[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!!))

Comments

[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.

[dirtyredneck]

Daryl stopped in his pacing and stared Faolan down. Going from anger to confusion in a few seconds. All the bluster leaving him like a deflating balloon while he blinked a few times. Gulped down some air. Looked a little constipated maybe in his discomfort.

"Oh," he said in the quietest, most contrite voice. "Thought your were..." Yeah, that bullshit didn't matter and he he was an idiot. "When'd it happen? Where?"

[reticence]

Faolan lets out a little breath he hadn't even known he was holding until the other man's anger had deflated. Wondering what it was that he had been preparing himself for -- did he think that Daryl was actually going to come to blows with him over this? He doesn't rightly know. Although knowing Daryl, he wouldn't put it past the other man.

"Last night," he replies, deciding to focus on the facts and figure out their floundering friendship later. "From his home, I imagine. Or thereabouts. We were supposed to meet up, I ran late. I tried to call him. He didn't answer -- for hours, he didn't. That's not like him. I stopped by his flat to see if everything was alright." He shrugs slightly, as he continues to admit, "When there wasn't an answer I got the spare key and let myself in. But he'd just gone. No call, no note, he'd left his music on for god's sake. He's just..." Faolan trails off, lest he start to sound even more desperate than he does already. This is why he needs a tracker. Something is wrong. And he needs to do something about it. Fast.

[dirtyredneck]

Daryl listened, taking the details given to heart. Things Faolan insisted were out of character for his friend. He nodded at the end, "Okay. Where's he live? We can start there."

For all that he had issues with the man, this was clearly a job that needed doing. And now he felt pretty guilty about his assumptions. So instead of asking how much it was paying (personal shit didn't usually get charged for anyway), he just went on to the important part of it all. He could get on Faolan's ass later about compensation if he decided it was worth the ragging.

[reticence]

"Richmond," Faolan replies, glancing at the other man warily. Uncertain whether Daryl would really want to help when he knew the identity of the friend that Faolan is missing, but needing Daryl's tracking help nonetheless.

"His flat is in Richmond," he elaborates, "and I think. I think that's where he was, when this happened. Or nearby. I mean, you'd never leave your music on unless you thought you were only stepping out for a few minutes, yeah? And nothing about the place looked like it had been disturbed. He just." He spreads his hands in front of himself vaguely, before settling on, "Vanished. That isn't like him, though, he's..." He fights for the words before deciding to simply say, "He really cares about his dog, if nothing else. He'd never leave her alone overnight like this. Something has to have happened."

[dirtyredneck]

"Then that's where we'll go," he answered, lifting his chin and nodding toward the door. "You got an address or am I ridin' with you."

Daryl knew of a couple people that lived down that way. He wasn't really close to any of them and Richmond was a big area. But he wouldn't be surprised if it turned out to be a friend of Faolan's that Daryl already knew, either. The guy wasn't Hillingdon (obviously) but was probably a supernatural creature of some sort. The community tended to keep to themselves when it came to making close friends.

[reticence]

"I can call us a cab," Faolan offers. He certainly doesn't have anything to drive them over himself, and there's something uncomfortable about spending a journey on public transport with the other man as well. Or giving him Lancelot's address and letting him make his own way, for that matter. He'd much prefer to accompany Daryl, if it's all the same to the other man.

That way he can hopefully work his way up to telling him that it's the Lead Guardian they are going to be searching for, before they wind up at his flat and the other man discovers this for himself. Faolan's already left enough surprises to be found out that way, if it's all the same to Daryl himself.

[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?"

[reticence]

Faolan nods slightly. It's been a while, but he's been on bikes before. He's even driven one, although that was on far less busy roads than the roads of London here.

"Yeah," he confirms. "Alright. Lead on, then. It's been a while but I promise not to make a scene." He wonders whether Daryl is the type to wear a helmet -- whether he'll have an extra helmet if he does. He has sudden visions of attempting to ride to Lancelot's rescue only to fall off a bike and concuss himself on the way.

Suddenly he realizes that he's assumed that Daryl meant a motorized bike. He hopes he had meant motorized bike, at least. He has a hard time imagining himself riding on the back of a bicycle riding to the rescue, for that matter.

[dirtyredneck]

Luckily for Faolan, Daryl was, in fact, referring to a motorcycle. His motorcycle was obviously cobbled together from spare parts. But as Faolan would find out when he got on to ride it, it ran superbly. And yes, there was a helmet for Faolan to wear. Daryl had one, too. City traffic laws were almost entirely obeyed by the southerner. He didn't want a blemish on his record when he was aiming for citizenship. ...A three year work visa at the very least.

Daryl gets the bike ready and hands Faolan said helmet, then climbs on, "Gonna need an address. Or at least an idea of what part of the city we're going to."

[reticence]

Faolan glances aside at the other man as he takes the helmet and clips it on. "Richmond," he says, carefully slipping onto the bike behind the other man and giving Daryl Lancelot's full address for good measure. It won't be too long of a trip. Especially not on a bike like Daryl's, and at this time of day.

He isn't quite certain how Daryl expects him to ride. Whether he's the sort to protest at another man hanging onto him quite as close as Faolan wants to, in order to ensure that he's not about to fall off the back of the bike. If he is, he supposes that's too bad. Faolan's going to hang on the way he wants to regardless.

[dirtyredneck]

Daryl nodded along as the address was given, then went still for a moment. He was pretty sure he knew it. Hadn't exactly been there before, but it was familiar and-

Oh.

Oh.

The boyfriend's house. Jack had told Daryl (and most of the other shifters that doubled as hunters) about it after following Faolan out to it sometime last year when his scent started changing around Lance. He'd almost forgotten that they both lived in Richmond.

Faolan was lucky he was behind Daryl and couldn't see the look he was giving the road as he turned the engine over and put it into gear. He didn't react at all to Faolan's grip on him short of grunting not to wrap his arms around and squeeze. A grip on his waist was fine. It was just a ride.

But fucking hell. He could have just said it was his S.O. that was missing and not been all cryptic about it. Make the whole day go a lot faster.

Since Daryl knew all the shortcuts between Clan territory and his own place, they got there a lot faster than Faolan might have expected.

[reticence]

Faolan might have been behind Daryl for the ride, but he doesn't miss the expression on the other man's face as they park the bike in front of Lancelot's flat and Faolan struggles to find the keys to it in the pocket of his jacket. (He had also made a note of how Daryl had known all the shortcuts to get there, but he had known that they'd both lived in the same area of the city, and thus paid it little attention.)

He raises an eyebrow at the other man, pausing in his progression up the path to the door to give him a funny look. "What?" he asks.

[dirtyredneck]

Daryl dropped his eyes and turned his head as he got off his bike. Cleared his throat by coughing into his fist, then shrugged as he looked back at Faolan. It really wasn't the time to make fun of him over this. A guy was missing. So Daryl shook his head and lifted his hands in surrender, "Nothin'."

[reticence]

Faolan raises his eyebrows at the other man for a longer moment before turning back to the task at hand -- that is to say, fishing out the spare keys he had tricked the neighbor into giving him and opening the door. He wonders whether Lancelot would give him a key if he asked, after this? Or whether that's too much of an invasion of his privacy, all things considered. He could just make a copy while he has them, but that would be an invasion of privacy as well...

"He's got a dog," he reminds the other man, glancing back over his shoulder as he starts to get the door open. He can't remember whether Daryl cares for dogs one way or the other, but it's best to warn him now. "She's harmless though. Mostly fur. Just try not to let her out while we're here. We really don't need two missing on our hands right now..."