Faolan (
reticence) wrote in
undergrounds2015-06-18 12:29 pm
Entry tags:
[OPEN] I'VE SEEN TROUBLE ALL MY DAYS
A. WORKING HOURS
It's a slow day. With no clients booked for the afternoon, Faolan's finding himself with an unusual amount of time on his hands. Not one for being idle, he finds himself roaming the streets, rather idly, hands tucked in pockets, looking as nonchalant and unassuming as one can. Which isn't hard, considering the fact that he's a wiry little Irishman, standing 5'6" at full height. Looking a bit like he'd rolled out of bed only hours ago (perhaps he had, in all honesty), with a healthy growth of stubble on his face, curling into his rough brown leather jacket despite the warmth of the sun above him, he doesn't exactly make himself look approachable either for that matter.
It's going to be a long night. A long night after a long night the night before, and as he blinks up at the sky above him -- is that really the sun though? -- he decides that coffee is in order. In desperate order. Stopping in the nearest shop he can find, he orders himself the simplest drink he can and sits huddled against the counter, curling over it and willing the caffeine to do its work and snap his brain into functioning as well.
B. PREP WORK - HILLINGDON
Despite the lack of clients for the afternoon, Faolan's got a job that evening. As people start to get out of work and shuffle home to their normal families and their normal lives, Faolan decides to head over to Hillingdon House and see if he can find anything interesting to use on his hunt that evening. If there's anything that can be counted on, it's the fact that if anyone's at the "Hunter's Retreat", as they call it, then they might have some goods to share. Or to at least show off, if nothing else.
It makes the fact that he has no one to go home to and nothing but the hunt ahead a little more bearable than it otherwise might be.
C. ON THE HUNT
Faolan should have known that the tip had been shady. McCoy was good for some things, but details certainly weren't his strong suit, and Faolan had been less on the ball about his research than he probably should have been. He should have known that getting a lead on the location of the vampire he'd been after for the past week was too good to be true, that he wouldn't be alone, but he hadn't been thinking too hard about it. He'd killed four children, three of them under the age of ten, and Faolan wanted him dead.
So he'd gone in alone and unprepared for not one, but five vampires to greet him. He's a good shot and he'd made every one that he could count, but as his gun clicked empty and two of them still advanced on him -- two of them with their pet werewolf for that matter -- Faolan knew that he had a problem. So he ran, throwing himself down the stairs, through the closest window and off the fire escape down one storey to the alleyway below. He has just enough time to assess that the damage from the fight before, breaking through the glass, and falling from that height isn't too bad that he can't go on, before he hears the sound of the wolf scrabbling after him from above. Making a split second decision, Faolan stows the gun behind a dumpster nearby -- hoping the thing will be in the same spot when he comes back in daylight, since it won't do him any good now -- before he takes off at a run towards the nearest open area he can find. It won't follow him out into the lights of the street and the lingering evening crowds around, will it? God, he hopes not.
D. CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE
What it says on the tin!
It's a slow day. With no clients booked for the afternoon, Faolan's finding himself with an unusual amount of time on his hands. Not one for being idle, he finds himself roaming the streets, rather idly, hands tucked in pockets, looking as nonchalant and unassuming as one can. Which isn't hard, considering the fact that he's a wiry little Irishman, standing 5'6" at full height. Looking a bit like he'd rolled out of bed only hours ago (perhaps he had, in all honesty), with a healthy growth of stubble on his face, curling into his rough brown leather jacket despite the warmth of the sun above him, he doesn't exactly make himself look approachable either for that matter.
It's going to be a long night. A long night after a long night the night before, and as he blinks up at the sky above him -- is that really the sun though? -- he decides that coffee is in order. In desperate order. Stopping in the nearest shop he can find, he orders himself the simplest drink he can and sits huddled against the counter, curling over it and willing the caffeine to do its work and snap his brain into functioning as well.
B. PREP WORK - HILLINGDON
Despite the lack of clients for the afternoon, Faolan's got a job that evening. As people start to get out of work and shuffle home to their normal families and their normal lives, Faolan decides to head over to Hillingdon House and see if he can find anything interesting to use on his hunt that evening. If there's anything that can be counted on, it's the fact that if anyone's at the "Hunter's Retreat", as they call it, then they might have some goods to share. Or to at least show off, if nothing else.
It makes the fact that he has no one to go home to and nothing but the hunt ahead a little more bearable than it otherwise might be.
C. ON THE HUNT
Faolan should have known that the tip had been shady. McCoy was good for some things, but details certainly weren't his strong suit, and Faolan had been less on the ball about his research than he probably should have been. He should have known that getting a lead on the location of the vampire he'd been after for the past week was too good to be true, that he wouldn't be alone, but he hadn't been thinking too hard about it. He'd killed four children, three of them under the age of ten, and Faolan wanted him dead.
So he'd gone in alone and unprepared for not one, but five vampires to greet him. He's a good shot and he'd made every one that he could count, but as his gun clicked empty and two of them still advanced on him -- two of them with their pet werewolf for that matter -- Faolan knew that he had a problem. So he ran, throwing himself down the stairs, through the closest window and off the fire escape down one storey to the alleyway below. He has just enough time to assess that the damage from the fight before, breaking through the glass, and falling from that height isn't too bad that he can't go on, before he hears the sound of the wolf scrabbling after him from above. Making a split second decision, Faolan stows the gun behind a dumpster nearby -- hoping the thing will be in the same spot when he comes back in daylight, since it won't do him any good now -- before he takes off at a run towards the nearest open area he can find. It won't follow him out into the lights of the street and the lingering evening crowds around, will it? God, he hopes not.
D. CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE
What it says on the tin!

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"Bit of a sticky situation," said Heiji. It was safe to talk now, though maybe not entirely safe from Faolan's pursuers -- they might still follow their quarry throught he doorway, after all. "You with Hillingdon?"
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He turned wary eyes at the voice, everything about him tense and on-edge. Wouldn't it be just his luck that he had jumped right out of the frying pan and into the flame. Still, there was no point in trying to deny it. "I am," he replied. "Who are you?"
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Might still be, actually, if they managed to find the entrance.
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Faolan was wary of strangers, and had his reasons for feeling that way. He cast a suspicious glance in the other's direction. "Why would you help me?" he asked, not bothering on niceties (yet, anyway -- just be patient with him, Heiji).
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Heiji considered the question. "Well, I ain't too crazy about vampires. And it'd also be nice to be on Hillingdon's good side. But the alternative was sitting back and watching -- and that's just not something I was willing to do."
Certainly, there were those out there who wouldn't have particularly cared if one human lived or died. But Heiji was not one of their number.
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"What is this place?" he asked. The fact that the view out the windows didn't match anything of what they had come from was certainly throwing him for a loop. Cobblestones? Last time he'd checked, there'd been pavement on the ground outside, not to mention the fact that they'd come in off of a fire escape.
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"This is Faery! That door took us through to the Other Realm."
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He glances back at Heiji. "What does that make you, then?" he has to ask. Considering he had followed a fox into this place, it only stands to reason that the question should follow such a reveal, after all.
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"Fae, basically. Know anyone else that can open Doors?" Because if he did, Heiji would sure like to hear about it. "Don't worry. I ain't here to kidnap you or anything. You can get back out that door... only I don't think you've been here long enough for them to have moved off yet."
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He's certainly not going to go out the door if it means running into his pursuer any time soon. He'll take the man in here with him above the creature outside any day. So he does the only thing he can think of, and asks Heiji to continue. "A Door. I'm guessing you don't mean..." He gestures vaguely. Anyone can open a door, after all.
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"An opening to Faery, I mean. You walk back through that entrance, it'll take ya back to London. Oh, but if ya find one of these somewhere else, you shouldn't really try and waltz in on your own. Might not be all easy to get back."
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"Implying that one might be able to stumble on one on their own. You mean to say that they are both naturally occurring and that there are those out there, like yourself, who can open them wherever they like?" Look, he's trying to get this, really he is.
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He fiddled idly with the brim of his cap. "Either way, you shouldn't wander into Faery; ain't everyone always friendly in there."
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"And what sort of an opinion do they have of hunters in such a place, then?" he has to ask.
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"Some people might try to help you, others might try to hurt you. Kinda like London." Especially for someone like Heiji, who had to watch out every once in a while for vampires and the like. "Anyhow, never really a great time to get lost in there, but I guess if ya had to, right now is probably the best time."
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"Anyhow, I bet they're off your scent by now. You wanna check?"
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At the suggestion of checking, however, he looks towards the door. The window, after all, hardly is going to show anything of what he needs to see. "Do I just... Open it?" he asks, realizing it sounds a little dumb and feeling a little dumb for asking, but ask he must.
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"Coast's clear. Unless, of course, vampires stopped smelling in the past ten minutes or so."
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"I'd be interested in learning more about these doors sometime," he says, turning to the other. After a beat, he digs out his wallet and pulls out his card. It just has his name ("Faolan O'Neill"), phone number and email address on it in black letters on a white background -- clean and classic. No mention of being a hunter or of his job as a PI. It's easier not to have to worry about different cards for the separate jobs. He holds one out for Heiji, realizing in that moment he's not entirely certain if he'd even introduced himself before then. Ah, well. Running for your life will do that, he supposes.
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He took the card with both hands, as this was only the polite (read: Japanese) thing to do, and tucked it away in his jacket. After a moment, he produced a small notepad, scrawled his first name and number on the page, and tore off a section to give to Faolan.
"And I was tryin' to persuade you to not get too interested," he said with a smile. It really could be quite dangerous, after all. "Be careful out there."
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"Thanks again," he tones, before sticking it in the breast pocket of his jacket. "I'll be seeing you around, then." And with that he turns and heads out onto the fire escape, into the darkness, and the sounds and smells of the London air.