Matilde has accepted the encounter. Someone has sent the state police after your target. Perhaps they're a real criminal or perhaps they've been framed, in either case it's up to them to get their arrest warrant handled and removed.
On Dandelion Parkway
Cracked and pothole-ridden asphalt roads make up this part of town,
bordered on either side by poorly maintained cracked sidewalks. The aluminum streetlights are painted a deep, chipped green and appear regularly along the side, illuminating the street in spots of warm electric light when it's dark. Where the street is widest small median islands appear with old twisted trees planted in them. The buildings that line the street seem old and poorly taken care of.
It is night, about 61F(16C) degrees, There is a waxing crescent moon. You can hear the sound of waves behind and to the right of you.
[ ] [ down ]
Matilde is standing here.
Matilde was just preening herself in the side mirror of her car after returning from testing the pool water to see if it is still warm enough for a late season skinny dip. She checks her phone for messages and then looks to her wrist despite never actually having owned or worn a watch while leaning back against the car drivers side door now.
It's funny how that works - watch-checking is so ingrained in human psyche at this point, but Matilde's wrist doesn't offer any further information. Dandelion Parkway cuts along through a not-so-great neighbourhood of Haven, and while it's not as downtrodden as the area around Devilwood, it's still a little sketchy this late at night. The noises that occur in the nighttime on the street are a little offputting, or at least, they might be to someone who doesn't live around here. Whose young children are playing at two in the morning? What's with the group walking along in the shadows of the alleyways? Is that old beaten-up Cadillac following you, or just parking in the same area?
Matilde thinks; "They need to start charging for Longhouse accomodation"
Matilde raises her eyes to the rooftop of the trailer home she shares with her Lover, there's an umbrella up there, lounging furnishings and a cheerful string of flamingo party lights creating a subtle pink glow. But no Logan and she sighs softly "Jeeze he's so lazy." she mutters to herself, turning now to unlock the car door and leaning into it to rummage for the packet of mints she was sure were concealed enough to save them from the glutton that is her partner. No such luck, all she finds is the paper and foil wrapper that held the sweets together in a roll.
The trash life is the best life, and we've all been there. Nothing left but the wrapper to taunt her, and nothing that she can show for herself. Was it her, or her lover? Who's the real glut-- A car door slams right as the cherries kick on behind her car. No siren, but an accompanying mirror-mounted light is flashed on, and the Massachusetts State Trooper that was driving steps on around toward Matilde. "Matilde Gunderson?" he inquires, his partner lingering in the sky-and-navy-blue Ford Mustang to, presumably, run her plates or her files.
Without skipping a beat Matilde remains buried head first bent over the front drivers seat and calls out in her best possible imitation of a local accent "She's two doors up, towards the main office." She hasn't seen who was asking, but does not recognize the voice and no one calls her Matilde, so the young Sami woman isn't taking any chances here.
High-powered, heavy, police-issue Maglite in hand, the officer of the law kicks it on, which probably seems unnecessary given the glare of the mirror-mounted floodlight on Matilde's car. Tilting to the side a bit, he shines his handheld version down on her rear license plate, as he approaches. "Fair enough, ma'am, my partner will check there. Might I ask why you're in her vehicle, though?"
"Oh... right." Matilde replies, keeping her head down still "I don't have a car, she gave me a ride to the market and I dropped my house key in here somewhere. I'll just be.. Oh here it is!" she exclaims, closing her hand on one of those novelty usb flash drives shaped like a key. She keeps the end covered and waves it "Here it is, I will be out of your hair now." her accent probably slipping a but under the strain of questioning.
It seems like the Trooper might be buying it, at least for a moment, but then the flashlight is shined directly on that driver's seat, illuminating it with the way-too-much light that those things provide. And then come those dreaded words that nobody ever, under any circumstances, wants to hear: "Ma'am, can you step out of the vehicle for me, please?" Another car door being shut announces the emergence of the Trooper's partner, a shorter, stockier--well, okay, kinda fat--gentleman. Officer #1 asks, "Do you have any identification on you?" while Officer #2 approaches the passenger's side of the vehicle, shining his own Maglite into the rear window for a peek inside.
Matilde reverses out properly from where she'd been bent over the seat, slowly rising to a stand now and patting herself down "As you can see Officer, I'm not carrying my wallet. It's back over in my trailer." she turns to start moving off towards -a- front door, not hers but instead the vacant trailer next door with the dodgy lock that can be opened with a screwdriver, and chimes happily "I'll just get it I won't be long!"
Risky gambit, that. Maybe if he were more of a hardass, the Trooper wouldn't let this slide, and it seems as though he might nod, squinted blue eyes and flashlight alike on Matilde for a few long moments. But as she continues off, he sweeps the light back toward the vehicle. "Take your time, ma'am," he calls back over his shoulder, before he addresses his partner: "The door's open and unlocked, so we don't need a warrant." The stockier Trooper nods, pops the back door open, and they begin to rifle through everything in Matilde's car.
Matilde uses the usb drive to gain entry to the vacant trailer, slipping inside and leaving the door open a crack as she spies out from the darkness inside to watch the troopers all over -her- car.
Matilde thinks; "What the hell are they looking for? drugs are legal here aren't they?"
From within, and thanks to sharpened senses, Matilde can still overhear the officers of the law conversing in muted tones as they toss her car: "You don't think that was her?" "Nah, probably not. She would've flipped." "Should still have patted her down, right?" "This neighbourhood? Nah, they'd scatter like cockroaches and we'd never get her if she was the right one." "Fair point. So, we expecting heat on this?" "Unlawful possession of a firearm? In this neighbourhood? Maybe, but she's just as likely to be a wannabe-redneck flying Dixie than she is to be a dope fiend." Some of... well, whatever it is that Matilde keeps in her car is laid out on the pavement near the car.
While Matilde is standing there watching and listening, she's also silently working on a ritual, being a fairly well practiced witch the young woman is fairly efficient at these kind of things. The spell the young woman is crafting is calling down the shadows from the moon to surround her body, giving her that extra layer of protection from being seen by the pair going through her possessions.
Whether that'll be necessary or not is anyone's guess, but for now, the pair of Staties continue to ransack Matilde's car, glove compartment, center console - hell, they hit the button to pop the trunk, which may or may not be legal, depending on what one's heard. A few more pokes and prods are given to its contents, though they don't seem to be doing a deep dive - they're not tearing out the trunk lining or anything, but they're continuing to search. The taller one speaks into his walkie: "Dispatch, One-Adam-eight, we've found suspect's car but no sign of suspect, uhh-h-h, continuing search." And then a responding chirp: "Roger one-Adam-eight."
Matilde slides the door open, edging out into the night with her cloak of shadows hiding her presence. She moves slowly, with care. making sure not to draw the attention of the troopers. as she approaches lights flicker and die, only to come into light again after she's passed by. Soon the young woman is by her car. The troopers by the back of it leaving the drivers seat free, she approaches, killing all the lights in the immediate area including any flashlights the troopers may have and in the confision of darkness slips a key into the cars ignition.
The Troopers don't notice a thing about Matilde's approach, too busy are they bantering back and forth about their perp and her belongings. "So, what's the plan? We just knock 'a couple doors up' in the middle of the night, or what? We should ask that woman what she meant by 'a couple doors up,' and--" The flashlights go out, and the two blink quizzically to each other, whacking on them for a moment. They look back to their own vehicle, whose headlights and spotlight are out - hell, even the streetlight is out. "What the actual fuck, Merv?" The taller one asks the fatter one, standing next to him by the open trunk of Matilde's car, unknowing whatsoever about antics.
And into drive the late model BMW hatch goes, Matilde calmly and coolly drives off, squeezing her smaller European car down the slim alley between two trailers then bumping off over the ditch beside mariners and pulling out onto the highway.
Troopers stare off into the dark. "Son of a fucking BITCH," Merv exclaims to the taller one, and by the time they look back to each other, Matilde is gone enough. "Well, fuck this, I'm not reporting this," the taller one defends, moving back to the car. "We'll let Canavese and Allen handle this one." The fatter one nods his agreement, and then - slam, slam, both car doors shut, the police lights go off, and the cruiser does a three-point turn in the middle of the road to depart. Right in front of Matilde's trailer, in fact.
From her place pulled over behind a billboard with a hugely cheerful "Welcome to Haven" sign, Matilde watches, lights off, car idling and waiting to watch the troopers roll on by, heading out of town before she slips back over to her home, exhaling softly as she shakes her head. "Oh boy, I did not need that."
Matilde thinks; "Will need to see about new ID tomorrow"
Once the car is gone, all goes quiet. Or, well, all on the police front. It seems that the Staties aren't sending anyone else tonight, but whether Matilde will have a quiet night or not otherwise is up to her. For now, quick thinking and a little supernatural moxie has gotten her off scot free, if not for a little wounding to the pride of a couple of respectable officers of the law.