undergrounds | I'm pickin up good vibrations (OPEN)

It was a fairly bright night, the full moon of the second waning at a slow pace and the remaining glow casting about the city streets. All things considered, it was a fairly pleasant evening and the sounds of late night pub activities wafted through the air as if to pointedly suggest that nothing was amiss. Ringer didn't believe in that false serenity and the sight a couple strolling arm-in-arm somewhere down the road annoyed her a little. It was that ignorance that she was trying to protect. Still, she couldn't help the slight envy at having her own normality stripped away from her years ago.

She wandered Lewisham and Greenwich mainly, knowing the areas were hot spots for activity and wanting to stretch her muscles. There were silver bullets in the magazine of her Sig Sauer, tucked safely away in its shoulder holster beneath her jacket. There were a couple wooden bolts in her back pocket, a knife in her combat boots, and a roll of gauze in the inside pocket of her coat. She liked to be prepared.

Ringer was distracted by the soft glow of a lantern outside a picturesque home as she rounded onto the next street, nearly - or literally - running smack into whoever might be coming the other way. She immediately withdrew and scrambled to regain her bearings, offering an apologetic expression in the hopes it might be some simple Londoner who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. "Sorry, I wasn't paying attention. Are you okay?"

There was a noise not far away, the next street over, and Ringer wasted no time in seeking it out. Perhaps it was simply a cat jumping on a trash can, but it was as likely some asshole monster causing trouble. Or maybe that was wishful thinking. Whatever the case, she drew her 9mmm and held it down at her side, mostly concealing it to the casual observer as she came up on the area. One wrong move and the source of the noise might find the barrel facing in their direction.

[Anything else! Feel free to write a prompt or message me with ideas.]

Threaded | Flat

Heiji's bag didn't so much drop as explode as it hit the street. Welp. Some of the package stuff looked like it'd be all right, but he winced as he saw the state of the eggs. Most of them had remained in their clear plastic carton, but several of the shells were clearly cracked open and just getting the remaining groceries back was going to be. An adventure.

"I'm okay, but I think I'm gonna need new plans for breakfast tomorrow."

Cooper was crouching next to a body, his fingers brushed up against the unfortunate victim's face. The corpse was still warm, his throat brutally torn out. Damn. He'd been late again. Somewhere around here was a newborn vampire and his attacks were starting to become more public. If this kept up, someone was sure to notice, and Cooper would've bet one of his motorcycles that someone was going to be a hunter.

He was so focused on the body that he failed to catch Ringer's scent until she was right on top of him. He looked up at her with a surprised expression on his face. "Uh....this isn't what it looks like."

And when Ringer turns the corner, she will come upon a teenage boy with a lacrosse stick in hand staring at something in the distance. He has yet to notice her presence, and so continues to squint in the direction that the noise came from. Though he’s fairly sure that Derek’s territory doesn’t extend this far, he’s anxious that he’s accidentally stumbled into pack turf again. Nothing happens, however. Eventually, he slumps with relief and turns around—only to spot Ringer.

“Whoa! Hi. Uh, how long have you been standing—um, wow, please don’t shoot me.”

Stiles is not a casual observer. Having grown up intimately familiar with the Beacon Hills police force, he notices the partially concealed gun simply from the way she holds it.

“I have like, thirty quid in my back pocket. And some gum. You can have all of it. Not the lacrosse stick, though. It was a bitch to ship over to the UK. So don’t even try it.”

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