[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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[knightscode]

The taxi is a welcome sight. Lancelot wobbles to his feet and slips over to it, climbing in then hesitating as he tries to decide how to arrange the seat-belt while wearing a jacket-cape. He shrugs it off eventually, folds into his lap and keeps hold of it without really thinking why. He lets Faolan deal with the taxi, eyes drifting over as Faolan gives his adjusted destination before climbing in and settling. He flickers a slight smile as Faolan reaches over for his hand, lets him take it but his attention still drifts all over.

When the taxi comes to a stop he focuses suddenly, eyes fixing on Faolan as he starts to unbuckle and get out.

"Do you -- mind if I come up?" he asks, uneasy. He just doesn't really want to be left alone in the car, for a whole host of reasons.

[reticence]

Faolan gives the driver his address and shoots the other man such a look as he helps Lancelot settle, as if he is daring the man to assume that any of this was his fault so that he can take some of the anger he feels at Lancelot's captors out on the man himself. Wisely, the driver seems to understand that despite Lancelot's rough shape Faolan is helping him and Lancelot seems grateful for it, so he stays well enough out of it and drives him to Faolan's flat as requested.

One they arrive, Faolan lets the driver know there will be another destination and makes the necessary arrangements to keep the taxi idling outside while he leaves. It's just as he's starting to move that Lancelot turns to him to ask to join him. Faolan hesitates for a moment -- his building doesn't have a lift after all, wouldn't Lancelot be more comfortable out here in the taxi? But then it dawns on him and a whole new protective surge wells up inside himself at the thought of it.

"I... No, of course not," he replies, glancing at the driver to make certain that he understands he should still stay where he is, before back at Lancelot. "You can take the first dose upstairs even, if you like. Maybe that way it will start working before we've even got you back home yet, then. Here..." He moves to exit the taxi and crosses over to Lancelot's door itself, opening it for the other man and standing by to assist in any way that he needs to -- god knows what Lancelot's been through in the past few days after all. He isn't sharing and Faolan doesn't really think that now is the time to ask either.

[knightscode]

He relaxes a little in relief, nods and slips to get out the car. It's a good idea, and the prospect of painkillers sooner rather than later perks him up even.

"Good idea," he answers, and sticks close to his side as he begins to walk. He doesn't lean on him, partly because moving a hand to put weight on him at all might hurt and partly from pride. His legs work fine anyway, it's his upper body that hurts the most. He can do stairs. Even if he'd rather do sleep.

[reticence]

Faolan glances aside at the other man every now and again as they make their way up the stairs to his flat, and he makes certain that he's close enough to Lancelot's side that he should be there, should anything happen. He's not really anticipating it -- he seems not to have a problem with his legs, but he looks at times like he could pass out on his feet (in a falling asleep standing sort of a sense) and Faolan wants to make certain that it doesn't happen literally.

As he reaches the door he realizes he isn't wearing his jacket anymore and turns to the other man, gently reaching out to take it from him. "Thanks," he says, fishing in the pockets before he retrieves his keys and pushes the door open to let Lancelot in, flicking on the light as he does.

"Make yourself comfortable, if you like," he says, "it shouldn't be too long. Do you need anything else?" Water? Another shirt...?

[knightscode]

"Do I need water for the painkillers?"

Or is it... something else? Syringes? Dimly Lancelot wonders just what sort of stash Faolan has and how legal it is, but he isn't in a position to throw stones when it will be helping him. So he drops to sit on the edge of the sofa, a little carefully at that. Watches Faolan as he goes to dig for things.

He won't ask for a shirt because he doesn't want to suffer the pain of taking off the one he has on yet.

[reticence]

While Faolan has used and even possessed injectable painkillers in the past, he doesn't own a complete pharmacy and as such, isn't about to go sharing his used syringes with Lancelot. No matter how much he might want him to feel better. Faolan knows better than that at least.

"I can do water," he responds, fetching the right bottle from inside his medicine cabinet, squinting at it to make sure that he has the right one before padding back into the main room where the other man is waiting for him. He moves to cross the room to fetch Lancelot a water bottle from the fridge and hands it to the other man. "Here," he says, and opens the medicine to tap two pills out which he hands to Lancelot as well.

"See if you need more after that," he says, slipping the bottle into his pocket as he does. "I'll have it with me just in case you do." And he will be controlling it so that Lancelot doesn't accidentally overdose himself at first for that matter as well.

[constantprisoner]

Sirius nods, figuring he can handle that. Most of the vampires have just taken to watching at the moment. Hopefully there would be enough sunlight that they could all stay in it on their way out.

"You need a hand at all?"

[dirtyredneck]

Daryl pulled his head back in a barely voiced scoff and shook it, "Nah. I got a bike. We'll take that. It'll be faster."

He waved his hand for Faolan to follow as he reached the door and started to open it. But he paused in the doorway and looked back, "You have ridden, before, right?"

[knightscode]

Lancelot takes the pills overly carefully, frowns a little as he lowers the water bottle so he can unscrew it without lifting his arms too much then visibly debates his choices. He takes a deep breath finally and flinches as he quickly tosses back the painkillers and chases them with water. He exhales sharply through his nose in pain, fumbles the cap onto the bottle and drops it to stand on the floor while he recovers from the movement, fingers flexing as he braces himself against the feeling until it starts to ease.

"Thank you," he says finally, and blinks up at Faolan so he can force a faint smile. Hopefully it works and his arms will be easier to move soon, because he feels wretched at the moment.

[reticence]

Faolan watches him through the whole ordeal of simply taking the medicine and wonders if there might be something more he can do. Maybe when he gets back to Lancelot's place, but he shouldn't make him linger here, he decides. Lancelot undoubtedly just wants to go home.

He doesn't know what to feel about the fact that Lancelot is forcing smiles at him either when he knows how much he has to be hurting. He wishes that the other man would be more honest with what he feels -- and yet at the same time he supposed he doesn't. Lancelot probably would have told Faolan to get lost a long time ago, if he weren't so kind and understanding as he is.

"Of course," he replies. He watches the other man for a long moment before he moves to continue gathering whatever he might have that Lancelot might not back at his. Materials for cleaning those bites in particular. Quickly shoving them all into a bag before making his way back out to Lancelot. Stooping, after a moment's consideration to pick up the water bottle he had dropped to the floor, intending to carry it with him. God knows when the last time he'd had food or water, he probably would want the rest.

"Ready?" he asks softly, though he can't keep the concern he feels for the other man entirely out of his voice or expression.

[knightscode]

He's still struggling when Faolan's voice filters through and Lancelot looks down at him, eyes widening for a second before they flick back up and pinpoint Sirius. He recognises that voice too. That means --

Struggling again he tries to hoist himself up to fight free of his ropes at little more.

"Knife?" He prompts, wincing as his wrists squirm in the ropes. Something to cut him free with. Although he supposes Faolan can't actually reach on his own unless he has something to stand on. Stopping mid struggle he casts around for something that will fit and spots a table and chairs, cocks his head toward them then yanks one over toward them with magic perhaps a little more aggressively than he intended. His eyes are still flitting about a little nervously, slightly afraid that any minute now they'll be swarmed with vampires again.

[dirtyredneck]

Daryl, no longer stuck holding the door and with Sirius just aiming the bow without firing, had the advantage of being able to move around more effectively than the others.

"Don't talk to 'em," Daryl growled at Sirius, "Just shoot 'em."

If he'd had a silvered knife, he'd have already thrown it through the guy's head. But he didn't. What he did have, however, were a good seven hunting and skinning knives strapped to himself. Mostly at the waist, but a couple at the boots. When he heard the request from down below, he pulled one and gave a sharp whistle to draw attention his way. Then held it out at arms length where he hoped it'd be visible past the turn in the stairs if he leaned just a little.

[reticence]

Faolan doesn't quite manage to dodge the chair being thrust at him, largely because he's still not used to the idea that Lancelot has such an ability in the first place. It clips him in the back of the knees but he manages to reach out and keep himself from toppling over at that. Glancing aside at Daryl's whistle, he sees the knife and shoots him a grateful glance as he dashes for it and then back to the chair.

"Make sure none of them make their way down this way!" he calls out to the others. Realizing at once that there's a bit of a problem with this picture. For one, the rope suspending the other man is very high up. And for another, the chair isn't quite tall enough to allow him to reach that far. Faolan swears under his breath about his height not for the first time before untangling the table from the rest of the chairs and pulling it over as well. Awkwardly clambering up on it and stretching (on the tips of his toes, god damn it) to be able to reach the rope to begin cutting it off. Slipping the knife in between the other man's wrist and the material and sawing away at it.

He thinks about advising Lancelot to brace himself as the rope begins to fray but really what is there to say? Getting down is better than staying up there, and there's no easy way of getting down but falling...

[dirtyredneck]

As if he'd let them. Daryl scoffed at the order. He wasn't stupid and he wasn't going to let any vamps get near them. The sound of the chairs being pushed around reached his ears, leaving him a little confused. It should have been a simple matter to cut any bonds with that knife of his. It was the sharpest one he had. Could skin a beaver with it in five minutes flat.

"You redecorating down there?" He called down, obviously perturbed that more than thirty seconds had passed and Faolan wasn't back upstairs with Lance. "What's takin' you so long? Your boyfriend forget how to walk or something?"

[dirtyredneck]

The homeless guy's face lit up in a smile. Friendly animals were a rare treat where he was and it showed in how delicately he pet Sirius' head, like he was afraid he'd scare the dog off if he was too aggressive with his affections.

Daryl watched it for a moment before clearing his throat and looking away, feeling very embarrassed, "So uh, you see anyone get... uh... taken? Assaulted and snatched up, maybe? We're looking for a friend of ours. He's missing and the blood hound in this guy thinks he went this way."

Homeless guy paused in his pettings as he scrunched his face, looking like he was trying to remember, but it was pretty obvious he was just being cautious, "Yeah, maybe? I try not to get into business that isn't mine."

[knightscode]

He watches Faolan clamber onto the table and begin to cut, trying to bounce his weight on the rope to make it fray faster. Come on, come on, come on--

The rope snaps suddenly and Lancelot drops to ground, crashing slightly against the table but managing not to overturn it. He curses slightly louder than he really intended, cringes in on himself as pain sears through his arms after having them stretched out for so long. For a second he just swallows back the pain in silence, then he flicks his eyes up to Faolan.

Yes, he looks terrible, but yes, he really does want to get out of there as soon as possible. Carefully picking his way over he half turns to stand beside the table in case Faolan wants to steady himself on him as he jumps down.

"Who else is here?"

Are there more people outside? Lancelot feels oddly self-conscious already that three people have come to rescue him.

[knightscode]

He nods and gets to his feet slowly, feeling oddly exposed under Faolan's gaze -- especially without any sort of jacket now to hide under.

"Yes," he answers quietly, and moves to Faolan's side. The sooner they get home the sooner he can lay down.

The taxi hasn't abandoned them, thankfully, although no doubt it's been racking up the fare as it idles. Lancelot is quiet throughout the drive, not even noticing they've arrived until Faolan is moving to get out. He fumbles to undo his seat-belt, gives a smile somewhere between awkward and faintly embarrassed as Faolan opens the door for him and struggles out with a wince.

Keys, of course, his phone and wallet and keys and everything -- he doesn't have them.

"I don't..." he begins, quietly beginning to feel internal panic. Will he have to call a locksmith at this hour? Why didn't he think of it before. If Faolan doesn't have his keys he'll definitely have to change the locks, though.

[constantprisoner]

Sirius nudges the guy's hand with his nose, as if to suggest that he keep going. At the same time, he tries his best hang dog look, as if to implore him to continue. "Please keep trying to remember, it's really important!" his eyes seem to say.

And the faster it's done, the fast he can get out of this.

[constantprisoner]

"Just trying to lighten the mood," Sirius replies, somewhat awkwardly, before holding the crossbow back out to Daryl.

"You should probably have this back as well."

He really doesn't trust himself with it.

[dirtyredneck]

Daryl took it back and immediately pulled an extra bolt out to set between his teeth while he aimed for the vampire that had been there. Unfortunately for him, the asshole moved as soon as he got his hands on the 'bow. Apparently he wasn't dumb enough to stick around when the guy who knew what he was doing got his weapon back.

"Knock the glass out the windows," Daryl ordered before he called down the stairs, "Think we're clear to go out the kitchen door. Get your asses up here!"

[reticence]

Faolan winces as Lancelot crashes down from the rope, meeting the other man's eyes for a moment as he jumps down from the table and takes in the state of the other man properly. The bites, the fact that he had been suspended from his arms, the state of his clothes, the tired circles under his eyes and the pain within them.

"God, Lancelot. What have they done to you..." he asks, softly, reaching out to brush some of Lancelot's curls out of his eyes where they have fallen and he hasn't yet reached up to brush them away himself. Fingers catching on a sticky patch of blood, and he brushes his hair aside further to find an older gash on Lancelot's temple.

There's something about the sight of it -- perhaps the knowledge that despite how bad it is at least he is alive and he's found him -- that has Faolan stepping forward and wrapping his arms around the other man for a moment. That has him stepping back to slide his hand down Lancelot's face and -- despite the presence of the two men just beyond on the stairs, yelling at them to hurry -- leaning up to press a kiss against Lancelot's lips. Slightly more chaste than another kiss might be, given the circumstances, but equally demonstrative of how grateful and relieved he is to have found him again.

It only lasts a moment, and then Faolan is stepping back and pressing a hand to the small of Lancelot's back, turning to guide him up the stairs. "Sirius and Daryl," he answers Lancelot's previous question. "They're keeping watch, but we need to get out of this place. Do you think you can run, if you need to?"

[knightscode]

Lancelot is still on edge, with pretty good reason. His focus flits up toward the sound of voices upstairs, so when Faolan reaches out to touch him he's surprised -- winces slightly as the man finds his head wound.

It's still sore, rather like everything else.

Faolan's arms come around him and Lancelot lets out a slight sigh, feeling exhausted all of a sudden with relief.

Then Faolan is moving back, leaning to kiss him, and Lancelot is slightly at a loss for how to react to that. He's tired and confused, and people are shouting instructions, and before he can awkwardly try to say the right thing Faolan is trying to move him again. To guide him upstairs and out.

He's a little grateful, in truth, that he isn't expected to have done anything there himself. He really does just want to get out and go home.

"I have no idea," he answers honestly, because even if his legs don't hurt too much he's still lightheaded and short of breath. "I can try though."

[reticence]

Faolan steps up and puts a hand on the small of the other man's back as he fishes into his jacket pocket yet again, this time for keys to Lancelot's flat instead. It should be noted that the pair that Faolan steps up to use to unlock the door are the keys that Lancelot himself had on his person the night he had disappeared. The set that he had dropped and left for them to find a few days ago.

He pauses in his opening of the door to glance at the other man and try to determine how steady he is on his feet, before deciding that regardless, he really has no control over how Lily greets him. He opens it carefully, making sure not to let the dog out, before he beckons the other man in.

"Someone's happy to see you again," he says, as Lily bounds forwards, and he stays ready to brace the other man against the onslaught of doggy affection even as he shuts the door behind them as well. He stands back and surveys her greeting before reassuring her softly, as much to himself as to anyone else, "I told you I'd bring him home..."

[dirtyredneck]

Homeless Guy got himself back to petting Sirius and Daryl reached into his pocket to grab his wallet. Pulled out a few notes and came over, held it out to the guy who took it fast and folded it up to hide inside his shirt.

"Yeah, I remember a guy the other night. He was walking down this way, looked like he was avoiding the traffic or maybe just cutting through for a shortcut? A few guys jumped him. Bam! Out of no where they came. Was a little closer to the end of the alley. Dragged him off into a big van. Kind of run down. Black. Had a rusted fender and some scratches on the door like it got mauled by a bear."

Daryl's hand dropped to Sirius's head and he lightly tapped an ear. Mostly to get his attention and let him know he could back off. He thanked Homeless Guy and started off again, toward the part of the alley Lance would have been stuffed into the van in.

Once they were far enough away from Homeless Guy, Daryl murmured under his breath, "Mauled by a bear, or a werewolf?"

[reticence]

Faolan gives her a good scratch while she steps forward towards Sirius, hoping that it will encourage her to feel more comfortable about the scenario of a strange man in her house and Lancelot still nowhere to be seen. "That's it, good girl," he reassures her, ruffling her fur as he does. "This is Sirius, he's going to help us find Lancelot."

He's not certain he really needs to be explaining this to her. He's not sure that she will really understand what he's saying but he feels compelled for some reason to explain regardless. Perhaps because he knows that's what Lancelot would be doing.