"Miss Collins has turned her phone back on." Finch rapidly typed something, "perhaps she is not adverse to being found?"
Reese leaned over and checked the screen. "This address?" He raised an eyebrow. If that was where she hung out, it came as no surprise that she could defend herself.
"You pick her up," Finch leveled that stare at his colleague, "and try not to lose her this time."
Reese checked his weapon. "I'll try." He said dryly, and left while his bruised ego still had a little pride.
The building was old, and curiously empty looking. But the computer never lied, so Reese discreetly took a look around.
He was just debating the best way in when he caught a glimpse of an oddly familiar vehicle. "It seems our friends are back." He murmured absently, while checking out the vehicle, as Finch acknowledged.
Aware that getting into the building, finding Stacey and protecting her were now matters of extreme urgency, Reese checked each door carefully. Finally he found ingress through a small door that appeared to go into the basement.
It was dark and gloomy, but he couldn't really risk a torch to give away his position. He could hear movement up ahead of him, and quickened his pace.
Sounds of a scuffle, and then a man's scream.
Reese shot forward. The assailant was stumbling back, rubbing his eyes with his hands. "BITCH!" The man howled.
She was standing her ground. A large can of hairspray in her hand. "Back orf."
Reese ducked back a little. Strategic retreat. Her would-be attacker was stumbling away, moaning.
Stacey moved a little closer, holding the hairspray in front of her like a weapon. Reese had no intention of giving up, but he wasn't going to risk a facefull of hairspray either.
"What you lookin' at, Mister?" Her tone was belligerent but curious.
Reese sensed an opening. A tiny one. "You, Stacey. You're in trouble. I can help."
She took another step closer, lowering the can. Reese wasn't taking chances, he just stood still.
"Say I am? I'm doing just fine by myself." Her tone was tense rather than aggressive.
He could sense her wavering, up close, under the heavy make-up and the ridiculous garish clothes, she very young. She wanted a reason to trust.
It just popped into his head. "Come with me if you want to live."
The defensive look in her eyes evaporated, and for an instant she looked like a scared little girl. He watched the self-confidence ooze back, and she put her head on one side studying him. "Say I do, what happens next?"
"We keep you safe, until we can neutralize the threat."
"WE? What we? I don't see any 'we' here?" The aggression was back in her voice, and the can of hairspray was held out in front of her again.
"Calm down." Reese took a deep breath, this was not proving to be easy. Miss Stacey Collins had more chips on her shoulder than a woodcutter's shed, and it took very little for them to start flying. "My associate and I. That's the We."
She looked slightly mollified. "Okay." The can was starting to lower again, Reese stepped forward, "can we move now? Before your friend comes back."
"He's no friend of mine." Stacey muttered sourly.
The door opened behind her, and Reese jumped forward to protect Stacey.
"AARRRGGHHHHHH!" Stacey screamed in rage, fumbling in her pocket, Reese had a split second to register the danger and get out of the way, as she ignited the hairspray with a lighter.
The flame was impressive, as was the resulting high-pitched scream of terror from the would-be assailant.
Reese grabbed her arm, "run" he snarled, and they turned and fled in the opposite direction.
Bundling Stacey back down the stairs, outside into the street and into the car, Reese realized he was actually holding his breath. "When you said she was in danger, I didn't realize you meant to herself, and any innocent passersby." He muttered irritably.
"YOU WHO?" Stacey squirmed in the seat. "And… are you even singed? I missed you by miles."
Reese ignored her. "Do you have her safe, Mr Reese?"
"I do." Reese replied. "Although safe might be a relative term." He shot a sideways glance at the pouting girl in the passenger seat.
"Great! Eight million people in this city, and I have to be rescued by an OLD guy who talks to himself."
In spite of himself, Reese's lips twitched. Stacey Collins might have been a loose cannon, but she wasn't short of something to say for herself.
He had the subject, now Finch had to work out what was hunting her.