5:34am
October 14, 2008

The sun wouldn't rise for another two hours, so the Sodding Arms Room 76 lay in the same darkness that the insane night had begun.  The moon was nearly full and it's silvery blue light mingled with the orangey light of the flickering lampposts.  Nathan Briggs was asleep in his bed.  It was sheer exhaustion that aided him to sweet repose.  It certainly wasn't the venom burns on his chest, arms and neck.  They ached like a monster and his sleep was fitful.  The inky dullness of sleep was his only salvation from the nights knocking events.  Because when he woke he'd have to contend with the magical wounds, the demolished Chimaera and its irate owner.  He'd had plans of rising early and sniffing the air - to make ready to get out of town if he needed to.

But none of that could happen until he slept.  The Apparition earlier that night when his burns were fresh and chomping away had nearly done him in.  He couldn't risk another until the healing was solidly under way. 

Briggs lay sprawled on the large bed in his ratty drawers, the covers thrown away.  The window was shut against the biting autumn breeze.

And then, all of a sudden, he jerked awake and he couldn't tell why.

He was sitting up, blinking in the darkness and wondering what had woken him.  Had he heard something? Had he dreamed something? Was he just being paranoid?

He sat for a moment longer and knew he'd not get another wink tonight if he didn't find himself a piece of peace of mind.  He got out of bed and quietly padded over the rugs to his red front door.  The only door in the room.  He'd go up to it like he always did and swing the little hinged door aside to reveal a tiny peephole.  He'd look out into the hallway with it and see a dimly lit corridor with chartruese carpeting that had been worn out to show the wood beneath.  The bare brick in the hallway would be the only thing staring back at him.

He'd do just that.  Except when he did it this time, he stumbled back away from the door, hissing a curse.  There was a fecking Auror outside his door! He threw himself back towards the table, then the bed, his hands grasping for his wand in the dark, feeling around for a pair of pants.  He had to get out now.

"Alright," Adon said, nodding with an encouraging smirk to Jake as they waited in the dark of a silent Knockturn street, observing the small complex of flats across the street where Nathan Briggs resided. No one had come in or out in their time arriving. No flashes of light. A spell to detect magic showed no changing or fluctuating traces.

He hadn't worked with Clayton individually before but he'd heard good things. And from their brief talk, he seemed clever. Able. One of Tam's favourite hitwizard's at any rate. She called him "passable." That was, as far as Adon could tell, an encomium of glowing praise. "There is still the possibility," he stated, "of Runespoor venom; cured, as we found in the Alley. It's very volatile around magic, so we need to keep spells from flying at random; if at all. Hopefully," he said, though Adon knew better than to sincerely hope, "he will comply and we will take him in for questioning." He began crossing the street to Briggs' flat. "Should he resist, we stun." There was no crime, just yet, to his name. And they needed his information. And, better still, cooperation. Yet with the Runespoor, everything became more difficult.

It was a matter of damned if you do, damned if you don't. Adon had brought his rifle to the Black Chimaera and it had, in the end, served him little. And yet now, he had brought it -- Raynor would, he was certain, make sure it was his last time and Adon had little objections to this. He would not use it unless it became imperative; if spells were impossible. He kept it on his back, beneath the heavy woolen fabric of his red Auror's cloak.

"So," he said to Jake, nodding. "Let's do this." He reached out and rapped on the door, jaw set, making sure Jake stood directly to his side for reinforcements, just out of sight from the peephole. He saw the hole darken as someone peered through the side. It became light again, though impossible to see through as Adon heard some rustling from inside.

"Nathan Briggs, this is the Auror Corps. We would like to speak with you." There was silence. Adon exchanged glances with Clayton. "Briggs, open up!" he yelled more forcibly as several moments had passed. He was not going to let this bastard Apparate.

Nodding to Clayton, he stepped away for the man to break down the door.

It wasn’t every day Jake saw his share of hitwizarding action.  He trained constantly, though, to perfect his skills with apprehending would-be dangerous criminals and accomplices.  Most of the time, he was perched behind his desk completing and filing mounds of paperwork. 

Briggs’ record wasn’t all that impressive - not to him at least.  He’d read worse.  Much worse.  But apparently, it was highly possible that the man had cured Runespoor venom in his place of residency.  Had it been any other non-ephemeral substance, Jake wouldn’t have had any problems with simply blasting his way in and downing their suspect with a well-placed stun.  He’d done it before, and he was more than willing to do it again.  Unfortunately, that method would more than likely result foully. 

“Hopefully,” he replied, “but improbable.  Keep an eye open.  If he exerts a wand, there probably isn’t any venom.  I doubt he‘d risk using magic if there was.”

He drew his wand from the pocket of his trench coat and stood to the side.  He, too, heard somebody on the other side of the door.

He muttered, “Well, at least we know he’s in there…” 

When it became clear that Briggs wasn‘t going to let them in, Jake quirked a brow at the Auror.

“What’d I tell you?”

He stepped forward, slammed his foot onto the door and splintered the wood.  Without waiting for the next go-ahead, he barged through, wand raised and at the ready. 

A voice confirmed immediately Nate's recognition of the red cloak.  The Aurors had come for him.  He wasn't really dwelling on how they'd come to be knocking on his door.  That was obvious enough.  Neither Maggie Groust nor Cinaed had any reason to cover for him and likely let the cat out of the bag without a second thought. 

Nathan wasn't the sort of frequent flier to be able to tell the name of any Auror - a credit to his long-suffering mother - so he had no idea that he had been looking at Adon Eleor, an Israeli wizard with a very good reputation.  And who'd pulled a gun down at the Chimaera a bit before.  If Nate had known that it was Eleor who'd come to fetch him, perhaps Nate might have been sped even more swiftly to safety that the urgency of an automatic rifle inspires.  He also hadn't seen Eleor's partner for the night, Jacob Clayton.  Likewise, Nathan would have had no reason to recognize him, his criminal record being pleasantly piddly.  Perhaps lucky for Nathan.  He might have panicked if he knew Clayton's arrest proficiency, and how silly it would be to run.

But Nate didn't know the identify of his early morning callers; he wasn't even aware there were two.

"Not at home!" he shouted back as he pulled on his pants. 

But his flippant retort might not have been heard over the great bang of his door slamming open to bang against the wall and topple an iron coatrack.  The door was nearly torn from its hinges.  A wizard came through, wand raised. 

Nate, near their little dining table, flung a wooden chair towards the doorway and its occupant, and sped across the room to the furthest window.  Being a corner room in the hotel, the apartment offered many options for defenestration.  This particular window was endowed with a rusted fire escape with more resemblance to a medieval torture device on display in the Tower of London than a safety scaffolding.  But Nate couldn't Apparate. His injuries, already throbbing with the sudden activity, his skin stretching and pulling as me moved, would flare up dangerously if he attempted teleportation.  That, and he had no idea where he was going.  That was one of the few advantages to escaping on foot - you had all that time running to figure out where you'd like to end up.  So far his plan had gotten as far as "out" and "away".

And so Nate would employ the old-fashioned method: run.  Like a squirrel.  At the window, he turned and fired a spell at the cloaked figure, who still couldn't identify.  "Reducto!"

Then, without even looking to see if he'd completed his attempted felony, he strained to pull open the big window pane.

Adon checked his impatience as the hitwizard seemed to explain the steps and processes to him. Not his first raid. But the adrenaline of the situation could cause nearly anyone to react strangely. Apparently Clayton's gut instinct was to vocalise. Had they hoped for an element of surprise, this might have been an issue. Adon, however, had decided not to care and nodded to what Jake said, wand raised and ready. At least Clayton's spoken thoughts proved sound thought processes.

"Not at home!" a voice inside yelled back, and Adon shook his head, disbelieving. Amused.

“What’d I tell you?” he heard Jake quip and he could not help a silent laugh as he shook his head.

"Never doubted," Adon affirmed. "Go!" he signaled, standing back and in position for Clayton to strike.

Adon was glad he had stood back; the wood splintered under the pressure of Jake's foot and as Jake stormed in, Adon quickly followed, wand raised.

And what was more. . . "We got a runner," Adon marveled. He had expected the man to Apparate. This made life easier. He was also a fighter. Well, Clayton's reasoning, being sound, implied that there was no Runespoor venom here at least. Adon could not help but feel a slight pang of disappointment. That made his life somewhat harder.

He dodged the curse thrown in their direction, taking only a moment to glance about the room as he closed the distance between himself and their fugitive. He could not see anyone. If opponents were present, there were at least two of them. Clayton seemed to be making progress, lumbering his way towards Briggs who seemed to be tripping his way towards the window.

Adon took this opportunity to make sure. "Hominum Revelio!" When nothing presented itself out of the ordinary, he returned to his pursuit, confident at least that they would not now be attacked from behind. He let loose his catalogue of neutralising spells: "Expelliarmus! Petrificus totalus! Stupefy!" One of them ought to have landed, particularly between the two of them.

Spellfire soon filled the air and it was quickly obvious Nate was host to more than a solitary houseguest.  He dropped to the ground behind the bed as one of them fired.  He'd lost his wand in the spell barrage, two other spells bombarding the window behind him.  Broken glass rained down on him.

One might think that living in Knockturn and cavorting with dodgy types made one inclined to this sort of activty; one might think that a fellow such as Nate would be at ease running from Aurors and feel a sense of confidence and calm even in this stick pickle.  This was not so.  Nate's talents all lay in avoiding confrontations like these in the first place, prevention being the most effective form of avoiding a cops-and-robbers scene.

"Stop shooting!" he yelled in the space of a few breaths.  And that was all the time he had to try to make a move.  No wand and out-numbered, with the charges stacking, he hadn't many choices.

He poked his head up quickly, his hands raised.  "I'm not Briggs.  Just quit shooting and I'll tell you where he's at."

Maybe if he could get them to put their wands down for moment, he could get out of that open window. His crime down in the Ally hadn't been violent - it had been an accident.  And other than the one chair and single spell he'd fired when they'd burst his door down, his past offences were only slightly violent.  He didn't expect they'd shoot him down if he wasn't running.

Briggs's apartment wasn't the most sumptuous Jake had ever seen.  But then again, this was Knockturn Alley.  One wouldn't and couldn't expect extravagant hotels and pristine shopping centers to be scattered throughout.  Very rarely did he visit this place.  When he did, it was usually to either aide an investigation or ascertain the whereabouts of a wanted criminal. 

Half-expecting a haste of retaliation, the hitwizard gave a strong flick of his wrist.

"Flipendo!"

A bluish orb leaped from the end of his wand and smacked into the chair.  The impact knocked the piece of furniture back at Briggs, but flew over his head as he took cover behind his bed.  The resulting crash as it collided into the wall surely woke a few neighbors."Stop shooting!" he yelled at them, but to no avail.  The two men proceeded forward, wands raised and trained directly on their scapegoat.  To his satisfaction, the man looked to be without his wand as well.

"Pity," Jake mused, mumbling the Carpe Retractum charm under his breath.  With it, he roughly jerked the mattress aside and bore down on Briggs.
 
"I was expecting more of a fight from you, Nate," he scoffed, aiming the tip of his wand directly at his forehead.  "And yes, you are the man that we're looking for.  We have your photo on record, you know."

He was one hundred percent positive that this guy was Nate Briggs.  Unless some other poor sap had chosen to render his appearance using Polyjuice Potion to act as a decoy, this foray was a mission accomplished.

He dropped his aim from their captive's head to his torso.  Giving the wand another flick, he muttered one final curse under his breath.

"Petrificus Totalus."

Well, that was quick. Adon looked at Clayton who stood, wand raised at Briggs, then to Briggs, who lay upon the ground. Alright, then. Adon wordlessly summoned Briggs' wand into his own hand and held it, calmly, before pointing his own at the man.

"Mister Briggs," he began, talking down to the man beneath the mattress.

"I was expecting more of a fight from you, Nate," he scoffed, aiming the tip of his wand directly at his forehead.  "And yes, you are the man that we're looking for.  We have your photo on record, you know."

It was at this moment that Clayton chose to pin Briggs to the ground, bearing down upon him. Adon drew his lips into a tight line, listening to the one-sided exchange. He never thought he'd be the one to need to do this, but he had been on the receiving end enough to know how it was done. Taking Clayton by the elbows, he pulled him from off the suspect, only to notice that Briggs was not only not putting up a fight, he wasn't responding. "Well!" he began again. He started first by the British recitation of rights granted under Magical law -- still somewhat new to Adon and so he repeated them carefully and a bit falteringly from memory. And then picked up where he'd left off.

"Master Briggs, we request the honour of your presence at Auror Headquarters to answer a few questions. And if you are not, in fact, Master Briggs, I'm sure that Level Two is the best place to sort that all out. So if you'll please come with us," he said, looking up at Clayton with raised eyebrows -- a mobilicorpus seemed in order.

"And," he said, "for clarification, your right to remain silent is, for the time being, also a request." He thought for a moment. They couldn't Apparate. So how did one get through the streets of Knockturn Alley, then Diagon, with a restrained and levitating suspect without raising a hubbub?

"Well, that's all set and done," Jake mused, before casting a sidelong glance at Adon.  Leave it to the Ministry's police force to induce a bit of civility into their work.  If he'd have had it his way, Jake would have simply hauled Nate's behind back to Level 2 and handed him off to one of the available interrogators there.

"I doubt we'll get very far if we're seen lugging his body through Knockturn and Diagon," he said.  So, before we go, let me do this-"[/b]

Rapping his wand on Briggs's forehead, he muttered an inaudible incantation.  The disillusionment charm worked wonders in situations like this.

In a matter of moments, Nate's physical being vanished.  Satisfied, Jake stood back up and gestured towards the front door.

"Shall we?"

 

 

Nate misjudged these two.  He'd figured he wouldn't eat any spells in the dark of the apartment if he was unarmed and surrendering.  He figured wrong.  The talkative Auror wasted no time in aiming a hex at his chest.

Nate dodged, but not enough.  The spell hit him in the shoulder and then everything went cold.  And oh yes - screaming painful.  Petrificus Totalus froze his body rigid and solid.  He fell to the ground with a thunk.  Even his eyes, half-way shut, couldn't move or blink.  But inside his head, his body was raging with angry pain.  The magic of the hex had caused his venom burns to ignite fresh.  It was the same reason he hadn't Apparated - he needed to stay magic free if he was going to knit up.

Through unfocused eyes he saw the second wizard come to stand over him.  And through rigidly frozen ear drums, his words came through as though under water.  Thick and soft around the edges.  Nate could barely make any of it out.

The frustration and fear of being completely immobile was beginning to wear but his thoughts were interrupted when two new spells cast upon him sent his burns into fresh agoney.

And that was when the weakness in Clayton's poorly aimed hex began to show.  First Nate realized he was moving his eyes, and then quickly after that in a cascade, he regained control of his face, then his arms and then the rest of him.

In a strange, invisible, levitationg tumble, Nate came out of Petrificus Totatlus coughing, grasping for something to hold onto.  The three of them were just leaving the hotel room, and Nate let out a stream of raging declarations right there in the threshold.

"Are you kidding me? What the hell are you doing! Psychopath! You have any idea what these fecking burns are, mate? You can't just go firing shit into me when I got burns like this!  Wand down! You get that? Wand down means stop shooting! Stop fecking shooting, understand.  I'd given up! Hands in he air, no no stop wait: that equals SHOOT to you? Bloody hell! Get a half a brain and call your lawyer, jeeez...Gonna kill Briggs for getting me into this..."

Hovering there, his rant over, he touched at his burned chest and arms tenderly.  They were angry angry red and glistening with fresh blue pus.  His apartment was totally destroyed and it was clear these two weren't messing around.  He wouldn't be walking away from this so he'd have to keep his head above water some other way.  And for the moment that meant not provoking these two animals into more brawny violence.

The voice -- emanating from between them, grew in pitch, volume, and indignation. Briggs was a fool to keep spouting off like this. And they were a fool for not having considered his condition. From the sound of tumbling and scuffling upon the floor, he surmised the man had broken free of his mobilicorpus.

The burns. Adon did grow grim-faced at this, feeling sympathy for the man. He'd not let the extent of it show in his looks, however, and kept a rigid countenance. "No spells then," he agreed firmly, unable to meet eyes with Nate, he still being invisible, and not looking over to Clayton -- he did not wish it to be taken as a reprimand. He had no remorse for what had happened -- the man was still trying to flee and he had needed to be detained. Perhaps with less force and with more care. "We'll just go for a little walk to the Ministry." For Briggs, it would be a walk of shame. "We'll have a healer on site there for you," he added a bit under his breath, reassuringly.

Well, it might have been reassuring. Adon was never one to know: he hated healers. Hated needing healers even more.

"Not going to take me up on my offer to shut up, hm?" Adon asked. If he had been able to see Briggs, he might have delivered a  weighty glance. The fool was still fighting the name. Insisting he'd kill "Briggs" -- the other one, presumably "real" stockboy. Adon didn't fight that one; hardly seemed worth his breath. He had little doubt on the matter; highly improbable it would be polyjuice potion. The damage sustained to the skin would have caused a slippage in the form the person had assumed. But even if it was polyjuice, if the man before them was not Briggs, then they were not looking for Briggs. They were looking for this man. The one with Runespoor all over him. He shook his head. He'd not let the man know of his misstep in speaking.

"Clayton, terminate the spells --" he lifted his head to where, from the spitting and snarling he had heard previously, he suspected Briggs waited suspended, "if Mister May-or-May-Not-Be Briggs is amenable and complies." They'd bind his hands with a simple incarcerous if need be -- but ropes would not feel much better than spells against that raw, blistering skin. "What say you?" he asked. "Compliant?"

He wondered, idly, if Briggs would now take up his offer to remain silent.

(I apologize! I was waiting for Clayton, but I think it's okay to move on by now.  I hope it's alright that I complete Clayton's actions for him.)

The 'good cop' of the pair - the calm, collected one who spoke with a slight accent (Middle East?) - spoke to Nate gently and in a tone Nate found condescending.  Although it was more pleasant than wandfire, which Nate had had enough of.  If there was one thing Nate Briggs could never gracefully tolerate, that was being told what to do.  He bristled at any attempt to wrangle, curb or curtail him.  It incensed him with the strongest revulsion that he had to do what these Aurors said or they'd be protected by the law to keep shooting at him.

But it was the terms he wanted: his own two feet and no magic. At the wandpoint of an Auror and Hitwizard, wandless and bearing hideous burns, Nate's running spirit had laid down. There'd be no talking nor scurrying out of this one.  He sighed in aggravation.  The desperation of being arrested by two armed wizards was sinking in.  This wasn't really about being questioned - they thought he was a criminal.  But there wasn't anything he could do about it.  He hadn't been fast enough out the window.  And the ironic part was, it was his own transgression that had created the burns which prevented him from avoiding the law by Apparition.

Invisible, Nate knew that the Auror and Hitwizard couldn't see his face and the surrendered expression.  After a few moments, he finally said, "Fine."

The invisibility faded first, then the levitation.  Nate was alert enough to land one foot first, and then to a knee.  He got up on his own, holding his hands up to keep away any 'assistance'.  He didn't need them manhandling his burnt arm.

"I said fine," he insisted and shrugged off any attempts to take him by the elbow or shoulder to lead him off.

"I'll come fecking quietly.  For shards' sakes. Look, what's this about?" he asked, having not taken a step out of the room yet.

"I'm sure I could explain everything. Am I under arrest?  Because it sure looks like it.  If this is about questions, let's have questions right here, yeh? I can put the kettle on and we can clear this all up right now.  Some nice tea, boys?  Handle this like grown-ups with a proper chat?"

Briggs tempermentally shrugged off any offers of assistance. Adon was not surprised; even if they hadn't filled the roles they now currently held, he could hardly expect the man to be good-natured. He was probably in pain. But for being in pain, he was certainly resilient. Stalling; he ought to want this over and done with. Adon sure as hell did.

"Yes-you-are-under-arrest," Adon said with metallic, crisp, accented English that sounded like a barrage of bullets . "We are not 'grown-ups,' we are Aurors." Well, he was. And he was who mattered at present. "And we are not chatting, we are going to ask you questions regarding last night. AT Level Two." His composure-- what remained of it-- snapped at the mention of tea. Good cop was about to go bad-cop. "Damn you British! We do not want tea, we need answers and you are coming now or I will use this," he said, holding up the wand and waving it. The door swung open more widely until it hit the wall with a muted thud.

"I'm not sure how good your grasp of English is, but 'come' does not mean stay where you are. Come. . ." he paused a moment, gritting his teeth. "Now." This felt like dog-training.

When Eleor stated he was an Auror, Nate feigned surprise with an 'o rly?' face, raising his eyebrows then rolling his eyes and swearing under his breath.  He knew they were damned Aurors.  Shit. 

And this Auror was getting impatient.  His wand was out again and he flinched, and even though the magic was basic and tuned onto the door, his burns sizzled just so in proximity to the magic. 

He scowled  and rubbed his face.  He wouldn't be here when Daz got back - but she'd know what happened.  The long wand of the law had reached into their dirty little hovel and she'd know where to find him.  It had been a few years since he'd last been arrested and he remembered not fondly.  Being ordered around and penned up and waiting indefinitely in hard little chairs.  And without his wand the whole time.

He stood awkwardly there for one sliver of a defiant moment after the Auror barked at him again.  But then walked past both Auror and Hitwizard out the door.

"Well fine, let's have this done with.  C'mon, lads."

Flippant as ever, but it hid the fact that he was very much not excited.

The man paraded out like a pomeranian -- the most hideous of show-dogs, with a bow-legged swagger to boot. This was like dog training, and Nate Briggs, well, he had a walk that was all for show. He wondered who trained him. He couldn't have been born that way.

Still, Nate may be marching out with a swagger, but he was moving forward. Which was the direction Adon wanted. He was not entirely averse to herding from time to time. And, if worse came to worse, he could play the dog and nip the ankles of this Briggs if he resisted his corralling.

Mercifully, the trek over continued more or less without incident. Adon was taciturn at the checkpoint, only speaking with gazes to the hitwizard guard at the front. It was here that Clayton took his leave of them, being called away. In the secure confines of Level Two -- much more secure now than they had ever been before October 1; disasters and breaches tended to do this -- Clayton's services would not be much utilised.

Several Aurors lifted their heads as Adon entered with an unrestrained detainee. For each lifted brow, Adon had one of his own to return as he, still walking behind Nate, occasionally nudged -- if necessary -- his suspect towards the questioning room.

"Alright, Briggs," he said as he opened the door that led to a stark room that contained a table. "Have a seat. Hills?" he asked the aide on hand, "We'll need a glass of water for Mister Briggs here. And my briefcase."

He released his breath through his nose, frowning as the door closed and he turned to face Briggs. "So. You've stated that you are not, despite records, appearances, and all other likely circumstances, Briggs. We can test the veracity of this claim; there is a counter-spell to a Polyjuice potion, of course. I would need to use this to make sure you are, in fact merely impersonating him and that this has been a misunderstanding." He lowered his eyebrows as he pulled out a chair for Briggs. "Sit," he commanded before continuing. "Of course, this would be rather unpleasant for you. Particularly with those burns."

Hills returned, timidly poking his head in the door before leaving a briefcase on the floor and handing Adon a glass of water which, either intentionally or through some misunderstanding, he began to sip at himself. He leaned over, pulling out several sheets of parchment and a quill, which he placed on the smooth tabletop in the middle of the room.

"October 14, six-thirty-five," he stated in a distracted tone. The quill began to move silently and unsupervised over the paper.

Adon looked over at Briggs flatly. "So, it's your choice: are you or are you not Nathan Briggs?"