her flashlight and moving cautiously down the alley.

It's the hardest thing she's even done, moving slowly.. cautiously. Her gun is held up at ready, resting on the wrist of the hand that's holding the flash light. As she moves down, the ray of light sweeps where ever her gun points. Her heart hammering in her chest, the sound thundering in her ears. Let him be okay… please.. let him be okay.

The door is closed, even as Cassidy is making her motions. There's people coming to the door, wanting to see but the bouncers are holding them back even as paramedics are making their way forward as well. They know better than to go out while there's gunshots going, not given the all clear.

He's most certainly still alive, hunched down about eight feet from the door leading back into Old Lucy's, shadowed by the dumpster he leans back against. Coren's flashlight is lying on the ground where he was shot, still working thanks to the fact that it's an LED flashlight, pointing in the opposite direction he's in, some feet on the opposite side of the dumpster. Apparently he had the notion to get behind the dumpster after being shot instead of before. There's no sign of the gunman in the alleyway, just Coren leaning against a dumpster, bleeding out of his back. But even his endurance isn't going to hold him for long.

There are two more gunshots that ring out. From the sounds of it, nearly a block away already. So much for catching the gunman.

Her whole body goes cold as she see him, but Cassidy knows better then to just run to him, she wants too badly. She starts to step past Coren and jumps at the gunshots.. Dammit. But she knows he's gone and she allows her to get scared. She shoves the gun back in the holster and she kneels down. "Coren.. hey.. Partner.." There is real fear in her voice as she reaches out to grip his shoulder, she almost radiates it. "Talk to me, Shelby." She notices a warmth on his back and pulls her hand away to find it bloodied. "Oh god.." She jumps to her feet and runs back to the back door. She pounds on it hard, her hand will probably be bruised later. "Paramedics!" She doesn't wait for them to open the door, so that she can go back to her partner. Dammit.. not another one.

The door is opened by Abigail, bouncers lending a hand and hearing the calls through the door, the Paramedics are soon bustling out and through, Gurney behind them. The redhead that both know just stands at the door looking out into the alley with worry on her face.

"Son of a bitch shot me in the back," Coren whispers. It's about all he can manage at the moment, mostly paying enough attention to keep breathing despite the hole in his lung and the broken rib, and God knows what else got nicked by the two bullets that got him. He fumbles an already bloodied hand over his sidearm to set it's safety back on. "I guess I was right about the stalker," he says.

"Thank god you're still alive." Cassidy can not hide the relief in her voice. Seeing him fumble with his gun she steps across to help him, picking up the gun, one hand moving to take his hand ignoring the blood. So much. "I got it… " She says softly, making sure the saftey is set before dropping the firearm in her pocket. "Yeah… you were right. But don't think about that.. Just hang in there." But then a paramedic is muscling his way between the two detectives forcing Cassidy back. So she stands and takes a couple of steps back. She's working hard to reign in her emotions as she looks past the group working on Coren to Abigail. Cassidy's eyes silently plead the women to help him, wondering why she's still just standing there.

How's Cassidy to know that the redhead lost her ability a week ago, nearly to this hour. In fact, in the very same place that Coren is being tended to. THe former healer looks away from Cassidy to her partner, watching the paramedics take care of the detective.

Coren is probably the only human being stubborn enough to help the paramedics get him onto a gurney. Yes, he's still conscious enough to stand, miraculously. There's a bit of fussing with them until he's on the gurney before he gives Abigail a slight look, as confused as his partner is. His eyes look almost sad before he turns his attention to Cassidy. He can practically feel the fear and terror going through her right now. "I'm going to nap while they take me in. Bring me along some real food, won't you? They're apt to feed me the usual crap, and that's just not real food. There's gotta be somewhere else open at this time." His breath is somewhat laboured as he speaks, but he manages to make it all out before reclining his head and relaxing, allowing the paramedics to get an IV in him. They wheel the gurney from the alleyway to the street, where he's loaded into the ambulance that Coren called. For all he feared Abigail was in trouble, he never thought he'd be the one lying in the ambulance.

There is another look to Abigail from Cassidy, before her eyes drift down to her partner. She moves along the gurney and leans over to hear what he has to say. "Yeah.. I'll find you something." She promises lamely, reaching out to rest her hand on his head, brushing hair on his forehead. "Just make sure your still alive when I get there. Don't make me find another partner." There is a catch in her voice, she's scared.. and she's partially reliving another partner's death. A touch on her arm tells her it's time to let them do their jobs. She slowly follows after them, and watches them put Coren in the Ambulance and drive off. She watches the flash of receding lights, digging her cell phone out of her pocket. She wipes at her eyes with the heel of her hand being careful to avoid the blood on her hand, as she opens the phone to start dialing. She's gotta tell the man waiting for her, that she won't be home… Coren needs her more.

God she itches to run over there, to say a prayer and take it all away, to make the bullets wounds just two painful memories, it's plainly written on her face. But she can't and when Coren looks at her, the young woman turns away, heading into the bar with cheeks flaming and embarrassed, hurt by the look in his face. Please dear god, just open a hole in the floor and swallow her up. Don't have something like this happen and leave her there, unable to do a thing.

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