The Bleeding Bayou

[2014/09/01] Mactator: "So...This is kinda fucked, isn't it?" The air was just cold enough to nip painfully at one's fingers and her partner's hands were shaking...Might not just have been the cold though, considering why Charlie Twomey and her were both there. He took another sip from the hip flask at his side; it was something warm and, from the slight smell, alcoholic. Maybe an Irish Coffee? French? Didn't matter.

The call had been pretty routine at first. A dead body found in the river; looked like it hadn't been the first kill. But as they'd made the slow drive from New Orleans to the Bayou, after asking for updates on what they found...It became worse and worse. It turns out, the body they'd found hadn't been wrapped in chains as they'd first thought; someone had nailed it to the riverbed, then ripped out the intestines and wrapped them around eight wooden poles, also rammed into the body. On every pole was a different kind of fish's skull and after a brief check, it turned out most of the body's pulmonary system and heart were missing. Most being the keyword there.

What really made this worrisome was how it had been done; the careful arrangement of the intestines, wrapped around the poles and criss-crossing over and over? The gaping open chest and missing hands and head of the body? Whoever was here certainly knew what they were doing but..."It's not fucking possible." Charlie stood, taking a second sip of his drink "Fuck, my tongue," and walked from the riverbank to her, "Like, forensics think they did this entire thing here, in the river. There's little to no blood, the body's been partially eaten by animals and...Shit like, how do you wrap organs like that around a pole? Especially in the damned bayou? Why haven't alligators already gone for this body yet? Why aren't catfish ripping it apart as we speak?"

He let oout a small sigh then before sitting on the dead tree stump. The winter morning, though cold and frosty, was bright and the river glimmered like gold and silver...Making the incredibly obvious, incredibly staged 8 poles only stand out more, "It's hard to say what happened but they know that fishing hooks were used on the body. Somehow."

[2014/09/01] Collette Chenney stands close to the edge of the water, but not so much so that the dirt becomes water logged and could easily give way. Though that isn't to say the ground isn't already water logged to begin with, which means there is quite a bit of mud now clinging to her jeans. There wasn't any way she'd wear her slacks out here of course. From behind a pair of almost obnoxiously sized aviators she watches the divers bob up and down, inspecting the body and trying to take several underwater camera shots to log the crime scene. The photos would be immediately uploaded to one of the NOPD's mobile command centers nearby once they were through, but that time hasn't come just yet. Still, Collette observes the mucky area around them to look for even the smallest clue left forgotten. There hadn't really been much, aside from the body. The swamp does a great job at taking or polluting most things that could be used in court. Detectives and units had already combed the area several times too. So finally, the annoyed Collette turns to Charlie.

"Well, clearly it is possible. Already I've a few theories... The call came from an anonymous tip, didn't it? Probably the killer, so this all wasn't done too long ago. Bigger things would have devoured the body by now otherwise. The arrangement? Premade. Our artist probably got some diving gear, sunk to the bottom, and arranged his pre-built display." She snaps a little, though her annoyance isn't quite coming from his pessimistic attitude... Or even the alcohol, though it's really growing on her. For the moment, she's willing to let it slide. She's got to be sure he's actually drinking something unsuitable on the job before doing anything about it. Though, the point that it's coming from a hip flask alone is fairly compelling. No, her slight attitude comes from the fact that she was roused at 6AM while she's on vacation to come and help make quick headway on what is no doubt going to become a high profile case. A crime so sinister, and so "artistic" never goes without some serious media coverage. The little to go off of with a case she intends to be through with soon is also bothering her. Now she's got to stand here and wait, talking with this guy she'll never see again after a few days are up. This guy who is suppose to be her partner.

The one saving point in all of this is the fact that this is in fact such an interesting case. A body, displayed so grotesquely found out in the bayou by an anonymous caller. This is the type of thing she lives for, and especially up in NYC. Without a doubt, this special agent has a few strange cases both under her belt and being worked on. "But... I'll give you that. It's pretty... Fucked. One of my top fives, I'd say." She comes to make a half circle around Charlie, coming over to his side so they can both stare out over the rippling water.

[2014/09/01] Mactator: He strokes his hair a minute, deep in thought. Overall he's a bit...Ratty looking. His clothes, while clean and immaculately prepared, are old and worn with moth balls and careful stitch work being noticeably if one looked long enough. His stubble is just a bit too long to be explained away as fashion, not laziness, and his blonde kinky hair is unruly but well kept. He was the junior of the duo but while he deferred to her, he certainly didn't agree with her. Slipping the flask into an interior pocket, he holds out a cigarette box to her "Smoke?" After the beat, he retrieves one of the Luckies, slipping it into his mouth and magicking a lighter into his hand before disappearing it again. Taking a long drag, he blows out a cloud of smoke before gesturing at the mass of bubbles with his cig.

"See, even if that's true, how did the Unsub sink the whole diorama in one piece, not leaving a trail from here to their transport, before nailing it all underwater? The mud's weak, yes, but you'd have to spend some time finding a good spot to display it and hammer it down and everything. That's still a lot of time in the water. Never mind the fact they either assembled it in the water, assembled it on land here out in the open or transporting this..." He paused, looking for the right words while his right hand flailed, "T-this thing in a vehicle. All three of those seem just as weird to me as the idea it was all done here. They also show that, whoever this Unsub is, is organized, confident and experienced at what we do."

He took another inhale of his cigarette before continuing, "I think we should explore further down the river. We got a call of attention with this one but...There's probably more."

[2014/09/01] Collette Chenney waves off his offer at a cigarette. "I don't smoke." She tries not to sound too venomous, but it slips out. After listening to his rebuttle she brings a hand slowly up to her narrow chin. It's given soft attention by the tips of her fingers as she lets out a low "Hm. Well, the victim clearly would have been transported to the area alive. Maybe they were on a nature hike, or brought out here at gun point. It's possible our killer's get away vehicle isn't for a few miles away... Possibly brought the tools with him. If we aren't finding any tracks, then that makes it clear we've got someone who is probably a hunter. Possibly a local, though that isn't usual that killers who put this much thought into their trade."

Even though she's spitting out answer after answer, it simply just feels so far out there. Earlier she may have mentioned this being one of her top horrible crime scenes, but truthfully it's probably going down as number one in her books. The others weren't freak exhibits meant to terrify and make others sick. It's just that bad. When he mentions further down the river, her eyes roll back over the cloudy water.

"Yeah. I think I hear the boat coming anyway." Not far off in the distance is the loud rattling of a boat motor and a white boat with the letters "NOPD" comes rolling out from beneath a few trees. It turns slowly before coming to bump up against bank. It's a process that takes awhile, long enough for the two agents to get up and make their way over towards the water craft. It's not too far a walk, the boat couldn't pull up too close to the body after all, so she's given time to reflect on the prospect of their being more to this. Hopefully not more bodies, but maybe some evidence they'd missed before.

"I'm hoping for less corpses and more photo ID's. Lets hope the killer somehow made a massive slip up... " A long shot. Nearly impossible even, but the sooner she can get a case and figure out who the killer is, the sooner she can get on with her vacation again.

[09:56] Mactator: He sneered at her overt dismissal, silently thinking -Bitch-. Taking another brief puff, he turned his head to further down the river. THe early morning sun gave it a bright golden sheen but he could still see the dark waters underneath. In his own mind, he considered each of her thoughts. Hunters? Definitely true. The body had been almost left like a kill for scavengers to find. He didn't think they'd brought someone here though. Maybe their had been a fisherman or a late night swimmer; this seemed, for something so planned, like a crime of opportunity to him. The kill had been more about the diorama and nothing to do with the victim which makes it unlikely that a specific person was caught; now, maybe they'd just picked a randomer off the street but if so, why drag them out here of all places to arrange the find? Was it bragging rights "I can kill people like you've never seen before?" or was it simply "When life gives you lemons..."

He silently turned to the boat. Took a drag. Looked up again. "Hmmmm." He stroked his chin for a moment. Time to get in that boat wasn't it? He'd never liked boats though; swimming, that's not too bad. But boats? They always felt too rikty to him. He left out a soft sigh of relief as she began to walk towards the find herself, ignoring the boat. Thank god. Before he followed after her, he took out his radio and contacted the both, "Agent Charlie here. I want you guys to check the banks for any recent signs of disturbances, yeah? I think the unsub might have damaged some of the soil here. Make sure to check it out."

Two hours after he and Collette arrived at the mass of trees further down the river, he vomited. This lovely November morning had rapidly become a scene from Hell. Also, his whiskey tasted bad.

[10:26] Collette Chenney 's mind had gone far, far away during the walk. She was day dreaming about the ferry ride Steven and herself were suppose to be taking this morning. Breakfast, jazz music, and the sights and sounds of several miles of the Mississippi river. It was suppose to be a relaxing and casual start of the day, and it probably very well would have been. Unfortunately, that isn't where she is. Reality first comes crashing back to her with a rancid stench, much like the disgusting odor of rot. It's one she remembers well on several occasions up in NYC. It's a powerful aroma isn't nearly as disturbing as the sight of the source. From afar, it hadn't seemed like much. Just a large hole beneath several trees jutting out from around a vast crater in the ground. In this fly buzzing ditch lay a series of corpses in various states of decay and dismemberment. Some with heads, some without, and some fully intact aside from some gruesome wounds. It's a floor of death with a wooden wall, keeping the integrity of this large space somewhat intact. There is a great deal of water at the bottom, causing the floor to float upward. The bodies reach the feet of five more gruesome displays. These corpses are impaled on large wooden logs, shoved through either the anus or the vagina. The dead people don't have any bottom jaws, and the gnarled tip of each spear protrudes through torn open maws.

Ice cold, Creepy Collette stands and stares right at the edge of the crater. She glares down into the flooded deep, taking in every detail of this horrible and grotesque display of death for pleasure. It's not that she isn't as moved by this as Charlie, she simply just doesn't show it. The rumbling in her own stomach isn't given a second thought as she stares terror in the face and tries to keep her body from trembling. There is no time for fear, not yet. This isn't just a dumping site, it's a taunt. Whoever did this has to pay. Anger gives her a little strength. Enough to glare into the hole while hefting up her radio to speak.

"This is Special Agent Chenney at grid point five o'two... We're going to need forensics... And a whole lot of body bags."

[10:35] Mactator: By the time they'd gotten back to the police station, Charlie had regained his cool. Okay, most of it. A bit. "So..." He'd already rinsed out his mouth with mouth wash but fuckit, the stink still squirmed in his nose and the back of his throat burned with acid, "Here's what we know. They're still finding bodies from the pit and the surrounding area; they think there maybe another two or three. Some of the bodies are decades older then the others, so this has been happening for...A long time. Which makes me think this is a family of some sort or a cult. Something which will outlast any one member." He'd switch out his flask for some hot chocolate now; time to recover, not enjoy himself. "They think one of the bodies in there could be as old as two centuries."

"All of them have died violently. The pit we found was something that could be concealed easily but also reopened without too much effort from, say, four individuals." Another sip of the hot chocolate. Warm. Delicious. Comforting. Still not getting rid of the taste of bile and death. "So. These guys want to come out of hiding now and they're giving us the biggest two-finger salute I've ever seen. And if they have one dumping ground..." He sneered slightly, turning to Collette "Thoughts Chen?"

[10:52] Collette Chenney leans back in the chair at her desk, the one which the police so generously provided for them. In fact, the duo even got off with their own office to share. The larger precincts are always nice to work out of. Except she isn't dwelling on that fact for long, she's got murder on the mind, and a lot of it. Collette listens closely to Charlie, her dark eyes seemingly only pay attention to him. At times she stares for just a little too long before blinking again.

When finally he's spoken his part, she quickly corrects him with "Chenney... " Pause. "Ahem. If they have one, they have more for certain. Fortunately, we might be able to stop them from building any new pits. I've gone ahead and had Agent Heron start a search in VICAP. Our cult must have slipped up a few times if they've been killing for this long. There will be other bodies, or maybe even victims who have survived the attacks and have come forward to report. But that could take up to a day, apparently, and I need headway now."

Collette leans further back, so her head is touching the dirty green, green as Charlie's vomit, covered wall behind her. "We should consider whether we want this case leaked to the press or not just yet. It will break, but I'm hoping that our killers might not make any more moves until they know we've found the pit... " She doesn't really want to know what he thinks, but in the interest of at least pretending to be his partner she decides to ask "What do you think?"

[2014/09/09]Mactator: Charlie took a moment to gather his thoughts then nodded, "Chenney." It wasn't a question. "Right, so personally I think we should look into cult activity in the area. Or old families. Maybe ancient pagan rituals? It would give us somewhere to start at least..." He wasn't drinking now. Truth be told, he was trying to stop; it looked bad. Really bad. But alcohol helped give him the spleen he needed to see a murder scene. Charlie had always hated seeing people like that...Like meat. It was why, after a few years trying out different cases when he joined the FBI, he eventually settled with blue collar and white collar crimes. It was actually one of the reasons he'd gone on this case. He felt he had to prove to himself he still had the nerve. What a mistake that had been...

It was one of the reasons she'd impressed him so much. He'd gotten slightly tipsy, trying to keep his sack and just deal with the body. But Chenney? She hadn't needed that. Just calm, clear and cold. While he'd been upchucking by the bank, she'd held it together. That and her appreciation of his privacy (most would have asked to see what was in his flask) left him feeling a bit warmer to her then most would have despite her creepiness.

He'd hadn't smoked in their office as a courtesy to her because of this. She'd treated him right, he'd treat her right. "You, however, are the senior. It's up to you."

[2014/09/09]Collette Chenney clucks her tongue aloud several times. The notion that it could possibly be a family of killers seemed pretty far fetched, and the idea of a cult or group of killers seems pretty plausible. That isn't to say she will rule out the first. Today has been a pretty jarring one, and it's become another grim reminder that anything human can be evil. Even a family. She breathes in through her nose, causing her nostrils to flare. The usual chilling look she displays briefly twists into that of seeming anger before the Special Agent exhales and tilts her head back over the cushion of her chair. She glares up at the ugly popcorn ceiling before finally saying "Cults... We'll start with cults, and then work out to families if that search goes nowhere. Are you thinking we'll have another Waco on our hands?"

Her brown eyes remain focused on the ceiling. Cults. Families. Coordinated killers. It all just seems so implausible. But then again, so did flaming women who can kill at will. If she hadn't been injured so severely in that blast then Collette probably never would have been here, stuck on this case in hot New Orleans. Stuck with a drunk, crazy theories, and a body count that has reached thirty so far. In the New York office she'd been given the nickname "Creepy Col" for her crazy theories and even more kooky cases that always seem to follow her. It's like she simply can't escape the unnatural and unholy.

There is a sudden creak before she picks herself back up in the chair. With her back upright again she peers off towards Charlie. "Detectives Hanes and Miller were assigned to help us out. Dispatch them to start questioning the families of the deceased as their identities come in. While they do that, I'm going to get breakfast. Come if you'd like." Even after seeing a scene as gruesome as that, eating is no problem. She's always been good at detaching herself from situations, or simply refusing to think on the disturbing manner. Compartmentalization and bottling up emotions are all things that come easy to her.

[2014/09/09]Mactator: Charlie turned green for a moment at the thought of food. Her scepticism was insulting but well, expected. Of course, his thoughts on it weren't actually as crazed as her. Just older families in the area would most likely be connected to anything pagan or occult or may know something like that. But, he didn't say anything. There was no point; she didn't seem to value his opinion...much. Irritating, but he knew the type. His fingers tap the table. He...he was quite antsy. -Fuck, I need another cig.- He needed one bad. "I could eat. It's best to throw up with something in your stomach. " A rueful grin crossed his face.

"Hanes and Miller? They seem kinda...straight-shooters. They won't know what to do with a case like this. They'll hamfist it; but out a missing persons." His fingers tapped again; fuck these jitters. "I ah, I think that's not too bad an idea though...A controlled fire is better then a wild one, ha ha." Touch of nervous laughter. If only he wasn't so fucking weak. Good intentions fall beneath addictive personalities..."So anyway, yeah. I'll do that now. You think."

---------------------------

He came back about 30 minutes later. "Done. They noticed something with the body; they found the ends of a hook in one of them. Its...Well, it's out of place. I think it might be involved, a little. Personal signature. I think we should search the pit bodies for more."

[02:29] Collette Chenney hadn't slept. Since this case started yesterday she hadn't closed her eyes for even a moment. There were simply too many thoughts going on in her head, and far too many angles to look in from. Even if this hit from VICAP didn't work out, she'll have at least a few more leads to go on before the day is up. Things weren't progressing so well yesterday, but it looks like luck is coming up with the sun. The black, Chevvy Tahoe bounces up and down on the rugged stretch of road leading into who knows where. This early in the morning the air is moist, humid, and nearly stifling. Thankfully, the two agents have the AC running full blast. The frigid, colder than cold air is about all that is keeping her awake aside from the black rocket fuel she's been slamming down every hour.

The steely eyed Collette grips the wheel so hard that her knuckles are nearly turning white. A couple years ago a man living in this area was sent to prison on assault charges. He used a blunt weapon, one which matched a few of the wounds on some of the victims. It's a long shot, but it's pretty worth it. Unfortunately, there had been a couple other hits which all take resources to dedicate too. Somehow, Collette had a particularly rancid feeling about this one however. A man living out in the middle of nowhere, within this sour smelling bayou? Probably a hunter who knows the area well. Wasn't that a piece of the profile she had started to develop? Nervously, a tongue starts to press against the side of her cheek.

Not long after, the silence within the vehicle is suddenly broken by a dull chirping from her personal phone. It's the same contact who has been calling her almost every hour on the hour, the same one she hasn't picked up for since. As far as she's concerned, she's still working. There isn't any time for a personal life, not even if you brought it with you to just to suddenly leave again. It hardly even processed to her that she hadn't talked to her supposedly beloved Steve even once today, or even since this entire case had started. She simply ignores it.

"We should be arriving soon... But I can't say I like this. I'm not used to trees, swamps, or rednecks."

[02:54] Mactator: "Neither am I. My dad always said "Play the cards you're dealt." Never told me what to do if I have a shitty hand though." Charlie had the window open a smidge and a cigerette in his mouth. He'd made it a point to change rooms from Chenney's to one more...lived-in. It had made communications a bit more difficult but he'd found it hard enough lasting the night without any booze, nevermind working through all these fucking murder reports and findings non-stop with only coffee to fuel him. Soul destroying stuff. He wrenched at his collar. Sticky. Ugh. "God damn it, why can't killers live somewhere more convenient? Like in the ground or asylums." He was grumping of course but fuck this case.

This one guy they were going after? Small fry, at best. But, he might know more or have seen the killer(s?) as they work. Maybe even have joined in. It was one way to explain the sheer number of bodies...The only way to explain what was done to them though was that there was no god. He took a long, comforting suck of his death stick before turning his gaze to her, "So. Read your file. Pretty impressive Chenney. Odd...But impressive. Don't know what you were smoking when you reported that fire girl but...Well. I'd call it insane but it seems most of the cases that you get are insane. In one way, or the other."

His thumb tapped the base of the cig, knocking off some ash. "You really should answer. He's probably worried." Charlie turned his gaze to the river, eyes tight and eager to drink in the glittering gold water.

[03:15] Collette Chenney snorts, and almost instantly mutters something about "Grab the bull by the horns, but nobody tells you where to go from there." She doesn't go on from afterwards, there isn't any reason to. Charlie seems to be pretty good at keeping a conversation going all on his won. Without her eyes pulling even for a moment from the road she follows up with "If they were good people, they most likely wouldn't live in such a shitty place. Sad but true. But I guess an old asylum would be a little easier to find them in." If for even a moment, she offers a half grin on that icy face of hers.

In the span of just a few moments two things happen that end up rubbing her all kinds of the wrong way. She never looked at his file. The Bureau wouldn't have paired her up with an idiot for a case like this, and that is all she needed to know. The fact that he not only looked at her case, but was so quick to make assumptions just like everyone else made her already white knuckles tense some more on the wheel. Worse yet, he starts to dig into her private business. Into the boyfriend who seems to be holding onto her despite having every reason not to.

She takes a few deep breaths while her fingers squeak over the leather steering wheel. "If you stick your nose out far enough, someone might slam a door into it." Collette speaks through gritted teeth, and with a snarl in her tone.

Every so often on the road side there is a break in the woods and it's just barely possible to get a look at numerous decrepit hermitages. They haven't been inhabited in awhile probably, and most are linked right up to a small river or stream the dumps into the running Mississippi not even a mile away. A few of these back woods homes have been nearly completely overtaken by nature and feature trees growing through them, and one is even split by a body of water right down the middle. They're getting closer, it won't be long now.

[03:31] Mactator: He looked at her out of the side of her eyes, "Never assume. It makes an "ass" out of "u" and "me"." He didn't respond further then that. There was no need to antagonise her (he probably just had though) but it hadn't been for any negative reasons. He was merely interested in her. Wanted to know more. But then, curiosity is oft misread and interpreted. Or is it? Maybe he was being rude. Again oft misread.

As he mused about this and other sorts of blurred lines he looked out the window. The scenery was lovely...And quite alive. He could hear boars and smell pigshit along with all the other delightful sounds of the American jungle. He could do without the smell though. And the heat. God, he hated this heat. He took a quick sip of the iced flask of water (no whiskey this time_ he had with him before scanning around the landscape. Nothing significant...

"Hey. I think these guys are the type to make a shrine. Maybe some kind of religious artefacts. If they went through the trouble of the crime scene for religion, they'll do so to make objects of worship." He took a moment, thinking. Dawn made it almost impossible to see properly into the thicket but he couldn't help but wish he could. He'd always loved enjoying scenery. He flicked his cigarette before letting out a tired yawn, "I have a feeling today's going to be interesting Chenney."


[03:57] Collette Chenney hadn't so quickly forgotten Charlie's digging. She held onto the anger it caused and gave him the oh so mature silent treatment all the way to the suspect's home. After moving through a tunnel of tree limbs so thick that the morning light is all but obscured, Collette makes a slow turn down an ever winding road. There is a break in the tunnel, a small opening not too far off which just so happens to be the end of the road. The Tahoe glides over a hill before coming to bounce on a dirty path. The suspension creaks and squeals as it leaps from one side to the next. Thankfully, it's just the vehicle for the situation. With some slow, steady driving, Collette jostles the vehicle over a path leading parallel to the Mississippi river.

Through the trees, the pair is just able to make out a decrepit home jolting from out of the land and over a pier into the Mississippi. It's made of wood, which are all but falling apart and terribly spaced together to the point where it's probably possible to see inside of the home from some of the spaced out pieces. There aren't any intact panes of glass, and for the most part the only signs of human life being here recently is the scent of something cooking and the slow trickling of dark smoke from a chimney. It's a rather large home, spacious in design and practically modeled like an old plantation home with a great balcony on the second floor and many rooms. But time has gotten the better of it, and now the structure is basically just ruins with a relatively intact roof. Collette isn't all that excited to go on.

Glaring at rotting structure, she slowly gets out of the vehicle. A hand sweeps over her belt, as if to make sure her gun was actually on her belt. In heat like this she couldn't possibly wear any sort of coat, so her gun, budge, and other collection of tools are clearly displayed.

"You have got to be kidding me..." The vehicle is stopped about a hundred feet from the house. Piles of debris and other refuse are scattered all over the place, making it impossible for the Tahoe to get through. They'd have to move on foot.

==================================

[10:30] Mactator: The first thing she felt was a cold, slimy hand resting on her left shoulder; the next was the crook of the harpie's blade on her throat. Charlie froze and immediately went for his empty holster, only to turn statue-still as something crept up behind him. The shadow from the lightless hallway and Charlie's own form allowed his captor to stay mostly hidden. Except for that hand. That pale, fish-white left hand. If Coll looked carefully, the skin seemed to have an almost scale pattern to it and the thumb nail was a sharpened claw. The knife at her neck pressed lightly against her jugular, freeing the smallest bead of blood. "Wow." The voice behind her seemed a tad...Wet. Croaky and phlegmy but erudite and not-wholly disgusting. "You've really fucked her and him up. Mister 'Orns will be sooooo mad." The hand at her shoulder came up, the back of it rubbing Coll's cheek affectionately, "You're something else..."

Behind Charlie, the other one used her free hand to gesticulate at her counter-part, causing her (for it was clearly a girl) to sigh. "Empty your pockets and show me your wallet. The both of us can kill either of you in flat under a second." Charlie fell to his knees then as the other one punched him in the back of the neck, before sliding a garrote around his throat. The voice that came from there was...A far less appealing, more disgusting version of Collette's psycho, "I told you. I told you we should wait til the shoot out ended. Even if they won, they'd never see us coming."

[10:44] Collette Chenney stiffened immediately as she felt the hand against her shoulder. She'd been just starting to turn when that blade came up against her throat, immediately causing the agent to go very still. How could she have heard nothing? Why didn't she just get the fuck out in the first place? She drops her gun and tries not to shake her head in disgust at herself. "I've been called that a few times... " She mentions in reference to "something else." Though when she speaks it's more out of sarcasm than honesty. Once the agent comes to focus on the signs of her partner's captor, she feels even worse. Not only did she put herself in danger, but him too.

Her hands waggle at her sides before she finally goes through her pockets. With a look of disgust on her face she lets most of the various pieces of pocket litter fall to the ground with a clatter. Wallet, smartphone, some gum, and keys. The wallet of course she holds onto and quickly flips it open as if to read it. Collette stares down at her badge and New York driver's licence, complete with a horrible picture of her red eyed and sick looking from being hungover. Once she's complied with her captor's immediate demands, she speaks. "Okay, so you haven't decided to kill us. That's good. You really don't want to do that. We're federal agents." She's sure her words are more or less futile, but she has to try.

[00:18] Mactator: "Do you honestly think federal agent has any weight here? After all you've found already?" There was a chuckle from behind her and the hand brushing her neck slapped her hard, all good humour gone. WIth the knife still always a hair's breadth from her throat, she could feel a knee dig into her kidney, smashing the poor, undefended organ. "You don't talk unless I let you, Miss "Federal Agent." We been hiding bodies so long, the only way you found 'em is because we set that up." A note of the...inhuman came into her voice here, something intrinsically wrong; like when an animal is thought to speak English or trying to speak with fluid flooded lungs. There was a brief beat and a cold, slimy tongue licked Collete's ear, "It's been fun and all but, we have to fly. Sister?" The dull whump of the sap smashed into the back of Charlie's neck, making him slump with a groan.

This was swiftly followed by the back of a blade slamming into Collete's neck...When Charlie woke up, he had an absolutely terrible pain in his head but his foot...His fucking toe. He reached for his phone then, cracked from when he dropped it on the floor. After another brief swig of his small flask, he crawled over to Chenney to make sure she was okay, the pain he felt all over slowing him. While he did this, he started calling the local station, "This is Agents Twomey and Chenney of the FBI, requesting immediate..."

[00:43] Collette Chenney certainly had not thought her attempt would work, but she had to try. Whatever these freaks wanted, it wasn't to kill them. At least not yet. Holding them hostage simply wasn't what Collette wanted though, she'd probably just prefer death. Once she has a knee pressed to her back, Collette arches it a little while gritting her teeth. She wants to say something snappy, and to challenge who could be her killer but it simply wasn't to be. For once, even this hard as nails agent is without words. The moment Charlie takes a blow to the back of the dome, downing him, she closes her eyes shut. There might be a chance to escape, but it probably won't come till later. All hope might not be gone, but it's looking pretty grim. New Orleans, what a shitty time and place to die. Suddenly, it's lights out and she crumples to the ground like a bag of bricks.

By the time she's woken up, Charlie is already chattering noisily on his phone. It's that which actually gets her awake again, and glaring up at the dark ceiling. He's speaking to someone. That means they aren't dead. She draws in a deep, audible breath which causes her chest to swell. The exhale is filled with palpable relief and joy. Again, she's made it out alive when she probably shouldn't have. Better yet, Charlie is here too. Maybe things didn't go as planned, but at least they're both still alive.

She stays on her back, with the wounded fish man just two inches from her head. "Charlie... How are you doing? You're okay?"

[08:05] Mactator: "Chenney?" She can hear more mumbling on the phone before he hangs up and limps over to her, "Fuck me...That was intense." He looked at the blood stains from both killers and around the house itself, "We've got plenty of evidence anyway bu-Hrrgh. Fuck. My ribs." With a hiss of pain, he sat against the wall and looked up; if she looked carefully, she'd see the blood marking his right shoe. His breathing sounded a little strained now, now that she listened to it. "I've uh, called the police...An ambulance...Be here soon..." He reached into his jacket, pulled out his bottle and gave it a shake. Hmm. Nearly half-full...Well, he couldn't just keep it to himself, considering how absolutely horrific Coll's day had been as well. He slid the hip flask over to her, leaning back with he's eyes looking at some random crack in the ceiling.

It had been...horrible. His nerves were shot, his hands barely resisting the urge to shake as he looked straight a hand and thought about how god damned fucked up this entire day had been. That massive brute...The old lady and her odd voice...And those two things...Thinking about it made his hands shake but Charlie didn't become an FBI agent, a person who saves lives for himself. Even if it looked shitty, he couldn't just stop now, could he?
[08:16] Collette Chenney simply lays there in silence for several long moments. Nothing ever goes easy, does it? Nothing can be simple. They entered this house looking to question a promising suspect, but ended up wounded and with whatever forensic evidence Orleans PD will manage to dig up. Again, she was injured on the job. Thankfully aside from the long scratches down one arm and a slight cut on her neck, she made out pretty well. Much better than Charlie, that is for sure. But still, things could have been much worse. Maybe that alone is cause enough to celebrate a little. Before reaching out to take the flask she mutters "You shouldn't have this on the job." Not caring about being thought of as a hypocrite, she quickly takes a long swig of the harsh whiskey. Her face screws up in disgust before the sloshing tin is slide back across the blood stained floor towards Charlie.

"Well, we've either found our suspects for this case... Or people who simply just really, really hate the law. Because I don't believe in coincidence, I'm thinking it's probably the former." Slowly she picks herself up before pressing her heel down on the floor and sliding herself back meet Charlie against the wall. From right next to him she starts to pick out the numerous blood spots and wounds that now litter the poor man. She should probably apologize. But before the thought is even finished, she realizes that it simply won't happen. The ever prideful Collette instead says "You held up well. I didn't think a country bumpkin would stand by me so well." She even puts on her best, pearly white smile that practically stretches from one side of her face to the other. It's somewhat creepy, but maybe that is mostly because the usually scowling Collette is displaying some emotion other than annoyance.

[08:36] Mactator takes another swig of his flask as she talks, letting her speak. He notes her looking him up and down -Is that concern or is she just annoyed I might have to go to hospital?- When she comes to a stop, he gives her a flat look and repies, deadpan, "Thanks. It might be kinda surprising to you but I'm also a Bureau agent; I'm from Colorado, for fuck sakes...Also, don't mind the flask, its a pretty strong whiskey." Passing the flask back to her, he stroked a tip of that damned hair; he could never get it looking neat or professional, sadly. "Was doing some blue-collar stuff before I switched to this case." He reached into his pocket for a Lucky and sticks it between his lips. Just as he's about to light it, there's a pause. "Fuck, you don't smoke." He quickly stuck the cigarette back into the box and the lighter in his pocket before looking dead straight ahead."

He looked down at his intact left foot and wiggled it. He didn't dare try that with the other foot though..."Don't mind my injuries. Just lost a toe I think...And some bruised ribs. Just a little toe too. It'll be fine." Unlike her, he wasn't used to injuries on the job but...Just talking like this, nice and quiet in the dusty house? It was helping soothe his fried nerves, his worry and concern. He didn't bother breaking the silence that had fallen and instead, just kept looking forward. Lost in his thoughts.

[08:44] Collette Chenney draws in deep before shaking her head, "I don't mind cigarette smoke. I just don't think it's a habit an agent should have." Her brown eyes finally fall a little further away, right over her gun. She leans forward, reaching out to barely grab up the weapon. Both brown orbs keep on the blood slick polymer for several moments before she finally goes to holster the weapon at her side. It's then that she follows up with "But you lost your toe... So go ahead and kill your lungs if you want to." Her word choice isn't so nice, but she doesn't speak with any large amount of malice. Only a little to show she really will at least tolerate it. Her eyes roam over the dark hallway a few times, as if to make sure that there wasn't anything coming just yet before she slowly starts to rise.

Once upright, she glances down at Charlie. Playing the caring matriarch never was her thing, not really. But she does at least figure he needs to get out of this dirty house, some air might do him some good. "Charlie, we're going outside. I'll help you up, just don't try and put too much weight on your foot, okay?" Collette isn't going to take no for an answer either, she bends down and tries to grab one of his arms to drape it around her shoulder. She won't lift him alone, but with his help she'll be able to at least get him out to sit on the porch. By now, the sun was actually up high over the bayou tree tops.

----------------------2 days later---------------------

[03:31] Collette Chenney hadn't even slept yet. Her own limited time in the hospital enabled the agent to finally drift to sleep for a few hours between brief visits from the doctor, but her wounds didn't really rate high enough for her to be kept for any length of time. With Charlie still out from the painkillers, she was left to her herself until visiting hours the next morning. For the most part, the night was spent driving around while missed calls and texts from the man she was suppose to be on vacation with continued to stack up. She didn't want to talk to him. This was suppose to be a romantic weekend for just the two of them now that she'd full recovered from the fire. A work free period, which was forgotten the moment her call to duty came in. Now she was hurt. Injured on the job, and worse she'd endangered someone else's life. She simply couldn't bear to see Jim, so she spent the night driving around the city.

Right around ten she arrived back at the hospital. She might not have known Charlie for long, but she does know that hospital food sucks. Anything would be better than what he was probably just offered for breakfast. The agent picked up a box of doughnuts which she carried out in front of her right up to his door. Most people probably would have knocked before entering the room, but she decides to stroll right in without any thought of it. The moment she steps in, she wishes she'd taken that time to knock. Early in the morning, and her brown gaze is already catching him with a flask to her lips. The cheery smile she'd had on vanishes for a full second, and her eyes narrow in. The brief pang of annoyance felt in her gut is very quickly shoved away. She's not here to mock him. She's here because she's sorry. So with a deep, calming breath, Collette strolls over to his bedside to offer the box of a dozen assorted doughnuts. "I hope you didn't eat yet. I thought I might bring you some real food."

[03:50] Mactator: Charlie looked down guiltily for a second before mumbling "Um, there's no alcohol in it." He sets it into the coat pocket of his old water-proof jacket, worn from use and kept functional with TLC. He looks down then, sombre for a moment before looking up at her and the doughnuts. His eyes practically bulge with want and its immediately obvious she's made a good call. "Well, there's no coffee and I was really looking to fulfil the "Officer Piggum" look some time in my life..." he laughs, a hand twisting one of his kinky strands of hair. "I tried not to eat anything. Still haven't. They complained its unhealthy; fuck 'em. The shit they have in here is as poisonous as..." He looks around, acting overtly cautious (honestly, the Pink Panther could have been on in the background) before jerking his head at the flask. "I think they keep it here as a form of passive aggressive retribution."

He chuckled again before jerking suddenly and holding his ribs, "Owwwww...Apparently our Piggum managed to break a rib when he squeezed me before. The dick. Ugh." He looked up at her then, giving her body a one over, "And I take it from the fact that ah, you're here today, you weren't hurt too bad?" His room, if she took a moment to look, was kind of...Empty. No chocolates, no cards. Not a single weeping relative. Hell, the only thing on his night dresser was a titchy little "Get Well Soon!" card,

[04:05] Collette Chenney is indeed glancing around the room. When she was wounded back in the big city, her room was practically a circus of people. But then again, the Chenneys are kind of a tight knit family. Even her weird cousin stopped in for an hour. Maybe his isn't as much so, or... Maybe there is the obvious. Maybe he doesn't have anyone. Well, except for whoever left him the card. She tries to push the thought away before finally catching sight of a folding metal chair. It's dragged right up to his bedside before the usually icy woman takes a seat down in it. Her own wounds are more or less all covered up by a light jacket. If it hadn't been there, he would have been able to see the numerous bandages wrapped about her limb. The most visible sign of a fight is the small scar sitting at the middle of her neck.

"I got off a lot more lucky than you, suffice to say. They just gave me a couple antibiotics to keep an infection away and let me walk." One leg, then the other stretch out beneath his very uncomfortable looking bed. "Someone at the front desk said you'd be out in another day or so, though. You'll get out just fine. If I can survive two weeks, you can do two days." A grin cocks over her thin features, and soon both arms are drawn over her chest. Again, her eyes shift over to the card. Curiosity takes over, and she reaches out so she can open it up and see just who's already been here.

[04:17] Mactator: Charlie can *feel* the weight of her surprise as she looks at how empty the room is. He tries not to but his face goes a little red. Obviously, this is horribly embarrassing for him. Obviously, she's quite right to assume he has no one. He looks away as she looks at the card. Written on it, in a tight scrawl is [Hey Twomey, heard you got hurt working a case. Keep t it, okay man? Agent Carlson.] He let her read it, ignoring the rather juvenile bear on the front, "One of my former partners. It's been a while." He sighs again, irritated as those fucking words rebound in his skull. Carlson actually hadn't been much of a dick but they'd worked together for a while. A formality to send a card, that's all.

He lifted his foot up at her, giving her a peek. His little toe was completely gone now, amputated wholly by the doctors. "Apparently, all that muddy water seeped into my boots and the wound got infected. So, they had to lop it off. Poor me..." He picked up one of the doughnuts then, munching into it and his eyes roll up, "Shit Coll, these are grea-Um, Collette. These are great. Been ages since I had jam doughnuts."

[04:31] Collette Chenney stares down at the card for a little while longer than she should have. How does a woman like her have so many people who came in and out of her room when all he got was a card? It almost didn't make sense. The ever friendly, talkative Charlie hardly seemed like the type to be alone. Maybe there is more to it. Probably.

The trip here only gets worse after she's put down the card and casts her glance over the full extent of what she'd practically done to him. She'd kept telling herself they would be able to reattach the missing toe. Seeing it gone, along with even more of the stump than before wasn't an easy sight. Her insides tighten, and for a moment she feels as if she's going to be sick. Thankfully, she's learned how to hide disgust or other reactions. It's something you pick up on the job. "Well... Uh. At least you don't have to worry about stubbing it anymore... " She does her best to make an attempt at humor, even if it is kinda poor. "And, ah, please... Coll is fine. I guess you can call me that. I'm glad you like them, I was wracking my brain trying to figure out which ones you might like... So I got a whole bunch." At this point, he could practically get away with murder as far as she's concerned.

A low chirp sounds from her pocket as a text notification goes off. There is a brief stir on her part, but she decides not to go for it. She can't bear to see the number of missed texts at this point. So instead, she just stays caught on Charlie. "Ah, so... If you get released tomorrow, you'll have the whole day ahead of you to yourself. Got anything planned?"

[04:42] Abigail Lake: Charlie laughs at the toe-stubbing joke before he does something between a wheeze, a cough and a jerk. "Awwwh, fuck. Smoker's lung right when I have a fucked up rib?" Then, he pokes her with the stump. "You did this y'know? If you hadn't been there, I'd still have my toe. I'd also be dead, my ugly mug smeared over the walls. Don't feel bad Collette, I'm a big boy. FBI agents know what they're getting into and its not like I had you get home in one piece either." Finishing the first doughnut, he points a finger at her, "See, this is why you're a good partner. You make sure I lose the toes that hold me back and get stubbed on tables, while having good instincts. Pastries are great gifts~"

He sighs then, leaning back into the pillows, as awful as they were (seriously, aeroplanes have better things then this) and he looks meaningfully at her pocket. He had fuck all to do tomorrow but she didn't need to know that, "Yeah, yeah. I'll probably run a marathon or two, teach my nine buddies we don't need that loser. That, or go drinking with some of the guys. Those divils are bound to be hiding out somewhere here in this there city." Is that a hint of an Irish accent? It might explain the blonde curly hair and the washed out green of his eyes; like faded dollar bills.