undergrounds | CROYDON 2: CROYDON HARDER

Entry tags:

CROYDON 2: CROYDON HARDER

January 7th-14th: Once the purge really gets going, it's pretty obvious that Croydon's being targeted disproportionately. It's less of a surprise than some might like; the area's a source of numerous bruised egos - Eames' included - but more than that, every side involved clearly wants to put this to bed. Daybreak, unfortunately, has a lot more backing and more official channels to go through to get the upper hand. Numerous people are taken in by the Night Council on whatever charges of using dark magic can be used against them, and it leaves a not insignificant dent in their power. Clever, one might suppose, reduce the numbers before Daybreak - Norrell, let's all be honest here - send the bodies in to take the area. Eames has the fae on his side and the people in his employ do what they can to undermine this though. Moving people out of the area quickly and under the noses of the Council guardians sweeping the area, goods hidden, the odd person stored away safely in Faery. More than anything, it's a move of solidarity with those living here. A gentle suggestion that those witches, fae, metas, etc. in the area can trust him and his to look after them.

January 15th: This is a losing fight, and Eames makes it clear no one is obligated to join in before things start. There's too many extenuating circumstances to have a hope of keeping their hands on Croydon. Still. Eames is too frustrated with the current state of affairs to let it go easily, and he amasses a small militia of the like-minded. They may not be able to keep Croydon, but they can make it difficult as hell to take. The plan is simple: In the early hours of the morning, before the sun has risen, they'll attack. The intent was to avoid bloodshed last time, but this time the intent is clearly to kill as many as possible. By the evening they'll have withdrawn, and Norrell can have fun explaining to the families of the deceased that they died for a shithole like Croydon.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Maybe it's awful timing that Arthur finds them like this. He doesn't want to have to be the one to step in between Eames and the man he so desperately wants dead, but as soon as Arthur sees the man who can only be Gilbert Norrell pinned against the wall, he takes his gun out of its holster and jogs toward them.

"Eames!" he shouts, gun raised but not pointed at Norrell's face just yet. "Eames, put him down!"

Is this a joke. Is his entire life a joke. Eames makes a face like a teenager in their rebellious phase who's parents have just walked in. If he rolled his eyes any more powerfully it could probably cause a hurricane.

"I'm a little busy right now, Arthur," he calls back over his shoulder, totally pretending he didn't hear what Arthur said.

Norrell begins to squirm harder at the sound of Arthur's voice, at the sight of him coming closer.

"Childermass!!," he screams suddenly, and tries to free himself of Eames' grasp. "I am a member of the Night Council! You cannot treat me like this! Childermass!!"

"Shut the fuck up!" Arthur shouts, in a commanding tone, raising his gun a little higher. He fixes Norrell with a hard stare for a moment before he glances back at Eames. He's a few feet away over Eames' left shoulder, careful to watch Norrell's hands in case he goes for a wand or starts to do some sort of spell.

"Killing him's just gonna make it worse," he tells Eames. "Knock him out if you have to but don't kill him."

At the same time as Arthur shouts, Eames also takes the liberty of pushing Norrell against the wall again. It's just not a good time to be him. Especially with Eames considering what Arthur's saying, but he doesn't look like he's sold on it.

"I honestly feel like the longterm benefits outweigh the consequences," he glances over his shoulder at Arthur and then back at Norrell, "for starters this weasely little man won't be around anymore."

"You know Redbright will just replace him with someone else just as bad if not worse, and they'll use this as an excuse to push you out further. This would only be a half measure and the backlash could make all of it pointless."

Arthur's voice and hands are steady, and it's not just an act. This is a far less threatening situation than many others he's faced, and even though he knows Norrell must have some magic power to back up all his grandstanding, he's pretty confident in his ability to act quicker than the quivering man in front of him.

"Just don't kill him. It's not worth it."

Eames tilts his head at Norrell, considering this wimpy man for a moment while he thinks on the situation. Arthur's right and he hates it, because it'd be so simple to just kill the man now. But just offing him in an alley? That'd just further Redbright's crusade.

"You're right," Eames finally answers after a long moment of deliberation, "I shouldn't kill him."

Maybe rough him up a little (or a lot) before sending him on his way, that'd be fine right? After all, it's not murder.

Norrell knows that tone, and it is a tone that has a but in it.

He doesn't want to find out what that 'but' might mean. He squirms to try and get free again, shoving at Eames shooting a desperate glance at Arthur.

"You cannot do this! You cannot let him do this! Help! Childermass!"

Surely someone will hear him eventually? Oh, but he does not want to see him this way! The conflict is a painful one, pride versus fear.

Edited 2016-01-27 01:29 (UTC)

Childermass had indeed paused to discuss something with the driver, something about Mr Norrell's security, which he would have ensured if Mr Norrell had not wandered off on his own as he had. Childermass had been wary of the other man's disappearance but had not thought too much of it. At least not until the shouting had started. Screaming, he should say. In distress. Of his name.

He breaks into a run in the direction of Norrell's voice, and as he rounds the corner, the first thing he sees is the gun, armed and raised towards the other man. So he acts without thinking. Throwing a hand out towards the gun and pushing his magic through towards it as well, grabbing it and pulling it up and away from Mr Norrell, and out of the other man's hand if he doesn't have a good enough grip on it.

"You will let him go!" he growls at Norrell's two attackers.

Arthur's thrown enough by the sensation of his gun being pulled out of his hand that he lets go, and he knows better than to grasp at it. Instead, he turns to look at Childermass, and there's a hint of recognition as he pulls out a knife and holds it up toward him.

"Okay," he says, a little more urgently, "now it is really time to go."

Eames lets out the most exasperated of sighs, barely paying attention to Childermass' arrival beyond how annoying it is.

"Sure you don't want to stick around?" He says over his shoulder, "see who else fancies dropping by?"

Two witches with this much power is more than Eames is really up for dealing with after such a taxing day though. Childermass is clearly more combat-able, and having him around might bolster Norrell some. Best let him go while he's still too rattled to think offensively.

"Alright then," Eames fixes Norrell's collar and takes a step back, hands toward his manservant like a waiter showing someone to their table, "off you pop."

Norrell slides his way along the wall and scurries to Childermass' side as soon as he's released, eyes wide for a moment until -- buoyed by the minor victory -- his face paints into a scowl of fury.

"You will pay for this insult!" he declares, while at the same time mentally calculating how quickly he could cover up the evidence. If there is one thing Norrell dislikes above all else it is scandal, and being associated with any form of it. He cannot be seen in this state, so much as he could claim he won a battle. He cannot be seen to have been brawling.

Now that Childermass has a moment to look at the two attackers, he recognizes them each in turn. He is not fool enough to let his guard down, nor is he fool enough to really ask for a fight with either of them, especially not the fae, coming off of the loss of a territory like this. He has to wonder whether they are allied. They must be, finding them together like this.

He glances aside to make sure that Norrell is alright, but there seems no harm done if he's already yelling like he is. "Mr Norrell," he says, firmly, hoping that it might calm the man, for he knows well himself that the other man would not like to draw undue attention to the matter. He sweeps a hand aside suggesting that they should leave now, but it is not before he throws a glance at the two attackers besides.

"I do not know what it is you think that you were doing here, sirs," he says, roughly, his voice barely above a growl, "but if you do not make yourselves scarce as well then you will sincerely regret it."

Arthur glances at his gun on the ground, not willing to leave without it. He still has his knife pointed at Childermass, knowing he can throw it with decent accuracy, but the time it would take to pull back and then release it would open himself up for retaliation. He's not really looking to start a fight with these two - he's a human with a knife up against two powerful witches, he already knows how that will go.

Still, he's not leaving without that gun. Going for it would guarantee an attack on himself and maybe Eames as well, so he stays exactly where he is.

"I'm not going anywhere without my weapon. Give it back or leave first. Either way, you've already won this battle and we won't be coming back," he says firmly. Maybe speaking on Eames' behalf will keep him quiet. God knows the fae could get them both killed right now if he gives in to his more volatile instincts.

Eames has moved to the wall already, leaning side-on at the same spot he had Norrell pinned, arms crossed. He's not moving a damn foot out of here until they're gone, like hell is he turning his back on a witch.

"I won't attack while your back's turned," Eames amends, that and a gentle shooing motion should make his feelings on present matters clear enough, "you have my word."

He quiets, frowns over at the two attackers then at Childermass. He mislikes being silenced so, in truth, yet he would also quite like to leave himself as soon as possible.

"This will not be forgotten," he says finally, glowering at the two of them before leaving the way Childermass indicated, slowing a moment to wait for him before looking out another way through to where he needs to get to.

Childermass keeps his eye on the other man as he backs out of the alley after Norrell, for if he is being honest with himself, he does not trust the word of a fae any further than he might be able to throw him. But the gun stays where it is on the ground, as do the two men stay in their places in turn, and it is after a long and careful glance in their direction that he finally turns to sweep after the other man. He will know if they are being followed. And they can bet that he will not be nearly so lenient on them if they do.

Arthur waits a few seconds after the two witches are out of sight before he moves, only putting the knife away when the pistol is safely back in his hands. He never even took off the safety, but he inspects it quickly before he puts it back in its holster. Then, he looks over at Eames.

There isn't much to say - he wonders if Eames really would have killed him if Arthur hadn't intervened, and then what would have happened if Childermass interrupted him instead? Eames is strong, but not that strong. And he knew what he was getting into tonight - there was no way the fae could defeat Daybreak on this one.

"I think it's time to go home," he finally suggests, in a resigned way, like he's not trying to tell Eames what to do. "The night's over."

He probably would've, unless Norrell could think of something more useful than 'don't trust Midnight' to convince Eames not to do it.

"Yeah," Eames sighs and watches Norrell and Childermass walk away, waiting until he's certain they're gone before he pushes off the wall and starts walking, obviously tense with how mad he is, "let's go."

Arthur follows, jogging a couple steps to catch up. He doesn't say anything, already highly aware that Eames anger might turn on him at any moment. He doesn't know him well enough to judge whether or not that would happen and how bad it would be, but Eames has invited him to follow so he does. He's tense, still listening as they make their way down the street, ready for some kind of ambush even though the fighting's already over.

Eames is in the same mind, keeping a keen eye out for any danger that might come their way. Part of him would honestly relish the opportunity to throw down, something to work out all that tension, but a much bigger part of him just wants to go home and take a week off from this bullshit.

They continue in silence all the way to Eames' apartment, Arthur following until Eames tells him otherwise. He could use a beer after this, but Arthur's not going to presume that Eames is going to offer him anything.

He only sighs when he's inside. "I know you would have rathered I didn't interrupt you, but you have to know that killing him would have made things worse."

"Mm. And thank you for the reminding me." Despite the thickness of his sarcasm, Eames dutifully retrieves two beers and puts them on the counter in the kitchen. His shirt and jacket go in the trash too while he's at it.

What a shitty day. He puts his hands on the counter, leaning forward with a sigh. What bullshit.

Arthur looks away when Eames takes off his shirt, playing it off like his eyes are wandering around Eames' apartment. He picks up his beer and takes a sip before he continues.

"You just can't lose sight of the end goal here, and killing Norrell, like that, would have made it all harder."

Something in his brain tells him to stop pushing, but he's worried Eames will go out and sabotage the whole damn thing. Arthur may be a human, but he's worried about what will happen to the supernatural community if Daybreak stays on their trajectory. Eames is putting himself in a position of power against them, and if he takes a wrong step, it'll all crumble.

Eames' jaw clenches and it takes a lot for him not to snap at Arthur, hands gripping the edge of the counter just a little tighter.

"Yes, Arthur. I heard you the first time. And the second." He exhales sharply, "The third too."

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject