[OPEN: PLOT] KIDNAPPED BY VAMPIRES?!

[reticence]

There aren’t many narrow, dark alleyways in Richmond -- but there are some.

Lancelot only needs to walk down one to get in trouble.

He’s cutting through between houses on his way back from Tesco. He hadn’t meant to be long, just needed some fresh milk and a loaf of bread for next week, so he’s only dressed in a light t-shirt and some cut-offs. The air is still warm even this late, and he’s distracted -- half tapping his phone awake every so often wondering if he should say something. Faolan doesn’t normally stand him up, but it has been difficult lately. Then again what if something happened? Should he check? He doesn’t want to be clingy, after all…

His senses prickle, telling him something is happening, and he barely gets enough time to turn around before something is being swung at him. There’s a soft clack as his phone hits the ground and skitters away into someone’s front garden, and bread and milk get dumped unceremoniously into someone’s bin before the vampires vanish away.

All the lights are on in his flat, music still softly cycling through his library, but anyone who hops the fence into his back garden will realise Lily is pacing the kitchen all alone.

*************************************

Faolan is a man dedicated to his job, dedicated to his cause, and dedicated to finding an answer when a challenge presents itself to him. Which is why, when confronted with the issue of what to do about Raymond, he finds himself struggling with the dilemma. Of course the vampire is a maniac, a danger to the public, but he is also currently faction leader for Islington, which means that by proxy, he is creating a danger through his vampires as well.

It gives him a lot to think about, which is exactly what he's doing, going over various reports of vampire activity from the past month, taking note of the steady incline of injury or homicide at the hands of the Islington vampires, and correlating it with the changes in policy that the vampires have enacted since then. He's not sure exactly what he's looking for, but he knows he'll find it if he just looks hard enough. And in fact, he's looking so hard that he works straight through the time that he'd arranged to meet up with Lancelot, and a good hour beyond that point before he realizes what he's done and leaps to his feet to track down his mobile with a curse.

Lancelot's mobile rings out with no response and Faolan curses again before shooting him a quick text to apologize for himself. And then another to ask if he'd rather reschedule. While Faolan waits for a response he checks the time and clears up his desk for the night. Putting away the reports and locking them up in the bottom drawer of his desk. Grabbing his phone and impatiently waiting for a response as he slips on his jacket and jogs downstairs to the main floor.

Ten minutes pass and he tries calling again. The phone rings out. Faolan wonders whether Lancelot had just gone to bed at this point, but it's early yet. Maybe he's left it on vibrate? He calls a few more times in succession, all of them ringing out to voicemail. He leaves one, as he heads out to the train station, deciding he might as well head to Lancelot's flat to apologize for himself, if nothing else. Sending another text, asking him if he's alright with that. Waiting for a response as he makes the trip that never comes.

By the time Faolan's made it to Lancelot's neighborhood, he's made his way through feeling guilty, then angry at himself, then angry at Lancelot for reacting this way, then working his way increasingly through a state of concern. He's pulled far more stupid stunts than missing a planned get-together with Lancelot, and the other man had never purposely stopped talking to him then. He tries to reason out what might have happened, maybe he had a headache, maybe he'd gone to bed, but the fact is that until Faolan knows for certain he can't help but feel an increasing amount of dread building up within him.

A feeling that does nothing to dissipate as Faolan reaches the other man's flat to find the lights on, the doors locked, music quietly seeping through from the stereo, and no response to the door. Not even when he rings the bell several times. The fact that he can hear Lily pacing inside concerns him even more, to the point where he decides to pop over to Lancelot's neighbor's to beg the key off of her (on the pretense that he'd lost the one he'd been given, which earned him a wary once-over but he'd been over enough to be recognizable at this point, for better or worse).

It doesn't take long for Faolan to determine that he isn't home. Nor does it take him long to determine that there's more at play than the other man being angry at him at this point. Whatever Lancelot might be feeling about Faolan after he'd skipped out on him that night, Lancelot would never leave Lily alone like this.

After three hours, sitting in the other man's flat with his dog, calling his mobile with no response, Faolan knows without a doubt that something is wrong. That Lancelot is missing. And come hell or high water, he will find him, he will find who did this, and he will make them pay.

((ooc: there are three threads below -- feel free to tag into one or more as you like! planning for this plot began here, but if you hadn't tagged into that please don't let that stop you from participating in this plot! LET'S RESCUE LANCELOT YOU GUYS!!))

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THE PLOT

[reticence]

The next day, Faolan is breathing fire. He has made the arrangements to see that Lily is cared for for the day, but he doesn't know where to start as far as Lancelot is concerned. He reaches out to Sylvia to let her know that he's gone missing. He sends a message to every one of Lancelot's friends, allies, and then some whose contact information he can find, and the message is simple, if not very comforting:

Have you heard from Lancelot since last night?

And when he has reached out to all those that he can think of, Faolan turns to Hillingdon. Pulling all the strings that he can, sending out a mass message to all within the faction. This one simple as well, but less is more he feels in this case:

I need a tracker. Volunteers should see me in my office.

And with that he waits. For Lancelot's friends and Hillingdon alike. As patiently as he can. Which is to say that when there comes a knock on his door Faolan stands pacing behind his desk, wound up tight as a harp string.

[constantprisoner]

The message comes as something of a surprise. While Sirius does have a phone, it doesn't get a whole lot of use and he's still getting used to the whole texting thing. It's a brand new world of technology that he's catching up on. The content, however, is simple enough to understand, and Sirius does like to brag that he's got a decent nose.

"Everything alright?" he asks, coming into the office without knocking, and immediately aware of how high the tension in the room is. Especially since there's just one person.

[reticence]

Faolan glances up at Sirius as the other man lets himself into the office. He doesn't even bother to lie, doesn't even bother with the niceties. If Sirius is here to help, then he needs him.

"A friend of mine has gone missing," Faolan says, trying to keep himself as calm and controlled about the matter as he can. It isn't working very well. "I think something has happened to him. Someone, perhaps." Could this be because of him? Could this be anything to do with Aine? No, that's ancient news, and he shouldn't let himself think that too far ahead.

"I need help tracking him down. He's only been missing since last night..." He should still have the time, right? He can't let himself think about the possibility that he's already too late. He won't.

[constantprisoner]

Given the urgency of the text message and the fact that Faolan seems rather wound up, Sirius resists calling the matter into question. If he's only been missing since last night, were they absolutely sure? Still, it wasn't his place to question right now, but rather offer his help.

"If it's only been since last night, it shouldn't be an issue. There's probably still something of a scent about. I can do what I can to track him down."

He taps his nose knowingly.

"As long as you've got something of his. That isn't another head."

[reticence]

Faolan sobers slightly at the mention of the head.

"No, nothing like that," he says. "But I have keys to his flat. There should be more than enough there to be able to get the scent of him." Keys that he had all but stolen from Lancelot's neighbor, but that was no matter. Once Lancelot was home again, he was sure that the other man would think of something to explain it away.

"It isn't like him to just disappear like this," he elaborates. "He left the lights on, he left his music playing, he left his dog." He says it like that means something, and in truth it does. Lancelot would get a sitter if he were staying out late, never mind overnight. And he still hadn't answered any calls or texts.

[anniesgonemad]

Annie isn't a tracker. And it's the first thing she says when she arrives in Faolan's office, after knocking and entering. "I'm not a tracker- but I want to help." She's determined, and she's not going to take no for an answer.

"Just tell me what you need done, and I'll do what I can to help." Unless it was against the Fae.

[reticence]

Faolan glances up at her and his expression is tight. He's trying not to let on how nervous this makes him, how concerned, how worried he is. But it's there, and it's the truth, for anyone who could see through the anger. For there's a healthy share of that there as well.

"I don't know," he says, honestly, before backtracking slightly. He knows that he has to explain himself, that simply stalking around in his office like he is is helping no one. "A friend of mine has gone missing," he explains. "It isn't like him to just disappear like this. I think... I have reason to believe that something has happened to him."

[anniesgonemad]

That look is enough to get Annie further into the room, taking a seat opposite Faolan. Despite being so small, she crosses the room quickly and efficiently.

"And you've tried to contact him, his family, anyone who may know where he is? Been to his house?" She just wants to cover the bases here. "Call the police and ask for a wellness check, they'll stop by." She's got something to focus on.

[reticence]

Faolan nods absently through the list she's giving although he looks a bit sheepish at the police part. "I was supposed to meet with him and wound up running late. When I tried to let him know that, he didn't respond. That's how I knew something was wrong. It isn't like him not to respond. Not for this long. So I..."

He shrugs slightly. "I went by his flat and he wasn't home. I looked, Annie. The lights were on, the music was still playing, it was like he'd just stepped out for an errand, not the length of time it had been. And he'd never leave Lily home alone for so long." The man was the type to call a sitter if he was running late at work, never mind leaving her to fend for herself overnight.

He looks back up at her, the concern written all over his face. "Something's happened. I need to find him." Before it's too late.

[dirtyredneck]

Faolan knows Daryl's one of the best trackers in the clan. And that wasn't even him having an ego. It was plain fact. He was one of the few who'd grown up doing literal hunting and tracking of things that weren't supernatural. Left him a little unprepared for the magical stuff, but the physical (and occasionally metaphysical) more than made up for it in his opinion.

So why in hell hadn't the man contacted him directly?

Was he giving Daryl the cold shoulder now? Daryl hadn't done shit wrong to deserve that. Faolan was the one that betrayed the clan with his whole double allegiance shit.

Pissed off at all this, and assuming it was a personal shot against him because he had no reason (yet) to think otherwise, Daryl slammed open the door to the office, "You got something you wanna say to me?"

[reticence]

Faolan had been a little too busy breaking into Lancelot's flat and trying not to panic to worry about what Daryl might think of him for not having thought of him first. Honestly, the other man had nearly slammed the door in his face the last few times they had spoken, so could he entirely be blamed for not turning directly to the other man in his hour of need? (Yes, as a matter of fact he could, but that was neither here nor there either.)

Faolan looks up and across the room as the door to his office slams open yet again and Daryl strides his way purposely in. Whatever scene the other man thinks he's going to find, Faolan looks wan. Worried. Angry yes, but there are also lines of concern about his face. He stares blankly at the other man for a long moment before finally figuring it's just easier to ask than assume.

"...what are you talking about?"

[dirtyredneck]

"Your goddamn text!" Daryl snapped and slammed the door shut behind him just to give himself room to pace the length of Faolan's office. "You wanna call me out about something, you say it to my face. You don't go acting like I don't exist."

Was Daryl making a lot of assumptions? Yes. Was it making an ass out of him? Also, yes.

[reticence]

Faolan jumps slightly at the slamming of the door. At the other man's anger. What is he talking about though, this has nothing to do with Daryl himself. He watches the other man fume for a few long moments before just shaking his head at the other man.

"Yes, I could have texted you directly. But I wasn't sure that you wanted anything to do with me. And if I'm right, then this can't wait until whether we can work things out between ourselves or not. My friend has gone missing. I wasn't aware that asking for help would be any sort of personal affront, but if it is, forgive me," he responds, as evenly as he can.

THE BUILDUP

[reticence]

They need to retrace his steps. Faolan knows that Lancelot was at his flat last night, and that whatever happened, it must have happened from not too far away from there. He would never have left the house with the music and lights on, with Lily by herself like that, not if he wasn't anticipating coming back soon. So they will start there.

"He was here last night," he says, gesturing at Lancelot's front door. "Whatever happened, I'd bet money that it happened somewhere near here. Knowing him, he wouldn't have left his flat like he did. Not for this long. Not without making arrangements." He turns away from the door and back to his volunteer. "If there are any clues to follow, I figure they might lead from here, if anything." It's a stretch, but it's something. It's not like Lancelot had left a note or sent him a text letting him know where he'd been headed after all. He just knew that he'd gone out, probably for something quick, and never come back.

THE HUNT

[reticence]

Vampires. Of course it had been vampires. He should have known, Faolan thinks to himself bitterly. Angrily. He should have known that Lancelot would have been taken by vampires, especially considering the dealings that Lancelot had had with them and that stupid sword fight that he'd won. The way that they'd looked at him. But he hadn't thought too much about it -- no, he'd been too angry about Lancelot's other encounter with vampires at the time to really consider the rammifications of the faction claim itself.

That has to be it, though. That has to be what painted a target on him. Unless it is just because he is in charge of the rest of the Guardians. Then again, does it really matter, at the end of the day? Faolan doesn't really know. Faolan doesn't really care. Faolan isn't thinking straight. All he knows is that they have him and he needs to get him back and he will make them pay for this, make no mistake.

Faolan grits his teeth as he tries to be rational, as he tries to keep himself collected, but there's no way he can keep his cool for long and he knows it. He tightens his hand around his gun, the special one, the one he knows will actually do some damage here and even the ground between him and the bastards.

"I want to make one thing clear," he grinds out to his companion. "We take no prisoners here. They made their choice in this. If they get in our way, if anyone tries to stop us, you have my permission to shoot to kill."

Backtracking slightly...

[constantprisoner]

Once he has a good idea of the scent, it's easy enough for Sirius to pick up the trail and start following it. Thankfully, it hasn't been that long, making it easier for him to find. Although, he is rather proud of his nose, or rather, his shifter powers.

He's in his form as a large, black dog. It's easier to move around in this form, since a dog sniffing around is fairly normal. A human would just look weird. However, the more he follows the trail, the more uncertain he gets about where he's headed. He doesn't like the smells that are starting to drift in. Blood, and other things that have become all too common lately.

He pauses at a bush, pretending to sniff at it while considering his options. Does he press forward, or does he find a way to contact Faolan?

[dirtyredneck]

A sharp whistle sounded. Short. Enough to draw the dog's attention. It was the smell that alerted Daryl to the fact he was dealing with another shifter. They all smelled a little off from the animals whose forms they'd taken. Probably had to do with the clothes they wore normally and the human sweat that clinged even after a shift. Whatever it was, it was off and just noticeable enough. And if a shifter was on the same trail as Daryl, they were probably working with Faolan.

He brought a finger to his mouth once he was certain he had the guy's attention. He couldn't tell if they were alone or not, but he'd felt pretty exposed with the whistle and wanted to keep whatever they exchanged as quiet as possible.

[constantprisoner]

Perhaps it's the dog instincts, but Sirius's head pops up when he hears the whistle, and looks around, finally settling on Daryl. It's always a little unsettling to him when someone catches that he's a shifter, but the gesture suggests that he wants to keep things quiet for the moment. Faolan had sent the message to everyone so maybe this was someone on the same trail as him.

He's not sure if he should trust to that right way however, and so he responds by giving a slight wag of his tail.

When people are ready for a rescue. Skip him until you want to find him!

[knightscode]

Lancelot certainly isn't in Richmond anymore.

Once they've tracked and investigated and pulled in favours and checked traffic cameras -- all that done, they'll end up back in Southwark.

Which, in the end, feels oddly predictable.

It all seems to lead to a boarded up, quiet seeming house which once upon a time was likely as not beautiful. Now it's fading and somewhat sad.

That, and it smells of vampires to those with the right senses.

All the windows are boarded up, great if you hate sunlight but making it difficult to judge the best way in. There's the front door, of course, and a back door if anyone checks around.

There's also at least three vampires on the first floor, and a few more upstairs. Lancelot himself, though, is in the basement. Easiest way to make sure he isn't heard. A cupboard has been shoved in front of the door down into it, just in case anyone showed up while they were out, and the Guardian himself is a little delirious from a mixture of exhaustion, blood loss and something they gave him that he suspects is illegal. His wrists and arms are screaming at him from being bound together and hung over what he thinks is... an old hook for... drying vegetables? Meat? Something. Although with how damp it is down here now he doesn't seem like a good idea. His feet dangle uselessly as he struggles to focus. If he had any idea people were nearby he might try to shout, but as it stands he can barely stay conscious.

[reticence]

Faolan may be classified as a metahuman, but the abilities that he has gained do not do him very good in a situation like this. As he looks at the house in front of them, he knows that he does not have the same strength or speed that his companions might. But he has the determination. And by god he will rip every door off of its hinge and tear every vampire down that gets in his way if he has to, super strength or no, so help him.

He turns to those with him, beckoning them close and motioning towards the house itself. They are just far enough away that they shouldn't be detected. Yet.

"You're sure this is the place?" he asks. He has to be certain, before he insists on busting in like he wants to. There is a part of him that can feel it, but that's not a rational thought and he shoves it down for now.

[dirtyredneck]

"Yep," Daryl answered simply. He was damn sure. With all the extra shit they'd gone through to make certain it was the right place, the extra time it had taken just to get here, it damn well better be. So as far as he was concerned, it was. Though that wouldn't necessarily reassure Faolan. "The car in the drive matches the description of the one that homeless guy said he saw your man get dragged into. It's a nest of some sort, and you said you thought it might be when we started looking 'round these parts."

He shifted the weight of his crossbow, which was highly illegal to be carting around in the middle of the day in London. Because crossbows themselves, as working usable weapons not for display, were illegal weapons for hunting with in England. Period. He had it hidden under a heavy wool poncho, which absolutely looked out of place in the middle of August. But it hid it from view so no one could call him out on the criminal infraction.

"I say we head around back to the yard and knock one of those windows in. Flood the place with a bit of sunlight. Put 'em on the defensive."

[post-rescue]

[reticence]

Faolan does his best to determine the other man's condition and whether or not he should be taking him to the hospital regardless as to what either of them might want before he decides that Lancelot will do well enough just recovering at home. Being able to see Lily again, reassure himself that while all of this might have happened to him Lily on the other hand is more than alright -- Faolan thinks that might do wonders for Lancelot's recovery as well.

With as weak as the other man is, he feels guilty for the fact that he has to drag him a few blocks away before he feels comfortable enough to call for a taxi and even then he makes certain to have his revolver loaded in his pocket (which is extremely illegal but he doesn't really care, in the end). He gives the company his name, mobile number, and the address of the building they're waiting outside of, receiving the reassurance that the ride shouldn't be too far off, before he turns back to Lancelot, his concern for the other man written all over his face.

"Shouldn't be too much of a wait." He pauses a beat, before speaking up again to ask, "How are you doing?"

[knightscode]

How is he doing?

The look Lancelot shoots up at Faolan is slightly incredulous. He feels cold, tired and in pain, his hands are numb and he's once again wearing a leather jacket too small for him over his shoulders.

He think it should be reasonably obvious he's not doing well.

"Fine," is what he says. He's sitting hunched over on a low wall bordering someone's front garden from the pavement, quaking just enough for it to be noticeable. Lancelot doesn't really want to talk about it, not least because he really wants to be home and, also, to not be in pain. It's hard to focus.

[reticence]

Faolan narrows his eyes slightly, well aware that Lancelot's not 'fine' at all. Well aware that Lancelot probably doesn't want to talk about it, no, but then again Lancelot seems to have a chronic problem of 'not wanting to talk about it' when that's basically exactly what he should be doing. At least he's sitting down, he thinks to himself, though the way he's shaking is creating a tight knot in Faolan's chest.

He makes a soft, noncomittal noise that could mean anything either way before stepping back towards him and moving to take a seat at his side. He isn't certain whether or not he's allowed to touch him. He isn't certain there's anything he can do to try to help that won't just end up hurting as well. Now that Lancelot's rescued, he feels at a loss. Up until he found Lancelot, he had it all figured out. Now...

"I can have them take you to hospital if you want," Faolan offers again, feeling that he should even though he knows Lancelot will no doubt turn it down, just as he had the first time. He glances aside at the other man. "Or I can have them take you home. Lily won't be nearly as good a nurse, but I'm sure she'll try her best..."

[knightscode]

Lancelot shakes his head a little at that, eyes flicking up to Faolan then out to the road.

"No, I don't--" Well. Painkillers, actually, would be nice. He pauses, debates this, hesitates as his eyes lift up and around to Faolan again. "Forgive me -- mostly I think I want some painkillers so I can sleep. Something to take the edge off."

Sleep, he thinks, will go a long way to making him feel better. Sleep and some food, actually.