NYC Profile: Afraid of a little fire, Scarecrow? (Open)

It was an unforgettable night as the band played as loud as they could, and the fans cheering was the only noise that could drown them out. A chilly night with people in sweatshirts slurping down beer while the stench of a skunk seemed to burn in the air. Of course that smell was actually the burning of marijuana, but the present company didn't really seem to realize the difference between those smells. A figure shifted through the shadows, maneuvering through the jumping crowd of the outdoor pavillion, bumping a nd brushing against people as they reached up and made sure the hood on their black hoodie was up. The seemed to rush, but still trying to maneuver through the crowd as gingerly as possible, checking over his shoulder time and time again.

"Hey watch where ya goin' ya jerk!" a girl yelled as the man collided into her, beer spilling all over the place, but he didn't even bother to apologise, he just kept going, fearful of the attention he may have just brought on himself.It wasn't long after that he broke from the crowd and slipped away past the concession stand, and into the bathrooms. It wasn't long. A few people came and gone, but after 5 minutes a well dressed man entered the bathroom, cane in hand. Moments later, there was nothing but a surge of fire. Brick fractured into pieces and flew out in every direction. Along with the bricks had been the splinters of fragmented and scorching wood. It wasn't just the bathroooms either. The concession stand, the grass, and even part of the audience ground had been scorched, blood flew and everything turned to an uproar.

----------- 10 hours later -----------

"Residents of New York City are still reeling from the Liberty Park concert's destruction, a large explosion that has claimed the lives of 13, and injured even more. The Local authorities still have no suspects, however they have labled several individuals as peorsons of interest, but none have been confirmed as suspects. The NYPD has issued a reward to anyone with information regarding to the identification, or apprehension of this serial arsonist-" The reporter was cut off at those words by the television shutting off. There was an uncomfortable silence in the room as the tennents seemed to soak in the sound of silence, letting nothing disrupt the other's thoughts. Finally the older of the two spoke up with a forced sigh.

"You can't blame yourself for this." He stated with his gruff voicem there was a moment of silence before he recieved a reply.

"Can't I? I knew he was going to do it. I knew it would happen again..." The other said as they spoke softly, obviously disheartened and disappointed in themselves. This caused the older man to groan and roll his eyes before he forced himself to take all factors into consideration.

"Well yeah. We both knew it was going to happen again, but we didn't know where. We don't even know why it's happening." He added, immediately he seemed to have pressed on a nerve, as his companion glared at him, the boy seemed to have nothing but animosity on his mind.

"Does it matter why? He's running round and hurting people. I don't care why." The boy snapped as he seemed to be appalled that his mentor had even considered the arsonists mindset to be important.

"What if he's a metahuman whose just now coming into his powers. What if he or she is can't control their powers, or doesn't know what sets them off? What if-" He was interrupted by the boy speaking out once more, his breathing was heavy enough and his lips were pulling in, the distain all the greater as he spoke.

"What if he's just a killer." It was posed akin to a question, but the tone was most certainly anything but interrogitive. Flynn sighed as his hand ran through his brown hair, looking down and stepping over to the table, a hand resting on the table before his gaze rose to meet the boy eye to eye.

"That's true. But sitting here and being angry that we haven't stopped it yet is just wasting time that we could be using to stop it now. Killer or not, we'll figure out more by doing what we do best and investigating. So unless you want to waste more time only to turn around and feel like crap again later, I suggest you go in there, brush your teeth and meet me at the car." Flynn said before turning and walking to the door, leaving the boy alone in the room. It wouldn't be long before they would go to the investigation site, and hopefully learn more about this New York Firefly.

Trunk didn't like concerts like these. Not the music, the music was great. Especially the guitarist, who rocked through his solo and made Trunk shiver. For a few moments she stopped walking, appreciated the masterpiece he played and forgot about her troubles.
    But then someone bumped into her and she lost that feeling. She immediately was reminded how much she hated the people at this kind of concerts. They were uncultivated, smelly and poor. While the woman made her way through the crowd, she pickpocketed a lot of wallets. Mostly for fun and training her skills, since these men and women didn’t have much cash on them. She kept the wallets stored inside her pocket dimension.
    One of the other things inside was a large stash of drugs. Some dealer hired her to smuggle them onto the terrain. Piece of cake for her. The hard part of this job was to find her contact again. Somewhere behind the concession stand. Her mind subconsciously checked whether she still had the packages of drugs with her. It represented a street value of 15.000 grand, so she better not lost sight of it.
    Then there was a loud bang. A blinding flash. Something hit her temple. Everything turned black.

------------- 10 hours later ----------

She’d been to a nearby hospital and now she was back at the terrain. Trunk had some burns, bruises and a slumbering headache, but nothing serious. Someone had dragged her away from the fire into an ambulance and she regained consciousness on the way to the hospital.
   It was a mess. Police officers and firemen were walking around, journalists stood behind police tape at a distance. The fire was extinguished and the bodies were bagged and slowly order was created in the chaos. People started to look for clues about the terrorist and/or the bomb. Forensic scientists walked past the debris, armed with camera’s slowly capturing the scene from every angle. And along those scientists walked Trunk, looking for her packages of drugs.
    Yes, loud noises and a sudden drop of concentration, a combination that exploited one of her weaknesses. Her mind had touched the drugs at the moment of the explosion and somehow, she had dropped them. Most likely they were dropped under the remains of the concession stand. And with a little bit of luck she could find the before the police could.
    So far nobody had bothered her much. Trunk always had several fake ID’s with her; one of them was a FBI-badge. Her name was currently Sharon Smith according to the badge, and she didn’t even have to wear any wigs of special disguises. Black hair, black coat, an earpiece and sunglasses; that was enough to cross the police tape and walk over the terrain. But she stood out with her injuries still visible on one side of her face.

The duo arrived at the scene, quick to observe everything as they looked through the tape. Approaching the tape, Flynn reached out into his pocket and held out his badge, handing it to the officer. It was a tall colored man with a scowl seemingly etched onto his face as he scrutinized the badge and then let out a slight hum as he considered the badge, then looking to the younger boy.

  "The Bureau wanted me to come see the place for myself, since I was the one investigating on the previous scenes." Flynn informed him, though when the tall man looked to the boy, Flynn rolled his eyes and scoffed. "Take your child to work day, now are you going to let me in or should I call my supervisor and get in touch with the county?" The man let out a short grunt before reaching down and lifting the tape, letting Flynn and the little guy past. It didn't take long before the man had taken them by the concession stand, looking around before they encountered a strange woman. She was about 5'6 ish or somewhere around there, give a couple inches. Her eyes were hidden behind a pair of sunglasses and her body seemed to be more compact, a bit toned in comparison to what others. The way she carried herself was immediately a point of interest for The Hound.

  "Agent Smith, this is Agent Ryder and ...his son. Apparently Agent Ryder is here to assist you with the investigation." The officer said as he brought Flynn before the woman. Immediately Flynn was internally freaking out, however his training had prevented him from giving any outward sign of anxiety or paranoia. He stood tall in his trench coat and dress pants, a black leather belt fastening around his waist as his slightly unkempt hair was tossed about.

  Oh shit, I wasn't expecting to run into an actual Agent. He thought to himself as he extended a hand, swallowing as he finally spoke out. "I'm Agent Ryder." He said, meanwhile his "son" had seemed to wander away a little, taking absolutely zero interest in things as he began sniffing the burnt wood and navigating his way around the stand.

Trunk had similar thoughts as the officer introduced her to agent Flynn. Oh crap, I wasn’t expecting to team up with an actual fed. That was one of the problems of lying: when someone didn’t believe you, you were screwed. When someone did believe you, you were caught up in a web of lies and had to keep lying, eventually exposing yourself.

She shook Flynn’s extended hand. “Agent Rider, nice to meet you. I’m special agent Sharon Smith.” Immediately she started to panic whether she introduced herself right. What if the FBI had a secret handshake? She tried to mask her nerves and observed Agent Rider.
The man looked like the lead character from a detective novel. Who wore a trenchcoat nowadays? There was something odd with his eyes, but overall he looked clever. Too sharp. He might see through her fake identity.

Perhaps it was best to distract him with the case. “Thank you officer. I’ll show Agent Rider the scene and bring him up to date. If you would follow me.” The son wandered off, but since nobody said anything about it, neither would Trunk. Instead she and Flynn walked towards what was left of the toilets. Fortunately she had listened to the forensic scientists before: “They think this is the origin of the explosion. Inside a bathroom stall something went off. However, so far they didn't find anything that could link to a bomb. No pieces of a detonator and not even a trace of a the chemical compound used.” She was quite content. She almost sounded like an expert. Hopefully agent rider would think the same.

She turned to him, took off her sunglasses and looked the man in the eye. “So what do you think? Ever came across such a case before?”
In the same time, she tried to come up with an action to ditch this man. Every second she spend playing cop, someone else could discover her packages drugs in the rubble.

The woman reached out and shook his hand. Immediately Flynn was ripped from his form of consciousness, remaining a lifeless husk that robotically stood there shaking. In that second he was transported away. Far away, to another time...in another life. He found himself surrounded by a crowd of people, looking as he couldn't help but notice that there was a rather oddly familiar looking woman next to him enjoying the crowd. But then there it was, the explosion. He found himself taking a deep breath in as his consciousness returned to his own eyes, looking to the area around them. It was such an odd experience to feel his Psychometry trigger involuntarily, but all the more confusing for him. He didn't know who that woman was, or where the explosion had even come from. Agent Smith asked for Flynn to follow her, and so he would oblige and follow the woman. As he followed her he closed his eyes and tried to focus, calling upon his
Psychometric abilities again.

...but no one answered...

The woman brought him to the ruins of a stone bathroom, leaving him to take in nothing but rubble and half of a "women's" sign with deep black scortch marks on the ground. Flynn immediately began to investigate the area, wandering inside of the yellow tape and his eyes peering about as he listened to the Agent's investigative findings. The woman had stated that the origin point was likely somewhere in the stalls. Flynn began to kick away at debris with his foot, looking and identifying minor areas of grey in the abyssal black floor. Then she made the comment that there were no traces of chemical compounds, no detonator and worst of all...no actual bomb. The Hound was impressed that the woman somehow managed to put thids all together, he had half wondered if she had experience in ballistics or in demolitions.

"It wasn't a bomb... It originated form the second stall in the male side of the restroom. If you look at the charring marks the second stall doesn't have any shadowing. The other stalls have minor shadowing cast on the ground. That means the explosion came from...here." The Hound said as he held his open hand up about mid-wall. The only way possible for something to be there was to be implanted, or embedded intot he wall. "When you consider thermal physics it projects very clear picture...but that leaves us with more questions..." He grumbled as he
places his hands in his trench coat and closed his eyes, a furrowed brow making it seem as though he were fending off a headache, or severe irritation.

"I'm glad to have you working this one with me. It's tough to come across competent Agents." Flynn stated as he nodded in appreciation before continuing to look over the scene. There seemed to be something he was missing.

Flynn's companion was still absent for a good portion of their little visit of playing detective, though he would show up again soon. He was just very interested in working his way around the details of the concession stand, since most of the police were more concerned with the stage and the bathrooms.

Agent Rider noticed details on the crime scene with great detail. Trunk couldn’t help but appreciate that he truly was an expert. She took a pack of gum out of het pocket, put some in her mouth and offered agent Rider one as well:  “Gum? Clearly this ain't your first rodeo. Inside the wall, huh?” She listened to his description of events based on simple deduction. It’d be difficult to copy this level of expertise.

However, he paid her sort of a compliment, so she smiled a bit. Then she quickly frowned as she stared at the stones and racked her brain. How would she have done it?
She was quite capable of obtaining and smuggling a bomb into the stall. And more people in New York City had access nowadays to a powerful arsenal of weapons. But a weapon that didn't leave any traces did not exist. Even she couldn’t make that happen. She could plant a grenade, and she could try to store all the fragment when it detonated with her power. But it wouldn’t work, that was just not how her power worked.
But then again, every metahuman was as unique as a snowflake. “It was a meta.” She mumbled softly, then repeated het theorem: “It fits. Most meta’s use their hands to release their powers, right? She could have hit the wall angrily, releasing enough power to destroy the stall and more.” She became enthusiastic as the story unwinded and spoke more rapidly. “It wasn’t a bomb, it was a person. No need for a detonator. Probably the bomber was here in person. And I know who were here, because…”

She choked. She had the wallets of a dozen people who had walked past her from and to the bathroom stall. Hell, maybe she even had the bomber’s ID card right now in her pocket dimension. But she couldn’t say that in front of an agent. What was she thinking?
Get yourself together girl. Remember what’s on stake. Even though it might be fun to be the one to crack this case, you’re no real cop. Just find the stash and get the hell out of here.
She looked at Flynn and tried to lie her way out of this. “Oh no, it's not.. Never mind. Stupid idea. Anyone could have bought a ticket, there is no register at the entrance and no camera’s here.” Always cover a lie with a bit of the truth, nevertheless it wasn’t her best lie. “I am… gonna check what your son is doing.”

She wanted to walk away, to find her packages and leave.

"Oh-uhh. No thank you." Flynn replied to the offer of gum. He couldn't stand the substance anymore. The gum itself seemed to stimulate some form of vestigial action with his powers and making his physical form suffer the consequences. It was almost like an allergic reaction, but it actually made him more horrifying to look at. He stood and listened for a moment as Agent smith seemed to figure out that their culprit was a metahuman.

Agent Smith bringing up the fact it was a metahuman didn't surprise Flynn too much. Truthfully they were here tracking this metahuman. The problem was that this metahuman was elusive as all Hell. Then it happened. Agent Smith stated something that sent Flynn through a tailspin. “She could have hit the wall angrily-” His mind flashed over the area a moment as he began looking around frantically, as if he'd become possessed by the spirit of purpose itself. He began moving some rubble and getting onto a knee, brushing his hand against the ground. With his eyes closed a small black tendril slipped from his sleeve and attached itself to the ground.

With an image flashing to his mind he could see someone. They were running away and they hid in the second stall. He could hear them speaking frantically. They were answering questions that weren't being asked. There was something wrong in this, his Psychometric readings were incomplete. But he heard everything he needed to when he heard the voice from the second stall saying

"She's coming!". Immediately the door was ripped open from seemingly nothing as a syringe randomly appeared and dropped to the floor, a concussive force of flame sending everything to the dirt.

"He'll be fine." Flynn mumbled a bit when he heard Agent Smith say that she was going off to find his "son", but he seemed to be a little confused once she stated son. He wouldn't stop her from going, he wasn't even sure she heard him. But by the time she reached The Pup, she'd be intrigued to find that the very strange boy was standing with his hands in the pockets of his black leather jacket, a mop of black hair messed a bit as he seemed to walk around the concession stand. Of course she may not have been headed to see him, but none the less he was here.

Her lies were easily accepted, as the man was clearly distracted by something. Something Trunk couldn’t see. Perhaps the markings showed another clue. Perhaps he smelled something in the air. Trunk hadn’t the faintest idea, but she didn’t mind. She left him on this knees and walked away.
She was smarter than most FBI agents. Too bad for them she wasn’t interested in solving crimes.

Now, her focus point was in finding the packages. Flynn’s kid was walking around the debris, funny enough he was the only one searching that part of the crime scene at this moment. Now, Trunk wasn’t good with kids. She had absolutely no idea what they were thinking. How old was this one? Ten? Twelve? What did kids of that age think, especially when they were brought to an active crime scene?
She just did the same as she did with the adult version. “Gum?” Kids and candy were a perfect combination, right? She offered him a piece and hoped he wouldn’t bother him anymore. At least a kid watching over her shoulder wasn’t as much of a burden than when a cop did.

Then she climbed the pile of rubble. With her foot she pushed pieces of stone aside. Her power gave her a sort of extra sense, to feel and search for stuff she couldn’t see. But it wasn’t of much use here. There was simply too much stuff and she didn’t know where to look. A claw machine was shattered, leaving toys and glass shards in a pile. Perhaps the boy was interested in them? A nice purple elephant?
And then she saw it. A brown piece of wrapping paper under the purple elephant. She got on one knee and grabbed the package. It was the size of a bag of sugar and she was very lucky for finding it in this mess. One side of the package was damaged, but the bags inside were still closed. The little but valuable pills were still inside Trunk uttered: “Yes!” One package down, one to go.

The Pup found himself interested at how Agent Smith offered him gum, he smiled and took it whispering a small "thank You" before stepping aside, burying his hands into his pockets and looking around, making no obvious attempts to watch over Trunk or her little mission. Though he didn't mind being all sneaky and stealthy when it came to observing. He gave it a small bit, then returned to hover by the Agent. All he heard was the Agent exclaim "Yes!" and he let a little giggle slip from him.

"That's not what I thought an FBI agent would say to finding a bunch of drugs." The kid said with a bit of amusement in his voice. He shook his head as he looked over, Flynn, The Hound was occupied attempting to make a psychometric tether. He relied far too much on that power for such little influence. "Soooo...you guys run into drugs a lot? Been part of a lot of drug deals? Like, undercover I mean." The boy asked, it seemed to be a harmless question, but his eyes were fixated, intently staring the woman down as he wore his sweetest smile, one that could easily be mistaken for a mischievous one.

"Agent Smith?! We've got a lead." Flynn's voice could be heard barking from across the venue. Whatever he had been investigating was apparently bearing fruits from the labor. The kid looked to the woman, basically waiting for her to walk away or take an action of some kind, trying to mentally organize and gather information.

Trunk was caught and in her arrogance she didn’t care. It was a child, she could easily bluff her way out of this. She stood up, smiled at the boy and shook her head. “Such a vivid imagination. You must watch a lot of CSI?” She kicked the pile of fluffed toys, but she didn't see the other package. “No, kiddo. I’m gonna bag this and send it to the lab. Then in a couple of weeks we’ll get a result on the chemical composition. That means they will tell us what’s inside. Most likely it’s a bag of candy.” She explained it with a slow voice as if she were talking to a four year old. But then once again, she had no idea how to communicate with kids.

She wanted to show the kid how she bagged the drugs, but then she realised she had no real evidence bags. So instead Trunk pulled a transparent sandwich bag out of her pocket, put the package inside and put it in the inside pocket of her jacket. At least, that’s what the Pup’d see, of course it was much safer inside her storage dimension.
She walked toward the Pup with a whispered. “And I can’t tell you too much about my job...” She gave the boy a pat on the shoulder and whispered: “If you knew, I’d have to kill you.” She smiled sincerely, mainly because this joke wasn’t a real joke ans she loved the ambiguity. Praise the ignorance of childeren.

Flynn called at the same moment and Trunk turned her back toward the boy. “Stay out of trouble, kiddo. Let’s see what your dad has to say. Agent Flynn, what do you have?”

"Try it, bitch." The kid muttered to himself before following the woman over to his "dad". Flynn looked to The Pup and caught the sour expression on his face, looking to the woman confused before brushing it aside. He'd assumed that his companion was simply disappointed by the lack of progress. Truthfully he just was unhappy that the woman took him for a fool. It only took 24 hours for a lab to come back with a blood toxicology report determining what drugs were present...it took less than 12 to identify a powdered drug and composition. However he couldn't help but smile. He had noticed the woman's voice had shifted from it's pale yellow for but a moment as the sound of her hand brushing her pocket generated a grey hue before quickly vanishing.
 
  "It was a metahuman, you're right. Notice the lack of cracking or compression on the floor. This means it couldn't have been an explosion, the blast would have discharged equal force downwards as it did in every other of the three dimensional directions." He said, he began to try and think of his words, and seemed to look to the woman. "A man came in, or a woman, and they stood on the toilet and then there was the discharge. They were hiding from something, or someone before they triggered the explosion." He sighed as he looked to his fellow Agent, hoping that she wouldn't question too much about how he knew what he did.

  "Hey, DAD. She said that if she told me too much what she did, she'd have to kill me. Is that true?" He asked, sounding genuinely curious, but he smiled as he kept his hands in his pocket. The Hound's eyes furrowed as if he were silently asking "Where the Hell did that come from?" as he looked to the boy and then the woman.

  "Well maybe you shouldn't be annoying Agent Smith about her work." He stated, showing his irritation with the boy's little antics, and honestly unsure of what he was playing at.
 
  "Oh dad, I uh... We need to stop at the lab on the way back." The boy said with a sense of urgency, the Hound let out a very heavy sigh and forced his one eye shut as he tried to hold his patience together.

 "And why is that, son?" He said, forcing a smile as he looked to the boy, only to see the boy unzip his hoodie and produce a large brown bag, reaching and tearing open into it to reveal a bag which contained several other bags of a fine powder, to which Flynn's expression turned to shock.

  "Got like...a Kilogram of coke here." He said before looking to Agent Stone and smiling. "Or is it just candy? If It's candy we should run fingerprints to find out who it belongs to." The words were a bit jagged as his tongue flopped out the side of his mouth. Flynn immediately walked over to the boy and took the package, his eyes fixated on it as he took a few steps back and sighed. The child just smiled and looked over to Agent Stone, a smile plastered on his face almost like a kid who was all up in the cookie jar. The adult, on the other hand was as clueless as could be.

"I'm going to run this over to Toxicology's mobile lab. This might be gang related after all... Can you, keep an eye on him please?" Flynn asked as he started to walk away, the boy's face turning pale before his confident smile turned to a bit of a sheepish one.

Trunk realised she had missed a crucial piece of information in the game she played.
At first the little brat had been annoying, trying to rat her out to his father. She had anticipated that, but she thought the boy was no threat to her. In the worst case scenario he’d tell his father that the she had picked up some drugs. If that happened, she’d show Agent Rider a real bag of candy. Nobody would ever find a trace of the drugs.

But the that tiny rat had the other package with him all along and Trunk hadn’t foreseen that. Before she could intervene, the drugs were handed over to the fed and he walked away. Trunk’s brain worked on top speed, but she couldn’t find any excuse quickly enough to stop him, mainly because she was still baffled about the boy. Did he set her up.

She looked angrily at the boy. “You…” Then she relaxed, narrowed her eyes and really looked at the boy. His attitude, that devilish smile, the conclusion was quite simple: “... are not an ordinary boy, are you?” She started to think. If she hasn’t assumed he was a boy, if this kid had the mental capacities of an adult, then still things didn’t add up. He didn’t fully betray her. He didn’t tell his father about her involvement, even though clearly the boy made that connection. He was playing an angle she didn’t quite understand yet.

And even though she was stressed and annoyed about the whole situation, she was curious about the boy. She narrowed her eyes even more as she asked him: “So, what is it you want? What do you want from me?”

The woman was quite clear to the game he was playing now, but rather than become inherintly hostile, she showed to have more understanding and restraint then most of the common rabble of this place. The boy seemed to relax a little as he took a breath in and sighed, his hands finding their way back to his pockets as he looked to the woman. She had asked him what he wanted of her, and at this moment they were both very much dead to rights, at a stand off one could say. She could have gone on and continued to act as normal, but the end results that would breed were uncertain. She would likely play the high ground of her being the adult and people believing her more than him.

 "I want the person responsible for all of these attacks dead." The boy said quite plainly, his voice was as firm as he could make it, but even still he couldn't pull off anything intimidating like he'd like to. Of course he looked over to The Hound and then back to "Agent Smith". "He'd rather let the person go behind bars where they'll just get out again. Smarter and better off for it." Flynn was struggling as he searched for his wallet, the kid smirked a little as he shrugged.

  "He's an Agent, but not for the FBI. I don't care why you have drugs, if you help me find this guy and put an end to this I'll get you something worth a hundred of those bags." He said as Flynn began to walk back over towards them. As Flynn came closer and closer the boy spoke out of his cheek in a hushed whisper. "Could totally sell that for more in Hawaii!" He said as he gave a cheeky smile to his "dad"

   "I seem to have misplaced my badge..." Flynn stated as he seemed to shift his hands over his coat and through his pockets. Without even a second thought his eyes fell to the boy and he held his hand out with narrowed eyes. The boy took his hand out of his pocket and handed the compact leather wallet. Flynn placed it in his pocket and then looked to Agent Smith with a small smile, then holding his hand out again, causing the kid to scoff and produce a folded selection of twenty dollar bills. He stepped forward to hand them to The Hound, his other hand coming out of his pocket.

  "How many times to I have to tell you to not touch what isn't yours?" Flynn said, trying just a little too hard to sound like a parent as the little boy stepped back.

 "Uhm, I dunno. How many times are you gonna let me pick your pocket?" The boy asked, from his other hand he produced the same leather wallet that Flynn had just placed in his pocket moments earlier. Flynn's face flushed a bright red. "Oh but uh. Good news Dad, Agent Smith says she works with the lab people a lot."

"Oh really?" Flynn asked, looking to the woman, slightly confused as the boy turned to his side, his hand slipping the wallet into the man's coat but withdrawing the folded green paper. Unfortunately it was just now that his level of cluelessness was beginning to show through. "That's great. We'll just uh, pick it up on our way out then." Flynn said as he cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably and checking his pockets once more, satisfied with their contents.

  "Agent Smith, do you have any ideas where we could start scoping out the area for...events, gangs, drug dealers or anything that might be linked to the past few explosions here?" Flynn quizzed the woman, clearly not overly familiar with the area or areas to begin casing.

Alright, let’s recapitulate the situation. It seemed like she now was hired by a little kid to find and kill a metahuman that could kill 13 people in an instant, while being accompanied by an agent posing as an FBI agent. Yes, this was clearly out of Trunk's comfort zone. She had no idea what to think of any of this, but for now she simply played along. At least this way she could leave the crime scene unnoticed.

The only reaction the Pup got after his speech was a nod. Clearly that was enough conformation for him. His ‘father’ - or whoever the man truly might be - came back and it showed that agent Rider wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed. Maybe he knew a thing or two about explosions, but the kid played with him with great ease. Maybe to show Trunk he wasn’t a normal kid.

“Well, let’s gather the whole bag thing and go. I have a few contacts I can call, a few string I can pull. We’ll need a list of the names of all the victims here tonight.” She laid her hand on the pup’s shoulder and lead him and Agent Rider away from the crime scene. “I happen to know a few things about the locals. If this is drugs related, what I serious doubt, there is one family who knows what happened. The Escabedo’s. But first things first…”
The Escabedo’s. The people she tried to impress by doing those tiny drugs deals. THe pup had been completely wrong, this job wasn’t for the money. This job was to show her potential and was a chance to climb their ranks. Losing the drugs to the feds would not only result in a financial loss, but also would Trunk lose her way into Escabedo family. So the package was quite important to her.

She took the Hound and the Pup off the terrain, crossed the street to a cafeteria called Kelly’s Corner. It didn’t look like a place to meet gangsters or members of a drugs cartel. A bell rang happily and an old lady welcomed them as they entered. The atmosphere inside felt nice and relaxed, especially after the mess they just left.
Trunk looked at agent Rider. “First things first. I’m gonna call an old contact, who might narrow down our suspects. I also need to smoke, go to the bathroom and eat something.”
She reached into her pocket and handed the Pup a familiar folded green paper. She gave him a big grin too, just showing him that he was good in pickpocketing, but she would always better. “Just order us some food, kid, it’s on me. I’m to the lady’s room.”

The Hound found himself blessed with someone competent and with connections. Knowing the FBI, there was always some underworld thug that had a rope around their neck, looking to get on the good side of the feds. She would lead Flynn and the boy across the street, placing her hand on the Pup's shoulder. Immediately he seized up a bit, but had to play along. If he brought suspicion on himself, he'd certainly bring it upon this woman. His level of discomfort and his anxiety continued to mount over and over, his mind wandering a bit as he looked for any escape form the hand on his shoulder.

"I-I'll call Zuri soon. Maybe she's got someone here. It'd be nice to see Jean again!" He said as he wiggled away, stepping up and reaching into Flynn's pocket, withdrawing a cell phone and taking off towards the café. He punched a number into the cell to call, but found himself surprised by the ringing of the bell. Deciding against an immediate call as Agent Smith elaborated on what all she was doing.

The Pup put the phone in his pocket as he entered into the café, though he suddenly paled as he realized his pocket was empty. As the pup sat down with Flynn and Agent Smith he looked at her with a glare as she handed him some familiarly folded money. The pup sighed as his mind flashed back to when the woman first touched him, to turn him around and escort him. "OOH, big bad woman can out-thief a twelve year old." He said, venom practically dripping from his words. Flynn looked at him, confused as the Pup placed the money on the table and stood up, walking outside. Truthfully, he half expected this woman to book it, he would have to rely on her greed in what he promised her earlier. He couldn't take that chance though..so he made a call of his own.

The sound of loud gunfire was heard ringing out in the background. Over the loud gunfire there was a very stern and disinterested voice on the line.

Spoiler:

The call was productive enough, but The Pup had no way of knowing the consequences of his actions here. Not yet. With a sigh he'd return to find two water's and a coffee on the table, Flynn sipping at the water with a glare stationed at the boy as he sat. "Look, I can get you don't trust Smith, but she's helping us. If she's willing to help us, we need to show our appreciation. Starting with being a little more polite." The boy just sighed, waiting for the woman to return to the table. Hopefully with a more short-term answer than Zuri's. Zuri was reliable...but a criminal empire didn't run itself.