A/N: A huge THANKS to Merlyn Pyndragon for betaing! I don't envy you for this job and you'd done it pretty great. It's such a relief :).
"You can talk to me freely, sis", was the first Monroe heard when he slowly regained his counsciousness. He blinked several times but reminded himself not to move, only listen.
Bruckner was pacing up and down his living-room. Monroe was lying on his side, behind the upside-down couch so that the Hundjäger couldn't see that he was awake.
His head hurt.
"Are you serious? You are trusting a Blutbad?" Bruckner sounded upset and suddenly stopped. "I don't get that! Do you know he's living together with a Grimm? Do you know there's a Grimm … What do you mean with a reformed Grimm? Grimm are Grimm!"
Well, possibly Grimm would be more threatening when this Grimm had the chance to reveice a diciplined training from another refined Grimm. Nick barely had a three-day lesson including crash-history-lesson from his mother, plus some more or less mysterious advice from his aunt before she died. Monroe, unfortunately, knew too much to not feel for his friend. Well, at the point when Aunt Marie Kessler died, Nick and the Blutbad weren't friends. But Baby-Grimm Nick Burkhardt lost all what his kind needed to survive, except for a trailer full of ancient weapons, poisons, herbs and books. And the books were mostly written in foreign languages Nick wasn't able to understand. In other words, Monroe felt the bitter need to help the new Grimm in town before said new Grimm in town would be killed off by whatever was after him. And to his own surprise, Monroe not only felt a growing friendship, but he also managed to keep Nick alive until his mother had risen from the dead.
"You trust a Blutbad and you trust a Grimm. I don't know what to say!" Bruckner barked.
Monroe had a hard time stifling words on his own, but he wanted to clear his mind before preparing for a second round of Wider-Blutbad versus stubborn Hundjäger. Because he surely didn't want to end up with another headache on the floor of his own house.
"Yes, I know I'm not in Chicago anymore!" Bruckner barked.
Monroe searched for his cellphone. Better he warn Nick before the Grimm walked straight into the trap like he did. But then Monroe realized Bruckner was talking to his sister via Monroe's iPhone.
What the hell?
"I'm here to help you and your family, you hear me?" Bruckner said.
Damn!
Monroe stood up from the ground, still feeling a little dizzy, but the headache was fading. Good. Massaging his temples he slowly turned around and second the look Bruckner sent to him.
"You would be better off listening to her", Monroe told his unwelcomed guest. "Because I can't find words better than your sister's."
Bruckner stumbled a step back, fumbling to free his weapon, Monroe's white cellphone still held to his ear.
"You!"
"Yes, I'm awake, big surprise!" Monroe rolled his eyes. Then his attention moved from Bruckner, who was still stunned to see him back on his feet again, to the big window beside his front door. In the fading daylight, he saw a group of people in black uniform climbing the stairs to his porch.
"Damn!"
Monroe moved foward, grabbing Bruckner by his free wrist and turning him around to leave the house through the back door.
"What's wrong with you?" Bruckner struggled to free himself.
"Not me. That a SWAT team. And if you didn't call for backup, I'm pretty sure they have nothing favourable in mind", Monroe explained, still pulling on Bruckner's right arm.
The Hundjäger finally gave in and followed him into the kitchen. And in this kitchen, everything that been upside was now turned downside. All counter doors were opened, their contents strewn about like discarded rubbish and the big butcher's stall in the middle of the room was lying on its side. How the heck did that guy manage to make it fall? The inside of most closets were now decorating the floor – well, without being decoration. Flour, tea, coffee (his costly roast! Monroe wanted to wince). The fridge stood open wide, Nick's six-pack and Monroe's imported beer also on the ground, this time truly decorated with the rest of yesterday's dinner. The lettuce Monroe brought home yesterday was pulled apart. Well, at least three or four of its tasty green leaves found the right location - right in the middle of the the spilt bottle of dressing. Shattered glass and porcelain everywhere, his pots and the pans he didn't want to know.
In other words, Monroe's kitchen had turned into a dump!
"Oh, dear God!" Monroe swore. "I knew you guys were thourough but this? Why the heck did you do this?"
"I was searching for evidence!" Bruckner protested.
There was a smell coming from the back door. An unwelcomed smell.
Great!
Monroe changed his mind, turning to the narrow cabinet near the back door.
"Why you are doing this? Those are police officers! They have to answer to me!" Bruckner told him.
"I'm pretty sure they've been ordered not to answer to you, man", Monroe answered bluntly, opening the closet door.
An ironing table popped up out, coming to rest parallel to the floor.
"Great, and now you want to offer to iron their clothes if they let you go?" Bruckner asked.
"Not really." Monroe pushed a hidden button and the back panel of the closet slid aside. "Move!" he ordered, pushing Bruckner into the small entrance.
"You are really ..."
With a loud and heavy explosion, the front door crashed open, into the wall.
Monroe swore again, pushing himself into the small, secret room behind the ironing table. With a push of another button, he managed to close the doors before turning around, a relieved sigh on this lips.
"I'll call you back." Bruckner ended the call but kept the display lit. "What is this?" he asked.
"A secret room the original owners built with this house", Monroe explained. He ignored the uneasy feeling of being in close proximity with a Hundjäger "But I think it's better now not to speak. We are safe as long as they don't hear us."
Bruckner frowned and handed the iPhone back to Monroe. "My sister said I could trust you and that the Grimm doesn't go on hunts."
"Nick doesn't hunt", Monroe said lowly, grabbing his cell back. He changed the call-properties – just in case.
There were some very small holes dotting over the walls. Most of them were sealed but some still viewed the outside.
Monroe slowly leaned forward and tried to ake a look at what was going on in his kitchen. His destroyed kitchen he winced silently.
"Do you have any idea why those guys are here?" Bruckner asked softly.
Monroe shook his head. "Nothing springs to mind."
A dark-haired woman in business dress entered his kitchen. Looking around with cold eyes and an equally frigid demeanour, she finally nodded before she left the kitchen.
"Search everything! We need that artifact!"
What the hell?
Her smell was mysterious unfamiliar. There was the odor of Wesen about her.
"She's Wesen", Monroe decided.
"Really?" Bruckner sent him an amused look in the darkness. "Never would have guessed that."
Monroe turned around, looking at Bruckner with woged eyes. "You know her?"
"That's the fill-in for the Captain. She teamed me up with your house pet", the Hundjäger answered with a slight sniff.
Monroe frowned. "Really?"
Why did he suddenly have the impression that there was something else going on? And what the heck was this woman? He never smelled something like her before.
"Or are you the pet in this house?" Bruckner teased.
Monroe's attention was more on what had happened to his house than of the Hundjäger who tried to poke and provoke him. Again he looked through one of the holes, then turned around.
"Do you know what happened to Nick's captain?" he asked.
Bruckner shook his head. "I don't usually work for the third precinct", he said. "It's only because the Commissioner and the Mayor ..."
"Yeah, Nick told me about that." Monroe closed one eye and pressed the other against the hole in the wall. Those SWAT guys had started to tear his kitchen even more apart as it was before. It hurt like a kick to the guts! He always tried his best to keep his house nice and clean.
Wait a minute! Artifact? Did that mysterious woman say artifact?
Monroe remembered that key he'd found in Nick's drawer. Where did he … ?
His hand found the side-pocket of his pants and he felt the key inside it. Okay, so far so good.
"Do you know where she came from?" he asked.
"She said fifth precinct when she introduced herself", Bruckner answered. "Why you are so interested in her?"
Monroe shook his head. "There's something strange going on, man", he hissed. "There's something really, really wrong ..." Still he looked through that peek-hole, pondering.
Man, this spring-cleaning was going to be quite the endeavour ...