Mind Games And Brain Teasers (Nate)

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A screeching of tires announced the halting of the black jeep as its driver and back doors opened, one man stepping out of each door. They were dressed in suits, but that didn't make them look very hospitable. Though the fact that each of them carried a sub-machine gun probably contributed more tot hat than their attire. Their vehicle had parked with the front passenger's seat facing the warehouse door, and they all moved round to stand at that side as the door slid upwards.

Six more men emerged, stepping out of the shadows. Five of them were much like the lackeys from the jeep, armed and guarding. Then there was one in the middle of them all, taller than the rest. He had no visible weapons, but there was a feeling of control coming from him. "Well? Where is he?" this man asked.

Hearing that, the passenger door of the jeep opened, and the Criminal stepped out. "Hello!" he greeted cheerfully, as if they were meeting over a cup of tea. "So, finally getting down to business, hm?"

"Where's my payment?" The other man would have no nonsense with this transaction.

Criminal sighed, not bothering to hide his annoyance. "Oh don't worry, you'll get it. As soon as I know that you can deliver."

"Of course," the man nodded. "Follow me." Turning, he headed into the warehouse, motioning for his men to stay where they were. Criminal did the same for his, then followed the other leader.

The roof of the warehouse was high up, and there were rows of blocks of containers placed at equal intervals from one side of the building to the other. None of them had any notable markings, but for the people who owned the place and knew what was in each box...well, they had their own ways of finding whatever goods they wanted.

The alien man was led by the annoying human to one such normal-looking black crate on, placed on top of a low pile of others that were the same. He placed his finger on a panel, then it clicked open. Fingerprint sensor, Criminal thought to himself. Wonder where they got that from. But he stopped thinking about it when the human opened the crate, and he peered in.

"There they are. As promised."

Criminal grinned to himself. As promised, indeed. A full shipment of Sontaran blasters of various types, enough to arm a small army. He'd been wanting to get his hands on these for quite some time, gaining all the information he could. They all fell to Earth somehow, were passed down through private hands, taken by the Torchwood Institute, then lost whenever it was destroyed. And now some stinking little human male had got his grubby little hands on a load of some of the most devastating hand-held weaponry in the galaxy. Criminal doubted he had any idea of their true potential.

A throat being cleared stirred him from his thoughts. "Well?"

With an innocent expression, Criminal turned around. "Well what?"

"The money," the man replied. "I'd like to have it now."

"Oh yes!" the Time Lord said as if he had been being forgetful, and only just remembering now. "Of course. Come with me." Turning, he headed back out to his jeep without another world. Slightly confused, the human followed him, but struggled to keep up. The Criminal moved at a fast pace.

When the man came to the warehouse's threshold, the other one was leaning against the door of the jeep. As soon as the human stepped out, a bullet zipped through his temple with a splatter of blood, and the body slumped to the ground. Emerging from the shadows, Criminal's three men picked their way through the six bodies littering the ground to the door.

"Standard procedure, boys," Criminal rattled. "Place motion-sensitive charges around the place and lock it up. We'll make the cover delivery tomorrow."

As he stood there, his men placed devices around the inside edges of the warehouse. They got it done in five minutes, then closed the door before getting into the jeep through the doors they had emerged from. "We'll let the police clear the mess up in the morning," Criminal said, as if killing six people at this time of night was completely normal. Which was, for him. "Then we're all clear."

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The man didn’t sleep. Not for twenty years had he been able to sleep, since the death of his little sister. He groaned, annoyed and looked down at his cellphone. it was now 7 in the morning. He picked it up and was about to stuff it in his pocket when he suddenly got a text. His partner, Will. "Skip the office! Warehouse 157 on Levins Street, near the harbor. I think we might need you on this one"

Nate arched a brow curiously at the rather cryptic text and stuffed the phone into his pocket, straightened his tie and got his jacket. He tucked the file under his arm and headed out the door. What could be so mind numbingly perplexing about a warehouse that they needed him? Nate flagged down a taxi as he heft his flat and went to the warehouse. He walked up, his shades over his eyes as he popped an aspirin. His headache was a constant, and lower light seemed to help. The Aspirin was just a habit now as nothing seemed to ebb the dull ache of his head.

“Hey there, Sherlock!” came a familiar annoying voice. One of the other detectives. “Dont call me that. God! How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that!” Nathaniel angled his head to glare at him over the rim of his sunglasses. Since they were playing that game, though he never said it aloud, He had nicknamed the man 'Lestrad'. He was completely incompetent and a horrible cop. The man couldn't pour water from a boot if the instructions were written on the heel. The whole unit knew that as well, but some how, the man was in charge. Nathaniel didn't know his real name. Never bothered to asked and couldn't care less to remember. His name was simply 'Lieutenant, 'Imbecile', or 'Hey You'.

“Fine, fine.. Nate. I think we have a deal gone wrong.” Nate arched a brow. Though his face was devoid of emotions, in he mind he chuckled.. This man? Think? It was probably his partner, Will, that said it was a deal gone bad. But the Imbecile was always quick to claim credit. Will and Nate had just learned to ignore it. Neither of them were keen on being in the papers and having their privacy invaded by blood thirsty reporters. They were content to allow the Lieutenant to wallow in his artificial fame and glory. “And.. what makes you Think that?”

Nate removed his shades and rubbed his temples slightly and looked around the scene. First glance, rubber marks from a sudden but graceful stop. No swerves of any sort. Just a hurried vehicle coming to a quick stop. Whatever was going on, this was not meant to be a long or pleasant visit. He followed the tread marks to the entryway of the now closed warehouse door. The bodies were still laying there, they that have been covered in the white sheets. He groaned with annoyance. If they had insisted on him being here, they KNEW he hated it when they moved anything, and that meant covering bodies. Although he could tell what was significant to the crime scene and what was not, it was still annoying. Probably 'Lestrad' barking orders to cover the bodies, thinking it would somehow preserve evidence. All it did was cover and distort the blood spray patterns.

His habitual tick, he craned his neck to the side and rolled his shoulders, something he only did when aggravated. He ran his fingers through his messy short hair and stooped down over on of the cover bodies and put on a pair of sterile latex gloves. He pulled back the sheet and put to fingers to one of the victims chin and gently moved the head to the side. The neck was stiff and almost unyielding. That put the rigor mortis at about 6 hours ago. He tilted his head curiously and leaned in closer. The man's brow had been covered in sweat, he was nervous about whatever had been going on. “Hmm.. what were you trading?” Normally henchmen were cool and calm. Maybe a little edgy, but never sweating. Whatever was in the transaction, it was something he didn’t understand.

He glanced back at the tired treads and back at the warehouse doors. “They haven’t taken anything.. Those tires belong to an SUV, possibly a jeep. Not big enough to haul anything from a warehouse. Has anyone been inside yet?”

Will shook his head and looked over at the Lieutenant, “No, he was about to fetch some bolt cutters and-” But Nate cut him off “That would be a very bad idea. They havent taken their prize, but I'm certain they'll be back for it. And I'll lay odds they would rather have it destroyed than confiscated. You open those doors and I'm willing to bet we will never know what this was over.”

He marched up to the Lieutenant and said flatly “Clear the bodies and make it look as though we're finished here. I'm willing to bet our friends will be back to pick up their merchandise once they have a larger vehicle. Will and I will hang around, I want the rest of you gone”

The Lieutenant stared at Nate like he had just lost his mind “Now hang on here, I'm giving the orders-” But Nate cut him off.. He seemed to be doing that a lot this morning “Then give your orders to clean up and clear out. You can tell your higher ups that you suspect something else is going on and left your two best behind as a look out... or something else narcissisticly sufficient to stroke your ego.. You always do” He could tell by the way the Lieutenant squared his jaw that he would have very much like to have hit him. At that, Nate couldn’t help it.. He smirked, knowing he had hit a nerve with the man.

“Fine! But I'm leaving Percy. To make sure you do things by the book” Nate chuckled and shook his head. “Oh come now, I always do things by the book."
The Lieutenant narrowed his eyes and replied darkly, “The unabridged version, Sherlock.”