The clattering sound of the discarded clip bounced off once pristine hardwood floor. He watched the blood soak into the fine slots between the boards. This could have ended much simpler if you compiled. Maddox grimaced at the inconvenience of the white, searing pain that torched his shoulder. Stepping through the cotton costume webs that spidered through the ghoulishly festive house, he kicked over the brimming bowl of candy with a soured frown. The bastard didn’t have the money to pay his dues to the king but could squander it on cheap tricks? It was a good thing that the dirty little rat decided to resign himself to such a cowardly path. A slippery political figure with an axe to grind with Captain Singh wouldn’t think twice about implicating a good boy in blue, right? Fabricated material outlining the gruesome details of that cold evening his little brother was frame fanned across the man’s study. Maddox couldn’t help but smirk at his own handy work. A hard drive filled with footage, bank statements, and a ledger of all of Baron’s other questionable moral actions with all the t’s crossed and i’s dotted. It was too easy; almost like fate strummed the strings of his scheme. What he didn’t expect was for the man to fight back. A feeble attempt but semi-honorable final act. Breathing out a unamused sigh, Maddox bundled up whatever business material the man had been gifted by Roman and tossed it into the shallows of his black duffle bag. Not a single trace of the society left to be unwoven by the idiots at CCPD.
Slinging it over uninjured shoulder, he dipped through the back window and into the ascending shadows. Maddox felt the warm trickling of his own blood soaking into the cotton white shirt beneath the heavy black flight jacket. Luckily, the dwindling twilight coupled with innocent chaos of the spookiest day of the year provided him with the cover he needed. He was far enough from the Kane residence to keep the bloodhound from sniffing him out in her pointed Balenciagas; yet, he was a little too far from his own little safe haven. If he didn’t assess the slow bleed, he’d surely pass out before making it. Maddox’s gaze tipped up gauge his current location as he continued wandering down the streets. The chortling sound of children’s glee echoed off the streets. Something about this area felt familiar. He took him a moment to pin it down. An image of her pout lips, infuriatingly deep brown eyes, and intoxicating intolerance for his presence.
He quickened his pace a half step to fade further into the throng of people bustling across the sidewalk brimming with joy and buckets filled with candy. She may be weird but these are delicious. His brows furrowed at the backhanded twinge to the two young men dressed lazily like the Walmart productive of Scream. A smug pair speaking ill of the young scientist too innocent for this world. Maddox hated how she allowed the world to pick at her. When would she bare her teeth at them like she did at him? Stalking closer, he waited for the winding sidewalk to clear before he grasped their hoods and tossed them into nearest shrub. A cacophony of groans ebbed from the short patch of foliage. Maddox’s grin spread subtlety despite the tightened pain that shot through his shoulder.
Crossing across the grass, his fist met the door with a heavy thud. Maddox hiked the duffle back up along his shoulder as he leaned into the frame. He wondered how she would greet once she’d opened it.
The soft light illuminated her sinful figure with striking curves and straight lean of witch’s hat. “No candy for me, sweetheart?” Maddox’s hand shot out in preparation for the inevitable slam of the door, each lithe finger curling around the frame. “What? You wouldn’t want them to assume anything? I mean you don’t get many men showing up, huh?” Maddox didn’t like the sourness that burned his tongue thinking about other men here. He pushed it down and dismissed such a carnal thought to possible blood loss. “I need to use your bathroom,” he brushed pass her without hesitation. The duffle back clattering to the floor as he stalked through her place. It’s not like he hadn’t already studied the lay out. “Nice outfit by the way.”
No matter how ardently Ada endeavored to avoid further contact with him, it appeared as though fate had other initiatives. And Ada didn't even believe in the concept of fate -- or destiny. If she had been a bit more receptive to the idea, she may have easily conceded to the possibility that their paths continued to cross for a reason. However, doing so would necessitate placing her faith in things that could not be proven or explained logically, and she was lost without her structure. What she did believe in was probability, and she failed to consider the possibility that spending the evening safe in her house might affect the odds of running into Maddox Stone. He was an unpredictable element, and she was not a fan of variability. He was far too bold, too imposing, and too arrogant for her liking, and it was exceedingly overwhelming.
It was evident that his question regarding prospective male guests was made with contempt, except to her of course, who didn't catch on to the sarcasm in his tone and took the remark literally. "I do not. Why would I want men to show up unannounced at my apartment?" she muttered in confusion. "You appear to be the only person I know who takes pleasure in appearing unexpectedly," she met his eyes for a fraction of a second in irritation, before they dropped to his attire. Ada was unsure of the trope he was assuming. Perhaps a hospital patient, judging by the amount of fake blood soaked into his shirt. Ada parted her lips to enquire -- but he was already stepping, uninvited, through her doorway. As the duffel back thudded to the floor, loud and quick, Ada jumped out of the way with her hands placed firmly over her ears.
She remained by the doorway in awkward stillness, watching him stumble across her living room. "The bathroom is to the..." Her directions seemed not to be necessary, as he was already making the correct turn down the corridor. To her horror, a trail of his artificial blood trailed after his staggering figure. First, he forces his way into her home and now he was making a mess. Her lips thinned in silence as she raced into the kitchen to get her swiffer, her fingers taut around the handle as she scrubbed vigorously at the darkening track.
“I would like you to leave," she grumbled as the swiffer's edge approached the bathroom. She’d have to go back over these floors a least two more times and...-- there was even more of a mess in here. A distinct scowl twisted her features, fingers lifting to pinch the bridge of her nose as she practiced a few rounds of box breathing. She could feel the anxiety of a situation spiraling out of control overload her senses. “What are you doing?” it was likely the highest she’d ever raised her voice. It took her a moment to calm down from the heat of her own anger before her ability picked up on an emotion that wasn’t hers. Pain. Slowly she took in the scene before her for what it really was. “You’re injured” a statement rather than a question. If the laceration on his shoulder was real, then that meant the blood was also real. Ada felt her stomach turn as the smell hit her nose. She excused herself as gracefully as she could, under the circumstances, and rushed to the kitchen to dry heave into the sink. Don’t faint with a criminal bleeding in your bathroom, don’t faint, don’t faint, don’t faint...
It took a few moments for her to regain her composure and for the dizzy spell to subside. When she returned to the restroom, she had a first aid kit with her. "Here," she extended it as far as she could without entering the area.
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