Supernatural

30

FEBRUARY — DOWNTOWN PENNSINGTON CITY — 12:38 AM

"I don't know how Rylie does it," Monica muttered, hugging herself in the cold, February night as she and Marcus walked along the dark streets. "I'm terrified, and I'm not even in the middle of a soon-to-be crime scene."

"I told you you should stayed back," Marcus said.

"You think that just because you're a year older you can boss me around?" She scoffed.

"I think you're made for helping and healing people, not going out and doing what Rylie does," he clairifed.

She let a smile slip. "You know, I can blame that comment on sexism."

He rolled his eyes, then stopped. "No damn way."

"It's true." She giggled, then realized something was wrong. "What?" Monica asked, suddenly concerned.

He pointed a thumb at the building he had stopped at. "This is the place."

It was a public bar, and through the windows, she could see multiple drunk men inside and bartenders. It looked like it wasn't the cleanest place on the street, and fairly sketchy. It had a bodyguard at the door. "Someone wants to talk to us in this place? About top secret stuff?"

"Doesn't sound like the safest place to do it," Monica muttered.

The two walked up to the door, nevertheless, and was told to hand over their IDs. When he checked they were of age, the guard let them go inside. Their eyes scanned the place, wondering who they were supposed to be looking for. Everyone looked fairly wasted and middle-agged, except for one who wore a thin hoodie, sitting at a table for four alone, holding a cup of water.

"I could be him," Monica suggested.

"We won't know until we go up to him," Marcus said, breathing in, before walking confidently through the crowd towards him. Then, he sat down across from the boy in the hoodie, Monica sitting beside him.

"You're not Rylie."

"How do you know about Rylie?" Marcus asked, a little alarmed.

"That doesn't matter, but I'm here to talk to him, not you," the man said, his face hidden by his hood.

"Well, you're going to have to settle for us because he's not coming."

There was a moment of silence, covered by the loud commotion of the men in the bar. "You didn't tell him, did you?"

"We didn't want to worry him," Monica said, quietly.

"That was stupid," he replied harshly. "This is important, and its time sensitive. If Rylie doesn't act soon, then there are going to be major consequences."

Can you specify?" Marcus asked, sharply.

The teen hesitated, then scowled. "I can't. I'm not even supposed to be here right now. God, if he knew..."

"If who knew?" She asked softly.

"None of your business."

"Look, kid," Marcus began, bringing his hands in front of him on the table. "If you're going back to a dangerous situation-"

"I'm not a kid," he said angrily. "I'm nineteen, considered an adult."

"Let us help you," Monica said gently, taking in his hands comfortingly. The man drew them back quickly.

"You can't help me," he replied, in a shaking breath. "Only Rylie can. I'm not even sure he can. Maybe that girl you have locked up in your headquarters... But I'm not sure if 2832 is the most trustworthy person."