undergrounds | James and the Terrible, No Good, Rotten Day (OPEN)

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James and the Terrible, No Good, Rotten Day (OPEN)

A) Pre-trial

This trial could - in fact - go die in a fire as far as James was concerned. A month ago he was slightly excited to be defending a vampire in human court -something he would have never pictured himself doing. Now? He really hoped this asshole would just get staked in his cell and save James the trouble of doing this. He was going to lose, obviously. This was just about negotiating how long it'd be till he got out again. And the vampire had money to spare. And influence thanks to his age.

The fact that he was a serial killer was practically a footnote. He'd be out in a year or even less if he coughed up enough bail.

He had been cooped up in his own home trying to prep for this. The client, Stephan Alkaev, kept changing his mind on exactly what his demands were - James suspected it was just to see how far he could push him. While James didn't mind defending a vampire, his client wasn't exactly thrilled that a werewolf was defending him. He did anything in his power to irritated James.

God, just thinking about Alkaev's stupid smug face was enough to make him push away the noodles he was working on. James had found a Chinese place that was open 24/7 and, in a desperate bid for a change of pace the night before the trial date, he took the folder of material he wanted to review and ordered as much as he could fit onto the small table he had been seated at.

B) Day of Trial

There were a lot of cameras and press around. It wasn't anything new. This was a high profile event. He killed a lot of people's daughters. Of course there would be outrage. The crowd was practically frothing behind the barricades though and James tried to keep himself from making eye contact with anyone, just to avoid egging someone on accidentally.

His client couldn't get enough of it though. He walked to the steps of the courthouse with his head held high. James hoped he could shut him up in time if he decided he was going to talk about the supernatural community on national television, or make a case for the insanity plea. Anything. He had only mentioned telling the world once. Just once and never again but that didn't keep him from worrying about it.

He hadn't said a single word to the man today aside from the perfunctory 'Good morning, Mr. Alkaev' lest he tell him to go fuck himself. He kept up the pace with him as he went up the steps when suddenly there was a loud pop of noise like someone let a firecracker go off nearby and then

Blood was everywhere. He could smell it. On him, all over Alkaev and - there was a hole in the left side of his face the size of a golf ball. People were screaming and ducking and James was frozen and lucky he wasn't wearing any Moonlight jewelry today or he might have popped some claws and fangs out of fear.

C) In Shock

Shot through the head. Sniper perched on the parking garage across the courtyard. Cameras had been disabled. Only evidence is the weapon in question. An old fashioned gun. Something that should be impossible by human eyes.

That's what the police were saying. James didn't mean to listen but he couldn't keep himself from hearing. Not right now, sitting on the edge of an ambulance with a shock blanket wrapped around his shoulders like a child.

He still had blood spattered all over his face and suit. He hadn't even noticed. The only thought going through his mind was that this was a hit. Someone had Alkaev killed.

And it had been a message.

D) At Scotland Yard - for Lord Coward

Sitting in a spartan room being interrogated by the police after his client's gruesome death was not what James wanted to be doing this evening. And yet, here he was, wearing some bizarre scrubs in lieu of his bloodied clothing staring at a cup of lukewarm shit tea waiting for the next officer to come inside and either tell him he's being further detained or if he can go home.

Really, it's not ideal. He was tempted to ask for an attorney to do the talking for him - he hadn't said much beyond he had no idea what happened. A lot of people wanted Alkaev dead. Personally he wasn't going to miss the man too much, and it was probably a mistake to say as much to the police.

He thought being in shock was a good excuse for his filter disappearing.

E) Home

After finally being released by Coward, James took his clothes in a plastic bag and got a cab home. Rather an uneventful day's end for the insanity it began with. He wants to eat something disgusting, take a hot shower and crawl in bed for a few days to just sleep but he knows he's going to have to call into the office in the morning before work actually starts, tell the front desk he isn't going to be coming in today for obvious reasons and go to the police station to issue a real statement.

At least the full moon isn't coming for another ten days, but ten days is enough to start feeling the pressure of looking human again.

James comes home to a dark and cold loft. It's extremely unappealing and he looks at his phone with a bit of longing before thinking better. He wouldn't be any fun right now if he called Skip and she'd more than likely leave after ten minutes which would make him feel more like crap than he did already.

What a mess.

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"Do you know what he was?" Was. If the man had been, well, a man, then it was obvious by the blood and non-answer that he was dead. Vampires, on the other hand, were another beast entirely - both literally and metaphorically. If Memon hadn't seen the vampire actually die, there was a possibility that the creature was playing possum until the cameras disappeared and he could make his escape. That was something Ringer couldn't allow. Thus there was no point beating around the bush.

There was also the question of how the attack had been carried out. Clearly an execution, or an attempted one, but who coordinated the attack was a mystery. "Are you alright?"

James visibly bristles at her latest question and he tries to subtly scent her to figure out if she's some kind of shifter or a werewolf...but she smells human. Which could mean anything.

"Yes, of course. But the bullet was laced with silver or .. something."

It was the only other thing he could smell at the time of the attack. Blood and silver.

She didn't know that his law firm worked exclusively with the supernatural community and it's intersections with the human one in London - but not very many who didn't do business with them did.

"And...no. I don't think so." In an effort to keep himself from feeling too vunerable, James makes an attempt at humor. It's not a very good one, and he limply holds up the corner of the blanket wrapped around him. "They give these to you for a reason, don't they?"

Ringer was caught off guard by his pointed candor, surprise flashing across her expression before it returned to something more stoic and even. She considered his words. If he was certain that it was silver, the creature was almost certainly dead. Which left the possibilities of Memon working with the vampire to fake his death or conspiring to kill him. It was also possible the man was an innocent bystander, but that seemed less likely.

She gave a simple nod to acknowledge his remark about the blanket, making it unclear whether she understood the attempt at humor or not. In truth, she recognized the remark for the attempt at joking and for the honesty beneath it. "Are you hurt or is it psychological? Are you upset that he's dead?"

He was wondering when that would start. Ideally it'd be when he was being questioned by the police.

"The man was a deranged killer who wanted to destroy the very fabric of society as we know it."

He would hope that says volumes about how 'upset' he is that Alkaev is dead. Normally he might speak more plainly but right now his diplomatic tendencies are shot.

"Who the hell are you anyways?"

It's fair.

"My name's Ringer," the girl offered easily. In Hillingdon, she was sporadically known for being a good shot and a bit on the young side, though little else. Ringer doubted, thankfully, that she had a reputation elsewhere.

The hunter let a brief silence pass, glancing at the crowd that was now almost entirely under control. That was bad news for her. She didn't have much time, unless he granted it to her. The police would return shortly to begin taking his statement if they hadn't already, or to shoo her away from the traumatized victim. Either way. "I protect humans. I want to know who killed him, because it'll affect us."

"James." He offered back, though less easily by far. He was going to further the questioning when she fell quiet, but his typically quick mind was failing him today. He wasn't even going to try to keep up right now.

She filled in the blanks when she spoke up again.

"And you think I have an idea."

It's probably a lot worse than that, and he knows it. But he's hoping.

"I hope you do," she said carefully, following his train of thought. Either you have an idea or you might be responsible. Ringer really would prefer if the man had a lead on an entirely different third party rather than being responsible himself. It would make things easier for her and, as much as she hated to admit it, she felt like James was the kind of guy she might actually like in the long-term.

Naturally, being the least inconvenient moment, this was the moment a police officer chose to return to check in on James and return to questioning the man. He frowned at Ringer. "Ma'am, my apologies, but I'm afraid this area is off limits to the public. You'll need to return-."

"I'm his niece," she cut in, completely evenly. Ringer turned to look at James, silently asking if he was willing to help her help humanity or if this was the end of the line for the pesky teenager.

The officer set a hand on her shoulder, turning to look at James for either denial or confirmation of the information. "Sir? Is this true?"

There's a quick, yet heavy, pause between the officer asking James if it's true and his response. Like he's wondering whether or not this is worth his time trying to help her not accuse him of being in on it...

Right now, the East End Pack didn't need any other problems.

"Luckily for her, yes."

He smiles as best he can at the moment. Though it's lacking his usual charm and sleaze. It's like all the 'lawyer' has been squeezed out of him and he's just dry right now.

The officer actually buys it, and James feels less safe for it as he goes to do whatever it is police officers do. When he's out of earshot James turns on Ringer, a little of his usual shrewdness back in his eyes thanks to the deceit.

"So, niece."

Yeah you won't hear the end of that one, Ringer.

Ringer has to actively focus on not tensing with the officer's hand on her shoulder. There's a surprising flood of relief when James confirms it, though she waits until the officer has left to turn her attention to the solicitor again. Her lips twitch with the smallest hint of amusement at his words, feeling that they might be more alike than she would have guessed.

Her expression shifts ever-so-slightly from amused to solemn again, her voice dropping to ensure they're not overheard. "Do you know who's responsible for his death?"

James sighs with no small bit of relief as the officer goes on his way. He really didn't want to have to explain this if he had dug a little deeper.

He answers Ringer in the same tone, just under the ambient noise all around them.

"No. But I can guess."

He says it just as grimly, and it may become clear to Ringer that this goes much higher than either of them.

She understands the insinuations, but Ringer's never been one for unconfirmed suppositions and idle accusations. She prefers proof. And while James, the big shot and well known lawyer might be content to leave it there - or may actually be traumatized from the experience -, Ringer intends to follow the murder to its conclusions as best as she's able. Even of it means asking for help from other factions.

"Guess." At least it's a place to start, especially if their theories align.

"Well," he starts, looking around for any potential ears or eyes that might be listening to them.

"Who stood to lose the most if this vampire outed everyone he knew? Even if the public didn't believe him. There are much more aggressive hunters that follow the news. I can't imagine Millicent would have been too happy about that."

There. He said it. And looks like he's expecting another bullet in his general vicinity any moment now because of it. Sure he phrased it all to the point of speculation, but to him that's as good as shouting 'I KNOW WHO DID IT' at the top of his lungs.

Ringer, too, glances around after his words, in anticipation of retaliation. When it seems that nothing is miraculously appearing to smite the man, her attention returns to him. Millicent is definitely higher up and a force not to be trifled with. If their suspicions are correct, there's little that either would be able to do. On the other hand, it's probably better for others of her race: no retaliation.

"Why did you want to defend him in public court?" Public meaning human. The man was fairly obviously guilty and his death was no loss, but Ringer was intimately familiar with the supernatural community's tendency to do what they wanted with little thought given to the consequences in the human world.

"I didn't want to." James practically spits it. Why did everyone think he raised his hand for this case? It was torture prepping for this. The bastard kept changing his statements just to make James' life miserable.

"His kills were crime scenes. The actual London Police caught him. And only because he let them."

From James' understanding of it - the man had been bored. Wanted to go public and tell the world. Something James had thought he encouraged him away from. But apparently, Millicent didn't agree with that.

"He let them?" Ringer echoes, asking for an elaboration. She assumed that he'd been caught like the same way as the vast majority of other serial killers, because they escalate to a point of screwing up. The idea that the vampire allowed himself to be caught doesn't make sense. Unless it's the scene he wanted, the attention. "Why did he want the media's attention?"

She glances back as an officer crosses some distance from them and pauses, just to be safe, as she takes a half step closer to James. Once the officer is clearly on his way, proving his disinterest in them, she returns her attention to the alleged victim. "Were you assigned to this case?"

James shrugs his shoulders, bothered that he doesn't know the answer to that.

"I don't know. Because he's sick, because he was bored because it's the next step and he just wanted to move us all along at his pace? - there isn't any way you can know why."

Not with his brains still splattered all over the place. James watches the officer with her and at her question, can't help studying Ringer - as if he can spot where she's going with this line of inquiry.

"Yes...?"

A serial killer wanting media attention is hardly unheard of, especially one whose gotten bored. Still, something about the situation bothers her. Ringer feels like she's missing a large piece of the puzzle that would clarify the image she's trying to piece together. James, as willing as he is to answer her questions and assuming he's being honest, seems to lack the information she's looking for, or is simply careful not to share it.

"Did you know he wanted to go public with other names?" It's not entirely a long shot to think that James might have tipped off someone of higher power, like Millicent, if he was worried about the news getting out. Although his personal stake in the matter is still an unknown element. "Are you a vampire?"

That gets a startled laugh out him, one that throws his head back with the sudden appearance of the amusement. Him - a vampire?

He doesn't keep it up though and only responds with a smile and a gentle, "No."

And - after he thinks about it. "And no to the first one."

She wonders how James could guess at Millicent being responsible if he has no idea that the vampire was about to out his fellow creatures. It's not unreasonable to theorize the end as a possible result of the vampire's wanting media attention, especially if the deranged killer was bored. Something about it still nags at her, but Ringer can't ask about what she doesn't know. Until she finds another piece, the situation will remain a blur.

His amusement suggests a negative history with vampires. Again, she considers how alike they might be. Again, she dismisses the notion and focuses on her distrust of the man before her, who might very well be responsible for the death of a serial killer. If he is, murderer or vigilante? Does it matter?

"Who assigned you to the case?" She asks distractedly as she pulls a receipt for a tea and a pen from her pocket, jotting her mobile number onto the paper. After a moment's hesitation, she returns the pen to her back pocket and offers him the paper. "If you learn something worth sharing."

"My boss," he tells her. Still just as dry as his laugh was before.

He takes the paper and turns it over to look at the number before folding it into his pocket.

"I'll keep you in mind," he promises. Though whether or not he'll hold to it is... dicey at best.

"Who's your boss?" She asks with a hint of frustration. Of course she can do the research online, but it would be a lot easier if the man would help her along a little, specifically with the information she might not be able to find online. Not that she expects it really. He's already proven himself less than keen on elaborating.

At the latter, she gives a small nod of acknowledgment and leaves it at that.

"The owner of my law firm?"

He isn't sure what she's trying to get at here. Either that or he was willfully edging around answering her.

Ringer's expression tightens as she stares at him for a moment. Either he's not thinking clearly or he's playing the same game of chess that she is. Right now, she can't be certain. Whatever the case, she feels like she's gotten all that she can for now, before doing more research. That's really the best she can ask for. At least he talked to her.

"Do you have any questions for me before I leave?" It only seems fair.

"No," he sighs, weary and either hamming up the trauma of this day's events or truly just beyond thinking correctly.

It's hard to say which, which could be in James' favor without him even meaning it to be.

Suddenly, he perks up and there's a hint of his true personality shining through as he speaks up. That of a little shit.

"Actually. Just one. Are you going to be paying me another one of these visits any time soon?"

Ringer nods, glancing around for a moment. She's about to turn and walk off when she notices the change in him and looks at him again. Her lips twitch with the hint of a smile at his question, wondering if this is James or the facade of the solicitor.

"I don't know," she answers honestly. "Only if I have a reason to."

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James and the Terrible, No Good, Rotten Day (OPEN)

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