Chapter 1: New York New York, It's a hell of a town
If there was ever a city to get lost in, This was it.
There'd been something magical about New York city that had captivated Daniel Osbourne. He liked annonymity. Maybe that's why he'd come back now. He remembered the first time he'd been, with the Dingoes, while they were still attempting to get some of their half-asked songs heard by a label. While the rest of the band had been too preoccupied with drinking away the time that Devon had designated as 'Happy Fun Tour Time' in which they could take a few hours off from thinking about- what was the quote he had used? Oh yeah, 'Hardcore Demo Pushin' time'.
"I mean, c'mon Oz, all work and no play make Dingoes-" Devon had grinned, pushing a beer in Oz's direction- One that he had refused. "Oh! Um, All work and no play make... shit, I know this-" Mike, the drummer had slurred from his half-asleep half-drunk fetal position on the floor, a bottle of beer in his hand. "The dingoes dull boys," Their bassist, Kyle had completed-shooting them both a grin.
So, while they had all decided to get drunk off their asses, Oz had gone off to sight-see. The streets of New York were full of wares that could make a man wary. In a massive crowd that moved at a snails pace- He was reminded of jello as people wobbled back and forth on every side of him, all of them oddly enough, seemingly moving but going nowhere. His eyes passed the faces of people, meeting their eyes, studying their features- knowing that he was only a face in a sea of many made him feel almost reckless. The feeling of being, well, no one made him want to jump and howl and scream. It made him distant, a feeling he'd always embraced- but at the same time, it made him want to be noticed. He'd never felt as compelled to prove himself as when he was shifting through that crowd. To make an imprint on the minds of the mass that surounded him.
"I AM SOMEONE!!"
Of course, He didn't act on these impulses. In fact, there were very few times where he ever acted on what he truely felt. His motivations were always based on the needs of others- Even now. Willow couldn't deal with him. He guessed that somewhere deep down inside, he couldn't deal with her either. They'd changed. While he knew it was stupid and naive of him to ever think she's just, well, wait for him- just like he'd expected her to, just like she'd said she would. She had Tara now. She could be happy. She didn't want him. He'd just have to deal with that... Or at least try.
That's why he'd come back here. To get away. To be a no one. The first time he'd come, all she'd wanted was a snowglobe- one of those real cheesey 'I could go get one if i really wanted to since N.Y.'s not all that far away but still...' type gifts. And he'd delievered. Now, he was here because she'd pushed him away, she didn't want him to be around- so he would happily induldge her, and he would leave Sunnydale. And he wouldn't go back.
From his position in the drivers seat of his van, He watched that same crowd pass now. People scuttled past one another, banging into others and not taking the time to apologise or excuse themselves. They went along their seemingly busy lives as his stood still- in more ways than one. "Note to self," Oz sighed aloud, turning and flipping on his radio "Manhatthan at five p.m., bad idea"
His main prioity now, before the sun went down- was to find a place to sleep. The van had been fine for the past little while, but having driven from Alberta where he had caught up with some relatives, all the way to New York, a feat which had taken a week was beginning to have him yearning for a place that wasn't cramped or zebra interiored. He wanted a shower, badly, because he was fairly sure that the smell of gasoline and car interior wasn't attractive to anyone. His criteria wasn't very high, either. All he wanted was a place that had clean running water, a kitchen that wasn't attached to the washroom, and a ceiling that didn't leak- His standards had been raised somewhat since this afternoon- The places he had seen were small, dirty and expensive, he never thought he'd seen so many cochroaches in his entire life.
As the traffic lurched forward at a snail's pace, he prepared himself for another night in his car, hoping to find an alleyway somewhere that he could park it in, hopefully somewhere somewhat quiet, where he wouldn't get his tires slashed. He would have opted for a motel usually- but New York wasn't exactly motel central- and hotels were a different story. He could either blow his money on that, or save it for a downpayment on somewhere he could stay for awhile- he chose the latter.
'Not gonna find anywhere tonight,' he thought, all the more determined to find a place tomorrow. For now, he was hungry- so if he could only get out of this traffic he could stop and get some dinner... Rolling down his window, he stuck his head out of it, looking for the closest resteraunt, diner, fast food joing, corner store- anything, when he spotted it. The for rent sign.
The Building wasn't like the others he'd been to, it could only have two floors at the most. Judging from the size of the building itself, he guessed that they were flats. Squinting, he attempted to read the details off the sign, and as the traffic moved forward again, he got a better view of the sign. Bachelor flat, single bedroom, deattached living room and kitchen, single bathroom. Seemed nice enough. "Canon Apartments" he read aloud, had a nice ring to it. "West 57th, Building B" As he ruffled through the papers covering the passenger seat beside him- maps and addresses, telephone numbers and c.d. booklets, song lyrics and letters- he managed to find a pen and a blank piece of paper and began writting down the address and telephone number.
The traffic broke again as he attempted to do so, and upon getting honked at, he pressed the gas lightly and the van slid forward. Attempting to scribble down the number again, he didn't notice that the car in front of him wasn't moving. Her jekred forward, and realizing what had happened slammed on the break.
"Oh No... " He growled, taking of his seatbelt and opened the door, just as the driver of the black sedan he'd just bumped into did. "Oh God, I'm real sorry-" He started, watching as an old man, who had to be pushing seventy at least- got out and wobbled towards him, his weight resting heavily on a cane.
"Oh dear," The man sighed, adjusting his glasses as he hobbled towards Oz. "Is it real bad? The damage I mean-" Oz shook his head, insepcting tje man's bumper for himself. "No, It looks like I just knicked it-" The old man leaned in, peering at Oz thoughtfully, then nodded "Ahhhhh," He said, smiling slightly. 'I don't have any insurance,' Oz thought, frowning mentally. He couldn't afford it- and you generally had to have an address to get bills, which he didn't.
"Sir, I don't have any insurance and-" Oz began, awkwardly, only to get brushed off as the man flailed his arms wildly about him, signalling for him to stop. "No no, Son, this is all my fault- that devil machine called a cell phone... You know, my wife Maisy got that for me at Christmas so If I ever got lost I could call her, or the police and I could get home safe, because I do that sometimes-"
Oz nodded, somewhat amused by the old man's babbling. He kind of reminded him of Mr. Magoo- The fact that he was shorter than Oz and the thick rimmed glasses he wore only helped the association. Turning back to the van for a moment, he knew the traffic would move forward again and that he'd have to cut the old man off to remind him of this- if he could only think of a way to do so now...
"The damn thing started ringing and ringing and I just couldn't find it! Those contraptions are so small now-a-days..."
Oz nodded, "Look, Mr.- The Old man grinned, extending his hand to him. "Holmes, Holmes Boyd" Oz shook his hand, smiling somewhat "Alright Mr. Boyd, I'd like to talk about me banging into you a bit more, and how I can pay for any damage-"
Once again, Holmes's hands shot up, but before he could dismiss him again, Oz continued. "I've only just arrived here, but I wanna do this right- So please, I insist on helping out with whatever damage their might be, ever if it's just a scratch- but I'm fairly sure that if we hold up these kind people any longer, they're going to riot-" He indicated to the cars lined up behind them and Holmes chuckled, straightning his glasses yet again.
"Ah you're right there- I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name-" "Daniel Osbourne" Oz internally grimaced at introducing himself as that, Seeing as how he hadn't really used his full name in so long. Holmes nodded "Alright then Daniel, I suppose I can't stop you if you insist on paying for the chaos I caused but-"
As Holmes explained himself, Oz's sense of hearing picked up on the sound of clatter coming up from behind them. Slowly the old man's voice faded away, as did the bustling city sounds as the smell of fear over came him. The scent of panic was one that he'd never been able to ignore. As he tried to drown out his heightened scences when he first found out he had them, the scent of panic had always been the only one that overwhealmed him, something about the lack of control. His ears picked up the sound of harsh footsteps- People were running. Someone was being chased. The scent was distinctivley male. As he sniffed the air, and the chase came closer to them, it was clear that there were three people- all of them men.
A woman's scream jerked him back from his thoughts. He whirled around toward the sound and watched as the chase veered past them. A young man smashed into a middle aged woman, knocking her clear to the ground with a scream of "Oh God- Sorry!" Oz's eyes focused on the two men chasing him. They were massive, broad shouldered and just plain large- they ran with grace, like skilled hunter after the quarry. Their smell clearly wasn't human.
"What was that?" Holmes asked, his face strained with worry. "I'm not sure- hold on a sec" Oz said, watching as various people got out of their cars to try and see what was going on. Holmes nodded- heading back to his car and grabbing his cell phone as Oz followed the three. The chasers were demons- This he already knew, he still found it odd that he was following them- It was an obligation he didn't understand, the need to rid the world of them- the demons, send them back to where they really belonged. Even after he'd left sunnydale he'd hunted demons, just because of the feeling that he now had when it came to stopping anything that had to do with the supernatural and evil. He may not be part of their group now, but at heart he'd always be a scooby.
Ahead of him, the young man somehow managed to dodge the two demons and ducked into an ally, leaving them both confused. From a distance, Oz watched as the two of them- who could pass as human if it weren't for the bright orange color of their eyes, the small row of four horns going down their foreheads, and the curved elongated bottom teeth- as they stopped to look for them. He froze and stood a few yards away from them, and watched as they muttered something to one another in a language, of the demon variety he guess, that he didn't understand. With a nod and a grunt, one ran left and one right, towards him-passing him completley. Once they were both out of sight, he lifted his nose to the air and sniffed the air, trying to catch the scent of the man they were hunting. As he caught the pungent whiff of fear, he followed it past some buildings and around an ally. Garbage filled it, from the combined buildings that stood on both sides of it, one a hairdressing studio with an apartment on top, and the other a home. "Hello?" He asked, spotting that young man at the end of it.
He was staring at a fence that seperated one alleyway from another, and from what Oz thought was probably guessing if he could jump it. The man whirled around quickly, eyeing Oz cautiously. Oz studied him, and sensing the fear on him, tried to think of what he could say that would calm him- It probably wouldn't work, but he had to give it a shot.
From what he could tell, The guy couldn't be much older than he was, if not the same age. He was fairly tall- but as for a facial description, he couldn't get much considering how badly he looked to have been beaten. His eyes already appeared puffy and bruised, and blood that had resulted from a broken nose was smeared all across his face and hands. His white t-shirt was covered in blood, and his arms were horribly bruised. Standing out, other than his current wounds were his tattoos. A large celtic cross stood out boldly on his forearm, bright against his fair skin, there was also writting on his hands which he couldn't make out- and another on the side of his neck, which also couldn't be clearly seen.
As he stared Oz down, wondering what he could possibly want- the young man turned his attention to the fence again, 'He's looking for a way out just in case I charge him,' Oz thought, taking a step towards him. Like a deer in headlights the man whirled around, staring at him again.
"Look man- I saw those guys chasing after you, and I want to try and help ok? Now, I won't come any closer if you don't want me to-" Oz paused, standing up straight to establish that fact. "But you've obviously been pretty roughed up, you should probably see a doctor- I don't know what's happened but-"
He smirked at Oz then, shaking his head somewhat. "I can get you to a hospital and you can probably get some protection from whoever's chasing you-" Now he laughed aloud, wincing as he did so, doubling over in pain. "Look mate-" He started in a voice barely a whisper. Oz recognized an accent immediatly, he'd only met a few irish people in his life but the brogue of an irishman was inmistakeable. "Ye'd best leave before the come back, I should as well, Last thing I need is-" The wail of a police siren drew close and the guy before him groaned loudly in frustration. "Shite!"
He scrambled, jumping on a loose board on the fence and attempting to haul himself over it. "Wait- Hold on!" Oz called out, watching as he was ignored. The bloodied shirt caught on the fence and tore, fabric among other things fell to the ground as he struggled then fell to the other side of the fence with a yell of pain. The sound of running sounded again, and just as quickly as Oz had caught him- the man that had stood before him disapeered.
Rushing to where he stood, Oz sifted through the things that had fallen out of the man's pockets. Loose change, a few small bills- keys and pieces of paper, and a worn black leather wallet. Putting the rest of the dropped items into his pocket, he stood, opening the wallet he walked out of the alleyway reading it.
As he did so, looking around to walk back towards the van, a voice called out to him. Lifitng his head he saw a policeman walking towards him. Quickly he slipped it into his pocket along with the other stuff he'd found. "Hey kid- Yeah you," the male officer asked "You see anything? We got reports of a chase coming this way, we were thinking it might have had to do with a mugging or something- did you see anything?" Oz shook his head "No, just a bystandered" The policeman nodded, eyeing him suspiciously "That lil' old man down there said you chased after the three of 'em that knocked that lady down" "Well yeah," Oz nodded "Because I did, I wanted to see what was up, but I lost them, they went that way" He pointed in the direction he'd seen the one demon go. The officer nodded and with a grunt turned back and walked towards his squad car. Sighing, he walked back toward the van and Mr. Holmes, who he found out had been the one who had called the police. That's what he had figured anyways.
"Did you see anything?" Holmes asked excitedly, still standing outside his car, traffic still backed up. Oz shook his head no, and Holmes got a rather dissappointed look on his face. "That's the most fun I've had all day, I'll tell ya- You're a real stand up young buck Oz, chasing down those baddies like that, right in the thick of the action" Oz smiled at the little old man. "Thank you Mr. Boyd" Anxious to get to the information in the wallet, but still wanting to make amends for the accident, Oz took down Holmes's phone number and agreed to come and meet with him and his wife later in the week considering that he had now really captured the man's attention. For a brief moment, Oz flirted with the idea of asking if he could bunk under Holmes's roof- He could already tell the man wouldn't send him away, but he decided against it. He couldn't impose- and besides, he would have to return the wallet, and before he looked into the flat the next day, that'd be the first thing he'd do.
Oz and Holmes parted, and he promised to call as soon as he got somewhat settled. As he got back in his van, and the cops that had arrived to check out what had happened broke up the traffic, Oz opened the wallet and read it, the driver's license inside a clear sleeve catching his attention first. The man in the picture was quite different looking than the man he'd encountered only a few minutes earlier. He was actually kind fo surprised, though he was only twenty, his face bore the odd mixture of a babyface and some who had grown up too quickly. His name was Murphey MacManus, and as Oz suspected he was an irish immigrant. Oz couldn't surpress laughter at what he read next- his address, West 57th, Bulding B, Apartment A2.
Shaking his head, Oz started up the van again, tossing the wallet into the seat beside him and turning on the radio. "If that's not irony I don't know what is..." He said aloud, smiling slightly "Welcome to New York... "
If there was ever a city to get lost in, This was it.
There'd been something magical about New York city that had captivated Daniel Osbourne. He liked annonymity. Maybe that's why he'd come back now. He remembered the first time he'd been, with the Dingoes, while they were still attempting to get some of their half-asked songs heard by a label. While the rest of the band had been too preoccupied with drinking away the time that Devon had designated as 'Happy Fun Tour Time' in which they could take a few hours off from thinking about- what was the quote he had used? Oh yeah, 'Hardcore Demo Pushin' time'.
"I mean, c'mon Oz, all work and no play make Dingoes-" Devon had grinned, pushing a beer in Oz's direction- One that he had refused. "Oh! Um, All work and no play make... shit, I know this-" Mike, the drummer had slurred from his half-asleep half-drunk fetal position on the floor, a bottle of beer in his hand. "The dingoes dull boys," Their bassist, Kyle had completed-shooting them both a grin.
So, while they had all decided to get drunk off their asses, Oz had gone off to sight-see. The streets of New York were full of wares that could make a man wary. In a massive crowd that moved at a snails pace- He was reminded of jello as people wobbled back and forth on every side of him, all of them oddly enough, seemingly moving but going nowhere. His eyes passed the faces of people, meeting their eyes, studying their features- knowing that he was only a face in a sea of many made him feel almost reckless. The feeling of being, well, no one made him want to jump and howl and scream. It made him distant, a feeling he'd always embraced- but at the same time, it made him want to be noticed. He'd never felt as compelled to prove himself as when he was shifting through that crowd. To make an imprint on the minds of the mass that surounded him.
"I AM SOMEONE!!"
Of course, He didn't act on these impulses. In fact, there were very few times where he ever acted on what he truely felt. His motivations were always based on the needs of others- Even now. Willow couldn't deal with him. He guessed that somewhere deep down inside, he couldn't deal with her either. They'd changed. While he knew it was stupid and naive of him to ever think she's just, well, wait for him- just like he'd expected her to, just like she'd said she would. She had Tara now. She could be happy. She didn't want him. He'd just have to deal with that... Or at least try.
That's why he'd come back here. To get away. To be a no one. The first time he'd come, all she'd wanted was a snowglobe- one of those real cheesey 'I could go get one if i really wanted to since N.Y.'s not all that far away but still...' type gifts. And he'd delievered. Now, he was here because she'd pushed him away, she didn't want him to be around- so he would happily induldge her, and he would leave Sunnydale. And he wouldn't go back.
From his position in the drivers seat of his van, He watched that same crowd pass now. People scuttled past one another, banging into others and not taking the time to apologise or excuse themselves. They went along their seemingly busy lives as his stood still- in more ways than one. "Note to self," Oz sighed aloud, turning and flipping on his radio "Manhatthan at five p.m., bad idea"
His main prioity now, before the sun went down- was to find a place to sleep. The van had been fine for the past little while, but having driven from Alberta where he had caught up with some relatives, all the way to New York, a feat which had taken a week was beginning to have him yearning for a place that wasn't cramped or zebra interiored. He wanted a shower, badly, because he was fairly sure that the smell of gasoline and car interior wasn't attractive to anyone. His criteria wasn't very high, either. All he wanted was a place that had clean running water, a kitchen that wasn't attached to the washroom, and a ceiling that didn't leak- His standards had been raised somewhat since this afternoon- The places he had seen were small, dirty and expensive, he never thought he'd seen so many cochroaches in his entire life.
As the traffic lurched forward at a snail's pace, he prepared himself for another night in his car, hoping to find an alleyway somewhere that he could park it in, hopefully somewhere somewhat quiet, where he wouldn't get his tires slashed. He would have opted for a motel usually- but New York wasn't exactly motel central- and hotels were a different story. He could either blow his money on that, or save it for a downpayment on somewhere he could stay for awhile- he chose the latter.
'Not gonna find anywhere tonight,' he thought, all the more determined to find a place tomorrow. For now, he was hungry- so if he could only get out of this traffic he could stop and get some dinner... Rolling down his window, he stuck his head out of it, looking for the closest resteraunt, diner, fast food joing, corner store- anything, when he spotted it. The for rent sign.
The Building wasn't like the others he'd been to, it could only have two floors at the most. Judging from the size of the building itself, he guessed that they were flats. Squinting, he attempted to read the details off the sign, and as the traffic moved forward again, he got a better view of the sign. Bachelor flat, single bedroom, deattached living room and kitchen, single bathroom. Seemed nice enough. "Canon Apartments" he read aloud, had a nice ring to it. "West 57th, Building B" As he ruffled through the papers covering the passenger seat beside him- maps and addresses, telephone numbers and c.d. booklets, song lyrics and letters- he managed to find a pen and a blank piece of paper and began writting down the address and telephone number.
The traffic broke again as he attempted to do so, and upon getting honked at, he pressed the gas lightly and the van slid forward. Attempting to scribble down the number again, he didn't notice that the car in front of him wasn't moving. Her jekred forward, and realizing what had happened slammed on the break.
"Oh No... " He growled, taking of his seatbelt and opened the door, just as the driver of the black sedan he'd just bumped into did. "Oh God, I'm real sorry-" He started, watching as an old man, who had to be pushing seventy at least- got out and wobbled towards him, his weight resting heavily on a cane.
"Oh dear," The man sighed, adjusting his glasses as he hobbled towards Oz. "Is it real bad? The damage I mean-" Oz shook his head, insepcting tje man's bumper for himself. "No, It looks like I just knicked it-" The old man leaned in, peering at Oz thoughtfully, then nodded "Ahhhhh," He said, smiling slightly. 'I don't have any insurance,' Oz thought, frowning mentally. He couldn't afford it- and you generally had to have an address to get bills, which he didn't.
"Sir, I don't have any insurance and-" Oz began, awkwardly, only to get brushed off as the man flailed his arms wildly about him, signalling for him to stop. "No no, Son, this is all my fault- that devil machine called a cell phone... You know, my wife Maisy got that for me at Christmas so If I ever got lost I could call her, or the police and I could get home safe, because I do that sometimes-"
Oz nodded, somewhat amused by the old man's babbling. He kind of reminded him of Mr. Magoo- The fact that he was shorter than Oz and the thick rimmed glasses he wore only helped the association. Turning back to the van for a moment, he knew the traffic would move forward again and that he'd have to cut the old man off to remind him of this- if he could only think of a way to do so now...
"The damn thing started ringing and ringing and I just couldn't find it! Those contraptions are so small now-a-days..."
Oz nodded, "Look, Mr.- The Old man grinned, extending his hand to him. "Holmes, Holmes Boyd" Oz shook his hand, smiling somewhat "Alright Mr. Boyd, I'd like to talk about me banging into you a bit more, and how I can pay for any damage-"
Once again, Holmes's hands shot up, but before he could dismiss him again, Oz continued. "I've only just arrived here, but I wanna do this right- So please, I insist on helping out with whatever damage their might be, ever if it's just a scratch- but I'm fairly sure that if we hold up these kind people any longer, they're going to riot-" He indicated to the cars lined up behind them and Holmes chuckled, straightning his glasses yet again.
"Ah you're right there- I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name-" "Daniel Osbourne" Oz internally grimaced at introducing himself as that, Seeing as how he hadn't really used his full name in so long. Holmes nodded "Alright then Daniel, I suppose I can't stop you if you insist on paying for the chaos I caused but-"
As Holmes explained himself, Oz's sense of hearing picked up on the sound of clatter coming up from behind them. Slowly the old man's voice faded away, as did the bustling city sounds as the smell of fear over came him. The scent of panic was one that he'd never been able to ignore. As he tried to drown out his heightened scences when he first found out he had them, the scent of panic had always been the only one that overwhealmed him, something about the lack of control. His ears picked up the sound of harsh footsteps- People were running. Someone was being chased. The scent was distinctivley male. As he sniffed the air, and the chase came closer to them, it was clear that there were three people- all of them men.
A woman's scream jerked him back from his thoughts. He whirled around toward the sound and watched as the chase veered past them. A young man smashed into a middle aged woman, knocking her clear to the ground with a scream of "Oh God- Sorry!" Oz's eyes focused on the two men chasing him. They were massive, broad shouldered and just plain large- they ran with grace, like skilled hunter after the quarry. Their smell clearly wasn't human.
"What was that?" Holmes asked, his face strained with worry. "I'm not sure- hold on a sec" Oz said, watching as various people got out of their cars to try and see what was going on. Holmes nodded- heading back to his car and grabbing his cell phone as Oz followed the three. The chasers were demons- This he already knew, he still found it odd that he was following them- It was an obligation he didn't understand, the need to rid the world of them- the demons, send them back to where they really belonged. Even after he'd left sunnydale he'd hunted demons, just because of the feeling that he now had when it came to stopping anything that had to do with the supernatural and evil. He may not be part of their group now, but at heart he'd always be a scooby.
Ahead of him, the young man somehow managed to dodge the two demons and ducked into an ally, leaving them both confused. From a distance, Oz watched as the two of them- who could pass as human if it weren't for the bright orange color of their eyes, the small row of four horns going down their foreheads, and the curved elongated bottom teeth- as they stopped to look for them. He froze and stood a few yards away from them, and watched as they muttered something to one another in a language, of the demon variety he guess, that he didn't understand. With a nod and a grunt, one ran left and one right, towards him-passing him completley. Once they were both out of sight, he lifted his nose to the air and sniffed the air, trying to catch the scent of the man they were hunting. As he caught the pungent whiff of fear, he followed it past some buildings and around an ally. Garbage filled it, from the combined buildings that stood on both sides of it, one a hairdressing studio with an apartment on top, and the other a home. "Hello?" He asked, spotting that young man at the end of it.
He was staring at a fence that seperated one alleyway from another, and from what Oz thought was probably guessing if he could jump it. The man whirled around quickly, eyeing Oz cautiously. Oz studied him, and sensing the fear on him, tried to think of what he could say that would calm him- It probably wouldn't work, but he had to give it a shot.
From what he could tell, The guy couldn't be much older than he was, if not the same age. He was fairly tall- but as for a facial description, he couldn't get much considering how badly he looked to have been beaten. His eyes already appeared puffy and bruised, and blood that had resulted from a broken nose was smeared all across his face and hands. His white t-shirt was covered in blood, and his arms were horribly bruised. Standing out, other than his current wounds were his tattoos. A large celtic cross stood out boldly on his forearm, bright against his fair skin, there was also writting on his hands which he couldn't make out- and another on the side of his neck, which also couldn't be clearly seen.
As he stared Oz down, wondering what he could possibly want- the young man turned his attention to the fence again, 'He's looking for a way out just in case I charge him,' Oz thought, taking a step towards him. Like a deer in headlights the man whirled around, staring at him again.
"Look man- I saw those guys chasing after you, and I want to try and help ok? Now, I won't come any closer if you don't want me to-" Oz paused, standing up straight to establish that fact. "But you've obviously been pretty roughed up, you should probably see a doctor- I don't know what's happened but-"
He smirked at Oz then, shaking his head somewhat. "I can get you to a hospital and you can probably get some protection from whoever's chasing you-" Now he laughed aloud, wincing as he did so, doubling over in pain. "Look mate-" He started in a voice barely a whisper. Oz recognized an accent immediatly, he'd only met a few irish people in his life but the brogue of an irishman was inmistakeable. "Ye'd best leave before the come back, I should as well, Last thing I need is-" The wail of a police siren drew close and the guy before him groaned loudly in frustration. "Shite!"
He scrambled, jumping on a loose board on the fence and attempting to haul himself over it. "Wait- Hold on!" Oz called out, watching as he was ignored. The bloodied shirt caught on the fence and tore, fabric among other things fell to the ground as he struggled then fell to the other side of the fence with a yell of pain. The sound of running sounded again, and just as quickly as Oz had caught him- the man that had stood before him disapeered.
Rushing to where he stood, Oz sifted through the things that had fallen out of the man's pockets. Loose change, a few small bills- keys and pieces of paper, and a worn black leather wallet. Putting the rest of the dropped items into his pocket, he stood, opening the wallet he walked out of the alleyway reading it.
As he did so, looking around to walk back towards the van, a voice called out to him. Lifitng his head he saw a policeman walking towards him. Quickly he slipped it into his pocket along with the other stuff he'd found. "Hey kid- Yeah you," the male officer asked "You see anything? We got reports of a chase coming this way, we were thinking it might have had to do with a mugging or something- did you see anything?" Oz shook his head "No, just a bystandered" The policeman nodded, eyeing him suspiciously "That lil' old man down there said you chased after the three of 'em that knocked that lady down" "Well yeah," Oz nodded "Because I did, I wanted to see what was up, but I lost them, they went that way" He pointed in the direction he'd seen the one demon go. The officer nodded and with a grunt turned back and walked towards his squad car. Sighing, he walked back toward the van and Mr. Holmes, who he found out had been the one who had called the police. That's what he had figured anyways.
"Did you see anything?" Holmes asked excitedly, still standing outside his car, traffic still backed up. Oz shook his head no, and Holmes got a rather dissappointed look on his face. "That's the most fun I've had all day, I'll tell ya- You're a real stand up young buck Oz, chasing down those baddies like that, right in the thick of the action" Oz smiled at the little old man. "Thank you Mr. Boyd" Anxious to get to the information in the wallet, but still wanting to make amends for the accident, Oz took down Holmes's phone number and agreed to come and meet with him and his wife later in the week considering that he had now really captured the man's attention. For a brief moment, Oz flirted with the idea of asking if he could bunk under Holmes's roof- He could already tell the man wouldn't send him away, but he decided against it. He couldn't impose- and besides, he would have to return the wallet, and before he looked into the flat the next day, that'd be the first thing he'd do.
Oz and Holmes parted, and he promised to call as soon as he got somewhat settled. As he got back in his van, and the cops that had arrived to check out what had happened broke up the traffic, Oz opened the wallet and read it, the driver's license inside a clear sleeve catching his attention first. The man in the picture was quite different looking than the man he'd encountered only a few minutes earlier. He was actually kind fo surprised, though he was only twenty, his face bore the odd mixture of a babyface and some who had grown up too quickly. His name was Murphey MacManus, and as Oz suspected he was an irish immigrant. Oz couldn't surpress laughter at what he read next- his address, West 57th, Bulding B, Apartment A2.
Shaking his head, Oz started up the van again, tossing the wallet into the seat beside him and turning on the radio. "If that's not irony I don't know what is..." He said aloud, smiling slightly "Welcome to New York... "