They BOTH get information, from different sources - because someone is always on the lookout. Jack gets a call from a former colleague who now lives and works in Burlington; Didn't Jack investigate some weird old blood cult back in NY and got that sorted out somehow? Well, now they've found two dead, drained of blood, with fang marks on their bodies. The police are stumped, but they dug out some info of a 'Cult of the Blood' from New York and Jack's name came up. So, they call him.
Merle? She gets a call from a Hunter - something is up in Burlington. Looks like vampires.
Jack? He calls Merle. "Something's up in Burlington."
"Yeah," Merle responds, sounding like she's halfway distracted by something. That click? Yeah, someone's loading ammo. "So I heard." This is when, if this was a CW show, she would look up at the camera with a glowering expression, snap the mag into the pistol and then the opening credits would roll before cutting to later that evening.
Later that evening when they're carpooling their way to Burlington. And surprisingly, Merle's eyes aren't even clouded over or bleary from substances. Someone's actually pretty alert, which means she probably means business. Even her footwear reflects it, being a pair of heavy black boots and not something with an impossibly high heel or something. She's dressed for work. "Okay, so what'd this guy say again? Two bodies? Were they found at the same place?" she asks, even though they've already been over all this already. Just a freshening up as they draw close to their destination. She checks her ammo and her weapons of both the mundane and special kinds. Check. Check. Recheck. Like she's burning off extra energy caused by being confined to the car.
Jack, though you can't hear the loading of ammo in the background, responds with terse efficiousness and when they do get into the car, he's throwing in a large bag wtih weapons and ammo. He's dressed in cargo-pants, black ones, T-shirt - equally black. And an old second hand army jacket he bought somewhere.
"Yeah, or close to each other - on the same street, in alley-ways," he notes, going over the information too. "My pal Kevin gave me what he got; there's been reports of a new 'gang', and some sort of 'blood' worship. All hip with some kids. They've not managed to locate their whereabouts but they think they hole up somewhere on the outskirts in an old industry district." He's driving fast but not stupidly fast. "I reached out to some other friends - THEY did a better job. We got a pick of three buildings. They say it's three or four. Also some humans."
"Of course. Because if they aren't there against their will, they're fucking morons with a fetish. Those fuckers fuck with your head," Merle mentions though, well, it's not really news. "Make you think you loooove them or some shit. So alright, we the only crew on this or they taking some of the other buildings? We'll need to be fast and quiet. They might have the other places nearby with lookouts and we don't want to alert them sooner than we need to."
"They're staking them out, I'm meeting one of them in the area. He's keeping an eye on the place so we probably will have the building down pat when we arrive. If not? I got that covered."
In the back, Goblin sits patiently. However, there's a new addition to the pet menagerie: a Whiskey Jack bird, sitting perched on the backseat top, sometimes chirping something but otherwise as patient as the dog.
Jack drums fingers against the wheel. "I have some tricks. When we get there, I will go into the place, unseen. Hopefully. Depends how the place is built." He glances sideways at Merle, quickly - he doesn't want to look away from the road for too long. They're getting closer to Burlington, they should be at the area in about ten minutes.
It's a goddamn rolling zoo up in here, but Merle came to grips with that long ago, with only a brief 'A fucking /bird/? Seriously?' her only commentary on it. It's just one more dimension of the unreal scenario that is her life. "Unseen?" she says, the word half an echo and half a prompt to explain. Her eyes narrow slightly but one eyebrow twitches upward a tiny tick as she stares at him, even when he looks back to the road.
"Technically. Theoretically. I'm not going there physically - someone else is." Jack sighs. "Fuck. I'm a Psychic, Merle. I can talk to and possess animals." There. He's not much for playing coy, and she'll learn soon enough. "I can possess Fairy and fly inside - if it's an old abandoned factory building it probably has broken windows everywhere. Nobody suspects a whiskey jack, do they?" He shoots a quick grin Merle's way.
"Uh huh." Merle just sort of sits there, looking at him like she's unsure if he's punking her or not. "Wait, you... you're serious." Her pistol is tugged out and held toward his head. Just enough to the side to not be pointed entirely at his skull, but close. "You're a fucking /psychic/? And you never thought to fucking tell me?"
"Put that away," Jack says, his eyes remaining on the road - he keeps the car steady. "I'm telling you now - it hasn't been of importance before, has it?" he notes with a set jaw, squinting into the darkness ahead. "You can't throw a rock without hitting someone with weird shit, back in the Falls. You know it."
"No," Merle says flatly, still holding the gun up. "You lying to me all this time, no big fucking deal. Anything else you didn't tell me? Not hiding a wife or gay lover that might come after me? Not gonna turn into some giant hulking monster during a full moon or something?" The gun's at least pointed less at him with each moment, like her wrist is going slightly limp and clearly not holding it at the ready. In the dark he can't probably see that the safety never got thumbed to the off position. She finally lowers it and puts it atop her thigh, holding it there. "I thought-- I thought you were normal. I thought we were... I don't know. Somehow the normal against the darkness. I should have known better. You've probably been laughing at me this whole time."
"FUCK you," Jack says, his temper being a bit riled. He pulls over suddenly - not like there's a lot of traffic on the road and there's plenty of space on the side. He squeezes the wheel hard, trying to keep his temper in check - he's not often angry. "Fuck you, Merle." The blinkers do their tick-tick-tick, lights from the dashboard the only illumination - it still gets very dark in the evenings. The bird and the dog, they're both getting antsy - Goblin buffs his nose against Jack's shoulder and Fairy is flitting across the seats to perch behind Jack, pecking his hair with her beak. "I didn't bring it up because it didn't seem that fucking important. You want me dead now, cause I told you? That hunter instinct kicking in - 'Kill everyone different'?"
"You already did," is Merle's under-the-breath response to the shout before he pulls over. She sits there, looking straight ahead as he talks, but finally snapping her head to the side, shoulders following to turn from the waist as well to face him. "Yes," she says flatly. "Sorry I spent my whole life fighting against shit that tried to hurt me." Hand reaches up in a 'don't interrupt me' motion. "And no, I'm not all oh gee look at me feeling sorry for myself or anything so don't fucking go there because I know you will. Just fucking /listen/ for a second. Yes. My instinct is to take out every fucking thing that's not a plain regular /human/ person. And it always will be. But guess what? My own fucking sister isn't /normal/ anymore and I'm not about to take her out. But she never let me believe that she was anything other than what she is. I found her, she came clean. You didn't. That's the difference. That's why part of me is wondering why I still fucking trust you. Because in this game, trusting the person at your back is /everything/."
"Listen," Jack says, taking a few deep breaths. "I'm Jack Fry - you can trust me. I want to take out these vampires as much as you do, and I will take a bullet for you if it comes to that. Just as I know you'll have my back. I'm sorry I didn't tell you before - I'm dumb. I didn't think it was that big of a deal, alright? I didn't know you cared that much about it, though in hindsight, I should've seen that." He looks at her now, tired and squinting, leaning back and releasing the wheel with a deep sigh. "You don't have to see me ever again after this, if that's what you want. But I need you. Burlington needs you."
It's hard. Being someone that the world needs. And Merle tried to walk away from that mantle that destiny slapped onto her shoulders. It didn't take, though. The walking away. It never seems to stick. Maybe because as much as she likes to bitch about it, she never really believes in walking away for good. "It--" She sighs and sinks back into the seat a little, shaking her head. "I don't do this well. The whole-- the whole partner thing. The trust bullshit. Because I'm always waiting for someone to fuck it up, to screw me over. And then I just... sabotage it myself so I don't have to worry about it. And it's hard to break those sort of habits."
Jack is old enough and much calmer than he was back then when they first met in New York - even if it was only a few years ago. He got perspective, since then. There's nothing to gain from getting into a shouting match with a person he cares about - and he sure as hell doesn't want to. "I'm not very good at it either. As you can tell," he notes with dry humor, half turning towards her now so he can face her properly. The bird and the dog are both quiet, watching Merle with too intelligent eyes, for animals. "We take it one step at a time. This is our first job together. You take lead, alright? I'll do what you tell me to do. You're the real expert, anyway."
You'd think that the years of experience, the perspective, the scars, the horrors and heartbreaks and small wins, you'd think they would give someone a sense of maturity. But you'd be wrong. Merle just looks at him, not breaking that eye contact with him. There is silence there, but it's not that awkward sort of silence. It's the sort of silence of someone who has gears turning in her head. So when she finally nods her head slightly in affirmation, it's maybe a little more meaningful than just a motion of her head. "Yeah. I take lead. You do everything I say. /Everything/. You got me? It's not up for debate."
"I'm going to regret this, am I not?" Jack says, looking in the rear view mirrors before he pulls back on the road, speeding them onwards - this little stop cost them a few minutes. "Will you make me dance? Or sing?" he wonders, grinning slightly - he's relieved. And oddly happy. That feeling you have, when you have a fight with someone and then you resolve it somewhat, and you feel like maybe things will be okay.
Sure. Things are going to be okay. Peachy, in fact. At least, as much as they can be when you took a slight detour, stopping a car with a psychic, a maniac and a couple of animals, to have an argument emphasised with a gun being pulled, on the way to fight vampires and try yet again to stave off certain death for the betterment of the entire world. Sure. "I won't make you sing, you told me you're terrible at it. And I won't make you dance because you have terrible rhythm. But you will likely regret this. Be glad I'm not making you call me Master." She pauses. Then clarifies, perhaps a bit too quickly, "As in Jedi Master. Not-- nevermind. Don't call me that. Just drive."
Jack just laughs and drives. Like the two are on the way to a picnic.
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