undergrounds | March open post

I. The Department Store [OPEN]
Waltham Forest, Morning

A relaxed morning in bed with a cup of tea had turned into a trip to the store to buy a new set of sheets. The mattress was dry now, at least, even if it would probably smell like tea forever, but she'd somehow managed to scrub a hole right through one of the sheets so she'd need a new set of those. The new sheets came with new pillowcases, and she decided she might as well get new blankets too, because her blankets had also fallen victim to the tea disaster, and before she knew it the three hundred pounds she had left in the world became less than two hundred and fifty.

Loaded down with new linens, she headed for the cafe and bought a sandwich and a cup of coffee, ruefully counting out her change. She was so preoccupied with that, hoping that maybe the barista had miscalculated and maybe coffee and a sandwich wasn't really that expensive, that she failed to notice when she nearly walked right into someone, only barely stopping herself spilling coffee all over them.

"I'm so sorry," she said quickly, immediately readjusting her grip on the coffee.

II. The Mansion [OPEN]
Westminster, Night

Alex needed the money. Badly. And it wasn't like she was robbing an orphanage or a bunch of nuns or something. She did research. The guy whose house she was breaking into in the middle of the night was filthy rich and not very nice, and if the contents of his safe happened to go missing, well, that sucked for him. Getting into the mansion was easy, and cracking the safe wasn't much harder. There was some cash and a small bag of diamonds, which she took, and a lot of papers, which she left.

Before tonight, she'd figured out how many guards there were, and had so, so carefully avoided all of them. So it came as a huge surprise when she heard a floorboard creak and whirled around to find a guard pointing his gun at her.

A short fight later, Alex was running full speed towards the outside fence. She'd been shot in the shoulder and her hands were slick with blood from digging the bullet out, which made climbing the fence a lot more difficult. Some other guard must have heard the gunshot, because as her hand finally gripped the top of the fence, all the outside lights turned on, lighting the yard up as bright as day. She felt someone grabbing at her ankle, kicked out as hard as she could, and hauled herself over the fence onto the sidewalk. She almost landed square on somebody's head.

III. The Bus Stop [OPEN]
City of London, Early Afternoon

The bus was late. This bus was always late, and Alex knew its exact schedule because Edith rode this bus every week. She had to buy cat food, and it had to be specialty cat food from a specialty store in the City. Alex hadn't believed that at first, because an 85 year old werewolf who was obsessed with cats didn't seem like it could possibly be real. And yet, here she was, carrying around a thirty pound bag of cat food for Edith for the third week in a row.

She didn't hate it as much as she thought she would have. Cleaning dentures was gross, and doing the dishes and laundry and changing beds was tedious. But helping the elderly members of the pack generally felt kind of... good. Which was a weird feeling.

Alex was snapped out of her reverie by someone barreling past her, snatching Edith's purse as he went. Alex did the first thing that came to mind: she hurled the bag of cat food at the thief. It hit him square in the back, broke, and sent its contents showering over a near passerby. She ran over, picked Edith's purse up, and kicked the thief onto his back. He was out cold.

"Are you okay?" she demanded of the passerby.

IV. The Diner [CLOSED to Illya] (backdated to a couple weeks ago)
Camden, Evening

Three weeks to the day that Illya made his deal, Alex waited for him in a small diner near the British Museum. She'd scraped together a few thousand pounds and had it converted to rubles, so she would be able to buy weapons and transportation once she got into Russia. She'd mapped Pinksy Forest, partially from memory and partially by bothering immigrants in Little Russia, and she had some ideas of where the pack's new den might be. All she needed was a way into the country, and Illya, she hoped, would have one for her.

She was too excited to eat. If this worked out, she might be only weeks or even days away from going... not home, exactly, Russia wasn't home anymore. Back to where she started. To finally get closure for everything that had happened to her in the past six years. But she ordered some eggs and sausage for the appearance and sat, picking at them while she watched the minutes tick away on her phone, waiting for him to show.

V. The Confrontation [CLOSED to Kyle] (backdated to late February)

After Lupercalia, Alex spent days worrying that she had ruined whatever relationship she had with Kyle and wondering whether it would be easier to simply pretend she had never met him and move on. But he was a hunter, or at least somehow involved with the supernatural. And even if he'd never directly lied to her, he'd concealed the truth, and in her eyes that was just as bad. She wanted an explanation. Before long, she had worked up enough anger to storm all the way to his place with every intention of confronting him.

There were no obvious signs of life there. Maybe he was out. She raised her hand to bang on the door when she remembered that even if Kyle was a liar, his aunt and uncle might be clueless and innocent, and she didn't want to get them involved. If they came to the door, she would have to exchange pleasantries and possibly pretend to be there for some innocuous reason when all she wanted to do was shout at Kyle.

Instead of knocking, she yanked out her phone and called him. If he didn't answer, then she'd knock.

VI. Choose Your Own Adventure! [OPEN]
Anywhere, Any Time

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Illya had gone through his various contacts and asked a few questions. They, thankfully, had asked only what they needed to know, and he'd answered only what was absolutely necessary. Now, however, he set a Russian passport in front of Alex before he slid into his seat.

"I am very sorry about your aunt," he said, "Miss Rostov. I hope the funeral, at least, is beautiful."

Very quiet, very calm. As if he were actually offering his sympathy, rather than explaining the cover story that went along with the passport.

Alex looked up sharply when the door opened, and grinned when she saw it was Illya. Very quickly, she composed her face into a more serious expression and slid the passport towards herself. She flipped through it quickly, admiring how legitimate it was, then put it carefully in her pocket.

"Thank you," she said, genuinely grateful. "Is there anything you'd like in return?" She assumed he'd expect something. People didn't tend to do this sort of thing for free.

"A comparable favour at a later date?" It was an honest suggestion. He wouldn't demand it, but there was nothing he really needed straight out. Much better to keep that favour in reserve.

"I hope you find what you're looking for."

She nodded. That was a fair trade. "Thank you."

She swirled her fork around her plate, reminding herself that she had to eat no matter how twisted into knots her stomach was. "Do you want dinner?" She looked up at him and raised her eyebrows. "My treat." Buying him something to eat seemed like the least she could do.

"Thank you."

He had no intention to eat much, but turning down the offer wasn't polite. It would be best to share a meal. After all, she needed someone looking after her. Something she'd very much disapprove of if she knew he thought it, Illya was sure, but it was still true.

Alex flagged a waiter down so Illya could order, then went back to picking at her own food.

"Have you done what you came here to do?" she asked quietly when they were alone. "Stamped out all the dark magic?" She might be leaving soon, but it wouldn't hurt to still keep tabs on the political situation in London.

Illya ordered a small meal then chuckled a bit at the question. He shook his head.

"My job is... much more observation. To keep an eye on it."

A bit more truthful than he'd given her first, but he wanted to tell her just a bit more. After all, he liked her. Young, fierce, and determined.

Alex raised an eyebrow at that. She poked at her food again before taking a bite of sausage. It struck her that he was being honest with her, which felt noteworthy for some reason. She didn't meet a lot of people like Illya - she wouldn't apply the word honorable to very many people, but it seemed to fit him.

"Have you observed it, then?" she asked with a small, wry smile.

"Some. I have a few to keep my eye on certainly."

He smiled faintly as he offered the words, pausing to take a few bites of his food when it arrived. The girl still struck him as so very young, even if she was capable.

Alex nodded in response. She chewed thoughtfully for a moment, then asked, "Who?"

Not she she really expected him to tell her, but she was curious, and she wasn't cautious enough to stop herself indulging that curiosity.

"Can I rely on your discretion?" he asks.

Whether he's being serious or kidding around with her is difficult to say. After all, he looks quite solemn. Save for the smallest quirk at the corner of his mouth that suggests that maybe he's having a bit of fun.

Alex takes him completely seriously. It doesn't even occur to her that he might be messing with her even a little.

"Yeah. Of course."

"I believe a few students at the Institute are dabbling. I... don't yet want to name names."

Just a small group, and he still wasn't sure whether they were likely to be trouble or not. He had some responsibility, yes, to Sylvia, but not a lot.

"You think they could get up to anything serious?" She's asking more out of curiosity than a real desire to do anything with the information, but it won't hurt to know.

"Right now? No. They are young and looking to rebel." His broad shoulders shrug. Teenagers being teenagers is hardly a concern of his, and they don't seem to mean anyone any harm. Which is why he hasn't reported them.

She nods, and goes back to picking at her food.

After a long moment, she asks, "Can I ask you a favor? If I don't come back, can you clear out my apartment?" It's a possibility that she has to account for, and strangely, she trusts Illya more than anyone to make sure it's done right. "There're things in there my landlord wouldn't understand."

A strange favor, but it's one he has someone back in Russia willing to do for his living space, scarce as he keeps it. There are things, after all, that need to be dealt with once someone is dead. So, calmly, he nods.

"How long should I wait?"

"I'll contact you when I leave. Wait a week after that." As insistent as she'd been that she couldn't wait a whole month, a lot has happened. There are things she wants to do before going.

She briefly wonders if she should ask him to deliver a message to James, or even Kyle, but it isn't really James' business if she goes off and dies in Russia, and Kyle... she's not sure they're even still friends.

After another pause, she says, "Thank you," and goes back to picking at her food.

A week is a relatively short time, but Illya nods all the same. He can always devise his own contingency plan that doesn't involve destroying or scattering all of her things. A storage unit or two under his care might do well.

"You're welcome," he replies before resuming to eat as well.

March open post

IV

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