Don't Make it Personal AA/TW

Presage

Chapter 9 - Presage

Stiles and Annika had left Micheal's body in the other room. Opting to catch some Z's before calling in a team for the clean up.

—-Location: Safe house. Paris, France.—Date: Aug 21st — Time: 1325 hrs—-

"Mitch... Mitch we gotta go, someone's coming..." Annika whispered jolting a dormant Stiles into the world of the living. He had only been asleep for a few hours. Barely scratching the surface of the recommended 8.

"Wha-." He was cut off by Annika's hand flying up to his face and clasping around his open mouth. He could hear footsteps approaching the apartment. The sounds echoing throughout the once quiet building.

"Shh...Head for the window-" She shoved Stiles off the bed causing him to tumble head first onto the floor-"Go....NOW!"

It would have been comical if it wasn't for the imminent danger.

Taking a moment to gather his bearings, Stiles vaults into action. Whipping the window open and stepping onto its slender white frame. The warm Paris breeze slapping him across the face dissolving the sleep from his eyes. Luckily the safe house was on the second floor. He hopes the jump won't be too painful.

Before Stiles can make the leap he hears the door to the apartment creep open followed by a rugged voice. "Are you sure this is where Micheal is?"

Shit

Derek was here.... Wait... Derek was here? Why would the pa-

"Dammit Mitch, GO!" Annika screamed, pushing the agent out of his thoughts and right through the open window.

He landed on the grass with a loud THUD. Stiles doesn't know if the pack heard their exchange, but he sure didn't want to stick around to find out. The brown haired man rolled out of Annika's way, giving her a safe place to land before standing up and bolting to the SUV.

"Sayonara Bitches!" Annika yelled back up to the open window as she breaks out into a sprint.

Stiles had to give it to her. With their busy schedule, Annika still always made room for the theatrics.

—-Location: East District. Paris, France.—Date: Aug 21st — Time: 2300 hrs—-

After the worst wake up call imaginable and and a few needed moments of reprieve and rest; The pair found themselves stuck in their compact SUV, suspiciously parked across the street from 'Éclipse Solaire'. It was a Nightclub Micheal had said the gang of werewolves tended to frequent.

"For a pack of snotty nosed french wolves, you would have thought they'd pick a better watering hole..." Stiles huffed, carelessly juggling a dull knife in between his nimble fingers.

Playing with knives had become a habit of his. The remnants of his ADHD lingering in the strangest places. He liked to have something to occupy his hands and well, he enjoyed the risk; The small chance that the metal may accidentally cut through his dry skin.

Pain was a welcoming anchor. Even though Stiles wasn't a supernatural creature, the more he worked for the CIA, the more he needed to find ways to stay grounded. To hold onto what little was left of his humanity.

The bar was packed. The line growing larger with every passing second. Worst of all, Stiles was pretty sure none of the patrons were human. Apparently they specialized in wolfsbane cocktails.

"Bet they order bottle service." Annika wiggled her eyebrows, pulling down the sun visor and puffing up her hair.

"We've been casing the place for 3 hours without one sign of this Louis guy."