2016-10-29 - Enter Inspector Constantine

Sometimes, streetwork was just that. Streetwork. For the FBI Agent and the SHIELD Analyst, it meant on a muggy, cold, and rainy day a couple of days before Halloween doing footwork and interviewing people of a gang shootout a few days before that had been between two gangs using flamebullets. So, as the rain fell, the two agents were finishing up chatting with another homeless man that smelled worse than Killer Croc with Athlete's Foot.

Strolling out Midnite's is a patron who used to be a regular in these parts. A man in a trenchcoat who smelled of cigarettes more than anything else, in fact that's what he had in his mouth at that very moment. John Constantine stepped out with a deck of cards in hand, idley sliding the top card into the middle over and over to lazily shuffle it as he slowly made his way down the alley very street that the two law girls were on. He didn't actually know of anything that went down, it's simply where his feet led him. His sky blue eyes would sparkle a touch as the Occult Detective's gaze notes the evidence at hand, since that's his former profession after all. One he's rather keen to re-establish these days.

"So, you say you saw the events, but can't tell us anything about what the shooter looked like... -or- what type of firearm they were using. Only that.. they fired, and fireballs flew at the victims?" asks Lydia in an exasperated tone as she speaks to the homeless person she is questioning. She looks to Cecannia and behind her back, rubs fingers together as if suggesting... maybe money will jog this guy's memory.

"So, you say you saw the events, but can't tell us anything about what the shooter looked like... -or- what type of firearm they were using. Only that.. they fired, and fireballs flew at the victims?" asks Lydia in an exasperated tone as she speaks to the homeless person she is questioning. She looks to Cecannia and behind her back, rubs fingers together as if suggesting... maybe money will jog this guy's memory.

The hobo nods over at Lydia iwth the look over on his face that seems to be oblviious to relaity, "Pop pop boom! THey wuzz on fire. And they wuz with pretty boombs and pistachios all over like a four leaf clover." There's a quiet groano n her face as Cecannia goes to look at the man, "Look, we.. Need something a little more specific, less.. Nutty."

Constantine stops not far from the investigation at hand, leaning against the wall. He wants to reestablish his repertoire, but is this the scene to do it? That's the question on his mind. He takes a long hit on his cigarette, then grips it lightly between his pinky and ring finger as he goes to properly shuffle the deck in hand. His manual dexterity is a sight that might impress even the Cajun X-Man known as Gambit, but it's a flurry of movements that's over in a few moments to see him inquiring to himself in his cockneyed British accent,"Alright Johnny, high card we waltz right up speaks our mind, low card he carries on to proffer 'nuther day."

John slips the card of the top of the deck clasped in hand, and it's a Jack of Diamonds. Good enough for him. He rightens off the wall to mozey on over with his suggestion,"I heard o' bullets like them. You sayin' twas like the bullets theyselves was like fireballs? As in, right outta the barrels not when they hit the targets?" He asks the man being interviewed as he strolls up.

"And.. you lost me." offers Lydia. She turns her back on the hobo and shrugs, "I guess we'll have to pay someone -else- to tell us what they saw." And she turns to speak to Cecannia just as Constantine steps up, "Well, see? There is someone who knows how to deal in details." she states, not realizing he's not just some other witness looking to make a buck.

Cecannia Eirissach has a pained look on her face as well then as she glances at the homeless man, "And you should look over into treatment.." The pair go to leave the possible witness who is muttering now about edible aliens and gummy bears bouncing here and there.

At the spectre of the man in the trenchcoat that Cecannia has no idea who he is remotely shuffling cards then rapidly in a awy that only a meta could so, she resists the urge to put her hand down by her gun. Instead, she glances over at Lydia to give her a light nod and a 'how you want to go about this' sort of confused look on her face.

Constantine isn't quite a metahuman but he's got the skill of a lifetime of grifting and pokertables to make up the difference. The man chats up the hobo for a few moments, smiling genially before flipping a dollar coin to him. He offers,"Collect'em, an' you's can whack the next poor sod what tries t'accost ye. Coins, that is. Take care, guv." He doesn't seriously think he'll take his advice, but it's free. He turns his gaze to the law ladies at that point.

"Constantine's the name, Johm Constantine. An' while that poor gent's a bit soft in the head, as it so happens there be just such a bullet as he described. Ain't a tracer, it's an actual burnin' bullet."

"Well, my first thought was that it was some shotgun shell filled with white phosperous. But... are you saying it was a -normal-.. or as normal as it gets... bullet, that became fire? That doesn't sound normal at all." offers Lydia as she folds her arms over her teeshirt and jacket covered chest. Nope, no spandex and cleavage here tonight.

Cecannia Eirissach glances over then and shifts her attention, subly backing up the other agent and flanking her a few feet from the rear, "Not normal Dragon's Breath rounds?" She muses then and taps the side of her chin, "That sounds kind of overkill." Why do you need a gun that shoots.. More fire on top of already being on fire? Also they're at the point of the investigation where desperation sits in and they're willing to listen, it seems.

Off in the alleyway, the hobo has wandered off. Cecannia pulls her jacket around her a bit tighter at the cold.

Constantine would off himself if it came to that or speedos and a cape. He takes a hit on his cigarette, not quite forgotten there between his ring and pinky fingers but soon gripped normally as he meditatively flips his cards in his off hand. He exhales off to the side then and explains,"It may be overkill, but phosphorous ain't the trick. See, there's some who specialize with the elemental and others who favor the darker sorts. Either would be acquainted with the knowhow to properly bind the substance of fire into a bullet. Is actually cheaper in materials, trouble be findin' the talent for hire." He shrugs at that, smiling affably after he's said his schpiel.

Snorting, Lydia shakes her head. She looks to Cecannia and gives a -look-. You know the look. The.. right, magic.. riiiight... look. Constantine likely sees that look way too often.

She looks back his way and smirks a bit, "So. You are saying someone is making enchanted D&D fire bolt bullets? I'm sure there's an easier way to do it. Especially in a world where Tony Stark can make repulsors." Oh... mental note, repulsor pistol. That would rock so much.'

Cecannia Eirissach glances back and forth over from Lydiat o Constantine and back again. She glances over and then quickly mimes to LYdia 'if we interview him we can finish our report'. They have semi actionable (if not accurate0 information. As far as she is concerned, whomever this lunatic is, at least his lunacy is otherwise at least internally logical. So they can get out of the coldand rain.

Constantine has an eye for details, the sort of eye that's been trained as much by reading books over a coffee table as by reading tells over a poker table. He also knows how to keep his opinions when it's important, they can take him seriously now or later...or maybe he's blithely oblivious? His affable smile remains as his gaze flickers between them unflinching,"Enchanted bullets is right. Someone knows how to do it, it's just rote to make a magazine or three. Ain't many 'round who'd go through it, after all a nine millimeter's a small thing to scribe. Is what, twelve to fifteen per mag? Good money if you patient and know yer shit. But you right 'bout it bein' easier to mass produce mundane bullets that do similar."

"But you just happen to know how it would be done this way, right?" asks Lydia. "And I suppose you want us to believe that you are also -not- the one doing it." She keeps her arms folded just beneath her bustline. You know, the one the FBI wants her to showcase. I mean it's not super huge, but.. oh shut up, I can't believe I'm talking about her boobs!

Cecannia Eirissach glances back and forth, content to listen to her partner then as she gives a light nod to Lydia in acknowledgement. "So who exactly would be selling.. Magic bullets over on the streets then?" How has her life gotten to the point where this is a completely logical conversation?

Constantine thumps the now spent cigaratte against the wall where the eye is dashed into impotent sparks flickering to the damp asphalt. He then pulls out the box for his cards to pack them away safely into his pocket that he may retrieve another cigarette to fire up with his zippo. He's trying to slow down, really. Been trying for years.

"See, I might could do somethin' like that. But...ain't me style. Why would I run me mouth about somethin' I was doin' is another good question. I'm just tryin' to put you's on a good lead. You want me help to find the folks, now that's where we gotta have 'nother discussion. See, I could look into it. Likely find the folks, weren't that long ago I did just that sort o' work back in London town 'cross the pond. Occult Detective, mebbe that's where you heard o' me? No harm if y'ain't. Yankee land ain't where I spent most o' me days."

Another look is given to Cecannia. Lydia actually steps over to her partner and whispers, "So, are we humoring this guy?" before she looks back towards Constantine. "Man makes a good point. Why -would- he talk to us about it if he was supplying them. Unless maybe he was trying to sell to both sides and play them against the middle. But... that sounds an awful lot more scheming than the norm. Wouldn't you agree Mister Constantine?" She still obviously doesn't believe there are magic fire bullets out there. She can't keep that out of her voice here.

Cecannia Eirissach glances over at Lydia and shrugs her arms with a 'he sort of makes sense' look on her face. Then she quietly whispers back, "Do you want to go and interview more homeless people at five in the morning until we have a lead that does not involve alien pod people?" She's jaded, even iwth the possibility of Skrulls around. She lances over at Constantine and gives a light nod over at herpartner. "So are you wtih that group of.. Paranormal investigators that work out of that firehouse place?"

Constantine can't help but twist his features into a smirk at the Ghostbusters reference. That's two jokes now that he's heard more times than he can count. He takes a hit on his cigarette before replying,"Nah. Just me right now, lass. As for schemin', if it sets your mind at ease I doubt there's too many with me name runnin' round. Jus' check me papers. Ain't been in town two weeks, hardly 'nuff time for me t'get settled in with the local wildlife to that extent, wouldn't you agree?"

Rolling her eyes, Lydia pulls out her phone and fires off a text. "Got your passport on ya so I -can- run a check?" she asks Constantine. She's giving him the benefit of approaching this seriously, at least the checking on him part. "I mean, I'd hate to waste your time and mine."

Cecannia Eirissach otherwise is dipping her head lightly over at Lydia in backup then, and otherwise just has herh ands up in and out and open. At the very least, even if htey don't get a lead out of this at the very least they have somethin to toss up the chain.

Constantine is just the cheerful local, doing his part to promote justice and order! Out comes the wallet bearing the handsomest ID card that was ever run off at taxpayer expense, and tucked behind amidst a small wad of fives and tens is a passport that he hands over. Big smile, Johnny, big smile. He takes a hit on his cigarette and snaps his wallet shut then before the aforementioned wildlife catch the scent of his riches and just lets the law lady do her thing. He'd told the truth on at least that much.

Nodding her thanks, Lydia does just that. She types in the passport ID number and sends it to her field office where someone is going to be running it. "Thank you Mister Constantine." she states politely as she hands it back. "I apologize for going through the motions. You can understand how I need to approach everything from the mindset of a skeptic." she adds with the ghost of a smile. "But to avoid rudeness... Special Agent Lydia Peal at your service." she offers along with a hand to shake. She does her best to -not- get that smoke in her face when she can avoid it, but she lets Cecannia do her own intro since... she has no idea how the lady would prefer to -be- introduced.

Cecannia Eirissach glances over, and offers her hand, "Cecannia Lenarch. Homeland Security." She offers then over with a light nod over at Lydia, "This is the type of stuff that needs to be stayed on top of, Mister.. Constnatine, even if it's jsut trying to cross up the boxes. Please forgive us." Her voice otherwise sounds a little bemused and tired - not at him, more at herself.

Constantine regards them both with a quiet smile as he shakes hands in kind, his sky blue eyes twinkling with private mirth all his own. He's generally a polite, if heavy, smoker. so has done his best not to spoil things while engaging his personal vice. After his moment of contemplative silence, whether its from the revelation of federal agents or something else altogether, he replies, with candor not unlike what he's presented all along,"Aye, Constantine. Rhymes with Fine. Y'all's just doin' ye're jobs, nothin' t'forgive. If'n ye ever need to follow up wit' me, I hang out a Midnite's here just around the corner." He gestures behind him meaningfully with a thumb at that,"Me'n Papa Midnight, who runs the joint, we go way back. He'll getcha in touch with me if I ain't there. I'm in the market for work o' any sort, private investigations lately for the most part. Pays the rent."

"Got a domestic phone number?" asks Lydia. "I've found that's far more reliable than some guy at a bar."

That said, she shrugs, "Plus, I am not always in town. So...." she grins and shakes her head. "It's also a lot easier to get you paid as a consultant if I can call you."

Cecannia Eirissach just glances over at Lydia and seems almost to be grousing then, but gives a light nod of assent over to her then to backup the other woman'sintuition. Lydia's the senior partner of the pair. At the name that Constnatine drops, she blinks. "Isn't that a burlesque performer?" She offers. Probably not helping John's mental imagery any.

Constantine raises his brows as he almost fumbles for the cellphone in his deep jacket pockets. He literally has his world in them. It didn't help his composure when Cecannia asks her question and he instinctively replies directly to her comment about Midnight being a performer,"I'll relay that so he can answer it hisself..." Then he has his flipphone out to pass along his number to Lydia,"Right, an' here ya go. It'll be nice when I has me an office o' me own again."

Nodding, Lydia records the number in her own phone. "Thank you Mister Constnatine." And she doesn't even bat a lash at the whole.. burlesque angle. She does however nod sympathetically at the mention of an office. "Believe me. I'm in the field often enough that my car is my office more often than not. I understand. But.. gonna do some background checking before any thoughts of consulting ... however, any good faith gestures to get your name on the official consultant list... wouldn't hurt."

Cecannia Eirissach glances over at Lydia with a 'this will work on our expense account right'? Do they even have an expense account? On one hand, talking with a vaguely creepy stranger in an alleyway that they have to pay moneyt o later is balanced against they have a plausible -sounding- lead so they can go where it's warm when done.

Constantine is plainly climatized to the streets. It fits with the aroma cigarettes and booze that hangs around the down on his luck detective. At least, that's what he's marketted himself as. He smiles easily at Lydia,"'Ey, I'm all about good faith. Just like me name." He glances over to Cecannia then, his brow twitching slightly at her look but he otherwise doesn't respond to it.