Eli had been suspicious for a few days now, but it was confirmed at the sight of his WANTED poster in the gentleman’s bag. His stalker had some nerve to sit so close in the pub they were in, yet the synthetic praised him for his boldness; hide in plain sight, and the enemy would be none the wiser. That’s what the memories of war told him, at least. During that time, he was no stranger to hearing of foreign spies walking amongst them -- but the British were quite quick at revealing their intentions, and Eli never lost touch with his home country. Every memory, every decision, and every emotion he felt was a blessing from the real Eli -- or a curse, considering the horrors he experienced through the eyes of the deceased man. The synthetic often wondered why his father implanted such gruesome scenes in his mind, unbeknownst to them belonging to the geneticist’s real son, but he supposed the man wanted to make him feel human.
Every man had his own share of monsters, after all.
In this case, however, the spy that walked amongst them was home-grown. The WANTED poster could only indicate that the gentleman was associated with SCANTEX, or in the very least, somebody who affiliated with the organisation. There were plenty of theories, one being that he was simply curious about the synthetic, but that was immediately dismissed; he would have approached him sooner had that been the case. No -- Eli suspected that the gentleman wanted to be a champion amongst the lot by handing him over, divulging whatever information he had on him, and walking away with absolutely no shame for sending a man to his death.
The poster was drawn from the bag whilst the gentleman presumably excused himself, and Eli was disappointed to find that there was no other incriminating material. Still, the absence of evidence didn’t necessarily mean he was wrong; his paranoia convinced him otherwise, and Eli made the decision to return the pleasantries by waiting until his stalker left before following behind. He must have gotten bored of waiting for the synthetic to do something note-worthy.
Eli found the gentleman making his way down a side-street behind the pub, going Heavens knows where, but the synthetic made a quick assessment of the area for any uninvited guests. There was potential for a trap, but Eli had been in trickier situations, and he was sure to make his way out of anything planned. Giving no warning, Eli bundled the gentleman up by the lapels of his jacket and pushed him against a nearby garden gate, holding him firmly in place. Under normal circumstances, he was by no means violent - and he certainly had no intention of hurting his stalker - but his paranoia had gotten him so riled up that he couldn’t contain his panicked anger.
“Why do you have my poster in your bag?” Eli immediately questioned, his tone both stern yet wavering. “Speak up, now!”
