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!

no subject
There's an overturned wooden crate in the alley and he hops on it for a moment. As he hops off, he notes with satisfaction that he's facing someone around his own height. So rare in this day and age. People had been a lot shorter in the 18th century. "Why is the dumb pup after you?" He wants to know the beginning of the story before getting anymore invested in it.
sorry for the wait work was killer this week :x
"I may have killed his master," Faolan says, dusting off his hands and then moving to look up, trying to see if there are any windows that are open above him, any fire escapes. It looks like he's in luck as far as the fire escape is concerned, but the ladder isn't down of course. And unless he can figure out a way up. He glances around, trying to find something to climb up on. There's a dumpster nearby, but if there's anything in it at all it's not going to move an inch. That is if it isn't bolted to the ground already. "Or at least his masters cronies. I didn't really have time to stop and check for identification."
I know the feeling well. Work is the devil.
He could move the dumpster over with ease and let the hunter escape, but why make be nice? Cooper can be quite the little shit when he wants to be. If Faolan wants to lose the wolf, Cooper's going to make him work for it.
it so is :(
"You seem to be awfully observant, for a random passer-by," he observes, before deciding to hell with it. If the dumpster won't move, then he's going to see what he might find inside of it, so that he can either hook the escape down or pile it up to stand on to get high enough.
no subject
Cooper stands up on his toes and looks over the edge, snorting to get rid of the heavy odor of the trash. "The problem here is that you're tryin' t'go it alone. You gotta learn when to ask for help, fool."
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He glances back down the alleyway. He can hear the scrabble of nails on the pavement stopping. The werewolf is looking around after being unable to find the hunter. They don't have much time. "Better make up your mind soon. That wolf is gonna be back sooner rather than later."
no subject
"Help me," Faolan asks the other. "Please. I don't know what you could want from me in return, but. If it is something that I can spare, then it is yours."
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Cooper jumps on top of the dumpster lid and pulls down the fire escape in one fluid movement. Then he's scrambling up the ladder, sparing Faolan only a brief glance to make sure the hunter is following him. He's got no interest in fighting a big hairy wolf tonight now that he's decisively picked a side. He can't even say why he's decided to help the hunter. Maybe he just finds the idea of one who hunts his kind being indebted to him just too delicious to pass up.
no subject
Once they've reached a safe distance up, Faolan turns to peer down at the creature and lets out a breath of relief. One crisis averted at least. "Thanks..." he says, warily, and turns to the other once more. Now what... What's more, he didn't seem all that concerned at the sudden appearance of a werewolf, which can mean a few things, most of them not the most wonderful news.
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Alright, time to go back to being serious. He smiles at Faolan, an expression that still manages to look quite sharp without ever once showing his fangs. "I didn't do it just out of the kindness of my heart. Consider it one favor you'll owe me." Cooper should have been a fae with how he knew to wheel and deal people.
no subject
And then comes the rest of it, and Faolan's expression hardens, though he shakes his head. "I hadn't supposed that it was." People hardly helped anyone for nothing, not in Faolan's book. Not out of the goodness of their heart, certainly. And he'd hardly expected it of this fellow, for that matter.
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"That has my mobile on it," he says. "No carrier pigeons, I'm afraid."
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He looks around the rooftop. It shouldn't be too difficult to jump to the next one, for him, that is. Faolan is on his own in terms of getting down.
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It doesn't mean that he has to like them, though. "I suppose I'll be hearing from you, then," he says, narrowing his eyes and steeling himself for whatever Cooper is about to do.
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"Relax, hunter. I'm not going to bite. 'Least till I get t'know you better." He walks off towards the edge of the roof. When there's nothing before his feet but air, he turns his head. "We'll be in touch." Then he jumps with blurring, inhuman speed. He lands on a nearby rooftop in silence.