Light to Darkness - contd. [Closed]

[Ed Taco]

[]

"We're going to that dump blah blah blah..." turned into "I'm an arrogant prat, your suggestion was clearly the better of the two, oh great Scout, here, take my gold and let's go blow shit up!" courtesy of her imagination. Sigh. A girl could dream, couldn't she? Envisioning the gits in her life groveling and fawning and tailoring to her every whim was often the only way she made it through the day. Why did the Imperius curse have to be illegal? It'd be so nice to have some peace and quiet in her life. And by 'peace and quiet', she means, 'blowing off duty for wanton destruction'. Close enough.

The smile on her face was a bit manic as she disapparated, seeing the familiar sights of Hogsmeade flood her vision. Clean air, open space...she longed for the anonymity of the city, but had to admit, it was nice to get away for a moment. Even if that moment was incredibly short lived as she migrated quite happily to the Hogs Head, entirely too chipper to be considered sane ever again. She was instinctively scanning her familiar surroundings, noting the quiet streets. A typical sunday morning in the wizarding village, the occasional Hogwarts student wandering (too young for her to recognize, and entirely of the wrong house, she noted as she spied the three Hufflepuff girls on the bench). She found herself pretty much ignoring Cap'n Butt as she made her way into the pub, mind on auto-pilot. Not to mention, Zaphod was so a better conversationalist, the rather-large-ferret-esque critter insulting her and providing amusing, rude banter. She was so glad she'd brought him along. Zaphod was the cool beans! She'd figure out what to do with him during the hit later.

Taking her usual place at the bar, she'd raised a hand in greeting to the barkeep, a grin on her face.
"Hey Abe."
"Arbner. The usual?"
"Nah, just a butterbeer now. Bit early." Yawn, stretch and, settle. A suspiciously filthy bottle of butterbeer was dropped on the counter, and she promptly ignored anything her ever-so-clever partner might offer.
Yes, Scout is a total light-weight. She blames her low BMI. It couldn't be genetics–her mother drank like a fish and still managed to walk in a straight line, and no man drank like her dad. Her brother was also well-versed in the art of alcoholism.
But poor little Scout, she didn't have an iron liver. Oh no. She couldn't properly handle her liquor at all. So she missed out on the massive fun of brain death and binge drinking, because she was pretty much plastered after a shot of whiskey. Curse science! It conspired against her in her quest to be incredibly awesome in life!
First it was the freckles. Then it had robbed her of alcohol tolerance. How in the hells was she ever going to be a bad ass like this? It just wasn't fair!

She perked at the mention of 'gold', looking over and tilting her head to see past her over-excited pet, whom was inspecting a goat wandering around beyond the bar-counter, almost ready to pounce. Scout clamped a scarred hand down on Zaphod, and arched a brow.
"...don't be a tease! Go on!"

[Jay]

Arjen's eyes looked around the place. It was still smokey even now and because it was pretty early the bar was empty. Then again he could just use that little mute charm he knew all to well. He sighed and ordered another shot of firewhiskey. Alright Arjen. Enough's enough. We're not getting shitfaced today. He looked around and when his partner asked Arjen was quick to do work around the bar mutting it and what not. Arjen was higher authority then anybody in the room, so technically he could kill anybody he wanted. Including his partner, but he wouldn't do that... yet.

Arjen snapped his fingers and let the file come peacefully into his hands. Ohhh the magic that the ministry granted him. It was awesome. There were new gateways opened to him and also being a hitwizard gave him a lisence to kill. If you wanted that, it was only a snap away. Arjen leaned back in his seat as he pushed the case file across the shiny bar table. It slid well and into Scout's clutches. He was going to comment on that god damn, annoying ferret thing, but he kept his mouth shut.

'Meet our next target. Jonny Howson. This scumbag is wanted dead for the rape of a Ministry offical and the killings of three twenty year old woman in a pub in Lodon. Of course he was found not guilty because this man is loaded. He has money coming out of his ass. The man lives in an estate that is heavily guarded. He's only a little outside of Lodon and that's why the mission comes to us. Here's the part you'll love. We have permission to blow up two of his guard houses on the property as well as his guest house, which intellgence tells us is used for the holding grounds of woman.'

Arjen opened his mouth and let the third shot of whiskey flow down his throat. God it tasted good. Arjen stopped himself before he could order another. He knew the hard way of getting to much of what you want. After Dirk's deat Arjen became addicted to cocaine. It was a rough seven months and it got progressivly worse. His master sent him away to recover. The trip ended two weeks ago and that's the true reason why Scout and Arjen get all of the shit cases.

Arjen let off the mute charm and looked at Scout. He couldn't help but appricate the girls understanding of people. At least she was intellgent. That was something he needed. If the girl wasn't intellgent then there could be no possible way he could let her live. There are two things Arjen hates the most in this world. The criminals he kills and people who are stupid. Scout's neither so she won't have to feel that much heat.

Too much drinking, one more shot.


((I can't write Arjen well... still on cloud nine.))

[Ed Taco]

[[Know how you feel XD; I'm too drained to write Scout.]]

The folder slid into her waiting hand as though she'd done this a thousand times. Gently opening it, she'd flipped through it, scanning documents and examining the occasional photograph and financial records, which all seemed to suggest...contracted security. She arched a brow at that and bit her lip thoughtfully, cocking her head to one side. Definitely more challenge to this, but even so...if the man hadn't been wealthy, it would be simple Department of Magical Law Enforcement work, left to whatever grunt was available. The perceived insult had her pursing her lips in distaste.

She had to admit, the higher ups kept finding work that was appealing to her weak moral compass though. First muggles, now rich little playboys taking advantage of their wealth. If she'd ranked high enough on anyone's radar, she might have gotten the suspicion that something was going on. She brushed it off, withdrawing the crude blueprints from the dossier, snapping the folder closed and intently examining her targets, Zaphod crawling atop her head to lean into her vision, following her gaze. Scout's frown of concentration scrunched her nose up, and while the Jarvey was landing on the bar to drink from her glass, she was focused intently on the floor plan, mentally running through her options, running her finger along the rim of her glass, listening to the ring it released.

"I get that these cases are supposed to be easier or whatever," she offered, looking up with her brows knitted together in question, "But I don't like this. These men they're–they're just on the fringe. I mean, yeah, they're douchebags and all that shit, but killing them doesn't accomplish much, you know? Is office politics really going to dictate everything, to an eventual detriment? All this is doing is alerting the ones in power. Hits like these...they don't really topple hierarchies. They just make the boss pump up his defences more, and this lot, especially the rich, they're all interconnected, they all work together and manipulate each other, like some inbred web or whatever. These guys can be replaced. So why the fuck are we wasting our time?"

Annoyed, she dropped the plans, resting her chin in her hand, sullen and irritated. She'd always mocked the ministry for its incompetence in tracing all Hank's agents back to him when they went after Smugglers. Now that she was on this 'side', she found herself endlessly frustrated by it. She kept imagining men in fancy robes laughing as they scurried like rats, missing the mother load of cheese.
That idea, of being laughed at–it incensed her more than any of these crimes.

[Jay]

He knew it was coming. It should have been said much earlier then this. Scout was too god damn stubborn to get stuck with the shit cases. He knew she'd see them for what they are, after all it is the trait he liked about her. Plus he knew that Scout didn't want to do these shit cases for ever. She wanted the big money. God this girl was too fucking ambitious! Right now she wanted all of the answers for this garbage and Arjen didn't want to provide them. Arjen didn't want to, but knew he had to. He glanced over to his partner obviously pissed off. A shot would be required for this explanation. He slumped over the bar and played with his drink before throwing it down his hatch.

'I owe you nothing, but an explanation. Scout I need you to understand that this isn't the Ministry trying to fuck you because your an action craving, explosive needing, auror drop out... listen to God Damn it!'

When her ears and eyes perked up he continued with the story.

'A little over a year ago my partner and I were hunting a wizard bent on taking over London. From London to England... that whole deal. He was a dark wizard, right below Voldemort. We tracked him to his hide out in West London. We killed two of his followers and posed as them. We tried to make the hit, but my partner's curse was deflected. The wizard made a run for it and we were left to kill eight of his closest followers. When we finished up my partner came over to pat me on the back, after all I killed seven of them. The wizard, hiding in the shadows shot a killing curse at him... my teacher, my mentor and my best friend died giving me a pat on the back.'

Another shot of liqour kept his composure.

'He was the best in England. The best the Ministry had. He died giving me a pat on the back. Then I got blood drunk. I dropped the new case I was given a week later. The bastard had a house in central London. One shitty night I broke in. Killed the bastard, his wife and his two kids. That was the beginning of my fall. Shit went down hill. I was reckless. It cost me my family, most of my friends, my finger... I got hooked on those muggle drugs. I did it all. It got to a point where enough was enough. I had to take the pay cut, the shit cases. My rank was lowered and I had to get a partner... you. It was either that or I left the one thing I'm truely good at.'

He took another shot to numb the feeling of loss he suddenly got. Of course silence came over them. Even his tactful partner had nothing to say. Arjen leaned over the bar and just looked at the liquor. He was beginning to feel a buzz. Arjen turned his body so his back was leaning up against the bar. There was a rumble in his stomach and he was craving something to eat. It didn't matter that he was in the process of getting drunk. He turned his body to the bartender.

'Can I get a sandwich...'
After a nod he continued.
'Ham and turkey on white. Heavy on the mustard.'

He looked around the bar. Arjen regreted tellig Scout his story. The two hadn't say anything since the story ended. His blue eyes scanned the hazey room for anything out of the usall. He wasn't as sharp as usally was. Maybe another shot would help. Down the hatch it went and then he needed to get a grip. Eight shot in the matter of an hour was not healthy. It wouldn't hinder him much. Arjen was a heavy weight. He sighed and looked back as he waited for his sandwich.

[Ed Taco]

[[EEEE, now I can finally write posts without freezing!
-curls up in University of Utah hoodie-
-beams-
-finally can sit at the keyboard for more than five minutes-
-sans the usual three blankets!-]]

Scout glared up at him, muttering something about how she was not annoyed because she was an action craving, explosive needing, Auror Dropout, but listening dutifully. Her crooky senses were warning her that this dramatic monologue was probably insightful and important and listen up because there will be a quiz at the end of the lecture. She drummed her fingers as she listened, gazing off into space, ignoring Zaphod who was babbling drunkenly.

She arched a brow at one point. Cap'n, a junkie? She ducked her head to conceal the amused grin, raising her half-empty glass of butterbeer to her mouth, before choking as, ew, Zaphod hairs. But she was so mindful of Cap'n and his story, that she forced that down. Grossgrossgross.
Oh, wait, he was ordering a sandwich though. And drinking. Drinking like a fish, the lucky bastard. She looked up and arched a brow at him. Should she correct him on his assumption? Hmm...it would be kind of tacky.
"Aight, whatever," she conceded finally, shaking her head and gently scooping a hiccuping Jarvey onto her shoulders again, letting him curl up about her neck beneath her jacket, nose sticking into the neck of her Pride of Portree shirt. Good old Zaphod, she mused, scratching his ears fondly, before looking over at Arjen with a shrug. "I still think it's stupid though."

She remembered laughing with Hank at watching law enforcement rounding up their little small fries, never really catching on to it being them pulling all the strings. She hated being on the Ministry side of this, but how else was she going to get away with killing off Hank and all his little puppets? It was either this or live under his thumb forever. Maybe if the whim struck her, she'd pick up the pieces once it was over and get back into smuggling, but...well, at this pace that was years away yet, she mused.

She found him knocking back his like...eighth shot of the morning and looked at him dryly.
"I can hear your liver screaming from here, you know. You plan on stopping any time soon? You pass out, I'm taking your wallet."
Straight face and everything. Don't worry though, she won't.
...actually, wait, scratch that, she'd do it in a heartbeat.
Gold is gold.

[Jay]

((Scored 28 in my last game... including the tieing and winning three pointers. =D God what a way to start off this year!))

He wasn't quite done with drinking yet. Arjen was the only member of his family who drank things other then over priced French wine. He amsumed the drinking gene came from his family in Holland or the bars he and Dirk would go to after a nights work. They'd get completly plastered and try to pick up any girl that looked remotely human. There were a lot of things Arjen regretted in his life. Some of those nights were up there.

He looked over to his partner as she spoke to him. Usall tone, but Arjen didn't care. He was in the process of getting hammered and it was only a little bit past noon. Arjen let out a laugh. It was the whiskey laughing. He flipped himself back around to face the bar as the old man brought in his sandwich. It was certainly heavy on the mustard and tasted pretty good as he continued to down it. He looked over once more to adress her statement.

'Two things are wrong with your statement. One, my liver doesn't scream. I can take about ten more of these. Two, I don't carry a wallet. Haven't payed for a meal in three years I think it is.'

Arjen let out a grin. If the people of the bar or resturant wanted to pick a fight with him, so be it. There was only one thing that could come of it. A broken nose, jaw and a nasty shiner around the eye. That was if you were polite about picking a fight. Arjen was an asshole, but honestly what could the Ministry do? They weren't going to tell an assassin to start paying for food. Well they tried once and then Arjen and Dirk had to kill the man. He laughed as the bartender looked at him. He'd heard the story and obviously wasn't to pleased. At least the man knew what he did for a living. Arjen looked at the girl and spoke to her.

'Alright once I'm done with this sandwich we'll head over to the shop I was telling you about. What you don't drink.'

One empty glass of butterbeer was sitting on the counter next to Arjen's nine shots. Yes, he did decide to get another one. He always found that whiskey went well with ham and turkey. Arjen sighed as he finished the sandwich off. He looked at the bar tender. The streak wasn't breaking for this man. He stood up and looked at Scout. One of those looks was what came from the Dutchman. Arjen got to the door and looked back in at Scout.

'Get this for me.'

[Ed Taco]

[[Cool beans and congratulations! =D Hopefully that awesomeness will carry over into the rest of the year. Jesus, it already feels like it's been 08 for months now, ha ha!]]

Scout rolled her eyes quite spectacularly at his ever so witty repartee, proceeding to strum her fingers on top of the counter, entertaining herself with rhythms. Watching people get drunk wasn't exactly her idea of having a ball, but whatever. If he passed out drunk, she'd take that as a sign that she was free for the day and go on her merry way, so it wasn't like she was going to protest too much. As long as he didn't get all misty-eyed on her. God, sentimental drunks are such a pain.

He asked if she didn't drink and she stared at him flatly, scoffing. One hand reached up to curl protectively about Zaphod's head, scratching his ears. He set her on edge–there was still the fact of the matter that she was more crook than ministry and she hated associating with his kind.
Especially when they were halfway there to smashed. Ministry were always so fucking arrogant, parading about like they were hot shit, abusing the system, and generally just being dicks.
"I prefer to keep my brain cell genocide restricted to hours when I don't need all of my cognitive ability and motor skills to keep myself alive, thanks," which was pretty much never, but, well, such is life. Besides, she figured the chain smoking and Heat-abusing was probably more than enough vice in her life, and she had theft and the worlds oldest profession to supply the sin. As far as she was concerned, she was all set there.

He'd got up and she heaved a sigh, not even close to surprised when he left the bill on her, instead directing a rather rude gesture in his direction before fishing in her boot for her gold, tossing a few extra galleons to the barkeep.
"I'll make sure to not bring him around next time," she apologised with a wince, before tossing another two galleons. "I wasn't here. Seeya Abe."
"Arbner."

Getting to her feet, she'd slipped through the bar, mentally tallying as she broke into the fresh air of Hogsmeade once again, catching up with Arjen.
"Sixteen galleons, you owe me," she told him lightly. "One day I'll collect. You don't have the gold then, you'll get a chemical burn the size of a buick." She paused for a moment, glancing to her wrist where her skin had been distorted in an accident involving lye. "On your dick."

She looked up with a cheery smile and pinched his cheek, cold, murderous intent in her eyes. "I'm not joking, Cap'n sweetie. Now, shall we?"

[/blockquote]

[Jay]

Arjen watched her as she talked and let out a laugh at what she said. Who did this girl think she was? Nobody threatened him... or his dick for that matter. She was lucky he was drunk because if sober he would have hit her. Square in the face. Woman or not. Arjen just laughed it off as they headed down the cobblestone street. He decided he'd have to say something about this comment she made. Arjen looked at her. Some light finally showing through those blue eyes.

'The only time you will be allowed near my dick is if your sucking it. Since I don't see that happening... my dick isn't for you.'

What did Arjen care. He was half drunk and actually craving something to drink. Arjen looked back at the Hogshead. It was only three buildings down, but Arjen didn't feel like turning back. He'd go to this shop and then get sobered up for the hit tonight. Arjen looked around for the store that Duffy had told him about. It was down a side road in the village. The road was one Arjen wasn't very fimilar with. There was only three buildings and the trees were much larger on this side. They were just blooming and the shade wasn't great over the street, but it was still much darker then the rest of the town. It didn't give off a bad feel, but Arjen thought it did. Being drunk sucked.

The building was the second one on the left. There was no sign, just a building. The paint was white and the shutters blue. Its windows had been cleaned recently and there were no lights in the windows. The building was only a single floor. There was a vent where the attic was, but no second story windows. Arjen walked up the three steps to the door. There was a closed sign in the side window, but when did Arjen follow signs? He punched the door open. It flung open with a deafing bang. There were no eyes to see it and no ears to hear it. Once Scout made her way into the store Arjen shut the door behind them.

The light made it possible to navigate around the store. It was more or less a muggle gift shop. There were a few t-shirts and some mugs and what not. Arjen plucked a white hat off of the rack and fitted it around his head. In bold letters it said, FULHAM FC. He grinned and looked around. It was an average looking buissness, but he was sure there would something nice in the back. He jumped over the glass counter that was full of Golden animals that made noises as he jumped over. Arjen walked back into another room.

There was a table capable of sitting four. On it was salt, pepper and some other things. A few menus from the Hogshead and the Three Broomsticks. There was a bottle of Scotch on the counter that was along the wall. Arjen grinned sheepishly and grabbed it. Half empty, fine by him. He plucked off the cap and took a chug. Tasted like shit, even in his drunken state it tasted horrible. He didn't see anything that told him any thing. Then he stumbled over a string. Jack pot. He yelled for Scout to get her ass back in this room.

He pulled it hard and down shot a ladder. Arjen looked up at the dark room and saw no light. He listened for any foot steps. There were none and Arjen climbed up. He got himself up into the attic he reached for his wand and stumbled to get it. He lit the room up and saw papers posted all along the walls. It was a mess. Arjen couldn't stand because he was to tall, so he crawled to the nearest wall. There wasn't much he could understand, but saw a map with circles. They were along the shore. He looked around at some of things on the ground. Arjen didn't have any idea what any of this shit did or meant.

'Scout! I think I found a smuggler. Help me out up here... I can't see shit.'

He would take her life if she didn't come up. Arjen was getting frustrated at the fact he couldn't see or understand anything. He cursed up a storm as he looked at a document. It looked like a shopping list. Prices and names. Arjen would let his partner determine the rest. He put the document down and looked at the wall with no intrest at all.

[Ed Taco]

[]

It was cute how he laughed, like he thought he could stop her. Like it wouldn't be so easy to slip something in his drink, fire a stunning curse at his unprotected back... Temptation made her hand lightly touch her wand, feeling the familiar yew and ebony warm at her touch. So easy... come on Arbner, pull yourself together. Don't let this asshole blind you to the real goal here. So she arched a brow and suppressed laughter with great difficulty, coughing into her hand, lips quirked up in amusement as she watched the scenery in great interest.

"Come on mate, I'm hurt. Do you think so low of me, to stoop to fucking Ministry men? Please. I have class, you know." A light, cheery nod, and her hands returned to their customary place in her pockets, and her expression remained ever so content with the world and thoughts of KillMaimDESTROY were totally not running through her head. Of course not. Because that would be unethical and you know, that Scout, she's a paragon of morality. Or some shit like that.

She wasn't massively impressed with the whole door being violently opened like that. She'd stared flatly, counting to ten slowly in her head, trying to remind herself that the Wizengamot wouldn't view this as justifiable homicide. She breathed in deep, and paused at the doorway, slipping her wand out to run it along the jamb–bastard was lucky this place hadn't been trapped. Of course, as she slipped through the entrance, she found that the stock was painfully, painfully normal.
It made her frown as she looked about, wand in hand, resting by her side, sparking faintly as curiousity consumed her. What the hell were they even doing in a place like this? Now, for the first time, she'd wished she'd paid a little more attention to the idiot bumbling about. Note to self: never do a sensitive job with this dick around.

Scout ignored him as he told her to follow, wandering around at her leisure, wondering what the hell a muggle shoppe was doing in Hogsmeade. A wizarding village. Didn't anyone find this suspicious? Why hadn't the blood maniacs shut this place down? Even with Mr. Shacklebolt as Minister of Magic, blood supremacists were still active little bastards, generally just being utter pricks and causing a hell of a lot of property damage.

Another shout. Scout looked up and rolled her eyes. Ugh, she hated this job sometimes. Stupid ranking officers. Gently sliding herself over the bar, she'd slipped into the backroom to find...what the hell had he done now? Knowing this idiot, he hadn't even bothered to check for magical traps or anything...ugh. Climbing up the ladder with a glare of intense annoyance, her head poked into the dim attic.
Her lips curved into an 'oh' of surprise. Clearly used attic space, even despite its size challenges, which meant this shit was bound to be hush hush. Curious, she'd climbed into the room and very nearly felt the ceiling graze the top of her head. Scanning the room with eyes dancing, she'd wandered over and looked down at a scroll of parchment across the table, the writing spiky and curved. Probably had a few illusions on it, because it was turning into senseless data beneath her eyes, spelling out the chemical formula for nitroglycerin and then something about toasted faces. Screaming toasted faces. Huh. Fucked up subconscious there, Scout.

"Lumos," she'd muttered, raising her wand to look about the room, absorbing information like a sponge, curiously quiet, Zaphod stirring about her neck. "Weird that these guys would set up base here in Hank's territory," she muttered, more or less to herself.
It wasn't like the son of a bitch to let people encroach on his business. Clearly, they were either puppets, or they would have got what was coming to them if Cap'n Asshat here hadn't done so first. She scuffed her sneaker on the hardwood floor. They smoked heavily, obviously spent a lot of time here if the various clothing items laying around were any indication, and there were empty bottles littering the place like insincerity at a funeral.

Wandering about the room, looking at things in mild, detached interest, she called over her shoulder,
"So why exactly do we give two shits about these guys again?"
Yeah.
She really should have been paying more attention earlier.

[Jay]

((Basketball tournment for the past couple of days. Won the whole thing. Got MVP for scoring 36 points. Nine three pointers in three minutes. God this year is sick!!))

‘These are the bastards that stole the kid from the warehouse last night. Something’s not right because they came to my apartment. This doesn’t help me very much at all and it doesn’t look like the third member of their party is coming back. I killed the other two.’

Arjen looked around at some of the other documents. It was all shit. This wouldn’t help him at all. Arjen cursed and kicked the documents. He didn’t even know why he wanted to find this girl anyway. Honestly, why is he caring now? He climbed back down the ladder and took the bottle of shit scotch and threw it against the wall. Arjen was frustrated and at least he was telling the bastard not to come back or he would kill him. He sighed as broke on of the legs to the table. Arjen ran his hands through his short brown hair. He looked up to the attic.

‘Take the rest of the day off kid. We’ll make the hit tonight so we can get our gold. Meet me outside of the house at mid night. If your late I’ll kill you.’

There was nothing else needed to be said. Arjen just wanted to sober up. He tore down some of the cabinets as a finishing touch. Then he walked to the door and apperated back to his apartment. Maybe that bastard Babel would come back and find his partner snooping in his stuff. After all she was a smuggler and Arjen knew everything about her past and it was still unclear what his masters meaning of this was. He wanted a hit to come in on that scumbag she use to work for. Arjen would have fun with that one. He’d take pleasure in cutting off his fingers one by one. Slow death was his least favorite, but it sent a great message to those who find the deceased. Basically don’t fuck with the Birds of Prey. Arjen had some deadly street credit throughout London and where he started his work in Manchester.

He entered the apartment and nearly tripped in door frame. Arjen felt like shit and needed to sober up and fast. He walked slowly to his cabinet and pulled out a glass. There was a sound at his door and he dropped the glass. The door swung open. What the fuck was going on! Arjen picked up a piece of glass and threw it as hard as he could. It placed in the man’s shoulder. He dropped wand. Arjen looked over to him and listened to him curse and try to get his wand. This was getting annoying. Arjen stepped on his hand and heard cracks. There was a yell and Arjen picked up his wand. He broke it over his knee and bent over and picked the man up.

‘Who the fuck are you? And why the fuck are you here? Who sent you. Speak up or your death will be slow.’

The man looked at him, horrified. He looked Scout’s age. Probably one of her classmates. He wasn’t an ugly kid by any means. The kid had blonde hair that just ended above his eyes. The eyes were blue and he looked scared. Scared shit less. He had a piece of glass in his narrow shoulders. The kid was only a little bit shorter then he was and Arjen threw him on to the ground as he didn’t respond to him. Arjen pulled out a knife from his sleeve. He twirled his knife in his hands and bent over to the kid.

‘OK…. Holy shit don’t kill me! Please!’
‘Who the fuck sent you then?’
‘Babel.’
‘Who is Babel?’
‘The man who came to your house last night.’
‘Hmmm I think your tiny balls will go first.’
‘Alright, he’s working for a man in the Ministry. Running errands and what not. I work for him… he pays well.’
‘Why did he take the girl.’
‘Honestly, I have no idea. He just took two of us along with him. He told me to go back and to kill you.’
‘You kill me?’

Arjen laughed. He took out the glass and told the kid to pick up the broken glass on his floor. Arjen laughed as he scrambled to pick up the pieces. Then the kid made what Arjen expected him to do. He tried to attack him. Arjen grabbed his hand and then in one quick motion he pushed it up and heard a break. Another laugh from Arjen as he heard the kid scream. He kicked him in the ribs and then dragged him out of his house.

‘If I ever see your fucking face again, I’ll kill you. I will slit your fucking throat.’

There was a slammed door and a lock. How the fuck did they know where he lived? There were no magic yellow pages… Arjen sat on the table and fixed himself a water. He was beginning to sober up and looked at the window. How were these people finding him. Only the Ministry knew where he lived… the Ministry. Arjen would have to ask Scout if she found anything to do with the Ministry in the attic. Knowing that girl she’d deny him any knowledge. Arjen walked into the other room with the couch and sat down. He had a very long time to go. Arjen wondered what the girl was doing.

[Ed Taco]

[[Very nice. =3
Sorry for the lackluster post!]]

Scout was sitting on the table and pursuing the document, her great buddy here looking too composed for her liking, like he wasn't in a state of brick shitting terror. He hadn't even flinched when she told him she was here on Hank's behalf. He'd almost grinned–and she'd immediately slipped her wand down the sleeve of her Falmouth Falcons hoodie (she felt filthy wearing it but Merlin it was warm) and a curse on her tongue. Hank's name was supposed to give her an edge, inspire terror, but...this man had been entirely too calm as she'd cooly examined his records. Breaking the illusion had been child's play, and she'd dictated to him his last few loads, looking up to meet his gaze.

Far, far too calm. It unnerved her, but she kept her own toying smirk on her face. Why wasn't this guy darting his eyes about, trying to escape? Scout forced herself to keep her expression controlled, her mannerisms confident.
"Do we have a deal?" She'd asked, a brow quirking upwards. Merlin, she wanted a cigarette. At the very least, she could take out his eye with it or something. Tilting her head to one side, she'd fixed him with a stare.
"Eighty-twenty."
"Seventy-thirty."
"Sixty-Forty."
"Good enough for me," she'd proclaimed, hopping off his table to clasp his hand and keep it in an iron grip, memorizing features from behind her cheshire grin. "See you tomorrow night, mate."
"Take care."
"And you. Sorry about the mess." She released his hand, wand still at the ready, ducking down the stair well to make a quiet disapparation, touching her pocket where Zaphod had hidden.

Her flat was, surprisingly, not wrecked, and Hank had merely left a note with 'Tomorrow, same time' on her counter, and a fairly wicked looking burn mark. Ah, the joys of mercy. At least she'd have a place to sleep tonight and the gold to pay him off with, not the rest of her debt, but enough to sate him, perhaps. Gently setting her sleeping Jarvey atop the counter, she'd run a hand through her hair. She needed to be gathering explosives for the job tonight, but really, she couldn't bring herself to give a damn. She'd just use the magical charges in her trunk and hope that they could feed on whatever various security spells were likely to be in place. Hurt like hell to set up but, hey, she couldn't be bothered to start building anything else. She was feeling vindictive, and she couldn't bring herself to care if innocents got hurt.

Her back met her empty fridge and she slid down to the floor, everything still but for Zaphod's dreaming and the faint sound of traffic floating in through boarded up windows, and all she could manage was to feel very small.


Hmm. How had she ended up on the floor? Everything was dark and Zaphod was biting her ear, presumably to wake her up so she would feed him. Push self up, and damn but she needed a better sleeping schedule. Her head, no her everything hurt. Why did her everything hurt? Why was she sleeping on her kitchen floor? Great...was she really getting too old to spend four days straight awake? Bah, and she wasn't even twenty one yet! Clearly, something was wrong.

"Time," she asked Zaphod, lighting her wand to look around her flat, digging in the fridge for something that wasn't condiments. Hmm, old salad, baking soda...her stomach grumbled at her as she kicked the door closed, a questionable looking tupperware of her mums pasta in hand.
"'leven thirty," the Jarvey managed before pouncing on the open container she'd placed down at her feet, devouring what would have been her meal if she'd had the time. Great. Maybe she could get Cap'n to buy her an early breakfast or something.

...yeah, right.

Bored more than anything else, she'd wandered off to her room to collect her supplies. And that half-empty carton of cigarettes that had been on her mind all day, which was probably why she'd been so bitchy. Damn it. And here she'd thought she'd quit. Annoyed, she shifted her duffel about her shoulder, lit a cigarette and disapparated out, glad to get out of the pressing quiet.

Even out here, past city limits, there was sound. Looking up in the slight breeze at the buildings, she'd glanced at her broken watch, but even so...
Scout Arbner was...on time.
Early, even.

She'd never live it down.

[Jay]

((Sorry about the crappy post, but it would take to long to include my hit in this and I've been studying my ass off for mid terms... got AP US History tomorrow =D))
Eventually he forced himself up from his couch and proceeded to get dressed for tonight. He rummaged through his closet for that cloak. Once found he threw it on his bed. Then he changed into a nice pair of jeans and those white running sneakers. He liked looking good for his hits. Arjen walked over and looked at the clock. Nine sharp. He stood up and walked over to his weapon chest. Three taps to the top and the chest opened wide. Arjen bent over and grabbed four knives and adjusted his hidden blade. He loved that thing. It acted as his ring finger. Arjen had no ring finger on his left hand, so at a jerk of his hand the blade conveniently came into the spot where his finger was missing. He sighed as he fastened the knives into his belt. Arjen put the box back together and threw the cloak over his frame. Then it was out the door, but not before he locked it several times.

He was in no mood to apperate and wait on the corner for god knows how long. After all Scout was usually late. He let out a sigh as he hit the streets on London. It was a good length walk and should take a good amount of time to get to the wealthier section. Arjen walked rather quickly, as he always did, but came to an abrupt stop. It was a newsstand. He grinned and picked up the Daily Prophet. The title amused him and caused him to move over to the lamppost. He leaned up against it and looked at the police scrambling around a pile of rubble.

Slave house destroyed in Eastern London.

Late last night a deafening explosion shattered the silence around Eastern London. It was found out when the Ministry came on to the scene that it was in fact a slave warehouse. They determined that muggle chemical compounds caused the explosion. Two wizards, one dressed in white, were scene leaving the scene. We believe that it was in fact the Phantom of London. Two bodies were found…

The rest of the article was garbage and just talked about Scout’s explosive job. He shook his head and continued his walk. London was such a large town. It always amazed him how many wizards walked among the muggles in the capital of England. Arjen looked around at the dark city. It was a lovely place to work and Arjen realize what a great place this was to work in. He hated Manchester. Shit town. Hated everything to do with that dump. Arjen eventually made it to the gates of the mansion. He stood underneath the dimly lit lamppost on the other side of the street. Arjen made a quick scan of the house. It was a lovely house, very modern looking. The gate that ran around the house looked about eleven feet tall, but it was brick. Probably enchanted, but he doubted it. This man seemed very secure behind his security. Arjen hoped his family wouldn’t be present when he made the hit.

Then there was a pop and Arjen turned in disbelief to see Scout. He shook his head at her and looked at her and then back to the house as he quickly went over everything he needed to know. Arjen snapped and the case file appeared in his hand. Great the father of three. Two sons, one daughter. The daughter was too young to attend Hogwarts. His sons, however were in their third and first years. Arjen shook his head and then looked at the picture of the wife. Stunning and only twenty eight. Arjen shook his head and looked over to the girl and looked at his watch.

‘Wow. Your… early. Something’s definitely wrong, but I will not complain. Anyway… do what you have to do. I’ll be out in a few minutes.’

[Ed Taco]

[[Hey, no sweat. I know how it is.
Ew, US History. -shudders- Best of luck!
Would have written more, but I need to be in bed. Boo, waking up early in the morning to shovel snow! Damn you winter! One day I will defeat you! ONE DAY!]]

She breathed in her cancerous death with a long, slow pull, eyes fluttering closed, enjoying the escape from that dead little flat for even the briefest of moments. Releasing the plumes of smoke, she'd opened her gaze to find Cap'n Asshat already present. Well, that made her life a lot eaiser. Watching him flatly, she quirked a brow in one of those overtly-articulate expressions. Something along the lines of, 'oh, how clever, making assumptions about my punctuality when you've known me for all of two days'. Even if they were correct assumptions...still. Git.

She'd blinked at how abrupt–wait, no, idiot!
"Hey, wait up!" Instinct had her reach out to grab his wrist, which was probably stupid, because he was probably just like the others, sharp reflexes and averse to touch, but she had to stop him because– "Hold on, before you go off on your bloodbath, listen to me for a second, aight?"

Imploring, cold stare. Another drag of the cigarette, release, and,
"Look, I'm not using conventional bombs. I'm uh, out of stock on that front, and frankly, I haven't had the time to build any decent explosives. Which means I'm using magical charges."

She paused, waiting to see if he'd...he didn't understand. She offered a 'harrumph' of annoyance, rolling her eyes and speaking as though explaining to a child.
"Which means, these bombs are a hell of a lot more dangerous. As in, these badboys feed on magic. So if you go around blasting every little shadow in there, my charges are going to attach to you. Like leeches, and they're a bitch to get off. I've seen guys who've come from the 'mudblood' camps back in the war break down in tears when they've been attacked by these things. These fucking hurt, alright? It's like someone forcing you to rip your own intestines out and making you feed them to yourself. It's not fun. So, unless you fancy magical drain which, ha ha, can result in DEATH, try to control your magic use. Please. I realise it's hard for you, being the colossal moron you are, but do try. Otherwise, you'll fuck up my work, and these puppies can run for a couple grand each"

Deep breath. Okay. Now that we've got that point across...she made sure to slip her wand to her boot, to keep it a fair distance, and withdraw her gloves from her pockets, pulling them over her mangled hands, watching the leather snugly cover up even the cigarette burn on her bony wrist. Excellent. With a wave, and a mental recollection of the plans, she crushed her cigarette beneath her shoe. Eying the wall...I wonder...
She flashed one of her cheshire grins before she'd spotted her break in the minimal traffic and moved into a sprint, duffel bag streaming behind her.

A leap up and–her gloved hands caught the edges of bricks and she moved up in a series of fluid motions, before swinging herself over, her crazy little grin setting in as the adrenaline began to run.

[Jay]

((99 on my AP US midterm... I'm so fucking pissed off. My fucking tart of a teacher decided to take off because my argument of the Patriot Act not being invasive wasn't strong enough. Worst part was I was comparing it to the Alien and Sedition Acts. Fuck that prick!))

Arjen let out a sigh as he made it off the sidewalk and heard his partner yell for him. He turned around and listened to her. His eyes just looked at her with a blank expression. Her words came out as, ‘blah blah, don’t use magic. Arjen I want to blow you.’ He turned away and shook his head. Well know he’d have to use to these blades. He shook his head and then walked across the street and then started into a run and one hopped the wall. It was such a gratifying feeling getting over that never got old. His sneaker-clad sneakers hit the ground and he stood up and looked around. Empty. He let out a grin and looked over to the brightly lit mansion. Then he started into that sprint. He hoped his partner had gotten the guards distracted.

Arjen decided to go to the back door. It was a big house and Arjen found a window creaked open for the spring air. He poked his head around several times before slowly opening it. It creaked a little bit, but nobody was in the room he was trying to break into, so he let out a sigh and crawled into the window. He hated doing this. Arjen was getting far too old… even at twenty-three. There were footsteps in the hallway and Arjen pressed up against the wall. He looked around the room. It was cramped with rustic furniture. A really crappy room. Then the footsteps came into the room. It was a woman, muttering to herself. Arjen stayed glued to the wall, but he was to slow to move positions. She opened her mouth, but Arjen was to fast. A hard punch to the nose left her bleeding and out cold on the wall. Arjen was hesitant to use his wand, but tied her up with it anyway. With the woman out of the way he could continue on further.

The corridors of the house were bright and welcoming. Rooms lined this corridor and Arjen poked his head into each room for any sign of his target. Another set of footsteps and he was gripping the ceiling. Arjen sighed let the big man walk underneath him. He hated bodyguards. Silently he fell to the ground and continued his walk. There were a set of stairs leading upwards and Arjen chose to follow them. He crept up the winding stairs. There was another set of rooms and Arjen followed them. This floor was much darker then the rest of the house. The wall paint was much darker as well. Arjen followed the hallway before finding a door cracked open. There was a dim light coming from the room and inside was his target. Arjen stepped into the room and closed the door.

‘Who the fuck are you?’
‘Most refer to me as death. I’m hear to kill you.’

He reached under the desk, but Arjen was far to fast. Into his shoulder was his first knife. The man stumbled backwards, cursing loudly. Blood fell from his shoulder. Arjen flicked his wrist and down and the blade filled his missing finger. The man’s eyes opened wide. Here came the part where he’d plead for his life. Arjen punctured his carotid artery. Blood spewed from his neck and then Arjen threw him to the ground, so he didn’t bleed over the desk. After all he wanted to have some kind of reading material. He glanced around the desk.

It wasn’t a document that caught his eyes. There was a small post it on his desk in the top right corner of the desk. Arjen smiled broadly. Meet Babel at the docks 7:30. Arjen raised an eye and looked around his desk. On it was today’s Daily Prophet. It was about the warehouse. Something was wrong here. Arjen continued to look through his things and found nothing that connected to the warehouse and Babel. He sighed and decided to leave. God knows when this thing would hit. Arjen exited the room and took off into a sprint. This was what he loved. Nothing quite like the exit.

Arjen ran into the bodyguard on the stairs and ended his life with a simple slash of the throat. He continued down the stairs and then in the kitchen was the girl. Arjen cursed and looked at her. She looked at him wide eyed. Why was it that he always had to deal with kids? Arjen put away his blade. She continued her stare. The girl was far to young to be dumb enough to listen to Arjen’s words. He moved past the girl who ran away. Arjen shook his head and hit the grounds of the mansion. Guess who was waiting for him. I’ll give you a hint, it wasn’t Scout.

Two burly looking men stood on the grounds. Wands in hand. Arjen sighed and knew he couldn’t use magic. He’d have to get his ass kicked. Arjen made a quick move and his knife found the shorter one of two’s neck. It went into his stomach and then he started coughing out blood. Arjen… did that to people. The other man was to amazed to know what the hell was going on, so with a flick of his wrist and a leap into the air, the second man was dead as well. Arjen stood up and shook his cloak. He remembered one thing. Arjen Robben didn’t get his ass kicked. So Arjen continued off towards the tall brick wall. With one clean hop he made it over the wall and out into the street. Scout wasn’t there so Arjen stood out on the sidewalk and lit a cigarette. Yes, he did conveniently have one in his back pocket. He took a long drag and waited for his partner.

[Ed Taco]

[[Oh shush you. I would have killed for 99%s XD I consistently got mid nineties, never any higher. Though, to be fair, I did sleep through most of that class, so I think my teacher was pretty forgiving >_>. Damn high schools, operating during the few hours of the day when I can actually sleep. No rest for the wicked. Or the chronic insomniacs. =_=

Shitty post is shitty :c]]

At least she'd already mapped out where to place the bombs, trying to aim for unobtrusive, near magical hot spots. So Scout was able to slip along with a general idea of where to go, eyes glittering. Guard houses first, she figured. Hmm, in that case...she'd paused in the shadow of one of the houses, digging in her bag for her collection of fizzing whizbees with crude sparklers attached, looking up. Ah, there was the window, and look, a convenient tree.

This was too easy she mused with a sigh, swinging herself up into the tree with practised ease, her small box clenched in her teeth, moving towards the window. There, she paused, peeking into an empty storage room, and looking down. Balancing the box on her legs, she opened it and pulled her lighter from her pocket. A flick of the wrist and good aim sent the screaming sweets flying around the house, sparkling madly. She could hear voices, and Scout took the opportunity to open the window and enter, ignoring the bristle as an alarm spell went off. She needed a challenge anyways as she set out the duffel, pulling out a smooth, black, metallic ball, clenching it tightly and withdrawing a small hammer and placing several nails in her teeth, moving to the corner she'd selected. By now, the ball has sprouted several spidery legs and was attempting to claw free, fighting as she held fast, bracing herself against a beam as she began to nail the bomb into place. She could feel it burrowing into her, catching traces of magical energy, beginning to pull Merlinithurtand–

One of the legs broke free, and she felt white-hot pain across her eye. Swearing, she'd nailed the leg in with a cruel swiftness, securing the thing to the building wall, watching it struggle, touching below her right eye, pulling the glove away to see blood.

Oh that asshole. She'd told him not to touch his wand, hadn't she? These things had clearly been close enough to start feeding, form a bond, and he agitated them with magic. She was lucky she hadn't lost her eye.
Footsteps. Scout slipped her bag over her shoulder and lay in wait for the unfortunate soul sent to check what had tripped the alarm. She'd quirked a brow as he came in, foolishly, with wand raised.
The word 'lumos' twisted into a scream that made her grin, and she was off, breaking his wand beneath her foot and kicking its pieces towards the corner, already moving through the building, practically skipping. She almost forgot about the cut on her eye, until she had to blink blood away. Her mood soured fantastically.

By the time she'd finished, her eye had stopped bleeding, and Cap'n Asshat had stopped using magic. Nearly a half hour had passed, but if the way her insides heaved was any indication, her bombs were nice and fat, ready to go. She'd left a few bodies scattered in her wake, twisted, slowly becoming drained shells, withered husks. Her mood had improved in this time, and by now, she was practically giddy with anticipation, the last bomb in hand.
Because, just for kicks, she wanted to find the corpse and let this thing feed on any remnants. Plus, she wanted to pick his pocket.

The estate seemed to be in a mild panic, confusion rampant, and as Scout slipped in, she had to take great care not to be seen, often ducking into side halls and generally getting lost.
Well, damn. The bomb in hand was squirming, digging through her glove into her flesh. Magic, magic everywhere. It hadn't connected, but it would and...she went back and took the left turn at Neverland. Which, oddly enough, worked. She found herself in a deserted study, with a body on the floor and an interesting blood splatter. She gently released the bomb and watched it skitter towards the corpse, digging in, feasting. Lovely.

She stooped to rifle through his pockets, finding a rather nice pocket watch, before raising and...
Hey. There was something there, something that was moving...she shifted the paper aside, looking down at a very familiar photograph. Out in Diagon Alley, a good snapshot of Hank looking very...well, Hank.
Who would want a photo of him? Well, aside from her, but that was because it would be fun to pour tea on it or something...hey, was that her? Merlin, this photo was old...she could have only been sixteen back then, if the way she turned and grinned at the camera was any indication, raising her wand hand, which was free of the sun-shaped scar. Fifteen, was she? And she was watching Hank with laughing, admiring eyes. She vaguely remembered a trip to Diagon Alley with her mentor and a friend of his, a photograph, but wasn't Theo dead? How did what's-his-bucket get this?

"What the hell?" A voice, mirroring her thoughts. But not her voice. Oops.
Shit. She'd turned, spotting what was clearly a guard she hadn't noticed, stuffing the photograph in her pocket. She smiled sheepishly, watching his wand nervously as he gazed in horrified wonder at the bomb devouring the magical devices the recently departed had worn. Time to go.
Without a word, she darted to the side, knocking over a small coffee table with a Pensieve and various other nick nacks, the bomb swelling as a wand was raised and a scream burst forth. Damn it, that hurt she mused, wincing and feeling a drain, forcing herself to move, move, move, forcing through a tide of people approaching the sounds of screams. Arrogant! She'd been arrogant, she had to get out...!

She was out of breath by the time she'd made it to the front gates, scrambling with a small, black, metallic rectangle, blatantly tripping trap spells, wincing terribly. This would hurt, she mused as she reached the street side, turning around and pressing a button on the side of the metallic prism, closing her eyes and turning her face away–

She was nearly blinded by the explosion, even through her closed eyes. It certainly was impressive, but instead of the usual skipping and joyous laughter, there was only cool relief and the taste of blood and bile in her mouth. She choked it back, coughing and blinking smoke out of her eyes. Her head hurt.
She stumbled back, blinking spots out of her vision, mentally berating herself as she saw a hole in the main complex spew smoke. A hole that was there thanks to her greed and sick little pleasures in life. She was entirely sure that chunks of his body were spewed across the lawn, which was awesome, but entirely unnecessary.
Idiot! What the hell was that for? You didn't have to go loot the body, you greedy little shit, what are you, twelve? Haven't you learned anything?! Shit like that gets you killed!

Scout choked quietly, crossing the street with the little black rectangle box twitching in her hand, pocketed as she wiped her brow clean of the small beads of blood. Where was...ah, there. She reminded herself to be angry at Asshat (which wasn't hard) as her mostly-empty duffel bounced against her legs and she pulled off her shredded gloves, watching him flatly. She could show him that photograph but...well, the small amount of trust she'd invested in him was gone, thanks to his douchebaggery. She quirked the brow that had been bisected with the cut, feeling it sting, still breathing hard, feeling sick and dizzy and utterly humiliated and furious.
"Fuck you," hissed out, decidedly nicer than some of the other words floating around her head disjointedly. "Fuck you, you backstabbing little lapdog."