undergrounds | The Newcomer Affair

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The Newcomer Affair

i) The security
Redbright Institute, early January

Overall, he had no strong opinion of the woman in charge of the Redbright Institute. He had been sent to observe and carefully decide what he thought of everything. That was what he was to report to UNCLE. So superficial meetings? Weren't important. In a few months, he'd be more certain.

The school was interesting. Russia had their own, but they tended to be more segmented. After his father had been arrested, he'd attended one that could closely be called a military school. Still, it seemed like a proper way to educate young people able the abilities they were born with.

His job in and of itself was uneventful. He basically only had to stand in the hallways and make eye contact with the obvious troublemakers. Everyone else understood not to even try. With his fellow staff, he was just as quiet, but he didn't look at them like he was daring them to attempt making trouble. If anything, at times, he ignored them more often than not.

ii) The scout
Enfield, early January

Part of his real job was to monitor the situation in London as a whole. Which was why he found his way to the borough claimed by Circle Midnight.

On the outside, it looked no different than anything else in London. The supernatural community kept their heads down, and he approved.

Magic wasn't something he could sense, so he could do nothing but walk the streets, casually sipping a cup of coffee. It would take some time to gain access to the varying groups, but it was what he needed to do.

However, it had been easy enough to follow a trail of paperwork. Not that it hadn't been well done, plenty of proxies and the like. But with a computer and time (both of which he had and knew how to properly use), it could be traced.

Which was how he came to the Seven Sisters. A cute little psychic shop that was a front for the Shadow Coven. The outside was entirely unassuming, and he looked at it like a proper sceptic. Which was why it was easy enough to glance to the side, where someone else was.

"Have you ever been here?"

iii) The renter
Ealing, mid January

"I'm sorry, sir," the girl at the counter said. "That card isn't working."

Even though he knew that it was likely Waverly who had figured the budget incorrectly, Illya's first inclination was to blame Solo. To be sure it was the thief who'd somehow 'changed' where his funds were.

"Do you have another form of payment?"

"No," he replied, a bit more sharply than he meant to. "I'm sorry."

Even if he didn't sound like he meant it, he did.

But he stepped out of line and some distance away before he began texting on his phone, swearing under his breath in Russian.

iv) The observant
Westminster, mid January

The Night Council headquarters had a small, somewhat expensive little deli across from them. It was there that Illya sat, enjoying his light lunch. A bit of soup to keep the chill out, and a sandwich to fortify the meal further. For a drink, he had only ice water.

From his seat inside, he could see the building across the way. He watched the people come and go, made mental notes of who he saw talking to whom, and who seemed to be intentionally avoiding people. The game was ancient, but London was a different board, and he had little information about the players. Whatever files UNCLE could provide were useless for really knowing someone.

After all, there had been a lot his files hand't said about Miss Teller and Mister Solo.

All he could do now was watch and learn. His presence at the Institute would help, he thought. Establish him and let him learn about all of these people.

v) The watchful
Croydon, late January

Fae were disinclined to ignore insults. And from what he'd heard of the matters in this borough? The fae were no doubt thoroughly insulted. Which made the small victory gained recently an indication of danger to come. At least to him.

So, he walked the streets after dark with only a few days until the full moon. His nerves were frayed, and his senses were sharpened. Every corner threatened to have something dangerous around it. Of course, he also knew he was probably just as threatening to quite a few people.

But he heard something. A little hint of noise that certainly didn't come from a car or the like.

"Who's there? Show yourself."

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"FSB wouldn't carry identification to that effect," Illya said with a faint smile. "And if I wanted to hurt you, I would not still be standing here, talking."

"Fine." She still didn't trust him. But maybe she could follow him, see where he went and what he did. And she could ask around tomorrow, find out if anybody else knew about him and his supposed mission here.

She let go of the knife and drew her hand slowly out of her pocket, letting him see that she wasn't pulling a weapon on him. "You can put that away, then," she said, nodding towards his knife.

When she showed her hand, Illya nodded and folded his own blade back into its casing before he put it in his pocket and drew out his empty hand. Then, he asked the question he knew both of them had to be thinking.

"You're a wolf?"

Alex nodded. There was no point in lying about that, he could obviously smell what she was.

"So're you." It wasn't a question. She was confident in her assumption about him. It occurred to her that a werewolf openly working for an official branch of the Russian government was a bit unusual, especially since the FSB, as far as Alex knew, was mostly a counter-intelligence and counter-terrorism agency. Sending one of their agents overseas to deal with dark magic in the UK seemed strange.

"How'd you end up working for the government?" If he was lying, she hoped to catch him out, but if he was telling the truth, she was genuinely curious.

"Special branch of FSB. Like Night Council here. They recruited me when I was young."

It was strange to bring it up, but it was true. Besides, it wasn't the greatest secret of their government. Every government had their supernatural aspects or, at least, their supernatural counterparts.

"So you don't have a pack?" Alex had never met another wolf without a pack before. And while she had one now, for however long she was in London anyway, she'd spent six years on her own. Maybe this guy knew what that was like.

"My division is my pack."

They're not all werewolves, but, to him, it's the same thing. He owes his allegiance to his handler. Which is as good as owing it to an alpha.

"But I do not spend much time with them, no."

She nodded. That still sounded lonely, and she felt a little pang of sympathy for him before reminding herself that he might be under orders to kill her.

There was nothing more she wanted to say or ask. If he was telling the truth, there wasn't much else to know, and if he was lying he would just keep lying. But she was going to follow him, or at least try to. Where he went and what he did after this would hopefully either confirm his story or make it obvious that he really was here for her.

She craned her neck up to look him in the eye, silently challenging him to a fight if he didn't stand aside. "Are you gonna let me by?"

"Take care of yourself," he said.

It was all he offered, but it was sincere enough, quietly as he gave it. Without anything else, he took a few steps away from the alley. Then, he turned away and headed back down the street.

His words, and the apparent sincerity behind them, was unexpected. Alex frowned up at him before nodding once to acknowledge what he'd said without really responding, since she wasn't sure what to make of it. It was a bizarrely kind thing to say, even if he wasn't here to kill her.

Once he stepped aside, she walked past him and turned in the direction she thought he'd come from, trying to lose herself in the shadows before turning around to follow him. She was fairly stealthy, and she knew to keep her distance. She'd stay with him until he reached a destination or until he realized she was there.

For about ten minutes, he let her follow. Altered his path, actually, because he did know she was behind him. Yet, he also paid attention to how she did it. Her step was light, and she concealed herself well. She was very, very good at what she did.

He had simply had more time learning to be a soldier, tracker, and spy.

Finally, he paused at a stop light across the street from a small diner that boasted it was open all night. Then, he glanced back toward where he could approximate her as being, and said, "It's cold out. Would you like a warm meal?"

Alex froze when he looked back, instinctively drawing closer to the nearest wall despite knowing she'd already been made. She really wasn't expecting an offer of food.

He hadn't tried to conceal his weapon from her, he'd been patient with all her questions, and now he didn't even seem upset that she'd been tailing him. None of that made him seem like the kind of guy who would spring a surprise attack over late-night pancakes. She didn't know what he wanted, but for now she was willing to assume it wasn't her immediate death.

"Fine," she said tentatively, stepping out of the shadows and moving towards the diner.

Illya waited until she was closer, falling into step with her before opening the door to the diner, ushering her in first.

"You're very good," he murmured. "Tracking. Concealing."

And it was a sincere enough compliment. She was good. More than just a natural hunting instinct. But he wouldn't press that point yet. Instead, he would wait. Let her eat a bit. Talk a small amount first.

Alex walked through the door ahead of him, but glanced back to make sure he wasn't taking the opportunity to do anything to her while her back was to him.

"I have to be. Like you said, I have many enemies." She had no intention of telling him who those enemies were, but there didn't seem to be any point in denying their existence.

There was probably a back way out through the kitchen, so she pointed towards a booth near it that wasn't readily visible from the front door. She didn't think anyone else had been following them, and they were unlikely to be randomly attacked here, but it was a habit to sit out of view and near an exit.

Edited 2016-01-17 21:08 (UTC)

"What considerations do you make when you follow someone?" he asked.

It was, honestly, just a question. One he didn't ask until he'd ordered from the waitress and indicated there'd be only one tab.

The girl had promise and if she was without a pack... Well. He knew some did it, but it always struck him as being against the nature of their kind. It, at the very least, made things difficult. He didn't know her; she didn't know him. If she didn't want his advice, he'd cease to offer it. But, well, as things stood?

There was no harm in offering it.

Alex ordered and then leaned back, frowning at him. She wasn't totally sure what to make of someone who caught her following him and then wanted to have a chit-chat about surveillance techniques.

"I try to keep my distance, maybe half a block depending on how crowded the street is. Stick to the shadows, unless the target doesn't know me, then I just try to look casual. Stay quiet, keep as much cover between me and them as possible."

She resisted the urge to fidget with the silverware, keeping her eyes on him. "How'd you notice me?"

"Wind direction," he murmured, giving her a bit of a smile. "And I know what to look for."

After all, he was involved with surveillance and counter-intelligence. It was his job to know if he was being followed and to follow others. He'd learned more than his share, and he was certainly older than her.

Alex grimaced. Right. Wind direction. She should have thought of that. While she was convinced of her own skill at surveillance, it was possible he might be able to teach her something. She didn't ask for help, though - that would be admitting a weakness - instead narrowing her eyes at him before asking, "So, are you buying me food out of the goodness of your heart, or was there something else you wanted?"

"You're in a foreign country without a pack." It's said with something close to sympathy. Not pity, no. Never that. But understanding.

"The least I can do is buy a meal."

She leaned back, folding her arms across her chest and just watching him for a moment. She still couldn't quite figure him out. Sympathy was rare, and understanding was even rarer.

"I just joined one, actually. It helps to have connections." She'd also fallen in with East End Pack because she'd been lonely, but wanting connections was the only motive she'd admit to.

"I've never had one before. It's, uh, it's different." That was a lie, but a very well-practiced one. Alex Udinov had had a pack for her first thirteen years, Alex Winslow was bitten and had been alone ever since. She'd spent months rehearsing the lies over and over again until they felt natural, until she almost believed them.

"The East End pack." Before she could be too alarmed by that statement, however, he continued. "They are the only active pack in London."

Lacking in leadership generally, but with a few candidates emerging. Whether or not they would be a threat would have to be seen later. They might fall into line, but they might also side with the other marginalised group in London. Which could be a very dangerous alliance.

"They should treat you well."

Alex was briefly worried, but covered it up quickly and nodded at his explanation. "So far they're fine," she said, trying to be noncommittal.

The waitress came with their food, and Alex took the brief moment when plates were being set in front of them to decide what to say or ask next. She didn't really want to pry into his past. Not that she wasn't curious, but if he was who he said he was, it wasn't really her business. Once the waitress was gone, she simply said to him, "Thank you. For the food."

Illya thanked the waitress without even thinking about it, defaulting to Russian. He realised it once it was out of his mouth and shook his head at himself. He'd thought he'd get a bit of time to go home. To see Moscow, however briefly. Other soldiers. Just a hint of something familiar.

But that hadn't worked out. Which was simply how life.

"You're welcome. I've found that a meal rarely goes amiss. Even with strangers."

Alex kept her face carefully blank, trying to pretend that she didn't understand any Russian. It was good to hear her native language again, though, even if it was just one word.

"I usually eat alone." She took a bite of the food and swallowed hurriedly before demanding, "You're here looking for dark magic, right? Have you found a lot of it?" She was trying to get a feel for the city, and knowing where the dark magic users were could be useful. Maybe one of them could help her figure out a way to kill Semak.

"Not a lot," he said. There wasn't much he could say on that front, but he also knew better than to attempt to be totally secretive. It was better to pick and choose what to hide. "But I have not been able to properly search Enfield."

It was no great secret, after all, that Circle Midnight had its base of operations there.

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