Delilah
Warrant
"I don't have a warrant."
"You're not breaking in."
"This isn't standard procedure!"
"This isn't the cops, get your ass in that house."
The darkness had stumbled on Oakland; California about five hours ago and Delilah was standing in the back of the Armstrong residence fighting with the men from the FBI.
"Why can't you do it?"
"Because if you get caught, you could pretend to be some crazed fan girl."
"Why can't we do it when they aren't here?"
"Just follow orders or your fired."
Blindly, Delilah pops the lock to the back door the house, her special keys barely making a sound as the lock gives in. She knew they could do this when there was no one in the house, the back of her mind holds onto thoughts that she was going into the house as bate. Maybe the lead singer would be alarmed by the intruder and shoot her, killing a fan, loosing his credibility. She feels a nervous tremor down her spine as she sets up penny size cameras and sound systems in the house.
She creeps up the stairs; she was wearing soft-shoes as she scaled up the side closest to the wall, avoiding the middle of the stairs and any heavy steps. Surprisingly nothing creeks or groans, no sound to alert the family that was probably sleeping soundly in their supposedly comfortable and safe home. To bad she drugged the dog.
At the top of the stairs she notices the door is open to the master bedroom. Both parents asleep at two o'clock in the morning probably wore out from family and business. Delilah decides to stay out of the bedrooms and just sticks a microphone in on of the light fixtures in the hallway. That's enough, she's getting out of the house now.
"Daddy!" A child screams out into the dark, "daddy, mommy!"'
"Coming Jake!" The man yells back, Delilah freezes in the hallway, she hears the man shuffling out of bed as the kid mutters 'okay' back. Delilah leans into the wall where it indents to allow for more support on for the roof, she hears feel scratching against carpet.
"Bad dream, kid?" The man whispers through the silence, "no, there is something in the house!"
"The boogeyman?" He said, "I got rid of him, uncle Tré and I did, remember?"
"No, no, no, somebody, I saw them, I swear I saw them, daddy!"
There is a deep pause, and then Delilah can hear the man walk out of the bedroom. Don't turn on the light, don't fucking turn on the light.
He stands in the hallway, listening.
"What's going on, Bill?" A woman's voice calls out. Adrienne?
"Shh, there might be someone in the house," he whispers, it comes out in a menacing growl, almost too deep for Delilah to hear.
Out of nowhere the phone rings, breaking the intent trance of the house, Bill dashes into his bedroom, his little boy grabbing after him.
Delilah took that chance to barge into another room, a guest bedroom, she pushed herself across the room. She would have to jump out the window. She thinks about her injuries. Fuck, damn it, she can't jump out windows with a barely healed torso.
She ducks into the closet, whispering to the FBI crew that is sitting in their customary black van out front, her injuries...bad situation...really hates her job.
"Stay there, they will be leaving in the morning."
"Why didn't we just do this in the morning?"
"Because we wanted to see how you react in edgy situations, goodnight."
Bastards.
***
"No you're never gonna get me, like a bullet through a flock of doves"
Delilah never went to sleep; she was cramped, sore, claustrophobic, and pissed. She was very fucking pissed.
She heard the family shuffling around in the morning. An oblivious son met up with his brother in the hallway, chatting about how the boogeyman snuck back into the house last night and this time it looked like a girl.
They argued about the manifestation of the boogey woman, leading to wrestling, then to laughing, then to a yell "you're afraid of a girl"
"Maybe you can kiss her."
"Maybe she can kick your ass."
"Ooooo, Joey."
Later, she heard people leaving, she assumed the boys were heading to school as the grown ups headed to the stadium to set up for that day.
Delilah felt sick, these people are harmless and she is sure the other men would be as well. She heads downstairs after the cars pull off and the FBI bitches tell her it is okay to head down stairs again.
Thoughtful, she wonders what she has gotten herself into this time.
"You're not breaking in."
"This isn't standard procedure!"
"This isn't the cops, get your ass in that house."
The darkness had stumbled on Oakland; California about five hours ago and Delilah was standing in the back of the Armstrong residence fighting with the men from the FBI.
"Why can't you do it?"
"Because if you get caught, you could pretend to be some crazed fan girl."
"Why can't we do it when they aren't here?"
"Just follow orders or your fired."
Blindly, Delilah pops the lock to the back door the house, her special keys barely making a sound as the lock gives in. She knew they could do this when there was no one in the house, the back of her mind holds onto thoughts that she was going into the house as bate. Maybe the lead singer would be alarmed by the intruder and shoot her, killing a fan, loosing his credibility. She feels a nervous tremor down her spine as she sets up penny size cameras and sound systems in the house.
She creeps up the stairs; she was wearing soft-shoes as she scaled up the side closest to the wall, avoiding the middle of the stairs and any heavy steps. Surprisingly nothing creeks or groans, no sound to alert the family that was probably sleeping soundly in their supposedly comfortable and safe home. To bad she drugged the dog.
At the top of the stairs she notices the door is open to the master bedroom. Both parents asleep at two o'clock in the morning probably wore out from family and business. Delilah decides to stay out of the bedrooms and just sticks a microphone in on of the light fixtures in the hallway. That's enough, she's getting out of the house now.
"Daddy!" A child screams out into the dark, "daddy, mommy!"'
"Coming Jake!" The man yells back, Delilah freezes in the hallway, she hears the man shuffling out of bed as the kid mutters 'okay' back. Delilah leans into the wall where it indents to allow for more support on for the roof, she hears feel scratching against carpet.
"Bad dream, kid?" The man whispers through the silence, "no, there is something in the house!"
"The boogeyman?" He said, "I got rid of him, uncle Tré and I did, remember?"
"No, no, no, somebody, I saw them, I swear I saw them, daddy!"
There is a deep pause, and then Delilah can hear the man walk out of the bedroom. Don't turn on the light, don't fucking turn on the light.
He stands in the hallway, listening.
"What's going on, Bill?" A woman's voice calls out. Adrienne?
"Shh, there might be someone in the house," he whispers, it comes out in a menacing growl, almost too deep for Delilah to hear.
Out of nowhere the phone rings, breaking the intent trance of the house, Bill dashes into his bedroom, his little boy grabbing after him.
Delilah took that chance to barge into another room, a guest bedroom, she pushed herself across the room. She would have to jump out the window. She thinks about her injuries. Fuck, damn it, she can't jump out windows with a barely healed torso.
She ducks into the closet, whispering to the FBI crew that is sitting in their customary black van out front, her injuries...bad situation...really hates her job.
"Stay there, they will be leaving in the morning."
"Why didn't we just do this in the morning?"
"Because we wanted to see how you react in edgy situations, goodnight."
Bastards.
***
"No you're never gonna get me, like a bullet through a flock of doves"
Delilah never went to sleep; she was cramped, sore, claustrophobic, and pissed. She was very fucking pissed.
She heard the family shuffling around in the morning. An oblivious son met up with his brother in the hallway, chatting about how the boogeyman snuck back into the house last night and this time it looked like a girl.
They argued about the manifestation of the boogey woman, leading to wrestling, then to laughing, then to a yell "you're afraid of a girl"
"Maybe you can kiss her."
"Maybe she can kick your ass."
"Ooooo, Joey."
Later, she heard people leaving, she assumed the boys were heading to school as the grown ups headed to the stadium to set up for that day.
Delilah felt sick, these people are harmless and she is sure the other men would be as well. She heads downstairs after the cars pull off and the FBI bitches tell her it is okay to head down stairs again.
Thoughtful, she wonders what she has gotten herself into this time.