Work Text:
The sound of her keyboard had drowned out to the other noises of the room: people lightly chatting, ceiling fan silently humming, other keyboards clacking and mouses clicking, chairs rolling around the floor and heavy steps circling the area.
The blue and white striped coffee mug had been forgotten ages ago, getting colder every minute as Button stared at her computer screen, looking at the little blinking line at the end of her report. She had forgotten what to add, and as she was thinking about the line, her thoughts had went elsewhere completely. Mind blank and fingers lightly pressing on the keyboard, eyes barely blinking.
How many words has she put into the report so far? It must've been almost done hopefully.
30. Fuck.
It was just another super awesome Wednesday. Stuck in a little cubicle, writing something, doing something, saying something to someone time to time. She had been sitting there from 7 AM and currently she was so ready to just lay down on the floor and either cry or sleep.
She was somehow even beyond exhaustion.
But maybe it would be better to leave that for later. The report of a shoplifting case was still greatly unfinished and Button couldn't concentrate no matter how she tried. How do you spell "accidental", she thought as she kept pressing A on the keyboard, slowly creating a line of A's.
A knock on the side of her booth's opening startled her back, thoughts flying back into her head as she threw her head around to look at the visitor.
Tall, gawky but well built man with an unruly mess of silver hair on a light bun, mixed with brown stripes that gave him an odd look that in some way suited suited him. His thin framed glasses were adjusted neatly before his dark grey eyes that gave out a stoic and serious impression. Yet, he looked nearly as tired and lost as Button.
"Ah! Professor Falk!" Button scooted back a little to stand up and greet the teacher, little surprised about her sudden reaction.
"No need for formalities, Button, you're not my student. Just say Vilmar."
"Hm right, yeah. Apologies. "
Vilmar gave her a fond smile and stepped inside to the working booth, leaning against the thin wall that surrounded her tiny working space.
The walls around her were covered in leaflets and articles, pictures and copies and little scribbles of all sorts of things. Vilmar looked around him, humming lowly and took one article from the wall, pinned with a bright red pin. He turned the piece, reading it through quickly as Button sat back down, sighing loudly and pinching the bridge of her nose. The professor felt some sort of sympathy for her, he has seen his own students in the same mindset before. But this particular person was someone he knew rather personally, as a friend and a assistant.
"You're really getting deep with our city's vampire lore."
"Oh please, I'm just barely balls deep in it. There's too much yet too little to know."
"Interesting way to phrase depth. But yes, there are a lot of holes and missing pieces about... everything, really."
"Tell me about it." Button groaned lowly, lifting head and turning to face the professor, slowly spinning on her creaky chair.
"There's been 8 attacks this week alone, and it's only Wednesday." Vilmar noted, pinning the article back to the wall. Button let out a monotone groan, leaning back against her chair and brushing back her bangs. "It seems they hunt in groups to take down more victims at once. Sightings have proven this true."
"I know, I made a report about it to the chief a long time ago."
"Oh, so you actually fully study the vampires? And not just analyze the history?"
"I do both. From the classics to the more realistic appearances and behavior. Wrecks me up just nicely." Button made the ok hand gesture and slumped back on her seat, leaning back to look at the boring grey ceiling.
"What have you found out?"
"That these wankers we're dealing with currently work in groups, or packs or whatever. They can't loose each other and know exactly where to go, when to go, strike at the same time and leave without anyone noticing. One senses a threat, they all get the message within seconds and act on it. Hivemind basically, but not really."
"Hivemind? So they're like bees?"
"Wouldn't it be weird to call them bees? I mean, you could call them insects cause they're always bugging me. Bees are better anyway, this whole thing would be easier if they were bees instead of bloodthirsty nightmare material."
"Don't some people call you a Bee?"
"Yes but that's beside the point."
As Vilmar was about to add something to the matter, the printer next to him coughed and screeched as a report appeared ou to its mouth, fresh and ready. He reached out for the paper, eyed through it and let out a thoughtful hum, before lending it to Button. She scooted closer to the wall behind her, placing a report onto the more emptier spot and pinning it to the wall with a bright green pin. Some colour to her boring life. Although the green was more of a dusty yellow to her, but she had been told it was green. Then it's green, she had told back.
"There's a queen they follow?"
"Sort of. Whoever or whatever the queen is, no one has ever witnessed them leave and roam around. Stays in their little hiding place."
"So in a hive somewhere."
"Why are you suddenly so obsessed with bees?"
"No, but what if I was? Would that be a shocking secret?"
"Well it wouldn't be a secret for me then."
"Fair point."
"I think it would be the weirdest secret in this building."
"Everyone here has secrets, some probably weirder than bees. And I know most of them." Vilmar chuckled, leaning away from the booth to wipe of stray hairs from his eyes. His messy hair looked almost bearable in the bun, showing off his wide and freckled face. The face that knew too much. No one else knew that he knew.
"Well isn't that scary as hell. Do you know mine?"
"Didn't you tell me your life was too boring to know about?"
"Touché."
"One of your secrets is that you don't drink your coffee ever around 4 yet you get coffee 4:19 in the afternoon."
"Correction I got it at 4:20."
"Is it because-"
"Yes."
"Nice. Back to the topic of vampires, mind if I take a copy of some of these?"
"I- uh sure? They're not really good reports but whatever, take what you need."
"I'll bring them back to you tomorrow morning don't worry."
"Eh, it's fine. I have more copies and research at home."
"Oh? Collecting all the evidence you can find and stacking them onto your wall?"
"That only happens in movies and books. So no."
"Come one, it doesn't happen only in fiction. I've seen people do it and I do it myself sometimes as well. Although my research isn't this tense."
"Right."
Vilmar adjusted his long white coat over him and rolled a dark blue scarf around his neck, placing his trademark shades over his eyes. His glasses were set into a small container that he sometimes used as a stress toy. Not the best for it but the man needed some relief sometimes.
Button had considered of buying him an actual stress reliever, maybe a ball he could squeeze, but he always denied of needing one. And yet, his nails were picked to oblivion and the bag under his eyes could be used to carry around groceries.
That would be beyond bizarre, Button thought to herself and waved as the teacher left her be, exiting the room silently. She too could leave in couple of hours but knowing herself well enough, she'd stay in the office for another night, clicking and typing away useless crap.
And so she did.
Dusting off her old grey jacket, she looked at herself from the mirror in the chancing room. Oof, yikes. If she wouldn have paid any less attention, she could've sworn of seeing a ghost. She wasn't exactly pale, but she did look dead.
Saying good night to another worker she left the building yawning loudly, holding onto her helmet loosely. She could accidentally drop it and it would roll around like before, tripping someone walking by. But she didn't drop it, neither did anyone pass her as she excited the building.
Rain. Great, she just had to forget that it was going to rain the whole week. She flipped the helmet over and put it on her head, still struggling to close it safely without leaving her skin or hair between the lock. It wasn't ideal weather for motorbiking at all, but Vilmar would be slightly pissed if someone stole it. But it was in front of the police station, it would be quite an achievement to steal it from there. But it could happen, no doubt. The city was like that.
~
Button put down the helmet onto a chair, kicked off her worn out black leather shoes and placed down her backpack, sighing in relief. Her back was aching and she could swear it was breaking apart at any moment. Not like she needed any spine anyway, since she was always bugging everyone. Hah. Get it? Cause bugs are invertebrate?
Second bug joke that day. Right yeah, anyway.
Button loosened her tie and let out a raspy breath as she walked up to the balcony door, opening it to step outside. The balcony had a roof on top of it, or rather another floor as her apartment was on the 6th floor, leaving three more levels above her. The city light illuminated the balcony with gold and slight hint of blue, coming from the neon sign on the next building.
The rain was heavy but she was lucky enough to be able to go on her balcony regardless. Only bad part was the neighbor under her, smoking nearly all evening while shouting at his other neighbor with their screaming kid. Today was silent, thankfully. Or then it was still too early.
Button checked her wristwatch, reading the time. 10:58 PM. Oh, she was late from today's neighborhood drama. Lovely. It wasn't the only drama in this building. She had seen the guy from two floors up climb down to Button's neighbor's balcony, leaving with a hurry and lacking any pants. The neighbor was somewhat nice, although she had to poke her nose to Button's love life every now and then.
Nothing to tell, she had answered over and over. There really was nothing going on. Button was alone, had been alone ever since she had to move out at the age of 17. Rather than moved out, she was kicked out. But she would rather forget she ever lived in that house anyway. Her father helped her out as much as he could before just disappearing from her life. From everyone's life.
Vilmar knew. He must've known, he worked with him ever since they were younger. He knew even more of her father than she did. So, there's must've been something he knew about his disappearance. And yet, he was more puzzled about than knowing. He too was still questioning it. Man who knows everyone's secret didn't know where his best friend had gone 5 years ago.
Secrets. Everyone here had them, no exceptions. Button, regardless her boring work life, had secrets too. Of course she did. And maybe her father had secrets too. Maybe the secrets were the reason he went away. But what were his secrets?
What were Button's secrets?
Button sighed and walked out of the balcony, brushing back her bangs as she passed the wall she had filled with reports, news articles and pages of books. Red strings went from left to right, attaching clues to another. The landlord would not be too happy to find this, but the damage was minimal. The tape wouldn't stick too badly and the pins didn't leave nothing but tiny, easy to cover up.
In the end she really didn't care about the landlord, nor did she care about the damage. She was closer of finding the vampire hideout, yet she was so far. Every clue, every victim, every cryptid killer had their part in this mess. All lead somewhere.
That somewhere was Button's eventual grave, probably. Button made her way to the kitchen and set on water to boil. Tea was more than necessary now. And of course, she was running out of it soon. She picked her specially made citrus tea and poured the boiling water into her favourite cup. It was the largest with feather print. Reminded her of the owl that used to nest near her window back at her old home.
She listened to the rain and the cars going by and she started to feel drowsy. Well, more drowsier than before. Just had to wait for the tea to blend in before she could go to sleep.
Or not, as she heard running steps echoing in the staircase, approaching in a quick pace. Button let out a tired, sigh and counted to three in her head.
"Bring out your guns, Bee, we have a hot new case in our hands!" The raven haired woman yelled in the hallway, closing the door behind her with a slam just as loud as when she opened it. She glided from the towards the kitchen with graceful but hurried steps, holding a messy folder in her hands. She threw it on the kitchen table and hopped onto the chair next to Button, with a gleeful grin on her face. Her messy and a little overgrown bangs were brushed back and held down with a pin on top of her head, showing her off her bright, fiery orange eyes.
Button tightly shut her eyes, humming lowly with annoyance as the other made herself at home, once again during the late night hours. She was really not into her being this loud when bursting in with another case in her sharply clawed hands. She opened her eyes wide to show clear distaste but fell back to her normal glare, exhausted and unimpressed,as she glanced to her side eyeing the taller woman.
"Leather jacket? Where'd you get that?"
"Found it, had a hole on the back so had to fix that shit." She answered with a shrug, leaning against the back of the chair arms folded loosely over her chest. The jacket looked worn out, but it was still in good shape. It suited the woman, with a slight smirk on her sharp face. Her dark hair had grown out a bit again, the tips behind her ears nearly falling on her shoulders. A bit shorter style would fit her better, but Button wouldn't say any of that out loud.
"For the love of God, don't tell me you stole it from someone." Button grunted and took her teabag out from her cup, placing it over the plate. She had scolded the other numerous times about stealing and cheating her way to success, but there wasn't much she could do. She had to survive, too. But she didn't let her get away with everything.
"Hey this was from the guy that died yesterday, the weird ex boxer with his arm all fucked up."
"You stole from the dead."
"This was left behind! His whole hideout was still untouched!"
"You took anything else?"
"Some stuff, I guess."
"You guess."
"Hey, if that helps you out in anyway, those papers I brought have clues about his killer. So stop nitpicking already, yeesh."
"Jirra, you are aware that people die in this city and you literally steal from the dead?"
"Like I'm not dead or anything."
"Any morals still in that head of yours?"
"Any more fucks you need to give? I only take what I need to survive. And that's not even much. Look, see? I needed this jacket, it's spring and cold as fuck. I treated that guy as nicely as I could. He owned me anyway."
Like that is an excuse, Button muttered under her breath, opening the file with old looking paper while being careful to not to let it shred or grumble. She took her time to read up and drink the tea she wasn't going to forget this time. Jirra's fingers drummed over the table, nails clicking lightly in a fast rhythm. Button found it extremely annoying sometimes but she had so little energy to mention about it all the time, always clearly irritating the other in the progress. She could feel the Jirra's gaze on her, burning a hole into her with those narrow and sharp eyes.
Button glanced to her side, silently asking the other to mind her own business but quickly turned away, feeling a chill going down her spine. Jirra chuckled, not at all oblivious of Button's reaction, leaning forward tilting her head to look at the other more closely.
"Did I scare you?" Jirra purred, trademark fangs shining as a slight smirk spread over her face. She just had to do that.
"Hah." Button scoffed and and set down the empty cup, turning to look at the other completely. Why bother to really care, she's just trying to be intimidating.
"You know-"
"I really do not."
"Funny. Anyway, you know that I sometimes think you need a better job."
"Why's that?"
"Whatever office work you're doing is draining you up. You're wasting away and that's just sad, ya know."
"First of all, I'm a cop not an office worker. I don't work on the field cause that's not my area. And thanks, I'm a total waste anyway so it matches me."
"You were on one mission weren't you?"
Yes, she was on one big mission because she knew the victim, the area and the others working in that small workshop near the harbour. For once she was useful. And that mission led to their first meeting as well.
"Let's go then."
"Yess." Jirra hoped from her seat and hurried to the front door, not having enough patience to wait for the other: "Come on already, I got a pretty good idea where they might be heading!"
"Yea yea 'm coming." Button set the cup to the sink and threw away the teabag, stretching her back and letting out a loud huff. Hopefully this wouldn't be a hard one. There was hope. She then followed Jirra to her door, taking another coat from her hanger and threw it on. The lights had burned out days ago so the only visible lights in the tiny hallway were Jirra's eyes, narrowed into a stydying glare.
"Stop looking at me like that."
Jirra said nothing but turned her gaze away, rocking back and forth on her feet. She was really full of energy again, which was nice but also frustrating on some level. The whole ride to the destination would be nonstop chatting and wiggling, even as Button had warned about not sitting correctly while driving. Jirra just didn't care.
For a little while, Button silently stared at the reflection on the dirty mirror in her hallway, not even looking directly at herself. She felt like she could see the coats and shoes behind her, like she was that transparent. Like she herself was dead, a ghost pretending to be alive. She was usually compared to a ghost, so she might as well be one. Sooner or later...
"Bee, you alright?" Button was drawn out from her staring contest by Jirra's low, clear and questioning voice
"Why do you care." She snapped back with her own croaky and tired sound, flipping the scarf around her neck to tie it loosely. The white scarf was a gift from her friend, who was now one of the current disappearance cases. She held on to that scarf with her life, hoping to find one of her only friends, safe and alive.
Which was something only the most optimistic could hope for.
"What, can't tell a friend what's eatin' ya? Cold."
"Are we even friends?"
"I consider you as someone who has yet to kill me so yea, you're friend enough." Jirra gave Button a wink as she walked past her, stepping down the spirally steps leading to further floors. They did have an elevator but it hadn't worked in ages. Also, Button was not that much into being close with someone who could drain her dry. Trust was something Button had very little of but she was still her friend.
And was her secret.
~
"That was way too close Jirra!" Button slammed the door behind her, kicking off her shoes in frustration. The shoes had gone completely wet and her feet were freezing due to the wetness and the coldness of the apartment. She tore off her coat and threw it onto the chair that stood on the hallway, never exactly sat on. It was the chair that held clothes, shopping bags, files and legs as Button tied her shoes when going out. But never used for its actual purpose.
"Well excuse me, I couldn't help it! It was fucking slippery as shit and I can't transform that quickly! What else should've be done?!" Jirra snapped back, taking off her leather jacket that was dripping with lightly pink water, mixed with blood that was spilled during their fight. It was barely a win, but they had made it.
Chasing three vampires and just in time stopping them from another murder. They had chased them on the wet and quiet late night streets on their motorbike. It was yet another miracle they didn't get a ticket from speeding through the alleys and sidewalks. It was rarely this intense and after every mission like this, Button felt ready to bring down an entire whale if necessary. She had a hard time thinking correctly and had made mistakes because of it, and this mission wasn't any different.
"You could've kept those headlights of yours open for once and look around!" Button glanced over her shoulder as she barked back at the other, throwing her backpack onto the sofa as she passed it. She sighed out loud, peeling off the moist hoodie that felt extremely uncomfortable on her skin. Dropping the hoodie on the floor she turned to face the other, dark hair messed up and damp on her head. The burning orange eyes kept their judging gaze on Button's own, brown and less burning.
"You could've helped me out with the heavier dude! But no, you had to play the hero and chase down that one guy who could've ripped your entire heart out with his pinky! You gotta focus!"
"You could've asked me to help you!"
"I yelled for help several times?! But did you actually listen?! No! 'You'll be fine hold on' my ass! That guy could've killed you! And that other could've killed me!"
"So?! We both know the risks in this!"
"And one of them is that if you don't actually fucking stop to think you'll die! Listen to your head sometimes!"
"My head literally wants me to die sometimes so what's the fucking point?!"
"Your fucking promise." Jirra growled back, dropping her voice that had gotten a little hoarse from all the yelling.
Button was just about to snap back at her once again but stopped. She opened her mouth several times to get her own thought out but nothing came. Her breath hitched, like she was about to cry again. But she was too tired to cry. Too pissed off to cry.
"W-what about the promise? It has nothing to do with the fact that you screwed up!"
"Oh please, Bee. We both screwed up. The promise especially mentioned not to screw up."
"I did not!"
"Do you really care for yourself that little? Button, we took down the first guy almost flawlessly. In fact, it was fucking incredible. But you had to let your gun speak first before me."
Button did try to shoot the bigger guy way before they had planned out anything. It was easy. A little too easy, to be honest. And of course it was. It was a loud and lethal ticket straight to a maim manifest. The gunshot echoed inside the large hall, an invitation for other vampires and bystanders to come and look as an idiot with a gun messed up. Again.
"I...I know."
"You shot, I ran away. See? Both fucked up. Look, I'm an absolute delight with no shame but I know I fucked up."
"I know. Sorry." Button mumbled to Jirra, nearly whispering as she ducked her head and turned her back to take a look out of the window. She had to admit herself that she messed up but she didn't want to continue the scream off with Jirra any further.
The city light shined dimly from the streets and buildings, giving colours to the dark and empty night that haunted Button. One murder less still didn't bring any peace to her mind. She was still too on the edge to think through, to make sense of anything. Dried up blood on her hands itched and burned, and the cold sweat was clinking onto her. Maybe a shower would be good. And some sleep.
Could she even sleep this night? She's going to run out of meds soon so her sleeping pattern will be yet another cryptid of the city. No sleep, not enough heat, not enough energy and time to be by herself. Yay.
Button shivered as the heat of the moment was fading, bringing her back to the much colder reality. Shit, tomorrow she'll most definitely will stay in bed if she managed to catch a cold. Wait no she shouldn't stay at home, she had 3 more reports, had to check up the files of several other cases, meet up with Vilmar, arrange timetables and call for th-
She felt the hair on her neck rise as Jirra had wandered closer. Button turned her head and glared at the vampire, getting a confused look from the other.
“You keep your distance, lad.”
“What, I’m just standing.”
“I can get my gun and I don’t hesitate.”
“Come on, it's not what you think. Yeesh what’s up with you?”
“What do you mean?”
"You’re super fucking tense.”
“Am not.”
“Oh shut it, your eyes are super dark again and your shoulders almost reach your ears Did you even sleep?”
"We literally just chased down three fuckers that planned another murder and it's 2 am. Do you even look at the clock?"
"Hmm. Nah, don't have to."
Incredible.
Button turned away to take in a deep breath and try to let herself trust the presence of the vampire. Jirra was one of a kind, in Button's opinion. Ruthless and rough, sly and cunning, but sometimes nice. Or nice enough. To Button she meant no harm, but it was probably just her tactic of trying to look reliable.
She did do what she pleased, when she pleased. At least she didn’t try to kill anyone innocent. Button would know. Maybe she’s planning to kill or she has done it already. She was rather secretive about her past and it fascinated Button in some weird way. Being able to hunt down own people and brutally kill them must've took a lot from her, yet she always looked victorious after every battle.
"Jirra."
"Hm?"
"Too close."
"I’m not touching you."
Jirra’s breath was cold on Button’s skin, sending chills along her spine like a lighting, spreading to her hands and feet, keeping her still. Button clenched her fists and her own breath hitched again, leaning forward and away from Jirra's presence. Something in her begged her to trust Jirra enough and just lean back but she still kept her guard up.
“Don’t overreact okay? I’m not going to bite you, I’ve promised that to you so many times already, jeez dude.”
"Why would I overreact?" Button mumbled, turning to face the other fully. The narrow eyes that always burned only seemed to glow with comforting warmth, reassuring her that nothing was really going to happen to her.
“You’re super tense again, Jesus Christ. Did you seriously stay awake for over 48 hours?"
"Belive it or not. Even more I'd think. ”
Button had a difficult time focusing on Jirra’s gaze and kept looking up and down the apartment, irritating the other. Jirra sighed lowly, leaning a little closer again to speak up. Their faces were so close Jirra could count the light freckles on Button's cheeks. Button wasn't leaning away or threatening with a gun so something must've been done right.
"Would you trust me on this?" Jirra’s voice was much more softer and quiet, dropped lower like she was telling a secret.
"On what?"
"Help I'm offering."
"What sort of help?"
Jirra's slender hand gently pressed under Button's chin, lifting it up ever so slightly. She hadn't mentioned about the no-tough-or-else-gun- rule so she took her advantage on that. The sign of trust made Jirra warm up with pride.
"Trust exercise."
"Explain."