undergrounds | [OPEN] BOUNTY HUNTING

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[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!!))

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Faolan steps closer to where the other man is working, glancing between him and what he's doing. He feels a little... Wrong, for having asked Lancelot along in this. Watching a man involved with the police help him break into a house and all. But he's not about to tell Lancelot to pack up and go home, not when he needs him there so much.

"Most burglars don't have specific targets in mind," Faolan says. "I think that's the real crux of the matter here." He looks at the pen light that the other man is holding in his mouth, raising his eyebrows at it slightly. "I can hold that for you, if you like?" he asks, wryly, though he supposes Lancelot has a handle on it so far. "Do you actually know what you're doing there, for that matter?"

He wiggles the card up through the narrow gap, winces as he carefully tries the door before shaking his head and removing the torch from his mouth.

"If they're in they didn't come this way," he says finally, then glances sideways at Faolan's expression. "We do security checks for people who ask," he offers finally. "To lower break in risks. Teach people to double lock their doors and so on. Stop looking at me like that."

It isn't as if he's a criminal. He takes a few steps back, glances around the building before gesturing.

"Side gate. They might have gotten over it and found a back way in."

It's a large wooden gate set into a piece of solid fencing, about six foot. There's no latch or opening mechanism on the outside, but that wouldn't stop an enthusiastic person getting over it if they wanted to. He frowns at it, tests it with one hand to see if it'll hold his weight if he vaults it.

Faolan keeps his eyebrows raised at the other man, twisting a wry smile at him and the way that he gets defensive in response to the questioning. "I'm sure you do," he says, amused with it all. He had figured it wouldn't be that easy to get into a house like this. Even if the latch were the right sort for something like that, there would be the dead bolt -- and if you own a house like this, you had better use that, he thinks to himself.

He's not going to rub it in too hard, however. So he steps back and follows the other man's lead for the moment, wandering back towards the side gate with him, glancing up over it with him. Of course it would be that tall. Of course they should have to climb over it, he thinks to himself. He glances back around at the street before them, checking for any passers by, hoping that they should be the only ones besides the burglar themself out there at that hour. Having determined that they're safe for now, he turns back to murmur to the other man, "What's the assessment then, Officer?" He might be having a little too much fun poking at this, in retrospect.

"The assessment," Lancelot says lightly, "is that I'm changing my mind if you keep that up."

he turns and tilts his head chidingly at Faolan, lofts an eyebrow before backing up a few steps. He dusts himself down, flexes his and adjusts his facing before forward -- kicking up the side of the house and catching his hands onto the top of the fence to fling himself over it. He lands with a soft thwump on the other side, and a second later the latch on the gate can be heard sliding. It swings open and Lancelot offers Faolan a wry smile.

"Unless you'd rather stay behind," he offers.

Faolan tries his best not to startle as the other man demonstrates his metahuman talents by leaping himself over the fence like that. True, Faolan could have probably gotten himself over without help, but it wouldn't have been like that, certainly. And it most definitely would not have been as graceful. He's half ready for the other man to pause on the top and suggest he pull him up but instead he simply vaults over to the other side. And opens it. Well. There are reasons that he'd asked Lancelot along, and it hadn't just been for the company.

"...no," Faolan says, stiffly, obviously a little taken aback but trying his best to hide it. "No, I got you into this, after all. It's only fair that I should keep us going." He glances up sideways at the other man as he passes through the gate beside him. "Nice trick," he says, trying to be smart about it, although Lancelot should be able to tell that he's impressed even so.

"It isn't a trick," Lancelot corrects lightly, closing the gate behind them and carefully sliding the latch again. He glances around again, padding forward in the dim light slowly and checking for sensors. If they trip a flood light, after all, there won't be much of a surprise for anyone else here. As they come around the side of the house Lancelot glances up and pauses, squints in thought.

"Look," he prompts softly. "Second floor."

The raised terrace juts out, surrounding by glass panels for a nice enough view of the river from that high up, but one of the doors out is open just a crack. Lancelot frowns at it, edges around and sizes up the building. There's no particularly obvious way up, whoever is inside already hasn't left a ladder or grapple of any sort.

"They must have climbed it," Lancelot decides, even if there isn't much in the way of things to hold onto. The ivy won't be secure enough, it'll rip away the second weight is put on it, and he's not sure he trusts the window ledges. He hesitates, scans the ground floor back door and approaches to try it quietly.

No, still locked. He winces, backs up and begins to try and judge the height.

Faolan follows the other man's gaze up to the doors on the second floor and swears underneath his breath. He sees what Lancelot is getting at, with the door open the crack that it is. There's no way that the family could have left it like that -- which likely means that that's the way that the thief had gotten in the building themselves. Which begs the question of course, how the hell are they going to follow? Lancelot steps forward to try the door but Faolan doesn't bother moving with him, he knows it's going to be locked. So while the other man's busy with that, Faolan starts to look around for something, anything to aid them. Maybe they can just break in a different way. He's not sure that Lancelot would approve of such a thing, but it would be a whole hell of a lot easier than that.

"Of course they climbed it," he mutters to himself. "Of course they didn't just pick a ground floor window. Of course not..."

"The ledge is narrow there," Lancelot is saying meanwhile. "The glass safety panels are quite close to the edge, there isn't much to grip onto. The sun blind is plastic, I wouldn't want to put too much weight on it. You'd have to be careful..."

He frowns in thought, backs up a few steps and runs at the wall -- kicks himself up and scrambles to stand on the edge precariously, holding himself up by the glass safety rail. He frowns at the doorway, as if he might see a person through it (a bad thing, if he had, since they could just push him off) and glances down at Faolan.

"Up here," he encourages, and hesitates before inching along to climb over and look for a way to help Faolan up.

(That'll be his fingerprints, he thinks absently, all over the glass rail now as well as all over the front door, the gate, probably over things...

He's going to be fired.)

Edited 2015-08-31 21:04 (UTC)

(He won't be fired. Faolan will make certain that he won't be fired, even if he has to personally go around and contaminate every single place he's touched. He'll probably just call in the Night Council to help cover for them, though. They're Guardians for them, after all, they wouldn't want either of them losing their jobs or getting caught for this, especially not Lancelot.)

Faolan watches in a sort of state of disbelief (he doesn't know why, considering what he'd done earlier with the fence), as the other man scrambles up the side of the house to the second floor and then turns to encourage him up. He just raises his eyebrows as he stares at him, almost stunned, before spreading his hands wide.

"How the fuck do you expect me to do that?" he can't help but asking. It's not like he can just scramble up the side of the building himself. For one thing, even if he could pull stunts like that, he's rather short and that's a long way up. And for another thing. Why does he have to go and make it look so easy? Making a noise that almost might be labeled as disgust, Faolan starts to look around for something, anything he might use to at least climb up on to help.

Good question, all things considered. Lancelot lets out a slow breath, walking around a little, before his eyes settle on something near the gate where they came through.

"Wheelie bin," he points out quietly, "careful, they make quite a bit of noise."

Well, if you move them at a normal speed. Hopefully it will be fine if Faolan moves it slowly? He glances behind himself again, a little nervous now that it's beginning to settle on him that he's up here alone. Possibly with some sort of burglar near by who wouldn't take well to be interrupted. Hurry up, he wants to say, but 'hurry up' and 'careful not to make noise' are not really things that go together.

Faolan shoots the other man a look at the words of caution, but makes for the bin in question. He knows just as well as the other man does that Lancelot being up there by himself isn't the most ideal of situations either. What if something happens while he's still down here, wheeling a damned bin around in the yard? What then? Well, he supposes then he'll just break in on the first floor and run like hell for where the commotion is occurring, but he won't kid himself into believing that he'll get there in time. Not for the first time, as he carefully wheels the bin up to underneath the window itself, Faolan curses the other man's uncanny, superhuman abilities.

Once he has the bin in place, climbing up on it without tipping the thing over is another challenge in and of itself. And then once he's standing on the top, he's still not quite high enough to reach. "Unbelievable," he mutters to himself. "Un-fucking-believable..." Maybe he'll just have to jump and hope for the best...?

Lancelot's braces his hands on the rail and frowns down at Faolan, glances around a moment in thought before climbing back over and balancing precariously on the tiny sliver of brick available the other side of the railing. He twists to hold the rail behind him with one hand, awkwardly slides to half crouch precariously and holds out his other hand down to Faolan.

"I'll pull you up," he whispers, "grab my hand."

Faolan frowns up at the other man and the easy acrobatics he does to manage even this much. Part of him wants to be stubborn. Wants to refuse the help on the principle that this is ridiculous, all of this is ridiculous. But that would be juvenile, and Lancelot doesn't need to help him. He doesn't even need to be there in the first place, but Faolan had asked him personally. So he swallows down his pride and the heavy sigh threatening as well, and after a moment's more hesitation, reaches up for him.

"If you drop me from here," he can't help but grinding out, however, "I'll make you very sorry for it." He is putting a certain level of trust in the other man's hands, after all. That he'll manage to stay balanced where he remains precariously perched, and still be able to pull him up to safety as well.

He nods once, all his focus on Faolan, then reaches down and clasps his hand and pulls -- lifts him with much more ease than you'd think for his build. His brow is furrowed from the effort, at least, some minor blessing that he isn't doing such an act without breaking a sweat. That, and Lancelot is hoping Faolan will scramble to try and climb some of the way himself -- put a little weight on the narrow sliver of brick or grab for the rail. He's hoping not to have his arm pulled out of his socket, or for the person they're looking for to appear and push them both off. Both options are less than ideal.

Of course Faolan will help him lift him up, although not to the extent that he is helping so much he may hinder the other man's help. He really doesn't want to be dropped from this height, after all. He probably knows how to land correctly but regardless the landing would not be pretty. And it would hardly be stealthy either. As soon as he's within the right distance to be able to do so, however, he's reaching for the rail, he's trying to put his foot on the ledge, he's hanging on to whatever he can grasp on to that will hold him because it feels better to do so than to trust that the other man will be able to lift him that well. Even if he can, apparently, he still doesn't entirely trust it.

Once he's made it to the ledge, he takes a moment to gather himself, keeping a white-knuckled grip on the rail as he tries not to think how far of a drop it will be should he slip at this point. He's not clutching to Lancelot, at least. He knows better than to try that and take the pair of them down together. After a moment, he collects himself enough to try and scramble over the railing. Only once the pair of them have made it to the floor on the other side does he finally feel that he can relax. As much as one can, in such a situation, that is. He leans forward, putting his hands on his knees and forcing himself to breathe as naturally as he can (too fast or too slow and he might hyperventilate and/or pass out, which wouldn't be good either).

"Thanks," he manages, eventually.

Edited 2015-09-15 03:05 (UTC)

Lancelot takes a moment to steady himself once Faolan has let go, sliding his back up the rails and letting out a slow breath before pulling himself back over -- landing as quietly as he can and eyeing the patio door. His eyes flit between the door and Faolan, wary that somehow they might have drawn attention and equally unsure what the next step should be. He should follow Faolan's lead, he supposes, since the man knows who he's looking for. Yet all the same Lancelot feels oddly protective of Faolan, having just lifted him up he's oddly aware of how much smaller he is and how much stronger Lancelot himself is compared to him.

He mouths 'ready?' questioningly as Faolan looks eye, studying him to see if he's caught his breath and flitting his eyes around the little balcony-come-terrace area they're standing on. There's no equipment on it he can see that might belong to the culprit, so that only leaves going in.

Faolan had asked Lancelot along for more than just to have company on this endeavor, and the other man is more than holding his own, pulling not only his weight but Faolan's as well in a lot of steps along the way already. Faolan is just as aware as Lancelot that the other man has just bodily lifted him up onto this ledge, of how much smaller and slighter he is than Lancelot, and how much his own physical abilities pale in comparison to Lancelot's themselves. It's times like this that he really wishes he could use his gun -- it's where he makes up for where he lacks in other areas. But no such luck there. Doing this unarmed is going to be a challenge, but he'll manage, if he wants the reward.

After some awkward scrambling over the railing himself, Faolan takes a moment to catch his breath before he nods. Yes, he's ready. As ready as they'll ever be. Faolan goes for the open door, holding his breath that it doesn't creak as he pushes it open further. It doesn't, luckily. A house like this, the people who own it can afford a little hinge grease, he thinks to himself, as he warily steps inside. So far so good, without taking his eyes off the room in front of him, he motions Lancelot to follow. It looks clear. But that doesn't speak for the rest of the house.

He follows silently, stepping through and pulling the door back to a rough approximation of where it was before they went through. No point leaving clues they're here, just in case they don't find the thief before they cross back through.

The house inside is... well, he supposes exactly what he should have expected from the area. He doesn't think a single piece of furniture or decoration costs less than five hundred pounds, and he'd be surprised if they cost less than a thousand even. Lancelot takes a careful step forward, neutral coloured carpet muffling the sound as he tries to assess the layout and which way might be best to go. People often keep valuables in their bedroom. Unless, he supposes, they have a safe of some-sort elsewhere. In a study or library? The place is big enough to have one, and expensive enough to have bothered to set up a safe for the even more expensive things. He squints in the dim light, brow furrowing as he tries to listen for movement.

Something tugs at him, makes him tense for a second. Lancelot's always liked to think he has a good sense for danger, he supposes it's the same way animals go quiet and flee danger zones before disaster happens. It's difficult to describe, what some people might call the hairs on their neck standing up or something itching at them in a nagging sort of way.

It tells him left, and his eyes dart left -- fix on a doorway then on Faolan. His brow furrows deeper, and he has just enough time to start mouthing there before the door swings open.

Edited (carpet on carpet action) 2015-09-20 23:45 (UTC)

Faolan is trying to get a good feel for the place, trying to keep an eye on Lancelot and understand what it is that he's doing, what that look on his face means, trying to listen for danger and feel for trouble himself -- trying to balance a lot of things really, and he's only just human. It's difficult. So he doesn't catch what's coming as fast as the other man, although he does notice the door just as the other man starts to mouth silent words at him.

It's times like these when Faolan really wishes he had other means to defend himself against the supernatural. With both of them standing in the room in plain sight, there's no chance of hiding. And without having had any time to prepare themselves, they will have no opportunity to formulate a plan beyond 'do what is necessary'. Necessary to defend themselves against the shifter and, with any luck, be able to turn them in for the reward. Faolan takes a deep breath and steels himself, preparing to be able to launch at the man once he has emerged far enough. At least they will have the element of surprise on their side. Supposing the thief hasn't heard them banging around outside, of course.

Lancelot freezes, braces for what will happen, the thief freezes, realising he isn't alone.

There's about a half second of tension before Faolan is launching himself at the thief and he darts to avoid it, ends up with Faolan crashing into his side. The thief is small, slight, but his muscles are hard and wiry. He grabs for Faolan as the man latches on to try and unbalance him, reaches for a blade to try and sink in to Faolan to dislodge him.

The sight of the blade makes Lancelot start forward suddenly and he's on the other side of the thief in a second, trying to pry away his arm. He's surprisingly strong for someone so small, and at the feel of another hand on him he seems to make a decision.

Then the thief is disappearing, vanishing seemingly to nothing as it dissolves into a smaller shape and picks up the small bundle it was carrying in its... mouth?

The shadowy black cat begins to make a break for the patio doors.

The sight of the blade doesn't startle Faolan near as much as it possibly should have. He's ready for a fight, and if the other man is bringing blades into the mix, then fine. So be it. It certainly isn't Faolan's first knife fight.

He has a mind to try and wrestle the thing from him and use it against him before Lancelot has joined in and the thief obviously starts to feel cornered, for he makes the split-second decision to shift. Faolan nearly overbalances with the sudden space where he had moments before been wrestling with a man, and then lunges forward but he's not fast enough, he's not going to be fast enough, and god damn it, they've left the doors open.

"The doors!" he cries out at Lancelot. "Don't let it get out!" This is the only lead he's found on the guy, and now that he knows he's on to him, it's likely to be the only one he gets.

It's a cat.

It's a cat.

Lancelot has seen werewolves before, but not shapeshifters. He hadn't expected the man to turn into a cat, and at the sight of it --

Then Faolan's voice cuts through his confusion and Lancelot makes a break for the door. Don't let it out, he says, and Lancelot follows the instruction on instinct. He belts past the cat and barely makes it, slams the door closed with a slight flinch as the animal barely avoids being trapped. It lets out a low growl of discontent and arches, fur fluffing up, before looking between the two of them and making a break in the other direction. There's more than one way it can get out, after all.

Faolan jumps to the same conclusion that the shapeshifter-turned-cat has, that there's more than one way out and since they've blocked the first exit, he immediately starts assessing for potential others. How many other doors are there? How many of them will lead out to another room? Which will be a better usage of his time, to jump at the cat or to jump at the door to the hall. Faolan assesses his options, his talents, and the skills he knows he possesses versus the skills possessed by Lancelot, and chooses the door to the hallway, slamming it closed before the cat can even think to jump through it.

"We need to keep him in here!" Faolan calls out to the other man, before adding on, as something of an afterthought, "Grab him! Put some of those superhuman skills to work! It's going to get out!"

Grab him? Has Faolan ever tried to grab a cat before, he wonders? Such things usually end badly, more so for the human than for the cat. He hesitates, because once he moves away from this door it is no longer blocked again, but the cat is belt back toward the door for the room it came out of. Not even considering trying to for the hallway, since Faolan has already blocked that. Lancelot pushes away and dashes toward the room, hesitates in the doorway. The cat is sitting neatly on the bed, eyeing him, and he knows it's agile. He knows if he dives for it then it will have already begun to move.

It feels ridiculous, to be chasing a cat about, and more than that he doesn't want to hurt the animal. Even if it isn't an animal inside, Lancelot feels an instinctive guilt about hurting a cat. It pushes slowly to all fours, fur bristling, and he tries to assess the room. One other door -- bathroom, maybe? -- and a set of windows.

"Faolan..." he begins, wary, as the cat slowly prowls toward him. It can probably sense his nerves. Can't cats sense that? Can shape-shifters too?

Faolan is watching the cat move, and a little uncertain of what to do about it himself, though his mind is working furiously. If Lancelot will just keep it distracted... If Lancelot will keep it distracted, then maybe he can devise some way to catch him. Lancelot is the bigger threat, after all, in more ways than one. Faolan himself? He works hard to be barely noticeable, in the best of circumstances.

So Faolan takes a risk. While the cat begins to prowl towards Lancelot, Faolan makes a decision. Grabbing the blanket off of the bed that the cat has just vacated, and holding it out in front of him as he advances behind it, as silently as he can. He feels more than a little ridiculous, and is certain he looks no less so. But if it works, then it will not matter in the least.

And with that thought in mind, Faolan throws the blanket forward, following swiftly behind it...

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