Colt Davin
Location: Spade Queen Country Club - Garage
Phase: Morning Phase
Date: 10.09.1994
Weather: Overcast
Colt Davin stood in front of the garage’s ajar door. Inside, nothing moved, the lights were off, and he heard no signs of activity. That didn’t mean that it was empty, the door was only cracked open, after all. He could see very little. So he planted his palm on the door and pushed it open.
“Figures he’d be missing.” Colt impassively stated the reality that had met his expectations. “… He was prudent about keeping up some kinda jerk with a heart of gold façade for Liana. For some reason, he cares about what she thinks of him. So either he assumed he’d been found out and got out of here before having to deal with that…”
The boy’s eyes traced the tracks outside the garage.
“Or he just wants anyone who goes after him to come into the woods, where he can take them out on his terms.”
Colt turned back to the open door. Taking a step inside, he turned his head to speak to the German girl.
“Vier, you’re repeating this week too, right?” He hadn’t asked to accompany her. They hadn’t spoken on the way here. He got the impression she didn’t care what he did, so long as he didn’t get in her way. “We should go after him, but we need a plan first.”
Colt flipped the light-switch, and his eyes widened for a moment as he took in the sight of the garage. In any other situation, he’d peruse it like a child in a candy shop. Anyone with a garage such as this would never need to visit a mechanic again. It was so pristine and well taken care of that Colt could almost believe it was unused.
But atop the workbench Colt saw the wear and tear of proper, diligent use. The pristine condition Dodge Charger sleeping silently in the garage was testament to that. Beside it was another vehicle, draped in a protective sheet. Colt felt an itch in his finger, the desire to pull the sheet away and see what was underneath.
He glanced back to the bench. Also atop the workbench was a notebook. Beside the bench was a desk, and underneath the desk, Colt saw a heavy-duty safe.
“You’re armed, so I assume those brain-touching powers of yours aren’t the best in a fight. If you don’t know, Hawthorn is a marksman, but he’s a monster up close too.” Colt walked along the wall, passing a mounted hook with a triplet of keys. Two of which must likely belong to the parked cars, but the third clearly did not. After all, he recognized the shape of that leather strap. It was the same as the one on his own keys. “…”
He hesitated for a bit at the sight.
Where was the bike? What’s under the sheet?
“Hawthorn wants me dead, but he doesn’t consider me a threat. If he’s out there waiting to take out anyone who comes after him, he’ll go for you first.” Colt turned around, in one hand holding the Cobbler’s Special, clear as day for Vier to see. In the other, its empty magazine. “If you’re carrying any .45, we can take advantage of that. I’m not some superpowered Terminator who can stand alongside you Turnside guys in a fight, but I can shoot.”
Colt walked over to the workbench and sat the gun along with its empty magazine down on it.
“Of course, that all relies on you having spares, trusting me enough to give them to me, and Hawthorn ignoring me to go for you.” Colt got down, looking at the safe under the desk. As expected of an already-opened safe, there wasn’t much in it. A lock of hair, a sealed box, a satellite phone and a shard of black metal. “Well, if he decides to take me out first, that’s just the way the cookie crumbles. Hopefully if that happens, I wake up in my bed on Wednesday morning with a bad headache, and you get to cover and give him a decent fight.”
Colt pulled out the items from the safe, especially the two which caught his attention the most, the black metal and the sealed box, setting them all out atop the desk.
“Just so you know, if he’s high up with a rifle, those bullets he’s using have some sort of ability. When fired together, as a set, you can’t move forward, you can’t retreat, and you can’t dodge to the side. Worse still, I think he’s deadlier up close.”
Recounting what little he knew, or understood, of what Hawthorn was capable of, Colt began looking over the items from the safe.