The Cache

Brody opens the door to the office quickly, quietly. They’d left the house nearly a half an hour ago but the chills he’d got from the fight had refused to stop washing over his body in waves. Something in his gut had told him all was not right. Ria was never off with her estimations, and he’d felt it too – the ghoul they’d encountered wasn’t supposed to be there.

She’d gone to talk to The Circle, an online group she’d subscribed to a while ago, stating that they might be able to help devise a new tactic and perhaps explain why her senses had failed her Brody had gone to the office for supplies. He’d had never been much of a believer when it came to mediums so he would have been all eye rolls and indignant huffs – a thoroughly unhelpful atmosphere, Ria had accurately predicted. It was only her successes at his side that had begun to convince Brody of the powers of psychics. That and she weilded a pretty mean firearm when it came to the crunch.

He shuts the door softly behind him and approaches his desk, oblivious to the shadowed figure in the corner. She had been waiting for this moment. Things had played out perfectly, to her surprise. She stepped out, assuming her role, readying herself for the task at hand. He spun round suddenly and she feigned suprise, teary-eyed shock, even. What a pro.

“Eleanor?”

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~ by Joseph Blame on March 8, 2011.

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