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Well, I'm runnin’ down the road tryin’ to loosen my load
I got seven men on my mind

There's nothing wrong with a little improvisation. Not to Grace, anyway, since the radio in the police cruiser she'd taken seems to be on the fritz. She's already destroyed ‘Hard to Handle.’ Flicking cigarette ash out her window, she smirks at the long stretch of open road and kicks it up to 95. The engine hums along.

Four that want to own me
Two that want to save me
One says he's a friend of mine.

She's driving south on Interstate 35, toward Kansas City and Wichita. She hasn't run across anyone since Charlie, back in that weird town. There have, however, been some interesting craters in the road that she felt compelled to check out. Grace doesn't know what's going on, but she’s certain of two things: it makes sense to head for Oklahoma City, and this is somehow all Earl’s fault.

Take it eaaaaaaaaaaasy...

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"Yeah, it does keep getting weirder."

Dinah's head follows another shadow, that just as clearly isn't there.

"Some cops have even stopped thinking of themselves like that."

"Don't think I could."

She's a Detective, first and foremost. It's who she is, how she thinks of herself.

Another turn, and she pulls into the station parking lot. Parking is a lot easier when you don't have to flash a badge or fight for a space; she takes up three.

"If nothing else, we'll get supplies." A glance at the crumpled packet of chips. "There's a vending machine outside Vice."

"Oh thank god," Dinah says, finishing off the last one. "There's just not enough to eat in this world."

To the first, as she gets out of the car, she shrugs.

"Neither could any of the good ones."

Grace smiles, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Heh. I'm not so good."

In some respects, anyway. There are several things she's quite good at, including her job, sex, shooting and catching food in her mouth.

...at least one of which will come very much in handy in the next few minutes.

The building already looks different, and that's before Grace leads Dinah past the front entrance to a side door and sees the way all the windows to the left are broken. Glass sparkles on the sidewalk, reflecting light from the jagged pieces still in their frames. "Shit," Grace comments, using her elbow to knock more glass from the window closest to the door. "Guess we don't need a key."

A non-committal half-shrug. Dinah's friends in the force have always been the best cops.

Her hands flex briefly when she sees the damage, and she glances to Grace's hips to check for a weapon.

"Better let me go first."

Dinah is very very definitely unarmed. There's no room for hidden weapons.

Grace raises an eyebrow.

"I'm the one with a gun," she notes, pulling her glock from where it was tucked into the back of her pants, holding it up for Dinah to see, "but be my guest."

Far be it from her to chastise impetuousness. Besides, Dinah did say she fought orcs. Those things are tough.

"I don't use guns," is all Dinah offers as an explanation. But she does tap her abdomen quickly to demonstrate the Kevlar built into her outfit.

Yeah, she tried a full bodysuit before. It didn't take.

Listening carefully, she reaches through the broken glass and opens the door quietly, wasting no time in stepping through.

That's a new one.

"Well, I do. Self-defense, and good at cracking nuts, too." All sorts of nuts. "I love 'em."

Grace follows, doing a sweep of the area out of habit. She points to the end of the corridor.

"Stairwell, straight ahead. We need to go up."

Dinah wasn't trying to pass judgment on Grace's use of guns, so just smirks over her shoulder as she heads towards the stairwell.

"There are thousands of ways to crack nuts."

"I've only counted 565." Grace smirks back, strutting down the corridor. She's not particularly concerned with caution. Not with the glock in her hand. "Obviously I'm gonna benefit from your know-how."

When they reach the stairs, she pulls ahead and takes two at a time to check the ledge for cigarette butts. There aren't any. Reaching overhead, she checks another hiding spot; nada.

"Huh."

Above them, something makes a snuffling sound.

Dinah's close behind Grace, and now draws level, head turned towards the sound.

"Now's where you explain away the station's mascot," she says helpfully.

"No mascot."

Lip curled, she peers up into the gloomy gray light.

"Unless you count Butch, but he cleans and walks himself most days."

Grace moves up another half-flight, keeping close to the wall. One more floor and they will be where they need to be. If only whatever is up there hadn't caught their scent and started in the same direction.

"Well, shit. It's on the move," she whispers, though that's perfectly obvious. Whatever it is, it's not subtle.

"I noticed."

Dinah clears her throat like someone else might cock a gun, and starts up the stairs faster.

"You as curious as me?"

"Yeah I am."

Watch it be Gus-Gus. If it is her dog, Grace plans on lecturing him and then buying him a steak.

It's not.

As they charge up the stairs, Grace catches sight of a clawed foot coming down, then some sort of snout.

"What the..."

Dinah draws back, a hand out to warn Grace from shooting.

"It still might not be hostile."

Grace nods, stopping on the landing. She's keeping her gun ready, just in case, but right now her face is screwed up in disbelief. The creature lumbers toward them -- it's body clearly wasn't made for stairs -- and lets out a noise that is probably meant to be threatening, but sounds more like a rabid squirrel stuck in a dishwasher.

"Whatever it is," she says, "it's damn ugly."

The creature stops before it reaches the landing, looking back and forth between them.

"God, is that a rat?"

"Yeah," Dinah says. "Biggest one I ever saw."

She glances between Grace and the rat, and shrugs.

"Animals I can handle."

You know that high pitched whistles that some animal handlers use to subdue their animals? Just on the very edge of the human register?

Well, Dinah appears to be singing in it.

Well, that's new.

The unusually sized rat -- it looks like it's been crossed with a giant wombat, and a little stray dog thrown in for good measure -- tosses its head from side to side and makes another angry noise, almost like a bark. But it doesn't move.

Moments later, the same noise echoes from other parts of the building. And from outside.

"Sit, Ratty. Sit." Grace is so helpful. "Kinda seems like it wants to lunge for your throat."

Dinah - who can't really talk right now - offers Grace a pair of raised eyebrows. You don't say?

She glances around and steps up the stairs, hoping the rat will back up or otherwise let them pass.

Neither option seems to appeal to the beast. Instead, it shuffles backwards and awkwardly flees up the stairs, back the way it came.

"Probably wants reinforcements." Grace frowns after it, drawing even with Dinah. "I don't want to know what sewer that crawled out of."

She's got a finger in her ear, shaking her head.

Dinah stops with the sonics as the rat backs away, and nods.

"Me neither. You want to carry on up?"

Leaving them alone is a perfectly valid option.

"Yeah," Grace answers, and she proceeds to do just that. They've come too far, and she won't rest until she knows whether or not this is her place. "What was that thing you were doing?"

The lack of a gun is starting to make sense.

"Sonics," Dinah says casually, as she falls in beside Grace. "It's a talent."

"I'll say."

Grace grins and, after a quick glance up, throws open the door and saunters into the vestibule before Major Crimes. Aside from scattered papers on the floor and the lack of people, everything looks normal. Even the glass door is intact. She pulls it open and enters, just as she does every day, and says "How'd you-"

That's when one hundred pounds of unusually sized rodent leaps on her side, snarling.

"Grace!"

The verbal reaction actually comes after the physical one starts. Dinah lifts a leg and kicks past Grace straight into the rodent's underside, sending it flying.

It's certainly the biggest rodent she's ever seen.