undergrounds | GUARDIANS GONE WILD [ Active/ Open ]

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GUARDIANS GONE WILD [ Active/ Open ]

i) The Build up [ Locked to Faolan ]

It was a normal enough Monday for Lancelot. Or, it had been. He'd gotten up, gone to work, caught up on things he'd missed, answered some emails, dealt with a minor fracas near the station when someone turned suddenly to jump lanes after realising they were in the wrong one and scraped another person's car.

He'd not even been home that long when the door went, still half sipping water to try and calm a headache threatening again and playing with Lily. It isn't really late, truth be told, but part of him really just wants to grab something to eat and relax. Whenever his doorbell goes it rarely results in him relaxing.

Lancelot sips a little more water, the doorbell goes again.

Defeated he sighs, recaps the bottle he was drinking from and accompanies Lily to the door.

When he opens it his expression does something complicated, a flip from 'oh' to 'ah' to 'hang on, why are you here?'

"Faolan?" he manages, and inwardly hopes this isn't about to begin another round of Faolan angrily beginning a tirade followed by Lancelot's headache worsening and furniture moving.

ii) The Jail Bird

In truth, Lancelot isn't exactly worried. He isn't exactly worried because he hasn't done anything wrong. He knows he hasn't. He has a lot of witnesses who'd testify he was, in fact, at work or shopping or some-such rather than wherever he was meant to be murdering people.

The problem is the fact that people have, equally, given an exact description of him doing these things.

Magic.

It's the only answer, and Lancelot knows less than he'd like about magic.

He certainly doesn't know about any sort of magic that would somehow enable a person to look like him and do this, nor does he know why anyone would. To discredit him? Or Daybreak? Or the Night Council? There's no shortage of options, but that's hardly a reassuring thought.

Luckily he gets the impression Sylvia is fairly sure he isn't lying, but equally she isn't just letting him out. He might not be lying, but -- unsettling as it is -- that isn't proof he hasn't done something awful unwilling.

So here he is, Lancelot -- Metropolitan Police Office and Guardian for the Night Council. In jail. He wishes he at least had something to pass the time while he waits it out. After all, surely someone will catch the true culprit soon? Surely they will find evidence it isn't him?

He's mentally in the middle of making a list of things to consider, people he may have upset, factions who might dislike him etc when he hears someone approaching. Lancelot himself is a little tired and dishevelled but he perks up at the sound of footsteps, inwardly hoping for news, and stands to approach the bars of his cell.

iii) The Free Bird [ Pick a location to meet the fae! ]

The fact that Lancelot was a reasonably harmless, friendly sort of person makes the fae's job a whole lot easier.

Few people were rarely scared of Lancelot, and few suspected him of anything sinister. He had plenty of friends in and out of the supernatural community, and although that did mean suspicion raised quickly once it began work it also meant that people were loathe to believe the rumours.

If anything, it was beginning to wonder why it hadn't done this before.

The fae's glamour was perfect. It looked like Lancelot, its voice was Lancelot's voice and its smile was his smile. It was missing his dog, but it always had a reason if anyone asked. It helped that Lancelot always had an aura of fae magic about him too, which meant that the fae's own magic did not seem out of place to those who could sense it.

Things are a little trickier once the real Lancelot is arrested, of course, but that's neither here nor there. It can brazenly tell people that -- oh, no no! It wasn't him who was arrested! There's a fae about, you see, that's made itself look like him. Good job they caught it!

It's trickier with people who know Lancelot well, but an easy smile often disarms them quickly.

When that doesn't work, there's always a little good old fashioned violence to escape.

iv) The Chase [ Late on Wednesday onward ]

Lancelot is entirely glad to be out of jail, but entirely less glad that the thing is still out there causing trouble.

Still, he's a Guardian -- thankfully he hasn't been fired. Which means it's his job to keep the peace, and he absolutely intends to keep the peace by stopping the creature pretending to be him.

He arms himself, dresses casually with a stab vest hidden under his shirt and begins to try and track it down.

The problem now, however, as much as the fae itself is the people who met it. It's done all sorts of violent, awkward and incredibly strange things in his name -- including starting a tab at a few places. Lancelot secrets away a silver knife as he picks his way through the streets. His headaches have begun to slowly clear, at least, and now that he finally understands what they are it helps. If he can sense magic, then maybe he can sense the fae before he sees it. Maybe that will help him track it.

Which means he's so focused on trying to sense things (which, unfortunately for him, he isn't very good at yet) that he nearly bumps into someone in the narrow alleyway -- lifts his hands quickly in supplication just in case they're angry about it.

"Ah -- forgive me, please, I was miles away."

[ ooc; Plot details here if you missed it! ]

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It'd been a relatively normal day for Faolan as well. He'd been sitting in the main room of Hillingdon House doing some catching up on his work and not really paying the rest of the folk in the place much mind, idly listening in as they'd chatted to each other about the various news on the underground. He might have even missed it if he hadn't finished his most recent cup of coffee and had been making the move to get another. A murderer, they say. Rogue fae. But as their description pans out, a sinking feeling settles in Faolan's chest. He'd recognize a man like that. Hell, he knows where such a man lives. And Lancelot isn't exactly quiet about who he is. He's half willing to bet that someone else might reach the same conclusion.

He heads off almost immediately towards Lancelot's. He has to check in with him. He has to warn him about the bounty. How, if it isn't a match, he's close enough to the description for there to be concern. It couldn't possibly be him that they're looking for. ...could it?

He doesn't care how many times he has to ring the bell. He'll let himself in if he has to. Once again he's reached the other man's door without calling him. He thinks about calling him now, if he keeps ignoring him like this. Maybe he's working? But no. Faolan's stuck around him long enough to have his schedule somewhat memorized at this point. He should be here...

He lets out a breath as the door finally opens and Lancelot warily peers out at him. Faolan glances behind him as if searching to see if he's been followed before slipping in the door. Without having been invited, it should be noted -- usually he at least waits for that much. There's no time now, however, and he's not about to give Lancelot the opportunity to shut the door in his face. (Not that he expects he will, but there's a first time for everything.)

"I need to talk to you," he says.

He blinks in surprise as Faolan forces his way past, grabbing out for Lily's collar to keep her close and closing the door to keep out the cold.

Well, this is... different. It certainly seems like it isn't going to help his headache.

Letting Lily free he paces through, uncapping his water slowly as he takes in Faolan's demeanour and taking a sip.

"Well, I'm listening. What's wrong?"

Is Faolan in trouble? He's nerves and hasty behaviour certainly points toward that. Nothing big, Lancelot hopes. He's not so sure how much leverage he has if Faolan gets in deep. The Night Council's laws and the Guardian oath can be restrictive.

Faolan doesn't miss the way that the other man seems to be steeling himself for...well, him, and he winces at that. He glances towards the door and then back again, hesitant for a moment, at contrast with his brashness seconds earlier.

"Sorry," he says, awkwardly. Not knowing quite how to explain that he didn't want to give the other man the choice to refuse this conversation, so just dropping it after another moment. "Something's come up. There's a bounty out, and I think you should know about it." He pauses for a moment, noticing the way the other man's sipping his water at him, and winces further. He really has to make a note to call ahead of himself next time.

"How's your head?" he derails for a moment. Figuring he should probably gauge that much before he continues further.

"Sore, but not as bad as before. I don't think I'm about to black out any time soon, if that's what you mean."

He sips more water, frowning a little at Faolan's hesitation. What might make Faolan behave this way? So awkward, looking over his shoulder? Something suddenly occurs to Lancelot and he pauses, eyes widening a little.

"Tell me this bounty isn't on you?"

Not blacking out is good, Faolan thinks to himself. He would say that he could do without that level of stress, but then he's got other things on his mind adding to his stress levels here instead. At Lancelot's question and the widening of his eyes, Faolan almost wants to laugh. Almost.

"No," he says, reaching up to run a hand through his hair, trying to figure out the best way to go about this. "No, not on me. Not this time, at least," he adds, quirking a wry expression for a moment before he turns to the other man, his expression as keen and earnest as it ever gets. "I've got a bad feeling that it might be out on you though."

Lancelot's relieved at first (not a bounty on Faolan at least, that's one good thing!) but then -- then the rest of what the man said filters through and he blinks, trying to process. A bounty on --

"Me?" he prompts. "Good lord, whatever for?"

As far as he knows, he hasn't done anything warranting a bounty.

Faolan shakes his head. This is going to sound crazy to the other man. It sounds crazy to Faolan himself, but he had made the connection to Lancelot, and he's willing to bet he's not the only one in the city who has too.

"Murder," he replies. "There's a bounty for what's being described as a rogue fae. There've been at least three deaths already, that I've heard of at least, that they can connect back to this guy. But Lancelot." He shakes his head again.

"I don't know why, but the description of the guy. It's you. I don't know whether someone's framing you for something, or. Whether this bounty has been a setup. But there's too much of a similarity for it to be a coincidence."

For a moment Lancelot is quiet, turning over the information in his head. Three deaths, by a rogue fae, that fits his description. His head throbs at the simple thought of it.

"But that's not possible. For one thing I am not fae -- although, well."

He exudes fae magic, he knows that. Perhaps it is an easy mistake to make. Yet if the bounty was fixed to him surely they'd realise he wasn't fae? That he is not the sort of person to do that kind of thing?

"I --"

There's a heavy knock at the door and Lancelot flinches away slightly, reaches out for Lily who barks in response. His eyes flit to Faolan's uneasily. Open up! comes the command, and all Lancelot can think is that he wishes Faolan hadn't come inside already. He lets out a slow breath, eyes moving between the door and Faolan before holding out his hands.

"I have some cable ties in the kitchen drawer. Dig them out, put them around my wrists. Tell them you were here to arrest me and they won't throw suspicion on you too."

Faolan is torn. Part of him wants to fight whoever it is outside. Buy Lancelot some time. But a bounty hunter wouldn't be knocking at the door like that. A bounty hunter wouldn't announce their presence in such a way. Which can only mean one thing... That the Night Council has caught wind of the rumor as well.

He glances between the door and Lancelot again, and looks as though he wants to argue against the idea Lancelot is proposing. But he moves at the last moment to run for the kitchen and grabs the cable ties out of the drawer, heading back to Lancelot and quickly slipping them on. "I'm going to figure this out," he promises the other man quietly. "I know it wasn't you."

He nods once, flinching slightly as the cable ties pull tight around his wrists.

"Not that I remember," he says quietly, and there's a hint of nerves as he catches Faolan's eyes before the door is banged on again. Lancelot tilts his head toward it, begins to move in that direction and waits for Faolan to open it.

After all, if he's a prisoner he shouldn't be answering his own door.

--

The escort back to Westminster is awkward. The pat down is awkward. His headache is flaring again and there's a grating, visceral sense of shame from the way people look at him. He knows what they're thinking, after all. Lancelot, of all people! Arrested! It's unexpected. Probably good gossip.

He's left in a holding cell with his own thoughts, absently realising he never had a chance to eat and that someone needs to take care of Lily.

It takes a while for Faolan to be able to get through to Lancelot, after essentially being the man to turn him in. There's questioning of him, questioning of what he'd been doing there, although Lancelot's quick thinking with the cable ties seems to have done the job, as well as Faolan's quick thinking on his feet. He tells them the honest truth when they ask it of him, though. It wasn't Lancelot. He knows it wasn't. The man's been ill lately and besides, he's with the police and a Guardian, and no doubt he even shies from killing spiders let alone human beings.

For all the good it does him.

What seems like days later but really may have only been the span of a few hours, Faolan is finally told that he's allowed to see him. He rises from the table as Lancelot is led through into the interrogation room and seated across from him, only speaking once the doors have closed behind him.

"Are you okay?" he asks, as he folds himself back into the seat opposite Lancelot. He knows he probably doesn't have a lot of time here, but it's the logical first question to ask, after taking a look at the other man's face. Even when the obvious answer is no.

Lancelot flops down into his own chair in exhaustion, eyes flicking up to Faolan for little more than second before he darts them away again.

"Hungry," he offers. "Hadn't had a chance to eat anything before all this. Tired. Embarrassed."

He lofts an eyebrow, hesitates a second longer before leaning back in his chair with a sigh.

"Will you take care of Lily for me? I understand if -- well, I know not all places allow animals. You can just drop in and feed her if it's easier, I just -- she will not understand. She isn't used to being left alone for too long."

Faolan gazes across at the other man, observing him as he explains himself. He certainly looks tired. There's not a whole lot Faolan can do about any of it either, although Lily. With Lily, at least, there is hope.

He offers a nod. "I'll do what I can, though I know that I'm not you. No doubt she'll need a moment to get used the idea of that." He pauses for a moment, trying to think of what to ask, of what to say. Knowing that he won't have forever to do so.

"What have they told you?" he asks. It's probably much the same as Faolan's been told himself, but he wants to know. Wants to make sure that they're all on the same page here. That Lancelot isn't preparing himself for an eternal stay in this place -- he's innocent. They're going to let him out. They just have to prove as much.

"That someone with my face has been going around murdering people. They've pulled some camera footage and, surprisingly, it does appear to be me."

He sighs, drops his head and runs fingers through his hair.

"Everyone else is as surprised as I am, so they're... holding me to... run some tests."

Lancelot pauses a moment there, uncomfortable, then drops his arms to fold on the desk -- eyes darted away to the side.

"To see if someone... has done something. Cast a spell, gotten into my head. Done.... Something to control me."

Faolan nods. At least they're surprised. At least they're still treating it with suspicion. They haven't convinced themselves he's guilty yet, and that counts for a lot, he knows.

He frowns as Lancelot mentions the tests, however. The idea of the tests. What does that mean? What are they going to do to him? He doesn't ask, not sure that even Lancelot himself will know, but he doesn't like the sound of it. Doesn't like the sound of the idea of someone taking over or controlling the other man either.

"Have you told them about the headaches?" he asks. Maybe it's got something to do with them. Maybe it hasn't anything in common at all. But they're suspicious regardless, and as far as Faolan knows, they're still bothering the other man. He wonders...

Lancelot hesitates at that, wets his lips nervously before nodding.

"I have. They're definitely... magical in nature."

Which is what he suspected, yet in the face of all this it's suddenly unnerving. What if they are a sign something has been done to him? What if it's too late to undo it? Maybe Faolan was right. Maybe he should have done something sooner, not ignored them.

Faolan can tell that the other man is nervous, and he doesn't want to upset him further. He frowns in response to the admittance, sitting forward and lacing his fingers together on the table, to keep them in place. To appear better collected, for the other man's benefit. However startled and confused he may be himself, it's nothing next to what Lancelot is feeling.

"We'll get to the bottom of all of this," he says, glancing across the table at the other man. "Whatever's happening, you're not responsible. They'll realize that, alright?" He's doing the best he can to be reassuring, when there is so much unknown to this.

He takes a breath, letting it out slowly, quietly. "I'll look into it too. Either on Sylvia's orders or on my own, through Hillingdon," he says. "I just have to know... Is there anything strange you can remember, in the past few weeks? Your headaches. Did you ever black out? Lose any time from them?" He studies the other man carefully.

He shifts uncomfortably at that, because the more people question Lancelot the more uneasy he becomes. The more he doubts himself, wonders if he has missed something.

"The headaches were already strange. I did not... lose time consciously, during the day, but I did sleep more. It did not seem like I was doing anything unusual in my sleep but -- then again I do not know how such a thing would be, how it would work. I do not know what I should or should not have noticed."

Faolan leans forward, leaning his elbows on the table before him, steepling his fingers over his mouth in thought. "If... They determine the time that these crimes were committed, check it against where you were at those times. Something else has to be going on here. It can't be..."

He glances to the other man, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, biting his lip before he continues his thought. "I was there with you, that one time. When your headache got so bad that you couldn't even see. And you certainly weren't about to go off and kill anyone in your sleep then." He'd sat with him as he'd slept, after all. A fact he's still rather embarrassed to point out, but if it will help Lancelot's case? Then of course he will.

"You were there with me once, this may have all happened after. We cannot be sure."

Lancelot sighs, feeling a little tired by it all, and shakes his head.

"If you can find out the alleged times of death I can tell you where I think I was, which is a start I suppose. Hopefully Sylvia's tests clear me, and then we can work out where to go from there."

Faolan frowns slightly, his face lined with concern as he watches the other man. But he's right though, they can't be sure. Not without more to go on. And he hates that.

Of course, it's only going to make him work harder to get to the bottom of it all. "I'll look into it," he says. "There may be more out there than the Night Council has caught wind of. Hunters can be... Insular, with their information. And since there's a bounty out..."

He glances across at Lancelot. "This arrest... Might not be such a bad thing after all. At least you'll be safe in here."

At least you'll be safe here.

Lancelot knows, in truth, what Faolan is saying. All the same he doesn't like it. Doesn't like the idea of it. Doesn't like the idea he might be unwittingly guilty. Doesn't like the idea of being impersonated. Any of it. He lowers his eyes again, uneasy, and nods fractionally.

"Be careful," he adds, "do not endanger yourself on my account."

"I'll be careful," Faolan reassures him. He can't promise not to endanger himself, on the other hand. Just stepping out the door in search of the answer to this might put him in harm's way. Just crossing the road. He can't sit back and do nothing while they hold Lancelot in prison for something he knows that the other man did not do.

"And you," Faolan says, sitting forward in his chair, regarding the other man carefully. "Do not blame yourself for this. Whatever has happened, you are not to blame. They will see. Alright?"

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GUARDIANS GONE WILD [ Active/ Open ]

THE BUILD UP

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