1585/Where In The World Is Claire Temple

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Where In The World Is Claire Temple
Date of Scene: 23 July 2017
Location: Unknown
Synopsis: Mercy and Natasha look into the case of the missing Claire
Cast of Characters: Winter Soldier, Black Widow (Romanoff), Mercy Thompson, Claire Temple




Winter Soldier has posed:
Claire has now been missing for a little over a week. Her apartment has stood untouched, all that time. She has had a few visitors -- people looking for healing, who do not know she is gone -- but no one else has been there since she was stolen away from it.

Her mother certainly hasn't been by. She's been secreted away so she cannot be targeted again by the Winter Soldier, nor the shadowy organization backing him.

Such it is that when people arrive to have a look, it will be to find the front door still unlocked, though tightly closed. There's nothing in particular that stands out as unusual on the approach to the front door -- no odd smells, no obvious listening devices, no stink of residual magic.

But as they get closer, there is a scent that will be picked up. Blood and steel and leather. The Winter Soldier was here more recently than a week ago.

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
The message was received while Natasha was at the Triskelion, dealing with the aftermath of a misunderstanding of epic proportions. She was glad for the distraction, to be honest. At the appointed time, she had picked up Marcy and they traveled to a familiar apartment building. Not a pretty place but Claire called it home.

As they reach the hallway, Natasha takes in the surroundings as she feels a hint of anxiety. Some sense telling her something is definitely off. It is not a power, not an ability. Just an inate sense that people like her have when there is something off.
    This situation is off on so many levels, it isn't a surprise.
    She looks to the woman with her, waiting to see her opinion before they actually will make entry to the apartment.

Mercy Thompson has posed:
The coyote is frustrated.

Oh, yes, bombs have been built, mines have been programmed and a new potential trap has been sketched out, but Mercy still finds herself frustrated.

It's a combination of feeling like she's not doing enough and worry. Worry for Sam, worry for Claire, worry for them all. Those feelings are what drives Mercy out of her garage and out into the city. Which is what caused Mercy to drop that message off to the group looking for a partner-in-crime; this time to go search Claire's apartment. To see if there are any viable clues to the Nurse's whereabouts. And in some sense any clues to the Winter Soldier's whereabouts.

Though mostly today is about Claire.

Mercy is dressed casually for the potential B&E; fitted blue-jeans, sturdy running shoes and a black-t-shirt. A small hobo-style purse hangs from one shoulder, with the bag tucked securely beneath her arm.

As the duo walk down that hallway, Mercy will employ all her enhanced senses. Sight, smell, hearing and yes, even the ability to sense magic. It's only when the two arrive closer to that door that Mercy's steps began to drag slightly, her pace slowing down considerably. It's her nose that brings her the bad news, much like Nat's own sense tells her something is off. "He was here recently." Nope, she's still not saying the Winter Soldier's name right now and with that pronouncement the coyote tilts her head slightly, ears straining to hear anything beyond the apartment door. "Though the scent isn't super fresh -" Which is as good as an endorsement that Mercy can currently give.

Winter Soldier has posed:
The scent, if Mercy is capable of discerning, is in fact a few days old. It coincides with Sam's abduction, or at least with a short time after Sam's abduction.

There are no apparent traps on the door, to Natasha's discerning eye. Still no listening devices or indications of surveillance. There /is/ a classic little trick spies use, that she is likely to catch: a strand of hair, caught between door and door jamb, which will dislodge immediately upon the door being carelessly opened.

The place is apparently being watched, if not /actively/ watched.

If they make entry, the scent will change in Mercy's perception, growing stronger. The Soldier's scent is heavily mixed with another, stranger scent given the dead urban environment that is New York. His scent is mixed with the smell of fresh greenery, of trees and leaves, of running water and mud and wet concrete.

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
The hair is noted and caught between thumg and forefinger. Then Natasha will carefully open the door. Just because she can't see a trap doesn't there isn't one. She stands to one side and tries the knob. It isn't locked. She pushes it open fully, staying to the side so that she isn't in the line of fire should someone, or thing, be inside waiting for a visitor. When nothing explodes, she peeks her head around the corner. "They are still watching the apartment. We need to make this quick."

Once they are inside, she will return the hair to the exact same position as she closes the door behind them. "You picking up anything else?" Mercy has powers she doesn't. Natasha will be relying on her skills instead, to see if there is anything in the room that might give a hint of what went on here.

Mercy Thompson has posed:
Mercy's nose is definitely able to discern the age of his scent. Days. It makes Mercy feel less twitchy and itchy between the shoulder-blades, but not by much.

The coyote will silently watch Natasha work her particular brand of 'magic'. The coyote's eyes widen when she spies that single strand of hair the red-head just caught. And then when that door is opened, Mercy will wait for Natasha to enter first. Sure, Mercy may be new to all this clandestine stuff, but that doesn't mean she's terribly stupid about barging into an apartment. Especially when the scent of the enemy is around - The comment about it still being watched is nodded at, causing Mercy's expression to turn even more grim than before.

When the two are inside, Mercy's gaze will immediately scan the area all around them; her nose working overtime as she pulls in the scents around her. "He was here a couple of days ago." Her eyebrows furrow towards the midline of her face now, as she considers what her nose is telling her, "Odd, his scent carries an undertone of the forest. Or, at least, someplace with a lot of plants."

And much like a bloodhound, Mercy will move to follow the invisible path his scent trail creates - looking to see where the Winter Soldier went throughout Claire's apartment.

Winter Soldier has posed:
The Winter Soldier's bloody scent saturates the apartment. It's hard to discern any particular exact path he took, because he seems to be everywhere. When he was here, he was here for a while.

But what was he doing? Natasha's sweeps for any devices -- listening, explosive, or otherwise -- will come up clean.

As Mercy meanders around the apartment, however, another scent starts to peek up at her. Sam Winchester. Not like he himself was here, but like something of his IS here. It's the work of a moment to follow it to something laying on the couch, inches away from being lost into the limbo that is couch cushions.

It's Sam's phone. The phone is locked with a passcode, as standard -- but perhaps there's some hint in it what he was doing or where he was.

Mercy Thompson has posed:
"And concrete." Mercy adds, as the rest of the scents filter through. "Wet concrete. Blood too. Maybe he was injured?" The mechanic hazards, as she starts to drift through the room. Her path is a little disjointed, as she moves towards the heaviest of scent pockets. When she loses the trail the coyote pauses, her gaze roaming around the room, before she steps this way and that to try and recapture where the scent is heaviest.

Even as she moves, Mercy can't help but look at all the various things within Claire's apartment. The pictures upon the fridge, the medical supplies stashed here and there, and the general neatness of the place. It almost reminds Mercy of her own home, albeit hers is with tools versus medical supplies. It's only as that random thought drifts through her head that Mercy's nose will pick up something different. It causes the coyote to stop in her tracks, as she zeroes in on that new scent. "Sam!" Pivoting upon her heel, Mercy will turn in an almost complete circle, as she strives to locate that particular trail. It doesn't take long for the coyote to lead the two over to the couch and sharp brown eyes will spy that phone, so threatened by the dastardly couch cushions. "That's either his phone, or a phone Sam recently touched. It smells of him."

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
Natasha takes the phone, sliding her finger over the screen to no avail. "Locked. Joy." She reaches into a pocket of her jacket, taking out a small square devide. She holds the devide in her left hand then places the phone atop it. Nothing seems to happen for a few moments as she waits for it to run through the programming. A moment later, there is a beep. She withdraws the device and looks at it then types in the passcode onto the phone itself.

Bingo!

She quickly pulls up the call history then the text history. In turn she will also check the camera for recent activity as well as last sites visited on the 'net.

Winter Soldier has posed:
Sam Winchester's phone is kind of boring, believe it or not. It has Dean's number on it, and Fred's, and Claire's, May's and Natasha's herself, if she ever gave it to him, Mercy Thompson's and someone named Bobby Singer. There's also a Harville's Diner on there.

It is curiously devoid of photographs, save for a single one: Dean, Sam, and a grizzled redheaded man who likes flannel as much as they do, an older fellow that they're obviously close to. This photo is from when both Winchesters were far younger, Sam, with his floppy, unruly, and much shorter hair can't be more than 17 in the photo. Perhaps it was taken before they went to college.

There is a browser, and an app that tracks news with some very careful Google alerts set up which are guaranteed to bring him cases. Google Maps is installed on the phone, at least showing places he's run maps to and from, equipped with Google's 'see where you parked' feature that only works if maps was running when you parked there. Beyond that...no facebook, no twitter.

There are a few text messages. Dean, saying he reached Virginia okay but cell phone coverage is 'ass'. A few back and forth between him and Fred, many kind of cute and sweet, but not nauseating. One of those was sent around 8:45 on the night of the 14th. It reads: 'Hey, there's a lady here whose car has broken down, I'm going to help her. I'll get home later than I planned. Please don't worry. <3'

Of course. He never got home at all, but it at least helps pinpoint some timing.

Of particular interest, because it seems rather jarringly unrelated to anything else on the phone, on the browser itself is a checkout page with a receipt for a Metro-North train ticket, heading into upstate New York. The destination is Croton-Harmon Station, some twenty miles north of New York City. There's another browser tab about Croton-on-Hudson, the town served by the station, scrolled down to the bit about Points of Interest, many of which are parks and one of which happens to be the New Croton Dam, on the Croton River.

Mercy Thompson has posed:
Mercy doesn't look too surprised when Natasha announces the phone is locked. Nearly everyone in this day and age has some sort of protection upon their smartphones. Especially those in Sam and Natasha's line of work.

The device that the other woman produces and also uses is given a curious look by the mechanic. That curiosity turns to interest when she realizes what it's going to do. "Neat trick." Murmurs Mercy, as her eyes turn to the screen of the now unlocked phone, and yes, Mercy is totally going to read over Natasha's shoulder. No shame here for the coyote, not when her friend's lives hang in the balance.

The majority of the numbers listed don't necessarily surprise Mercy. The lone picture is given a curious look, but without any context all Mercy can be sure of is it's something special - simply because it's the only one on there. What she can catch of the text earns the faintest quirk of a smile from the coyote. After talking with Fred, it seemed pretty clear the two were more than just friends, but those text definitely confirm that working theory of hers.

It's only when they arrive upon the browser and that checkout page pops up that Mercy frowns slightly. "A train ticket?" She mutters, more to herself than Natasha. "Why would he need a train ticket?"

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
"I'm not sure," Natasha murmurs as she glances at the information. "But I have a feeling. You said you smelled nature and concrete." She flicks to the browser, pulling up a picture of the New Croton Dam and the information about it. "Seems to fit the description. I don't know if Sam found them, if he was tracking a lead on Claire, or if this is something completely unrelated." She glances over at Mercy with a tight smile. "Looks like we're heading north." She hits the button on the side of the phone to close the screen then lowers it into her pocket.

Winter Soldier has posed:
Some time after Mercy and Natasha have left, a shadow darkens the apartment's front door. Blue eyes see the little strand of hair, still perfectly in place, and the Winter Soldier laughs to himself around a lit cigarette.

He moves through the apartment with the efficiency of familiarity, before slipping out the window and up to the roof with silent fluidity, coming to a light perch on its edge. Pulling out a phone, he idly wakes it and dials a number from memory. He waits as the line rings, idly dangling his cigarette in his free hand until someone picks up at the other end.

There is a brief silence.

"/Yes/," the Soldier answers, in Russian, to some unheard question. "/They took it./"

Another silence. The Winter Soldier takes a drag while he listens.

"/Acknowledged/," he eventually concludes. He hangs up, and turns away to the north.

Claire Temple has posed:
The moon hangs high and heavy and swollen in the black sky. Its silvery light spreads over a clearing in thick, upstate brush -- leafy trees quiet and unmoving, like the surrounding forest were holding its breath.

That moonlight plays across the wide body of water, stretching out in the vast, deep expanse like a lake, yet with stone rising at one side. A man-made reservoir. The surface shines with an unnatural stillness, gleaming like a mirror.

The only thing swathed in shadow is the man to stands at the water bank, ending that same call and dismissing his phone to a pocket. The memory of the Winter Soldier's voice in his ear brings him to laugh. His face, with his pale eyes and skin leathered in scars, stays in darkness. Light seems to avoid him.

Mikhail Arkadyevich Volkov pulls a knife and slits the flesh of his palm. His hand outstretches over the water, and his thick blood drools down. It spreads in a dark cloud and dilutes. "He that believeth in Me," he says to himself, boredly, "out of his belly shall flow rivers of living water.