Amon walked back to his car and away from the crime scene, hands in the pockets of his long, shadowed coat. Well, that was completely useless. There hadn't even been anything about the body to suggest a witch had been involved.
He got slowly into his car and drove back to the STN-J. Amon tried to keep his mind on the case, the police, the road— anything but her. He didn't have a clue about how to handle the situation facing him, so he just tried to ignore it.
That didn't last long, though; because the first thing Amon noticed when he entered the office was that Robin wasn't there.
Where could she be? As far as he knew, there was no reasonable explanation for her absence, no new murders or suspects.
He turned to glare at Michael. He wasn't acting as he usually did, and Amon could tell something was making him especially nervous. He wasn't typing, rather tapping his fingers aimlessly on the keyboard and staring blanking at the screen, not really seeing it.
"Michael, where's Robin?" he demanded sharply.
Michael snapped out of his anxious reverie as he spun around to see Amon standing behind him. "She..." he began nervously, trailing off underneath Amon's threatening stare.
"Well?" Amon prompted, growing more impatient and worried the longer Michael delayed.
"Well, it turns out the police found the guy who killed the last thirteen victims we've been investigating. So the chief told me to get you guys to go hunt him, but Robin was here and she said she'd go and I tried to stop her but—"
His hasty rambling was cut off as Amon broke in furiously, "You let her go off all by herself to hunt a mass murderer?!"
"I told you, I tried to stop her but—"once again he was cut off, but this time by the slamming of the office door as Amon stormed out of the room.
Amon was already out of the STN-J parking garage and a good way down the road when he realized Dammit; I don't even know where she went. Growing more and more impatient, he quickly dialed the office and got the location from Michael.
Apparently the witch had last been spotted at an abandoned warehouse all the way on the edge of town. Amon was sure he was speeding but he didn't care. He had the horrible feeling that he might not make it in time.
A short time later, but still much too long by Amon's reasoning, he had reached the warehouse by Michael's directions.
He stopped dead when he got out of his car and saw the place. It was now almost all rubble, and it had not been like that before judging by Michael's description. If Amon was not very much mistaken, this was the result of the witch's powers.
Wasting no time, Amon ran inside, quickened by the sight of Robin's scooter outside what was left of the building. Once inside, the first thing Amon noticed was the decidedly charred body of a middle-aged man. Amon quickly checked the man's pulse to see if he was still alive. There was still a heartbeat, although weak, and Amon decided he would call the factory as soon as he found Robin. She just has to be alright.
Working his way further and further into the maze of debris, he spotted a fold of dark clothing from under a pile of rubble. Rushing over to it, he hurriedly shoved the rocks and dust away and lifted Robin gently into his arms.
She hung limply in his grip, but he could hear the sound of faint, ragged breathing. He brushed away a strand of auburn hair, revealing a cut on her forehead that was bleeding badly. As his fingers brushed against her skin, Robin's eyes fluttered slowly open. She just stared at him through innocent green eyes before collapsing into his arms.
Fin.