Around 11PM; just outside of the Black Chimaera.  This thread is open to those with largely friendly intentions towards  Cináed.  Non-friendly encounters are possible just please PM about plotting ideas before posting

A pair of black wings fluttered slightly as the black magpie lighted in the shadows of the darkened doorway to the Black Chimaera.  The pub was at the very foot of the darkened alley - as far as one could get from Diagon Alley as possible.  Location had been a major factor in  Cináed Tawse's decision to set up shop there.  It had been over a month since the parolee had seen his business.  It had been boarded and sealed up after the Aurors had had their way with it - searching for any clues or indications of  Cináed's whereabouts.  They'd found nothing, of course and in the last few weeks Chris had started cleaning the place and getting it back in order.  With the hopes of reopening in the coming weeks. 

Noiselessly, the bird's form began to grow and mutate until the tall, hefty form of  Cináed Tawse stood in the doorway.  A long black cloak covered the man all the way to the ground; the hood was pulled low over his head, long blond curls spilled out over his chest.  He turned away from the door and took several long strides before turning back to survey the pub. 

It was dark and empty and dead feeling.  The temptation to shove the door open, light a fire and bring the place back to life was strong but he resisted it for the time being.  Chris had been in the place but that didn't rule out the possibility of a trap or trace on the building.  The Ministry might have made an exception for Chris, hoping it would give  Cináed a false sense of security and lure him back in.  They'd have to test it at some point - just at some time when there was a lookout.  A watch.  Someone to warn him in time for an escape. 

 Cináed leaned against the face of the building opposite the pub, staring at the darkened front.  He'd dropped off the radar almost completely about six weeks ago.  He was tired of hiding, tired of cowering in the shadows.  He wasn't, by nature, a loner.  He needed the company of his comrades.  But, he didn't delude himself into thinking the Ministry had lulled itself into complacency.  He knew they were looking; the question was how he wanted to go about making his presence known. 

With a flash of light from the match, his cigarette caught and singed down to a steady smolder.  In the flash of light, he spotted the shadowed form of a figure standing a short distance away.  His free hand slipped silently into his pocket, his fingers caressing the smooth, cold wood of his new wand.  His wand.  But, he didn't draw it - there was no reason to risk drawing attention to himself.  Not yet, at least.  The figure he'd seen had, most certainly, seen him - there was no point in drawing even more curious observers.  And, who knew if the Ministry still had folks on stakeout around the BC.  Part of him hoped they would - somehow, it'd indicate being in the big leagues. 

"Evening," he called to the figured. 

[Outfit]

Any person who would be stalking the streets of Knockturn Alley this late at night needed to question their sanity. That was what Shannon thought as she hurriedly fled along the labyrinth of passageways, the brim of her cloak flying around each corner. She stopped dead in her tracks to listen for a noise she thought was someone following her and tugged at the velvet hood to ensure no one saw her face. What in the name of Merlin she was thinking, coming down here like this...! It was shameful! She waited. Nothing. Nothing but silence. It was highly suspicious that no one would be around when everyone knew that the dark witches and wizards prowled the streets at night hunting for an innocent victim. Her body gave an involuntary shudder at the prickling on the back of her neck. The image of a vampire was summoned, unbidden, into her thoughts. A sharp intake of breath sent the woman scurrying again through the darkness. She was terrified to look behind her in case there really was something behind her. Was it better to not know? In this case, it was.

Her intention in coming here tonight was to confront Kronos, or at least one of his lackeys, once and for all. This time, she would not be put off and she would take a stand to his absurd scheme to use her for his own benefit! She would not tolerate being bullied any longer. For this special occasion, she had dressed accordingly: shifting around in the night was a job for a dark color scheme and black was as dark as one could go. Plus, it helped her to fit in--or, it would have, if people were walking around. Her curls bounced with every determined step that she took, sometimes running around a corner to try and flee from her imaginary pursuer. It had been in her state of paranoia that she'd become lost within Knockturn Alley. The transfiguring of a bird into a familiar man was what made her stop dead in her tracks.

For some time, her presence went unnoticed by the criminal. Cináed Tawse was a man that the Ministry of Magic had been looking for for the past month or so. She wasn't that brushed up on the details, but from what she heard, no one had seen him since just before the raid of the tavern he now stood outside of. He was highly dangerous and the last person that she had wanted to cross on a dark street at night. Merlin, was he big! The Ministry official stood immobilized on the spot while he stared at his old building. A brief idea that he would set the place on fire flitted across her mind, but it went away as quick as it came. She hoped that he wouldn't notice her or that her legs would move so that she could flee before he could give him the chance.

The striking of the match made her jump. It was then that she knew he had seen her, but that didn't mean she was keen on coming into the light. Another paranoid feeling swept over her when he greeted her. Was someone behind her in the shadows? Shannon stumbled forward out of the darkness and into the light, tripping as she did so, which caused her hood to fly off her head; the long, ebony ringlets fell around her shoulders. She regained her balance and looked up, once again becoming paralyzed with fear.

Shannon's youthful beauty was starting to return now that some of the stress was starting to fade away. Kronos had been harping her for some time, but she was getting braver and braver, coming baby steps closer to telling the ministry the whole thing. Color was starting to return to her face, her green eyes were no longer surrounded by dark circles, and any traces of old age brought on early by stress were disappearing. Her breath caught in her throat as she stammered for a word--any word!

"Merlin," she gasped fearfully. He was so dangerous! "I-I mean good ev-evening."

What was she supposed to do now? Here she was, a lowly Ministry official, standing in front of one of the most dangerous criminals since the Dark Lord and his band of Death Eaters! Any ordinary MoM official's first instinct would be to pull out his wand! No, that was the worst idea, wasn't it? To pull a wand on a criminal? To pose an actual threat to someone like him? He could probably kill her in a heartbeat and would, too. He was most likely thinking about it right now!

Dugan missed the pull of the moon. There was something gratifying- in the most carnal sense of the word- about the full moon and the change it brought to his body and the havoc he could wreak while transformed into something less than human. When the moon wasn't full, he felt empty- lacking- wishing his condition was one he could control. Imagine a strain of the virus that gave a wolf control over such a thing... It would be terrifying for the wizarding world, yet would please Dugan to no end. He did not have the brain for such an undertaking or he would experiment himself. Dugan had never been the brains- just the muscle, the obedient lackey.

Life had been boring since Cinaed's disappearance. He was a pawn with no hand to direct him, and when Dugan worked on his own things got messy. He'd nearly gotten caught when he'd robbed a home in Hogsmeade the previous week- but Dugan had been out of money. Nobody would hire an ex-azzie like Dugan, and his only hopes of employment would be with Cinaed, and even his cousin probably knew better than to trust Dugan with employment. He attracted too much attention.

But he didn't have a place to stay, and Cinaed was gone and the Black Chimaera had been abandoned. Dugan had decided his cousin wouldn't get too angry if he found his own way in and took up one of the empty beds. Better than sleeping on the streets.

Dugan lurked in the shadows, the heavy cloak he had stolen covered his head but the arms were too short and it came down only to his shins. Perhaps while he was in the Black Chimaera he could find something of Cinaed's- it would fit him better he was sure. He watched as a person appeared- cursing under his breath to realize his cousin had come along to check on things- that could certainly throw a wrench in the plan of breaking into the pub for a place to sleep. Hopefully Cinaed would leave soon. He certainly was smart enough to realize they were watching the place. He was a wanted man.

The man was going to make himself known when he heard a woman's voice. Dugan grinned to himself- what a pretty piece of meat she was. She probably tasted delicious. He shifted his position, coming around behind the woman as quietly as he could- and leaned in close to ear. "'Ello poppet," he growled, breathing hard against her neck.

Through the shroud of the smoke from the lit cigarette, Cinaed watched the woman for several long breaths.  She was attractive, clean and not your typical denizen of Knockturn but, at the same time, there was something vaguely familiar about her.  Likely, they'd crossed paths somewhere - one of the shops in Knockturn or at the Ministry - back in the days when Cinaed still frequented the place for his regular checkins. 

Curiously, Cinaed watched the woman.  She seemed frozen with fear and, since there was no one and nothing else around, presumably it was he that was inciting that fear.  It was interesting, indeed.  He was accustomed to people appearing uneasy around him - he made it a point to come across as intimidating.  But, this whole realm of causing sheer terror by simply being in someone's presence was completely new.  It was intriguing.  But, was an image that was counter productive to what he was trying to achieve.  He wanted people's trust and loyalty - he wanted to be seen as being on the side of witches and wizards.  The Ministry was wrong and untrustworthy - he and the WBA were who they should trust. 

"Evening, dear," Cinaed offered, pleasantly, taking a puff from his cigarette before stepping towards the woman.  "You look a little lost.  There's not much down here anymore but that bookstore and they close at sundown."  Until the New Year, it was the Black Chimaera that lit up the foot of Knockturn after hours.  One day, soon, it would do so again.  Where had he known her?  Was she Ministry?  Could she be of use to him? 

A few steps away from the woman, he paused as he spotted the shadowed form of Dugan lurking up behind the woman.  The glance was fleeting; his gaze was back on the woman soon enough to prevent her becoming suspicious.  He watched, carefully, as Dugan ... greeted the woman rather predatorily.  "What brings you down this way?"

There was something eerie about Knockturn Alley, but more so at night. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end and the woman could feel her body trembling for no apparent reason. In the meager light between herself and the most wanted criminal, her shivering couldn't be obvious. If he knew she was paralyzed with fear, he might get a little braver and try to scare her more. Wasn't that what criminals did? She wouldn't know. Shannon only worked in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Department. How would she know what criminals were like?

"Evening, dear. You look a little lost.  There's not much down here anymore but that bookstore and they close at sundown."

"I-I-I--"

All she could do was stammer. Heaven forbid this man get any ideas that she was easy prey because, well, Shannon couldn't bluff when she was in this sort of state. She would be easy prey! Unfortunately, with all of her attention focused upon the criminal before her, the woman did not hear (nor would she have heard) the figure creeping out from the shadows to further put her body on edge. Something was close behind her and she didn't realize it until it was too late. A presence was hanging just over her shoulder, lips were at her ear, hot breath consumed her neck.

"'Ello poppet."

This time, she couldn't help it: her mouth opened and she let out a blood-curdling scream. The lithe form took several steps away from the man that had crept up behind her and moved closer to the criminal. She stopped herself short enough that she did not invade his personal space, her head jerking back and forwards between the two as if deciding which of the other would try to kill her first. The Ministry official could not control her breathing to anything other than a hard pant. She could hear her own heartbeat pounding in her ears, still crying out for someone to rescue her, for her husband. If only this was like the night she'd met Alastaire.. But here, he could not fight with his fists. Here, a person needed wits and those had already taken leave of the woman's petite body.

Her lower lip quivered as she opened her mouth to speak, placing a hand over her heart in order to try and calm it. The attempt was unsuccessful. Shannon waited and waited, backing up against the wall of the building that  Cináed was leaning on until her back pressed firmly against it. She closed her eyes.

'Control yourself,' she demanded. 'You coward, you work for the Ministry! Get it together, you addle-brained twit!'

Some form of sense returned to the woman and she was able to take a deep breath. Her heart's racing slowed its pace. The paranoia that someone had been behind her all along (or at least, that's what she thought) had been solved: it was a very creepy man with a twisted sense of humor. When she opened her eyes, she exhaled deeply and faced her predators. They had not yet tried to attack her, but she wasn't going to give them a reason. No, she had to try and keep calm in this situation. Once more, Shannon attempted conversation. At first, a lump thwarted her voice, but her hand moved up to her neck to force it away and she addressed the criminal.

"I'm afraid I am lost," her voice was irregularly high-pitched for someone trying to act normal. She cleared her throat and tried once more. "I came here looking for a...a friend. I can see it was a mistake to come here at night."

She shot a wary glance to the other man that had come up behind her. Kronos indeed intimidated the woman, but none had caused her such a fright as the man that had come so disturbingly silent from the shadows to whisper in her ear.

"It seems next time I'll need to request an escort to help me to my affairs." If there was a next time. She dropped her gaze demurely with a thoughtful frown. "Of course, that isn't at all possible. My business isn't to be shared with another."

Dugan chuckled darkly when the woman screamed. He had not been expecting such a grand reaction from a few simple world. He hung back, watching as she took a few steps toward his cousin. "Going to protect her from me, are you?" he asked Cinaed with a grin. "She's not my type anyway. Can't stand a woman so full of herself. One who thinks she can traipse around Knockturn alley at night without an escort and come snooping around the Black Chimaera without an invite."

He paused, running his tongue over his canines. "You ain't got friends 'round here," Dugan said flatly. He didn't believe her. "She's a ministry spy, Cinaed. I'd put money on it. Come to drag you to Raynor all on her lonesome. Looking for some cheap glory." Dugan stepped closer to her again- not wanting to give her a chance for a proper escape.

His amber eyes locked with Cinaed's. Dugan didn't do very much acting without his cousin's orders. He didn't feel much like toying with her at the moment, anyway. Dugan had business to attend to, and he needed to figure out whether or not his cousin would kill him for staying a few nights at his pub. He did have his own room that he rented- a hovel, really, over some abandoned shop in Knockturn. The rent was low, it was a roof, but it wasn't comfortable. But it was a good place to keep all of his trophies. "Can I kill her?" he asked, examining his overgrown yellow nails. "Wouldn't want her squealing to the wrong people that you've been lurking 'round Knockturn, would we?"

The woman started to stammer and Cinaed quickly lifted his hands and nodded his head in, what he hoped was, a pacifying manner.  Really, fear was such a peculiar and illogical thing.  By all observations, this woman seemed convinced Cinaed was going to do something horrific and agonizing to her - activities he'd had ample time to undertake by now.  If he wanted this woman dead, she'd have been dead ten times over by now. 

Not that pointing that out would alleviate the woman's fear. 

"I'm not going to eat you," he offered, his hands still lifted in front of him in a capitulating manner.  The same couldn't be said for the man behind her, though.  Another comment that was unlikely to help her speak in full words. 

The woman screamed and Cinaed's nose wrinkled in a nearly suppressed snarl.  The only thing that was bound to be more effective at summoning Aurors than a scream like that were red sparks.  He remained perfectly still for several moments, his ears straining against the darkness for any sound that someone had taken note of the scream.  "Was that really necessary?" he asked, finally dropping his hands to his side. 

He looked up and over at Dugan, an amused grin playing on his features.  He gave the other man a subtle nod and a slight wink, trying to convey that 'protecting her from him' was exactly what he intended to do.  "There's no need to get hostile," Cinaed told Dugan, throwing an authoritative weight behind his voice.  If the other man had followed Cinaed's meaning, he'd recognize the comment was all part of the act.  "I'm sure she has a valid reason for being down this way."

Finally, the woman seemed to find her voice.  And, luckily for all of them involved, it worked - and at a relatively normal pitch and volume. 

He waved off Dugan's suspicions, his attention remaining on the woman.  "She doesn't exactly look like she's in any position to go dragging anyone anywhere, does she?"  The woman could hardly string two syllables together a moment before.  Of course, that meant nothing - it could all be a rouse.  But, hopefully, Dugan would keep up his suspicious routine - continue to play this good cop, bad cop game with her.  Or, more appropriately, bad criminal, misunderstood criminal.

"Looking for a friend?  A friend sent you down this way at this time of night?" Cinaed asked.  This story could very well be made up.  "I have to question who you chose to call your friend.  I do know most of the residents down this way, though.  If you tell me who you're looking for, I might be able to tell you if you've been misled."  He walked towards the woman, slowly enough to (he hoped) show he had no ill intentions and held out a hand to help her off the wall if she so chose. 

"Can I kill her?"

Cinaed rounded on Dugan.  By the time he was facing the man full on, his wand was drawn and held up at the ready.  His back to the woman, he spared Dugan a quick grin and a nod before lowering his wand again, though keeping it held comfortably by his side. "No," he said simply.  "You're not a ministry spy, after all, are you?" 

"You ain't got friends 'round here. She's a ministry spy,  Cináed. I'd put money on it. Come to drag you to Raynor all on her lonesome. Looking for some cheap glory."

The woman cowered back against her wall further at the accusation. Almost everything he'd said was truth: she didn't have actual friends down here and she was certainly from the Ministry, but it wasn't to spy. Really! How was was she supposed to know these criminals would be down here? She wasn't even sure Kronos Malvivicus lived around here. Her hand reached up to the Deathly Hallows pendant dangling around her neck and glanced at the other criminal anxiously.

"Looking for a friend?  A friend sent you down this way at this time of night? I have to question who you chose to call your friend.  I do know most of the residents down this way, though.  If you tell me who you're looking for, I might be able to tell you if you've been misled."

He was coming closer and reaching out his hand to her. Surely, by now, he would have killed her..unless he was toying with her, trying to get some information from her. Placing a dainty index finger near her mouth and casting the more threatening man that had scared her nervous looks, she reluctantly took the offered hand and took a step closer. The woman started trembling again with each inch that she moved closer to the most wanted criminal.

"Can I kill her?"

A hand covered her mouth, her eyes growing wide with fear at the question. If she screamed again, they would surely kill her. They hadn't been very pleased about her first one. The witch choked back a sob and closed her eyes, waiting for the other to say "sure, why not?". It never came. Instead, he turned to the other and she became surprised. Was the man...defending her? No, it was a trick. It was all a trick!

"No. You're not a ministry spy, after all, are you?"

Was it better to be honest or to lie? If she told them she was from the ministry, they would murder her where she stood. If she lied...they would murder her where she stood. Panic seized her body in strange convulsions and the woman took a baby step back from them both. What to do? What should she do? What could she say that would keep her alive and able to return home to her children? They couldn't live without a mother! Their father had no idea of how to raise wizarding children. If only there was something to give her courage or strength. Firewhiskey, perhaps? Wait. That was it!

She dug around in her cloak and withdrew a small flask from within her cloak, taking a long drink off of it. Instantly, the heat of the drink warmed her and pushed forth any courage that had been lost to her. When she faced the men again, it was with renewed strength, but they still awaited an answer. No, there wasn't enough courage yet. Shannon chugged a bit more, the bravery spreading through her body like fire. The trembling stopped, the panic disappeared, and her head became muddled with alcohol while at the same time being perfectly clear about what she must say.

"I am from the ministry," she declared firmly, her chin raising a bit so that it was parallel to the ground below her. Shannon had redeemed the arrogance and confidence of her nature. There was even a coy smile widening her lips. "I'm from the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office so you'll find no threat from me. If anything, I'm the one being threatened!"

Her eyes sparked indignantly at the man who had threatened to kill her. Hiccup! She covered her mouth, took a lighter sip upon the flask, capped it, and tucked it back in her cloak. Absotively this was going to work out better! She wasn't so terrified and could think clearer about her mission. With a dangerous amount of arrogance, the witch removed herself from the wall and started to walk around the alley, noticing things she hadn't before due to the fear.

"I'm looking for Kronos Malvivicus if that puts your conscience at ease." She glared out the corner of her eye at Dugan. "If you have one. I'm not sure where he lives. I only assumed since this place is so dodgy and full of the most uncharismatic characters that I would find him here."

As she explained herself, Shannon tugged upwards at the gloves on her arm to adjust them over her elbows from where they'd sagged. This time, her eyes lingered upon  Cináed to consider him differently. 'He's not so bad,' the fire-whiskey cooed in her mind. She bestowed him with a friendly smile.

"Oh," she chuckled, "I didn't mean you, of course. I hadn't thought you would come back at all after the raid." When her mind screamed 'SHUT UP!', her gaze drifted to the ground while the smile faded. Was that a touchy subject for him? She risked a glance at him and tried to be more careful of where she brought the conversation. "My apologies, Mr. Tawse. I..." 'Just ask the question,' her mind instructed. Shannon cleared her throat. "Was I wrong to believe Mr. Malvivicus or anyone associated with him prowl these streets?"

Dugan couldn't help the quiet chuckle when Cinaed proclaimed that he would not eat the woman. It was nice to have private jokes, to have closeness with family, to have a real friend. Friends were hard to come by when you were a criminal, nobody understood loyalty, they only cared about saving their own skins. Cinaed was different. And Dugan was as loyal to him as was humanly possible.

"Some of them aurors don't look so strong either," he reminded Cinaed. He saw them when he went in to let them check his wand, make sure he wasn't breaking the law, things of that nature. They generally looked fairly weak, easy to bowl over- especially the women, especially that French woman.

But when Cinaed rounded on him after he'd asked if he could kill her, Dugan was surprised- until finally Cin grinned, letting him know this was all a game. Alriht then, he'd play. And when they were done playing, if Cin had changed his mind about it all, Dugan would kill the woman. He was a good soldier, the perfect pawn for anyone who could manage to earn his trust and loyalty.

But she had declared she was from the ministry. Muggle office. Dugan snarled in disgust. "Filthy things to be touching every day, muggle things," he growled. Whatever chances the woman had of Dugan deciding she was useless and had no reason to be harassed were now gone. Anyone who chose to work with the muggles was not worthy of magic. They should not be allowed to be witches and wizards. It was a shame you couldn't suck the magic out of someone who did not deserve it.

"I ain't never heard of a Malvivicus, have you?" he asked Cinaed. "Sounds like a made up name for a made up person for a made up reason to be lurking 'round your pub. I still say we should kill her. Put a pretty little bow on her head, deliver her to the ministry."

Cinaed lifted an eyebrow as the woman dug a flask from her cloak and took a drink, a sly grin spreading across his face.  If that was how the woman found her cool, again, more power to her.  He cast a slight, forlorn glance towards the closed and locked doors of the pub then towards Dugan, hoping to find a reminder of how foolish an idea crossing that threshold would be.  But, oh - how old habits died hard.  What surveillance, exactly, was the place still under?  Obviously, no one was physically watching the alley that closely - they'd, so far, been left alone.  Would their entrance into the pub go unnoticed? 

Probably not. 

"I'd offer you better but I'm afraid I'm a little attached to my freedom.  I'm sure they've left some sort of welcoming present for me somewhere around here."  He didn't offer an elaboration as to who this 'they' was.  It seemed it should be rather obvious. 

Misuse of Muggle Artifacts?  Cinaed followed the woman's progress with a curious smirk as she began to stroll around the Alley.  Those swigs seemed to have done the trick.  The woman was certainly seeming much more at home.  "So.  Like muggles then, do you?" 

"Such libel.  I'm wounded."  The woman seemed so comfortable she was now speculating on Cinaed's presence or lack of a conscience.  Seemed she was content to settle right in.  Cinaed feigned offense as he raised an rather insincere hand to his chest.  Her distaste still seemed real but Cinaed had always enjoyed intentionally misinterpreting disapproval.  He turned towards the woman, again, and slowly shook his head as he closed the gap between them again. 

"Hardly."  Cinaed shook his head, his tone was playful but he was being honest.  He glanced towards Dugan and nodded slightly, indicating he had heard of the man.  "You're unlikely to find Malvivicus down here.  Not unless he has business to attend to.  He doesn't lower himself to casually lingering with us mere peasants."  Cinaed had never met Kronos Malvivicus but his name came up enough during bar side conversations.  And, he'd seen the wanted posters in the Ministry back when he still reported to his Supervisor for check ins.  He knew enough about the man to know they weren't likely to get along. 

The humor faded from his voice and stance and Cinaed stopped a few paces short of the woman.  Insults to him he could handle with good humor.  Insults to his neighborhood were a different matter.  "Kronos Malvivicus looks down his nose at most of Knockturn.  You seem to share that superiority complex.  You'll have to look elsewhere."