Soul ducks under the caution tape, careful not to disturb the small, numbered cones dotting the apartment carpet. Fantasy posters plaster the dingy walls, paraphernalia line the shelves. He steps closer to a small glass jar, the silver liquid inside glowing quietly.
Unicorn, he frowns. Fresh.
A packet of cigarettes smacks into the back of his head.
"Think fast, rookie," says a tall, blonde agent, grinning and adjusting a camera strap.
Soul rubs a hand through his hair. "I think you're supposed to say that before you throw something, Liz."
She shrugs. "Where's the fun in that?" She takes a round of photos, slamming on the shutter release. Black dots taint his vision, blinding him. He blinks, and Liz cocks her head towards the back of the cramped apartment.
"Rung is in the bathroom collecting samples. Is your brother coming to pick up the specimen?"
Soul straightens his tie under his leather jacket, trying not to feel like a little brother.
"He's busy with Roswell. Kid had to send someone else."
"And Kid thought you'd be a good pick?" she asks, raising an eyebrow.
Heat rises from his neck and he puffs his deflating chest. "Only the coolest guys for the Investigative Unit."
Liz snorts and bites back whatever she's going to say as Soul's face burns brighter; he's not 17 anymore, he can embarrass himself into an office job again.
"Go on then, Cool Guy," Liz says as she clicks through the saved images on her camera. "Might want to pop on some sunglasses. It's bright as hell in there."
She turns away before he has a chance to ask why, the flash on her camera illuminating the hastily drawn symbols on the wall. They're shiny, the edges still dripping green. He squints at it over Liz's shoulder and she grimaces.
"Mermaid blood." She doesn't bother hiding her sniff. "Rat bastard."
Soul raises his hand awkwardly to pat her shoulder but quickly changes it's direction, landing in his hair. He keeps it there until he's at the bathroom door, pretending to scratch an itch, diligently ignoring Liz's stifled laughter.
Inside is like a shrine. Lit candles crowd every surface, filling the room with their sickly and sweet scent, and it makes Soul choke. He tries to blow a few out, but there are too many so he flicks the the lights, to no avail, so he gropes the wall for the switch.
"Don't do that," warns Kilik Rung, collecting samples with a pair of tweezers between the fingers of his rubber gloves. "She's not used to the light."
Soul peers over Rung's shoulder and tries to hide his shock behind the back of his hand.
Her skin is gray, the scales running down her neck and arms a dull green, the fins at the end of her long tail split. Her eyes are glazed over, the protective film protecting her light absorbing green eyes dry and cracked. She's squirms weakly, the foot, foot and a half of water barely sloshes with her movements.
"Wow," he whispers.
Kilik gives a muted chuckle. "First mermaid?" He snips a few strands from her blond hair. They fall from the root as Kilik pulls away, and she tries to curl deeper in the tub, her tail flicking Soul's leg. It barely moves him.
"Aw, man," Kilik sighs. "She isn't gunna last long. Shame. She's a beauty." He pulls a few more scales from her tale, the mermaid flinching with each pull.
There's a loud smack and Kilik is sprawled on his back, his test tubes overturned, a palm-shaped welt in the middle of his forehead. The mermaid's arm hangs over the lip of the tub as she pants, her fire snuffed as quickly as it blazed.
"Hey," Soul said, kneeling by the tub. "I don't think she's gone yet." He watches her for a moment, searching her face. Her head turn a fraction towards him.
"What language do they speak?"
"Uhhhh, mermish?" says Kilik, rubbing his forehead. "I wont be able to collect any more samples from the specimen safely. We'll get more at the lab."
Soul nods vaguely as Kilik leaves the room with his tools and tubes, still watching the mermaid for movement. She blinks and breathes, her white lips cracked and oozing green blood; the outburst must have cost her any energy she had left.
"I wish I knew your name," he muses. "It's probably a bummer, getting called the specimen."
He taps the edge of her tub as a goodbye, and stand to fill out paperwork, and call the office. They'll need transportation, preferable a van that can fit a tub in the back, or maybe he'll ask for a limo with a built in hot tubs, just for kicks-
"Maka."
Soul whips around, his cell phone halfway to his ear.
"Maka," Soul repeats stupidly.
The mermaid- Maka- inclines her head slowly.