What. In. The. Fuck.

Variations of what is happenning to I shouldn't have skipped my damn meds thundered through Zeke's head.

Silence ate up the interior of the car for about two minutes. He considered not broaching Raffi's revelation, but his better nature prevailed.

"Who do you work for?"

Raffi chuckled, cocking her head to glance at him briefly before turning back to the road.
"You act dumber than you look, ya know?"

He let the insult slide off him, cheap trick though it was. Trying to deflect, and he wasn't about to let her, even as she'd been pulling one over him for awhile now.

"It's obvious you fucked over your girlfriend in and out of the bedroom," Zeke drawled, noticing the tell-tale twitching of Raffi's jaw. "Who for, and what do you get out of it?"

A long life, beauty, power...he ticked off a mental list. Maybe she just wanted money. The coffee business must've been treating her badly.

"I do get a paycheck," she offered.

Zeke sighed. It was so...pedestrian. Like the plot of a good movie, spoiled by the trite reveal. Part of him was hoping the details were juicy, like Raffi had also been sleeping with Detective Anderson, and planned to double-cross her vampire lover.

Mostly, he concentrated on ignoring the pounding sensation at his temple. It was harder thought than done, because each time he recalled Alaina crying, or the snap of Carter's neck, small grenades went off behind his eyes.

"You should probably sleep," Raffi muttered, speeding up while taking the ramp to the highway.

Zeke barely heard her. He was busy holding his throbbing head, focusing on questions to ask her. The payoff amount she was after could be intriguing. Hopefully in the six-figure range, at least.

"How much?" he hedged, not expecting a real answer.

"You tell me your salary, I'll tell you mine."

The word "salary" threw him. Salary meant structure, which meant organization. Pro-vamp groups...anti-vamp groups? A lobbyist group?

Then, the magical light-bulb lit up above him.

"Government work?"

Quiet moments stretched on, with the only noise being the thrum of the wheels on the highway, and the drumming of horrific visions in Zeke's mind.

Raffi's tech prowess, current subterfuge, and chewing silences added up to a few things. CIA, FBI, or ATFV. The "V" had been added ten years ago, after a rise in vampire-related trafficking increased significantly. Of course, her purpose might not include any of those professions. Rather than guess all the possibilities, he wanted to hear it from her. It'd be faster.

"What tipped you off?" Raffi actually sounded sheepish.

"I drive around Tampa for a living, or did," he corrected, gesturing at the highway. "If we're going where I think we are, then yeah, it's government work."

She nodded. "ATFV, to be exact. Undercover," she chuckled. "Man, I've been wanting to tell someone that for two damn years."

The only time Zeke had met on an ATFV agent was during the vamp child rave piece from a few years back. The fact that the local incident coincided with Raffi's undercover gig did not escape him.

"What do you have on Campbell?"

Raffi whistled, her expression mostly guarded under her red baseball cap. "So, this is what it's like being a source. You just fire off one question after another, and they're all zingers."

"You'll remain an anonymous source, of course," he said, his imagination stretching into the Pulitzer-gleaming future.

"An anonymous source will do," she said, eyes still affixed to the road. She seemed to be gathering her words, then began with, "A Tampa ATFV investigation closed out two years ago, but launched another. There were rumors about vamps turning into whatever human they kill. But they have to be old, like Campbell. She's 500."

Zeke's poker face remained, but internally, he was impressed, and a bit scared. Although, when a source was exposing detail, he knew when to skimp on questions. He waited, and Raffi continued.

"As per my assignment, I convinced Campbell I'd do whatever she wanted, 'cause she assumed I wanted to be made," she said, referring to the colloquial for becoming a vampire.

Finally, he couldn't help but ask, "Okay, but why Campbell?"

"Look in the glove compartment."

After a quizzical stare, he did as he was told. Like most of Raffi's belongings, the space was sparse, with a solitary paper tucked in the back. Zeke grabbed it and smoothed it out on his knee. He was shocked to see his name on the byline of a rough draft article template, right next to Carter's. He remembered not a lick of what was on the page, which wasn't uncommon. His medicinal vacations blanked out everything, but he was actually kicking himself this time.

Thankfully, the content of the article was quite illuminating, detailing an ancient group of vamps intent on turning heads of state, with implications to take over the Presidency.

Yet, another younger, and more diplomatic group of vamps did not agree with the body-snatchers. They believed in human-vamp assimilation, and hoped to end the ancient practice of subsinctus (aka, body snatching).

Zeke finished scanning over the paper, and settled back. The rough draft status told him a lot, but he had to be sure.

He held up the paper, and Raffi glanced at it. "You got this from Campbell?"

She nodded, grimly.

Zeke shook his aching head. "And here I thought only political journalists were at risk of dying for their work."

Raffi elaborated as though he had asked her to:

"Campbell killed Carter, absorbed her energy or whatever the fuck, but by order of Detective Anderson. He had orders from higher up, because Carter was gonna publish that story."

"Why the hell would Anderson care?" Though, Zeke had a sneaking suspicion as to why.

"Probably because he's a fairly new vamp, or was."

~*~