The detective, the devil, and a burrito (Sebastian)

Chester sat in the front seat of the car, chair leaned back. his feet on the dashboard. He was having an early dinner, a large burrito. It was spicy, with extra cheese. Nothing much occupied him at the moment. He was currently on a stakeout.

The suspect he was watching had supposedly stolen several paintings from a small museum. The man was in his mid-30's, balding. He was an art dealer, the perfect career for one who might've made off with the paintings. And the cameras had shown the man visiting the museum frequently before the robbery. Chester was waiting for him to close up. He was about the only one at the office willing to spend all nighters. His peers often said he was far too dedicated to his job. As far as he was concerned, he was just doing his job.

The sky started to darken and the last "legal" customer left, he could even hear the little shop bell ringing from across the street. But it seemed, the suspect wasn't ready to leave. The front portion of the office was dark, but he could still see light inside one of the back rooms. Chester wrapped the rest of the burrito in the tinfoil and slipped it in the glove box. About two hours after the shop had closed, another customer entered the shop. Chester watched with interest as the man slipped through the door and into the back.

Sebastian wasn't known for his artistic qualities, hell, he wasn't really well-known at all. The most people knew was that he was some man who happened to own a racetrack. Most of the shady business was covered up. As per usual, he was dressed in none other than his dark suit with a red shirt. So, for the Mephis, it was a surprise that he was even remotely deciding to lock the racetrack up early and head to a near by art shop, the one that sold paintings.

There was light rain as he glanced at the shop from across the street, it was darkened but there was something that deeply intrigued him about the place.

So, Sebastian looked both ways and crossed the street before lock-picking the door and slipping in. If he was lucky, the place didn't seem to have a security camera. Towards the back, he found various newspapers laying around and tilted his head. "What are you hiding...?" As time went on, Seb found this to be a great use of his time. He seemed to have stumbled across the lair of an art thief. There was a lot to be said about the state of the paintings, that he prized them and had everything labeled.

The man seemed to be taking things that did not belong to them. That, in itself, was punishable. The stench of oil was very strong at the very back of the shop and he simply stood there, looking at each painting with feigned interest.

A light drizzle started, though the rain didn't hamper Chester's view of the area. This "customer" was taking a long time getting the door open. He suspected the man was picking the lock. Eventually he got the door open and slipped inside. Chester decided to follow him, in case it was a break-in. Ironic, he thought, that it happened under the watchful eyes of a cop.

"Hey Debbie" he said in his call to hq. "For the last time, Chester, it's Donnie!" came the somewhat irritated reply. "But Debbie is so you!" Chester continued to tease fellow detective Donnie Reynolds, who also worked late hours. "Fine..." Donnie said resignedly, "what is it?"

"I've got a possible breaking and entering. A white male in dark clothing, with a flash of red, possibly a shirt or a tie. I'm going to apprehend the suspect now." "Okay Chester, but try not to..." Chester cut him off before he could say the words "use your gun". He wasn't psychic, but he could tell that Donnie was about to reprimand him for his "trigger-happy attitude". Sheesh, didn't he understand? The best way to get a criminal to shut up and put his hands above his head was with a gun.

Chester slipped the tinfoiled burrito into a side pocket of his suit jacket, before donning it and exiting the car. The rain didn't bother him. He looked both ways before crossing the street and approached the door. He reached up and silenced the little bell, then snuck quietly in. He could smell paint oil drifting from the back.

Holding his gun in one hand, Chester eased the door open and entered the room.

Sebastian didn't hear the door open, he was moving around, a small pocket knife in his hand. He was interested, perhaps there was more that met the eye? He had allowed criminals the use of his racecourse, seen a few of them in action and had often overheard their discussions, mainly to do with exporting illegal substances through the use of paintings and such. On the other hand, Seb wanted to know what medium the thief was using. It would be oils or acrylic but if he could get the sample to the right people, they might be able to narrow down the search to which shop had sold the paint.

He wondered about the thief, when he or, even, a she would come back to the shop and find him standing there. Hopefully it wouldn't take all night, he was still in the process of gathering henchmen and so a little low on man power at the current time and didn't really want to be chasing this unknown entity. Sebastian looked around for a piece of paper he could transfer the paint onto before slipping both the knife and the paper into his pocket.

Walking out of the back room, Sebastian immediately caught sight of the gun barrel then the face that was behind it. His hands slowly went up, a mocking gesture to the figure. "I'm unarmed. Don't shoot."

Chester was cautious when entering the room. The intruder might've heard him and was standing behind the door. He half jumped into the room and stood, gun pointing at the door. No-one there. Good.

He was suddenly face to face with the intruder, cocking the gun at the man, Chester observed his quarry. He was attired in a black suit with red shirt. The man was smart enough to put his hands above his head. He was also, apparently, unarmed. "You do realize that visiting hours are 9 to 5 yes?" Chester said in reply. The man couldn't make a run for it. He was a quick and precise shot.

Seb watched as the man quickly cocked his gun, his face remaining expressionless. It was a useful technique as it allowed him to watch and observe the other without anything being used against him. "Yes, I realize that. I could ask you the same question." It was probably a stupid move if he ever wanted to get through the door, bullets traveled faster than legs.

The man in front of him had blond hair and tall, with traces of a British accent. "You considering on putting the gun down?" He wanted to say that this man was a villain, someone that would work against him and therefore up for termination but there were other factors to consider about. "Because if you are, then by all means...shoot."

The man betrayed no expression. It wasn't like he cared. The perp had been caught in the act, that was all that mattered. "Well fun story. I'm a cop." He said, holding up his badge with his free hand, his gun still steadfastly trained on the suspect. "What I want to know is why you're here? See an art piece you like, that you felt cost far too much?" Hopefully the perp would realize how cornered he was and come clean. He might even implicate the art thief himself.

"Let me think about that...No." I have you right were I want you. Hands above your head." He said, whipping out his cuffs with his free hand. "I'm not going to shoot you."

"Funny situation. This is the place of an art thief. Why would I even want to steal from a thief?" Seb wasn't completely sure whether the night was going to pan out the way it was going to. His eyes darted from the man's to the gun to the badge itself and linger there. "You're going to arrest the wrong person, cop."

He tilted his head to one side, a crack. The other side, another crack before straightening back up. His eyes lingered on the man and simply waited but then there was another sound from up front. Perhaps this was the art thief that both of them were waiting for.

How unlucky.

"He's here."

"Don't play the innocence game with me." Chester responded as he advanced towards the intruder, gun still pointed at his head. "Breaking and entering is a crime, no matter whose place it is. And I never mentioned anything about an art thief. You clearly know something about this man, something that will be of great use in a current investigation. My guess is you came across one of his illegally aquired products on the black market, but didn't like the price. The solution? Steal it yourself. After all, he can't exactly complain to the police about something he didn't legally own in the first place now can he?" As Chester got closer to the man, his sense of dread increased. A sudden sound came from the front. "Wait here" Chester said as he prepared to handcuff the man.