undergrounds | Street where the riches of ages are sold (OPEN)

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Street where the riches of ages are sold (OPEN)

A: Barnet

Kenzi and Jennifer weren't friends by any stretch of the word. Acquaintances was a closer definition but even then, they didn't run in the same circles. The only reason she even knew Jennifer was the girl found dead in Barnet was she might... be following police intel. For a friend.

It was weird for her to be doing something that wasn't outright for her own self interest but it was shockingly helpful. After all, once she heard the description of the Jane Doe it was only a matter of time before her research and connections (however small they might be) told her one thing.

Jennifer - a Circle Midnight witch - was dead, killed by someone invested in the Redbright takeover in Barnet. Kenzi hoped that nobody from Circle Daybreak, The Night Council, or any vampires would go where Jennifer lived and take things. She didn't think they'd be that stupid - or that smart.

So Kenzi went in the morning, when everyone was headed to work and acted as if she knew exactly what she was doing. Confidence would get you access to more things than fake badges. But she had one of those too just in case.

It would be a tough sell, though. Considering she was wearing stiletto leather boots that went all the way up to her thighs, and had green threaded through her very black hair. Not a cop, by any stretch.

But that didn't stop her from breaking the seal of tape and touching her little wooden key-chain to the door. There was the tell-tale click of locks being undone, by the sound of how many there were - it seemed like Jennifer either had something pretty valuable inside or was super paranoid.

Well, she did get murdered after all. Maybe she wasn't so paranoid.

Kenzi spends a good portion of her time frame that she allowed herself roaming around the apartment and stuffing things she wants into her backpack. Hey, Jennifer wasn't going to be using them anymore. Might as well make sure they stayed out of Redbright's hands in the meantime. A few books for magic, almost all her jewelry and her little black contact book that had all the phone numbers a witch could ask for.

Maybe there was something important in there?

Kenzi is leaving the apartment with her backpack filled to the brim and going straight for her car.

B: Portobello Road - Friday

It was a cheap gimmick, and something that usually only got the stupid people and tourists interested - but that was what she wanted. It was easy to fleece someone who was too busy listening to what she was saying about how fascinating their life line was to notice her lifting their watch or hand jewelry. And it didn't hurt that she asked for 16 quid before even speaking to them.

"Ladies and gentlemen, don't be shy. Come, see what the future has in store for you and your loved ones!"

She had a little stall on the market road, something her cousin had hooked her up with. It was all decked out in exactly what you would expect from a Russian fortune teller, except she was about fifty years too young to make it especially hokey.

Kenzi was dressed like a hippy. Not a scrap of black on her, and her make-up was done so as to look as natural and flower-child-y as possible. To top it off, she was wearing an ashy blonde wig with some stuff woven into the hair.

She might also be selling knockoff charms to normal people. They're in the approximation of the real charms that she makes, but they're completely useless. Still, a witch or someone who knows her work might recognize them.

C: Late Night Munchies

There was a plus to living in London. There was always something open and ready to serve you greasy, disgusting food. Which was exactly what Kenzi wanted late at night after working in her shop all day long. She might just be making Day and Moonlight Jewelry and other little charms and sundry items that she sells to people who want them, but she is only one witch. And that means constantly flexing her magical muscles for a whole day makes her exhausted, and starving too.

She's sitting inside a little pizza place, whose front of house is so small they only have room for a counter to order at and chairs along the walls and front windows to sit at while you wait for your food.

Kenzi is dicking around on her phone when suddenly, her nose starts to bleed. Yet another lovely side affect of not having a coven.

D: W-W-WILDCARD!!

Make your own up if you feel up to it!

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Abigail had tracked down the girl she'd seen killed. The news had been helpful enough, providing her name, and Abby knew enough to do the rest. She'd visited the parents and introduced herself. They'd thanked her for coming forward to tell the police what she'd seen. It was more than they could have asked of someone, they said. But she knew they'd rather she'd been the one killed. She couldn't blame them. Any parent would.

Talking to people was easy, especially comforting them.

It hadn't been hard to find out where she'd lived. After that...

Well. She couldn't really say what her plan was. Maybe she wanted to see if the Night Council would try to clean things up or if Redbright would show an interest in the place. So, she'd watched the place as nonchalantly as she could, enjoying a cup of coffee somewhat frequently nearby, making it part of her walks. Little things.

Which meant that a car outside of it caught her attention. So, she waited on the porch across the street, pretending to check her phone. She wanted to see who came out, and she could make it look like she was waiting for someone inside the building she was in front of. Perfectly normal.

Then...

That girl had been at Redbright's party. She'd claimed to not have a side. So why the hell was she taking things out of the building? Because it definitely couldn't be a coincidence. As the girl drew a bit nearer to her car, Abby stepped off the porch across the street and called out.

"Hey!" She hurried over, not sure the other wouldn't just book it to the car and drive. But she slammed her hand down on the hood of the car when she reached it, staying on the opposite side. "Who are you?"

Kenzi's scream died in her throat when she was it was the girl from that party. Widdowson, or something. At least she thinks that what it is. She was just about to put the backpack in her backseat when the chick came blazing across the street.

"Jeeeze, dude you practically made me have a heart attack!"

She's conveniently ignoring your question, though. Because she is not answering it. If she can help it.

"Too bad," Abby snaps over the hood of the car. "Who the Hell are you?! What are you doing here?!"

She needs to know. Needs to hear it. Because this matters. It matters because Jennifer matters. She doesn't know the girl, but she wants to do something to help. Even though there's almost nothing she can do.

Kenzi isn't used to being so aggressively shouted at and it makes her sort of retreat into herself out of shock and stutter. It's unprofessional and she can't stand it but it comes out without her permission.

"W-What the hell is your problem, bitch?!"

She tosses the backpack in the backseat and closes the door quickly. She's making a move for the driver's side door, which is on Abigail's side of the car unfortunately. Her eyes dart down to the passengers side. Maybe she can squeeze over the middle and get away before crazy eyes here tries to knife her.

"My problem is that a girl is dead! And you've got her stuff!"

She's too emotional, and she knows it. But that's what she has. Absolutely nothing else to get through all of this. Which makes it hard. But it's why she's going to do what she needs to.

Still, Abby knows she has to calm down. She takes a breath in and lets it out.

"Just--" Her voice is a little more steady, a little less loud. "Just tell me who you are. Why you're here."

"I knew her." Lie. But Kenzi doesn't care about telling her the truth: that she's just a vulture in this. All she cares about is getting this girl off her case so she can leave.

"Figured her stuff would be better off out of...," out of some goodie two-shoe's hands? A dark witch was dead and she was just going to admit to being one?

Hell no.

"I don't have to talk to you."

She's not wrong. Abigail's not a cop, she's not a coven leader, she's just a rich girl who might be trying to throw some of her sisters under the bus to get in good with the other side.

Kenzi might not like to get involved in this pseudo-war, but that didn't mean she couldn't see where the line in the sand was. Sylvia Redbright was gunning after dark witches and it was more dangerous than ever now if this girl was dead because of that.

"Back off."

"Better off where the Reds can't get it?"

It's dangerous. Saying it. But it's true. If this girl wants to take the dead girl's stuff and thinks it's better than something else? This is one of her sisters. This girl, Jennifer, her.

But it's still scary as all shit. Because it takes trust.

Trust for someone who wasn't a Widdowson. Who wasn't Unthank. Who wasn't someone she'd grown up seeing.

And Abigail doesn't trust easily. Not with something like this. Instead, she has to breathe and pray and hope that she hasn't made a serious mistake in saying it. But if she has, she can deny this conversation. Hide in her house to make sure no one comes for her.

But-- it shows. In that moment, as she stares at Kenzi.

There's fear. A scared girl who doesn't know what to do.

It feels like the confrontation just went from 100 to 0 without Kenzi knowing it and she's left opening and closing her mouth like a fish. What the hell should she do?

Kenzi wasn't going to just change her mind and spill everything just cause Abigail seemed to suddenly do a 180. Really what she should do is just tell the girl she's acting like she's off her meds, get in the car, drive away.

So why doesn't she?

"...What are you talking about?"

She's stalling. She isn't sure what she should do now.

That look. That look. It says a lot. And Abigail can only hope she's doing the right thing. But she needs to try. She needs to say it. Because there's no one else she can try to talk to.

"Because one week ago, Sylvia Redbright announced the expansion of Redbright Institute and now a girl is dead."

She breathes. Tries to steady herself. Because this is what she has to do now. What she's made up her mind to do now.

"A girl who you and I both know was a witch."

"... I can't just trust you." Which basically says everything on it's own. She's not wrong however, it'd be stupid to blindly accept that Abigail wasn't trying to become Glinda the good witch. It'd be tantamount to suicide.

"I don't even know you."

She was attempting to convince herself, and it was sort of obvious with how loud her statement went. Kenzi had zero advantages here and trust wasn't one of her strong suits.

"And I don't know you."

They're strangers, and they're witches, not fae. Lies are perfectly possible. Expected, even. Because they're both afraid. The only question is: Are they afraid of the same thing?

"I wanted to join the Institute. That's why I was at the party. I wanted to apply for admission."

It's true, and it's damning. Which is why she offers it. Because it's something she shouldn't say if she wants this girl to trust her. But it's better to tell the truth now.

But they're on the street, in broad daylight. Nothing about that says 'safe.'

"Can we talk somewhere else?"

The truth makes Kenzi bristle because it aides her paranoia about Abigail
s real intentions. This girl is either the worst double agent, or the best ever. Kenzi has a hard time believing the latter, which only leaves the former and that would probably mean she would have already been killed by someone else if she was actually what Kenzi feared.

But would she take that risk herself? One of Kenzi's greatest fears was being a casualty.

"Where do you want to go?"

Better to hear first than go and start walking there now.

"Dunno," Abby admits. "Anywhere. Other than the middle of the street."

Because this is risky. This much open contact at all is risky. They've been seen together, she knows. There has to be a camera right around here, either city or private. Someone has them on film. But there isn't audio.

So, Abby sighs and closes her eyes, just thinking for a moment. She has to do it.

"My mobile number? You can call or text. We can talk then."

Kenzi is quiet for a moment. Considering.

"Fine."

It'll have to do. And it gives her a good out. A way to just disappear if she wants to, which is something of a requisite for Kenzi when dealing with strangers.

She's also taking a huge leap of faith on Abigail's word here.

Abigail nods and walks around to the front of the car. She doesn't meet Kenzi on the other side of it, wanting to give her room to come to her. Or to just keep her distance, if she preferred.

"I'm getting rid of this number in a few days, but I'll stay in touch one way or another." She takes a deep breath and steadies herself. Then, she opens the case for her phone and takes it out. From under it, between its back and the case, she draws out a small business card, careful about how she holds it. Then, she sets it on the hood of the car. "Here. It's a number that's not tied to my name."

So if Kenzi tried to do anything with the information, there wouldn't be a lot for anyone to go off.

Kenzi waits until Abigail leaves to even grab the card. But she starts texting her when she gets home instantly.

After grabbing a burner phone from her cousin.

You can never be too careful.

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