undergrounds | [OPEN] BOUNTY HUNTING

A. THE PREP - CLOSED TO SNAKE
As soon as Faolan heard that the thief had struck again, he had taken to the streets, intent on finding who it was that they had struck and what they had taken. A description would be nice if he could get one too, although considering that the target is a shapeshifter, he realizes that it won't count for much. Still, any information is better than nothing, which is what he's been running on for the last while.

As he closes in on the address he'd been given by his informant, he takes the briefest of moments to familiarize himself with his surroundings before he's stepping up to knock on the door. He can only hope that whoever he's meeting with will be tolerant of a strange man showing up at their door asking questions about what's happened to them.

B. THE HUNT - OPEN
Faolan is on the hunt. On the hunt for a cat burglar who had made off with a few choice items from a fairly wealthy family in the area. Whether it's a literal cat burglar or not Faolan is not yet aware. He figures that he'll just cross that bridge when he gets there.

He's armed. Of course he's armed, he'd be a fool not to be, going out on a hunt in the night as he is. But they want the person alive, and that's going to be difficult he knows. He isn't used to capture being part of his routine, but he supposes that he's just going to have to build it in. Wouldn't be the first time he's improvised. Wouldn't be the first time by far.

Somewhere in the back of his mind he can't believe that he's doing this for £250. He can't believe that things should have gotten so desperate that he should risk his life for as much. He tells himself it's not for the money, it's for the job, for the recognition, but ultimately that would be a lie. It's been a slow season, in the PI field, and when the times are tough, well. You take what you can get.

Faolan's leather jacket creaks as he adjusts the gym bag over his shoulder, some well-arranged workout gear conveniently hiding the hunting gear beneath, and he crosses the street towards where he's been told the next heist should occur...

C. YOUR HUNT - OPEN
OOC: What it says on the tin! Going hunting on your own? Go right ahead! Tag in yourself and see if you get any bites!! I'll be tagging these as well, but if you'd like a different setup than B with Faolan and/or would like to tag around with each other for this plot, this is the selection for you!

((ooc note: didn't sign up before but still want in? NO PROBLEM!!! go ahead and tag into either part b or c and happy hunting!!))

Threaded | Flat

There was a familiar-looking black fox trotting up along the fence on the other side of the street -- going incognito was easy in London, where there were plenty of urban foxes to blend into.

Heiji pricked his ears toward Faolan as he approached; there was a hint of amusement at the sight of the gym bag.

Lancelot hasn't been complaining, exactly. He'd really rather think of it as advising. It's simply a matter of logic, to him. Logic dictates that this is really rather a lot of work for the reward listed. Admittedly, he suspects it is perhaps easier work too than, say, investigating the big diamond robbery or looking for one of the shooters the Met Police is after but still. The reward really is rather pathetic.

He's dressed down casually, dark jeans and a tidy black blazer buckled against the unreliable British summer. It's cloudy, despite the warmth, and he has a horrible sense it might rain.

"If you kill anyone," he says quietly, "I'm going to have to pretend I don't know you. Just so you're aware."

Part of him silently regrets agreeing to this, but he's still holding out hope it might go smoothly.

What a thoroughly miserable day this had turned out to be. So much for how helpful the police could be in a crime in London. He'd even been sure to keep his explorations on main roads but apparently someone had been tempted by his lack of sight. And what did the police do? "Well, not much we can do without a description."

He'd been sent on his way. He stewed now in his apartment, making himself a coffee just to do something calming and domestic, when someone knocked at the door.

"If you're with the Chinese takeout establishment, you want the apartment above me!" Because that had been happening about twice a week.

Did somebody say deja vu?

Granted, Jackson hadn't literally run into the hunter again; it was simply coincidence that would put the end of Faolan's hunt a few walk-ups away from Jackson's comfy roost on the redbrick steps of his home on Tenter Street. He's one of the few souls up this late in the night, insomnia dealing him yet another sleepless night. The doctor doesn't say anything at first when Faolan sneaks by, puffing greedily at his cigarette before lazily shouting after him. Stealth and cover? Fuck that.

"You know, if you were a pretty lady, I'd say that fate was saying somethin' The two of us meeting like this again." He shakes his head, before blowing out a ring of smoke. "Got wolves on your tail this time?"

B

B.

A

after the hunt?