It took a while but here's the next chapter! Warning, it gets a bit gory from now own, so read with caution and please tell me what you think.
The snug carpet swallowed all sound from their footsteps, and had Sebastian been in a different mood he would have taken a minute to appreciate the feel of stepping on what appeared to be a little cloud, as it was he couldn't give it a lot of thought, the woman cackling away on the large king size bed was taking all of his attention.
"You think this is funny?" Puck was stalking around the bed like an enraged canine, unlikely to actually get aggressive but loud enough to make it seem like a valid threat. The perfect combination for an FBI agent. It was Puck's favorite part, Sebastian was certain of this, and it was also the only reason he had allowed his agent to completely disregard dress code, or more accurately hair style code, and keep his ridiculous Mohawk. The hairstyle added to his threatening look, even if, in Sebastian's opinion, he looked more like a highschool hooligan than a law enforcer.
"Well… I don't know if funny is the correct word. Cute, I would say." Quinn Fabray had never been one to be intimidated, her file said as much, whether it was surviving senior year pregnant in conservative Texas, giving said child for adoption or graduating Yale early with honors, she did it all with style and poise. Seducing an FBI agent to obtain confidential information had not been an exception.
"What you did is a federal crime. Ms. Fabray, I could make sure you spend quite a bit of time in prison for this." Unable to resist himself, Sebastian swayed his way to the bed with enough hip rotation to swing his coat away from his body and leave his gun in plain sight. An old school move that seemed to impress Quinn almost as much as Puck's angry face had, that is to say not at all.
Why couldn't borderline sociopaths be more agreeable? And why was he saddled with three agents so willing to spill classified information to the first pair of legs that crossed their path? regardless of how attractive those legs may be. Sebastian might be gay, but he could stay appreciate attractiveness even if it came in woman form.
Sebastian had already handcuffed her and tossed her none too gently on the bed, dramatic little bounce and everything, yet Quinn looked as comfortable as if she was on her couch sipping some of her very expensive wine, it was infuriating. He and his team were already wasting precious time here and that damn woman refused to cooperate. Because, yes, Santana had messed up big time, but the agent was not stupid, Sebastian was sure that Quinn had already known something about the killings, otherwise, how could she have known to seduce Santana? And more importantly, why had she fixated on Hummel? Santana had sworn she hadn't mentioned Kurt, and he believed her, mainly because she wouldn't confess half of her crime but also because he was beginning to suspect that she had a soft spot for him. Surprising really, he hadn't been aware she had a soft spot for anyone.
"Who set you on this story Miss Fabray?" He used his smoothest FBI voice, knowing it was not going to work.
"I'm a freelance journalist, you know that. If I write something it's because I want to do it, not because someone "set me" on a story." Quinn scrambled a bit on the bed trying to straighten herself into a more comfortable position. Said position happened to reveal a few more inches of cleavage, clearly for Puck's and Sam's benefit. "So, more enemies that you can keep track of? Must be your charming personality and charismatic attitude."
Time was ticking away, he could feel it, they would have to leave soon.
"Don´t waste my time. I expect better from such a respectable individual. Not good enough for The Times but maybe, if you were to get your hands on a juicy piece you just might make it out of your cheap blog and into something more serious." Quinn only allowed herself a small frown in response. "That's it, isn't it? Your Gory website is not enough fame anymore? Or you got tired of being the punch line of every joke."
"Uh, boss?" Sam, who until that point had remained in the sidelines, interrupted, he was standing so close that Sebastian almost tripped over his feet when turning to look at him. "Santana is calling," softly so Quinn wouldn't hear "some British dude is at the scene. He's talking to Hummel."
There were many reasons a crime scene could be compromised, bad police work, intentional coverage, bad weather conditions, they were part of everyday life for the law enforcers and investigation teams, however, some British guy sniffing around and pestering his consultant was just to the wrong side of "more than Sebastian can stomach in one night".
A soft mocking voice came from the bed, as Quinn stood up from the bed. "You should go Agent Smyth, as I understand you have a corpse decomposing and an unsupervised consultant. You shouldn't leave Hummel wander alone, who knows what could happen?"
The stairway leading to the apartment had been empty, at four o'clock in the afternoon the building residents had been either at work, school or simply conveniently out of the way, luckily it was a cheap neighborhood so there hadn't been any security at the door, cameras were completely out of the question.
Reaching the end of the deserted hallway he counted the doors, Kurt felt around his left pocket for the lock pick, a small silver brooch, and approached the door.
A soft click, so soft that even Kurt almost missed it and he was inside. The two room apartment was very tidy considering only two males inhabited it, except for a few giveaways, such as the pile of dirty dishes and the old "Extreme Sports" magazine carelessly thrown by the coffee table, not to mention the bag of smelly gym clothes. There was no wall to separate the kitchen from the living room, so Kurt was able to make a quick scan of the apartment. The roommate was supposed to stay out all day, but there was always the odd chance that he might return early.
The couch, a lovely cream shade, newer that any other piece of furniture in the room served as a good hideout when the door opened again, this time to let a tall, young man in. Clearly back from the supermarket Ryder, that was his name, wandered into the kitchen and only had time to put away the milk and cheese before Kurt was on him. His mark was taller and stronger than him, so Kurt had to resort to a speedy ambush and quick handwork, he crawled out of his hiding place and jumped on Ryder just as he was turning away from the fridge.
His brooch, a sharp silver metal shaped as a leaf did more than just open doors, if pressed with enough force it could cut meat like it was butter.
"First I stab near the stomach, right below the ribs and the diaphragm," Kurt retold calmly while twisting his wrist; a warm wet felling enveloped his right arm. "Not a lethal wound but enough to temporarily immobilize the target, a painful wound."
The coffee table toppled over when Ryder tried to back away from Kurt and swing at him unsuccessfully, the lamp crashing to the floor in a spray of ceramic. He waved his arms gracelessly around and floundered a bit until he reached the desk all the way to other side of the room, uneven droplets of blood following his way. He closed his hand around the first thing he could find and hurled it at Kurt's head, a copy of some pistol technical manual.
"The victim tries to slow my attack," he casually ducks to the side as the book sails past his head, "but he is already weakening." Ryder, to busy bleeding out to hear Kurt's warning, picked up another book; it slipped out of his bloodied hand and clattered to the floor noisily, red finger marks all over the cover. Just one second later and Kurt was on him again. "The blade sinks into the neck, severing the jugular." He stared at Ryder's panicked face for once second before dropping his body to the floor. "I don´t wait until he is dead."
Kurt shoved the upturned coffee table to the side and spread Ryder in that space, back propped against the table legs, as if he was casually resting, he arranged his arms, one hooked over the table's flat surface, the other bent over his lap, Kurt pressed a rose to his left palm, freshly bloomed. He had kept it safe in his breast pocket. The bleeding man tried to wriggle in place and got a warning kick for his troubles. Kurt knelt beside him, "I now open his mouth to take what is mine." He grabbed Ryder's tongue firmly before giving it a strong pull and pressing the bloodied blade against it. "This is my design." A hot gush of liquid stained his neck and lower side of his face.
From a haze of red and black another voice interrupted his story.
"Hummel, you done?" Santana wandered into view to find Hummel kneeling by the cool corpse, arms extended and touching its face lightly, "we need to start processing the scene, and we have company." Before she was done talking a man Kurt had never seen before stepped in front of him, if he blinked he could still see Ryder's panicked face superimposed to the stranger's, he could still hear his final gasping breaths over Santana's voice.
After what seemed forever he managed to put himself together. "What… ? I told you not to interrupt me until I was done."
After several speeding violations that would have left him indebted with fines had he not been an officer of the law, Sebastian arrived at the scene with two vaguely green agents in tow. He was decidedly surprised by what he found there. The officers were pacing around the room like ants trapped under and upturned glass, every now and then one of them would give Hummel a suspicious side glance. He supposed it was the first time some of them had seen Kurt in action, he remembered being both horrified and fascinated the first time he had witnessed the pale man vanish, leaving only the shadow of some murderer occupying his body. Still, given the way they were behaving this kill must have been particularly disturbing, or perhaps they were overly sensitive and plain overreacting. Blaine seemed to think so; he kept splitting his glares between the drifting agents and some blond stranger who was clearly the British interloper.
And that was the really strange part, the intruder was not only wearing some ridiculous tweed jacket, seriously tweed? who was that guy?, he was also engaging Hummel in conversation and, for once, the shorter man didn't look like he wanted to curl up into a ball at the thought of interacting with another human being. He actually looked pleased. Terribly disturbing.
"López!" Santana materialized next to him within seconds, eyes glued to the stranger next to Kurt.
"His name is Adam Crawford, Interpol. He will be assisting with the investigation." Seeing Sebastian mutinous expression she added, "It is not optional."
A small sized mass of unhappiness made a beeline for the FBI agent. "Who is he? I didn't know you'd asked for another agency's help." The reproach was distinct in his voice.
"That's because I didn't. Wait here Blaine"
More often than not, Kurt would spend approximately fifteen hours by himself for every hour he spent with another person, Blaine and his father being the only exceptions to the rule. It wasn't often that he found people who didn't exhaust him, in twenty-four years of life he had found a grand total of two, and one of them was now dead.
Adam Crawford, or so he said, though his badge seemed to verify his story, was an Interpol officer specialized in ritualized murders and also a distant cousin of one Cassandra July, who just happened to be the director of the FBI's New York branch, and Sebastian's boss by extension. Crazy world. Apparently he had been in town doing some sightseeing or whatever it was that tourists did in NY; Kurt had tried that once during his first year in the city and the enormous mass of people had sent him running for the safety of his apartment after less than five minutes; when he'd read the most fascinating blog article by Ms. Quinn Fabray. So Adam had called his cousin, strings were pulled and all of the sudden the team had gained a new member. Kurt predicted that Sebastian fit would be stuff of legends.
It was plain that Adam understood people in general and knew how to speak to them; he had the uncanny ability to put someone almost immediately at ease, it felt a lot like the first times he spoke to Blaine, a bit unnerving but not at all unpleasant. Something he could eventually get used to and while it was clear he was trying a bit too hard to get Kurt to like him he also managed to say all the right things. And he sounded very interested in what Kurt would have to say in regards to Adam's old cases.
"I cannot remember hearing about anyone quite like you." The man smiled looking a bit doubtful, "we have quite a few consultants, though it is unusual to take them to the field." Kurt wouldn't be offended if Adam assumed he wouldn't be there because the scenes were too gruesome. The consultant had enough self-awareness to realize that a normal person, basically someone who wasn't him, would hate to be so close to a corpse and would be terribly traumatize to have in their minds the images Kurt had in his. Blaine was of the same opinion but had always been too polite to make comments about it.
Adam Crawford shuffled a little and shoved his hands in his pockets, tiny smile still in place. "I was really looking forward to seeing you in action, it was enlightening."
Kurt surprised himself by smiling back, surrounded by so many distrustful strangers a little understanding and honest curiosity were soothing. "I usually prefer to be alone for that part, but Santana insisted and, well… she insisted quite forcefully." Truthfully she had threatened with the removal of some very particular body part, not ones that he used often but important nevertheless. Really, he could take care of himself, Sebastian didn't need to set his toughs on him. "I don't know how you managed to get pass her. I believe you made a lifetime enemy there."
Whatever Adam was going to say was promptly interrupted by Sebastian's arrival.
"Hummel, if you are done you can go home now, and please take you lapdog with you." And that was a dismissal if he'd ever heard one. Five minutes later he was in the backseat of a cab with Blaine, wide eyed and upset, by his side. He hoped Sebastian wouldn't scare Adam away, he was looking forward to speaking to him again.