The conversation only got less productive from there, but Cat was able to come away with even more valuable information: Kirk’s number. He dialed it immediately after Abigail hung up. The ringtone blared on, each pass threatening to give Cat a headache- would Kirk answer a call from a stranger? What if he’d ditched his phone after Occult Ontario’s claims? What if he was dead?

“Hello?” The voice that finally answered sounded like a flat tire.

Image: Kirk–or someone assumed to be Kirk–is sitting on the floor of a dimly-lit room. The carpet is dirty, and the walls are chipped and cracked. Kirk is scrunched up against the wall with his knees to his chest; he’s only visible from the chest down. He has light skin, and is wearing a red shirt, khaki pants, and striped socks. His aspect is hidden. End description.

“Kirk Atwater? My name is Cat! I just got off the phone with Abigail and-”

“I’m not involved with those fucking hacks anymore.”

“You’re a fledgling,” Cat blurted out before Kirk could hang up on him, caught off guard by his sudden acrid tone. “I have my own organization. A real one. We can help you figure things out. We can keep you safe. I’m in the US but we can set up something remote.” Although, he wasn’t even sure if Canada had its own version of the Society. Hopefully Julia’s contacts extended that far north. The last time this happened, the last time he got to a fledgling before Connell-

“I don’t need your help. Why should I even believe you?”

“Because it sounds like I’m the only one who believes you,” Cat said.

The line was silent for ages before Kirk spoke again. “They ran me out of my apartment. I’ve just been… traveling around.”

“We can give you a place to stay. We’re in Grand Shore- Virginia. I have proof that we are who we say we are.”

Cat heard a resigned, defiant sigh. “Alright. Fine. But if you’re a kidnapper or some creep I’m out. You’ll never find me.”



I had stuff I kinda wanted to talk about here but I'm too tired now, zzz.