[OPEN: PLOT] KIDNAPPED BY VAMPIRES?!

[reticence]

There aren’t many narrow, dark alleyways in Richmond -- but there are some.

Lancelot only needs to walk down one to get in trouble.

He’s cutting through between houses on his way back from Tesco. He hadn’t meant to be long, just needed some fresh milk and a loaf of bread for next week, so he’s only dressed in a light t-shirt and some cut-offs. The air is still warm even this late, and he’s distracted -- half tapping his phone awake every so often wondering if he should say something. Faolan doesn’t normally stand him up, but it has been difficult lately. Then again what if something happened? Should he check? He doesn’t want to be clingy, after all…

His senses prickle, telling him something is happening, and he barely gets enough time to turn around before something is being swung at him. There’s a soft clack as his phone hits the ground and skitters away into someone’s front garden, and bread and milk get dumped unceremoniously into someone’s bin before the vampires vanish away.

All the lights are on in his flat, music still softly cycling through his library, but anyone who hops the fence into his back garden will realise Lily is pacing the kitchen all alone.

*************************************

Faolan is a man dedicated to his job, dedicated to his cause, and dedicated to finding an answer when a challenge presents itself to him. Which is why, when confronted with the issue of what to do about Raymond, he finds himself struggling with the dilemma. Of course the vampire is a maniac, a danger to the public, but he is also currently faction leader for Islington, which means that by proxy, he is creating a danger through his vampires as well.

It gives him a lot to think about, which is exactly what he's doing, going over various reports of vampire activity from the past month, taking note of the steady incline of injury or homicide at the hands of the Islington vampires, and correlating it with the changes in policy that the vampires have enacted since then. He's not sure exactly what he's looking for, but he knows he'll find it if he just looks hard enough. And in fact, he's looking so hard that he works straight through the time that he'd arranged to meet up with Lancelot, and a good hour beyond that point before he realizes what he's done and leaps to his feet to track down his mobile with a curse.

Lancelot's mobile rings out with no response and Faolan curses again before shooting him a quick text to apologize for himself. And then another to ask if he'd rather reschedule. While Faolan waits for a response he checks the time and clears up his desk for the night. Putting away the reports and locking them up in the bottom drawer of his desk. Grabbing his phone and impatiently waiting for a response as he slips on his jacket and jogs downstairs to the main floor.

Ten minutes pass and he tries calling again. The phone rings out. Faolan wonders whether Lancelot had just gone to bed at this point, but it's early yet. Maybe he's left it on vibrate? He calls a few more times in succession, all of them ringing out to voicemail. He leaves one, as he heads out to the train station, deciding he might as well head to Lancelot's flat to apologize for himself, if nothing else. Sending another text, asking him if he's alright with that. Waiting for a response as he makes the trip that never comes.

By the time Faolan's made it to Lancelot's neighborhood, he's made his way through feeling guilty, then angry at himself, then angry at Lancelot for reacting this way, then working his way increasingly through a state of concern. He's pulled far more stupid stunts than missing a planned get-together with Lancelot, and the other man had never purposely stopped talking to him then. He tries to reason out what might have happened, maybe he had a headache, maybe he'd gone to bed, but the fact is that until Faolan knows for certain he can't help but feel an increasing amount of dread building up within him.

A feeling that does nothing to dissipate as Faolan reaches the other man's flat to find the lights on, the doors locked, music quietly seeping through from the stereo, and no response to the door. Not even when he rings the bell several times. The fact that he can hear Lily pacing inside concerns him even more, to the point where he decides to pop over to Lancelot's neighbor's to beg the key off of her (on the pretense that he'd lost the one he'd been given, which earned him a wary once-over but he'd been over enough to be recognizable at this point, for better or worse).

It doesn't take long for Faolan to determine that he isn't home. Nor does it take him long to determine that there's more at play than the other man being angry at him at this point. Whatever Lancelot might be feeling about Faolan after he'd skipped out on him that night, Lancelot would never leave Lily alone like this.

After three hours, sitting in the other man's flat with his dog, calling his mobile with no response, Faolan knows without a doubt that something is wrong. That Lancelot is missing. And come hell or high water, he will find him, he will find who did this, and he will make them pay.

((ooc: there are three threads below -- feel free to tag into one or more as you like! planning for this plot began here, but if you hadn't tagged into that please don't let that stop you from participating in this plot! LET'S RESCUE LANCELOT YOU GUYS!!))

Comments

When people are ready for a rescue. Skip him until you want to find him!

[knightscode]

Lancelot certainly isn't in Richmond anymore.

Once they've tracked and investigated and pulled in favours and checked traffic cameras -- all that done, they'll end up back in Southwark.

Which, in the end, feels oddly predictable.

It all seems to lead to a boarded up, quiet seeming house which once upon a time was likely as not beautiful. Now it's fading and somewhat sad.

That, and it smells of vampires to those with the right senses.

All the windows are boarded up, great if you hate sunlight but making it difficult to judge the best way in. There's the front door, of course, and a back door if anyone checks around.

There's also at least three vampires on the first floor, and a few more upstairs. Lancelot himself, though, is in the basement. Easiest way to make sure he isn't heard. A cupboard has been shoved in front of the door down into it, just in case anyone showed up while they were out, and the Guardian himself is a little delirious from a mixture of exhaustion, blood loss and something they gave him that he suspects is illegal. His wrists and arms are screaming at him from being bound together and hung over what he thinks is... an old hook for... drying vegetables? Meat? Something. Although with how damp it is down here now he doesn't seem like a good idea. His feet dangle uselessly as he struggles to focus. If he had any idea people were nearby he might try to shout, but as it stands he can barely stay conscious.

[reticence]

Faolan may be classified as a metahuman, but the abilities that he has gained do not do him very good in a situation like this. As he looks at the house in front of them, he knows that he does not have the same strength or speed that his companions might. But he has the determination. And by god he will rip every door off of its hinge and tear every vampire down that gets in his way if he has to, super strength or no, so help him.

He turns to those with him, beckoning them close and motioning towards the house itself. They are just far enough away that they shouldn't be detected. Yet.

"You're sure this is the place?" he asks. He has to be certain, before he insists on busting in like he wants to. There is a part of him that can feel it, but that's not a rational thought and he shoves it down for now.

[dirtyredneck]

"Yep," Daryl answered simply. He was damn sure. With all the extra shit they'd gone through to make certain it was the right place, the extra time it had taken just to get here, it damn well better be. So as far as he was concerned, it was. Though that wouldn't necessarily reassure Faolan. "The car in the drive matches the description of the one that homeless guy said he saw your man get dragged into. It's a nest of some sort, and you said you thought it might be when we started looking 'round these parts."

He shifted the weight of his crossbow, which was highly illegal to be carting around in the middle of the day in London. Because crossbows themselves, as working usable weapons not for display, were illegal weapons for hunting with in England. Period. He had it hidden under a heavy wool poncho, which absolutely looked out of place in the middle of August. But it hid it from view so no one could call him out on the criminal infraction.

"I say we head around back to the yard and knock one of those windows in. Flood the place with a bit of sunlight. Put 'em on the defensive."

[reticence]

Faolan certainly isn't one to talk as far as highly illegal weapons to be carting around in the middle of the day are concerned, considering he's got one of his own. He knows well enough not to have it shoved into the waistband of his trousers lest he shoot anything delicate off by accident, and instead he has his special revolver hidden just inside the fold of his jacket. Just about every pocket he has is stuffed full of extra rounds for the thing, for while it's going to be useful against the vampires inside, it only carries six at a time, and there's no way in hell he's going to pull a retreat when he's come this far simply because he's forgotten to bring enough ammo.

"It sounds good to me," Faolan says, glancing at the pair of them before leading them forward that way. Reaching up a hand to indicate that they should be as quiet as they can while they do -- the vampires might not be expecting them, but they always will have the better senses. Than Faolan himself at least.

After a bit of searching, Faolan locates a window that, while boarded up, seems to be something of a weak spot. Silently he gestures to the other two men towards it, standing just to the side of it as he draws his revolver. He regards their expressions for a moment, as if to see if they're really in it together with him on this or not, before he starts motioning a count-down. Too late to back out now.

Three... Two... One...

Faolan kicks the rotting boards in, flooding the room beyond with sunlight. Hoping he's bought them the element of surprise as Daryl had suggested. Truth be told, he isn't really thinking with the most strategic mind at the moment. Lancelot is inside. He has to be. And he'll rip the damn house apart to find him if he has to.

[dirtyredneck]

Once they're behind the house and in relative hiding from the coming and going of the nearest street, Daryl takes his crossbow out and readies it. He'd gone through and made sure every bolt he was carrying for the trip was one designed to kill a vampire as quickly and efficiently as possible. He had no desire to torture any of them today. Not the way he tried to do during his personal hunts. Today was about getting Lance out as fast as possible (and hoping they hadn't killed or turned him already, since they'd had the time).

Daryl shifted his eyes to that of his bobcat form just as Faolan kicked the window in. He needed to be able to see better, see into the darkness beyond the rectangle of light, and find his first target. When he saw movement, he fired and a cry of pain told him he'd hit his mark, just not in a place that would kill the monster.

It was enough to make sure their chosen entrance was clear, though. And Daryl pulled a second bolt to load as he climbed inside.

[constantprisoner]

Charging into a nest of vampires probably counts as one of the stupidest things Sirius has done in a while. And it's taking quite a bit of effort to mask his excitement. After all, this is a different kind of risk than the type he usually puts himself into. He can actually enjoy this, which makes it easier to ignore the more rational side of his brain. Not that he has a lot of trouble doing that.

It doesn't change the fact that his combat skills are a little less than experienced. He's taken lessons from various people at Hillingdon, but more for self defence than anything else. But no time like the present than to put them to work. He pulls a stake out of his pocket, prepared to follow Faolan in and allow the first vampire to attack him.

[reticence]

If Faolan had probably thought about what he was doing he would have considered how foolish it was, but he isn't stopping to think, for better or worse. He doesn't have time for that, not when lives are at risk. He does at least register that his companions are his responsibility, and he keeps one eye on them as with the other he scans the darkness, sighting a vampire shrinking back from the sunlight and firing a round at them. It doesn't matter where it hits (though he makes sure that it's straight through the chest), the fact that the shot is fired from his special revolver stops the vampire dead in its tracks. Literally.

"He has to be here somewhere!!" Faolan calls out to his companions. And without further ado he surges forward into the house. Again, perhaps not a very wise choice, all things considered. But he is not going into this alone, and he has his gun, and as far as he's concerned, failure isn't an option so what is there to lose.

A vampire ducks its way out of a nearby room and blurs towards him. Faolan has just enough time to raise his gun and fire another round -- straight through its head. "Whatever you do, you'd better not get yourselves killed!" he calls out to the others in turn.

[constantprisoner]

Using the element of surprise, Sirius steps in and attempts to get a read on Lancelot's scent. It takes a minute though, as the smell of vampires and blood and the mustiness of the old house hit him first, causing him to cough. A vampire takes the opportunity to attack, causing Sirius to flail wildly and stake it the arm and retreat a few steps.

"Doing my best!" he calls back to Faolan's advice, which might be easier said than done.

[dirtyredneck]

Daryl's second fire bolt went through the heart of the guy Sirius hit in the arm, laying the vamp out for the count. He pulled a third bolt and moved to the next window. Grabbed the boards with a partially-shifted hand so his claws could really dig in. Then pulled, spilling more sunlight into the room.

"It's supposed to be the heart," he scoffed in mild disbelief at Sirius' flailing attempt. "Ain't you ever fought one before?"

[constantprisoner]

In all honesty, no, not really. At most he's gotten a few hits in before turning and running in the opposite direction. Mostly because he tends to find the worst places to run into vampires. But Daryl doesn't need to know that.

"He caught me off guard," Sirius snips back, though not without a nod of things, before pulling another stake out of his pocket and moving into the sunlight.

[reticence]

Faolan appreciates Daryl's move to get more sunlight in the house, he appreciates their banter, and there is a part of him that probably is a little concerned for the idea that Sirius might not know what he's doing in such a situation after all. But he can't let himself get that distracted when they're in such a situation like this, so for the most part he lets the thoughts form and move on their way.

He throws a glance back at the pair of them as he starts towards the stairs, nearly missing the vampire running at him from the flight above as he does and only just managing to turn and get them in the knee as he does. Not a killing shot but it does the job, considering the magic silver gun the silver rounds are being shot out of. "Steady on! Make sure that every move counts. You don't want to make it your last, yeah?" he advises, before turning back towards the stairs above.

"Lancelot?" he calls out as he heads up them, just in case the other man is being held somewhere that he might hear them coming. "Lancelot!!"

[dirtyredneck]

"Shut the hell up," Daryl hissed, crossing the room to cover Faolan's impatient ass. "Now they know who we're here for. Why you gotta be stupid?"

He didn't like giving his enemies leverage on the hostage front. If he was still alive, they could try to bargain with him. Or just kill him for the hell of it. And Daryl didn't want any excuse to let any of these assholes walk out of there alive.

[reticence]

Faolan shoots a glance back at Daryl. "We've broken into their nest and started shooting up their people," he answers the other man. "I don't think there's much question why we're here!" Unless there's more than one reason to do so, that Faolan and company simply haven't figured out yet, because tracking down Lancelot had been their primary target.

"If there's a chance he can respond, it might give us a clue where they're holding him!" he continues, which all sounds like a decent argument. It's too bad that he's making it all up on the spot. He turns to tear up the stairs again, shooting the first vampire that turns the corner above and skipping over its body as he tears the rest of the way up the stairs.

"Lancelot! Lancelot!!" Yeah, good luck getting him to stop with that, Daryl.

[dirtyredneck]

"Shit," Daryl cursed under his breath. He looked to Sirius and snapped, "Tear the rest of these windows open. Flood this place. Keep your ass to the light." Then he tore up after Faolan to watch the stupid bastard's back.

[constantprisoner]

"Got it," Sirius replied, heading over to the nearest window, and hoping that the vampires would be distracted enough to go after the other two, leaving him in peace. Wishful thinking, that. He manages to rip the boards off another window just in time to deter one coming after him, for now at least.

Though he pauses as he gets used to the scents in the room, finally catching onto one that's all too familiar.

"I don't think he's upstairs!"

[reticence]

At least to Sirius' credit, Faolan is doing quite a lot to draw the attention away from Sirius himself.

Firing once more on another approaching vampire, Faolan whirls at the other man's words. Not 'I don't think he's here' -- which part of Faolan's doubts had started to fear, after it was beginning to look like he wasn't in any of the rooms upstairs -- but 'I don't think he's upstairs'. Maybe Sirius had found something. A clue?

"What do you mean?" Faolan asks, trying to keep his voice shy of demanding the answer of the other man. Sirius had volunteered to come on this mission after all. "Have you found something?"

He stiffens at the creak of a door to his left and has just enough time to turn and blindly fire a shot into the room beyond, swearing under his breath as that signals the last of the rounds in his revolver. He fumbles to slot in another six bullets, hoping the pair of them will cover for him in the moment as he continues, "Where else? The ground floor was a wash, if he's not upstairs--" He cuts himself short. Of course. A building like this. There has to be a cellar. Why hadn't he thought of that first.

Clicking his gun back together Faolan turns and tears back down the stairs.

[constantprisoner]

The distraction has definitely been helping, since it's allowed Sirius to let a decent amount of light into the room, which is keeping the remaining vampires at bay.

"Hard to tell! But I think I'm picking up his scent."

It's faint, but recognizable considering how long he's been focuses on it. But there's lots of other scents and things going on in the room which make it hard to follow.

[dirtyredneck]

Faolan tears back the other direction and leaves Daryl having to unload his crossbow right into the face of a vampire who decided to try and attack while Faolan was reloading. It was more than a little annoying having to physically stab a second bolt into his heart before attempting to pull both out. And then having to break the one through the vamp's skull off just so there weren't any fletchings to trace back to him.

"God damn, watch your back, asshole," Daryl muttered where no one could hear it, double backing once he was done and setting his butt on the rail to slide down just to catch up.

When he was on the first floor again, he started moving toward the kitchen, "If he ain't on the top floor and he ain't in one of the rooms here, he's probably in the basement. Houses like this, access is usually through the pantry."

[reticence]

Through the pantry. Faolan follows after Daryl, who seems to know something of the layout of the house. Maybe Faolan would too if his heart weren't in his throat and pounding like a drum. Sirius being able to smell Lancelot, the pair of them tracking him here, that still doesn't guarantee the other man's safety. His life. Each flicker of thought along that line stutters his heart faster, and he really would stop himself if he could.

They duck through the kitchen and into the pantry, and Faolan can't help thinking that if they really were holding Lancelot in a place like that, wouldn't they be protecting the kitchen more? Then again, maybe they werent expecting the company? Or maybe there are more of them waiting in the basement below.

Locating the door is easier said than done, however. Faolan makes a full circuit of the pantry and then the kitchen proper before coming back to the pantry again, swearing under his breath. "Damn it..." he mutters, before noticing conspicuous drag marks on the floor. Something heavy had been pushed through here, and recently. Disturbing the settled dust and scratching the wooden floor underneath. The marks themselves could have led either direction, but looking in the pantry the only thing heavy enough would be...

Faolan jumps forward towards a large, antique cupboard. That barely budges when he puts his whole weight into the effort. He swears again. "Help me move this!!" he calls out. Hoping that they've got all the vampires nearby at least. There's no way any of them are going to be able to do this one-handed.

[knightscode]

The scrape of the cupboard starting to move, on top of all the other distant chaos he has heard, is what clues in Lancelot that something is going on.

He's tired, his shoulders and wrists are hurting in a way he's never quite experienced before from the strain of hanging this way, and blood loss is hardly helping but he can still focus enough to squirm. He has one or two slightly purple bruises, and some bites that aren't entirely clean from where he tried to shake them off. Nothing is bleeding, though, and nothing looks like it will need serious work.

Right now, his first thought on the cupboard moving is someone is coming down to either question him or drink from him again. He isn't particularly fond of either idea.

So he starts to try and haul himself up toward the hook. To try and get himself off it -- something he might be able to do at full strength if he really tried but which is pretty questionable now. The rope is keeping his wrists bound tight together, and there isn't much leverage. If nothing else, he's psyching himself up to kick whatever comes down the stairs clean in the chest if it tries anything. It may not help, but for a minute or so it'll make him feel better about life.

[dirtyredneck]

Daryl cursed under his breath for what felt like the hundredth time that hour. He couldn't hold his crossbow and help move the cupboard. He wasn't as strong as a human as he was a cat, but he could still do a partial shift and get his claws dug in for the pulling.

So with great reluctance, he shoved his bow into Sirius' chest, "You see anyone comin' that shouldn't you, you shoot 'em. Aim for the heart, not the arm."

It would probably be easier if Sirius tried helping with the moving and Daryl watched their backs, but Daryl wasn't exactly thinking straight at this point. Too focused on Faolan being a complete idiot with his rush-in approach to do more than than try to cover his ass.

[constantprisoner]

"Got it," Sirius replied, doing his best to look as if he knew what he was doing. Hopefully, he wouldn't have to put that to the test, between the the light streaming in from the open windows acting as a deterrent, and the rest of the vampires not wanting to engage them. Still he holds the crossbow threateningly, his back to Faolan and Daryl.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," he says to one vampire who was looking at them curiously.

[reticence]

Faolan glances over at Daryl, trying to communicate that he appreciates the other man's help without speaking up to say as much and embarrassing Daryl in the moment. The embarrassment can come later.

He darts his eyes in the direction that Sirius has spoken up, warning the vampires away. He's kept his gun close at hand if he needs it but he might not be fast enough to draw it, even so. They just need to get this damned cabinet moved, and fast.

"Ready? Push!!" Faolan instructs. The piece begins to shift as Daryl moves to help him, and Faolan throws everything he has into the effort. There's everything to lose if he doesn't, after all. And sure enough, there it is, hidden directly behind where the cabinet had sat -- a door from the pantry leading to what Faolan could only assume to be a basement.

He waits until they've got the cabinet moved far enough to open the door and fit through and then with only a half a glance behind himself to Sirius and the vampires beyond he's darting to the door and down the stairs...

[knightscode]

They're coming, Lancelot thinks, they're coming and he better be ready.

He catches sight of movement on the stairs and grits his teeth, lifts his eyes to try and see the hook above him and squirms harder. Come on, come on. He flails out his feet as he senses someone moving close, hoping to kick them away and buy himself more time. Lancelot isn't beaten yet, he still has a chance. He can still do something about this if he just tries a little harder.

[reticence]

Rushing his way down the stairs, the adrenaline and relief of finding Lancelot alive and kicking spurs Faolan faster. For all the calling out that he had done for the other man before now he only wants to be at his side and make certain that he's alright. He supposes in retrospect he should have announced his presence a bit more obviously, as suddenly he finds Lancelot's foot connecting with his lower rib cage. He stumbles back a step, grunting in pain and surprise though he supposes he can't blame the other man, given the state of things.

"Easy," he hisses at the other man. "Lancelot." He hopes that the other man has enough within himself to focus on his voice. Looking at him hanging there by his wrists like that, covered in bruises, bites, blood, and god knows what else, Faolan feels as though he could literally breathe fire. "Just take it easy, I'll get you down..."

He glances at his companions behind him, letting Daryl and then Sirius in turn know that they are definitely in charge of covering his back while he does this before turning to Lancelot again and approaching cautiously. Hoping he doesn't get kicked again. Even as weakened as the other man seems to be, that's going to leave a mark.