5am, Apartment of Dugan MacDuff

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He ached. That was the first thing Colin became aware of - a throbbing headache, the rest of his limbs reporting in with a damage report of stiffness and minor twinges of pain. He groaned, shifted; became swiftly aware he was cold, too, and laying on the floor of...somewhere. Hadn't he fallen asleep on the couch?

Colin opened his eyes, pulling his arms under him to sit up. It was dark, where ever he was - the dim light filtering in from the dirty window the only light source.

This definitely was not his apartment.  It was filled with photographs, moving ones, still ones, wanted posted sketches - they were plastered over the walls. Most of the photographs seemed to be of one woman. She looked familiar, but he couldn't place her. Trying to puzzle out her identity wasn't at the forefront of his mind, at the moment.

The whole place was dark, grey - dirty. It smelled of a mixture of things, familiar to his senses, like alcohol, blood, dirt, sweat. The sounds from outside suggested the bustle of downtown London, or some other place, and the clear age of the place and state of it suggested...Knockturn? Though he hadn't been anywhere near Knockturn. He'd grabbed a 6-pack and some bread after work and gone home after work. He hadn't even stuck a toe into Diagon. He was in his lounge clothes, too - jeans and a t-shirt. Trying to recall his steps, all he remembered was falling asleep on the couch - having had his 'Werewolf Weekend' to look forward to with a nice stay at the cells, he'd gotten through the 6 pack and dozed off. At least that explained his headache, but...

He went to get to his knees, but paused - upon moving his left leg, a loud dragging sound echoed in the small place, and he stared in stunned silence at the chain that had been bolted around his leg by a metal cuff.

Colin stared at it in silence. Well. That certainly implied a few things...like the fact he wasn't here by some drunken choice. He stared, sitting still...and then panicked, pulling at it, trying to get it off his leg.

The man had been a rather easy target. Seemingly unaware of his surroundings, easy to follow, and unsuspecting. Which had surprised Dugan. His mug had been plastered all over the Daily Prophet and all over Diagon and Knockturn for a while. And Hogsmeade. Everyone in the wizarding world was looking for Dugan MacDuff. So it was a good thing that this shmuck lived in Muggle London- where nobody would recognize him.

He'd tailed him, followed him home, gotten into the house. A stunning spell and apparation later, Dugan tied him up in his flat in Knockturn. Dugan was sitting at a table, eating one of those crappy, instant meals (just add magic!) when he heard the chain scrape across the floor. Dugan finished his meal before moving his chair over to the man- just out of his reach- and sat back down. "Wouldn't do that if I were you," Dugan said calmly, tossing the man a can of beer.

"Chain is silver. You get it on your skin it might itch. Werewolf and all," Dugan commented. "But I can't have you getting away- and I don't know what kind of tricks you Unspeakables have up your sleeves, so I figured the chain would be useful... Besides, don't want to waste your energy. You're going to need it for the full moon."

The beer can hit Colin in the leg; he just looked at it wordlessly, picking it up  before he looked up to Dugan again. The man was familiar - of course he was. They'd plastered his wanted poster all over the Ministry. They'd even put one in his office, though that was probably due to the fact everyone said he wouldn't see it otherwise-

"Dugan MacDuff," he said, still trying to process that. Need it for the full moon...the analytical bits of his brain woke up and kicked in. The silver chain meant MacDuff knew he was a werewolf...

"What do you want with me? If you're after Department secrets, you picked the wrong employee," he said, frowning. He was related to Tawse, wasn't he? "Though if you're trying to embarrass the Ministry you probably got the right guy," he admitted, as he rattled down the possible motives and reasons in his head. He felt sick - with fear, mostly, though the hangover wasn't helping.

"Looks like we've got a genius on our hands," Dugan said in response to the man saying his name out loud. Then he laughed. "Bit formal, though, considering the circumstances. You can call me Dugan or MacDuff. No use for titles. I sure as hell don't intend to call you Mr. Downer." Dugan then opened his own beer, and took a long draw from it, studying the man as he started trying to puzzle out why Dugan would take him.

"I don't give two shits about your department secrets. If I wanted those, Ward would be sitting where you are." But Colin was wrong. He was the right guy to embarrass the ministry. Especially if he made a mess while he was transformed. Which was the plan. Well- part of the plan, at any rate.

"Hair of the dog, mate," Dugan said- pointing to the beer again. "Always makes me feel better. But if you don't want to have a beer with a friend- well, I guess I can go back to my business elsewhere and just leave you here alone until the full moon rolls around. I don't really need you until then anyway- I just wanted to make the ministry sweat about your disappearance."

Colin gave Dugan a long, slow look - measuring up his chances. The ball fell squarely on Dugan's side of the court; he had a wand, he was ruthless, clearly capable of violence - just look at him! - whereas Colin was chained up, wandless, and at this point his only defense would have been waiting for the full moon, which this man apparently wanted anyway. Or possibly trying to get the chain around MacDuff's neck, but he figured that the moment he was more trouble than he was worth-

Somehow that beer actually sounded welcome. Quickly taking his eyes off Dugan, he picked it up, glancing down at the label. Good wizarding brand, actually fairly expensive - given the surrounding, indicated somewhat warped priorities. Beer above personal hygiene and aesthetics. At least it wasn't warm, as the bottle was cool in his hand. He shot Dugan a cautious look, then sighed popped the top off, taking a big gulp.

"So you want me to go on a rampage, is that it?" He said, having thought about the man's words, holding the bottle at his lips. "Show the people that the Ministry can't even control their own werewolves, and they've got their collective heads shoved somewhere dark n' moist?" The cynical part of him spoke up, despite his fear. "Don't think people need more proof of that, mate."

Dugan laughed. "S'bit of an understatement, I'd think," he said simply. "Besides, you won't be going on a rampage chained up like that. I know what I'm doing." He set the bottle down on the floor next to his feet and belched loudly. "Besides, you and I both know that if you go on a rampage because you were kidnapped and deprived of your wolfsbane that it's not going to make the ministry look that bad. All it's going to do is make you guys the victim."

"Then again, I guess you guys are the victims. You should see my to do list when it comes to destroying the lives of everyone in your stupid government." Colin was really only a minor role in the grand scheme of things. "Scared that one auror right of the force, didn't I? The only one willing to do a damn thing about the werewolves. All part of the plan. Can't have an auror like that working at the ministry when there's work to be done. 'Specially when it comes to the whole... what are they calling us these days?" Dugan scratched his chin. "Direwolf, I think. Direwolves are even less safe with a man like that on the force."

"Gotta admit I was afraid he wouldn't quit. But you can only push a man so far. Fascinating what kind of information you can get when you're fucking the right women," Dugan commented. He paused for a moment then, fished around for a cigarette. "You smoke?" he asked, lighting up and taking a puff.

Colin sighed, nursing the beer for a few more sips as Dugan spoke. He stayed quiet, listening - not able to take notes, but glad he had a good memory. The Auror...Fox, wasn't it? He'd been something of an ass about werewolves, but he'd definitely gotten the job done. Colin had considered himself lucky to be as careful as he was; he had no intention of crossing Fox in the field.

Arguing about the government being stupid hardly seemed a good way to live. Still..."Direwolves? The daytimers, you mean," he asked, frowning - the daytimers had been a major source of scrambling in the Ministry. That just shouldn't happen. He looked at Dugan critically as the man pulled out a cigarette.

"I don't smoke, thanks though. Fascinatin', maybe," he conceded. "Though not always accurate. Don't try that on the girls in the DoIMC, half of them couldn't find their own bums with a map. Let alone yours," he added with a scowl.  "Most unrewarding chase ever,  lemme tell you."

He sipped at the beer again. "So you're a direwolf, then? How's that working out?" He asked, almost casually - slumping back against the wall, feet stuck out in front of him and crossed at the ankle.

"Daytimers? Haven't heard that one yet," Dugan commented. He'd heard a lot of names, too. There had been whispers- rumors- before he'd made his appearance in Diagon and confirmed it all. But of course everyone had written it off as ridiculous paranoia- because it was impossible. Had been in impossible. Wasn't impossible anymore. Until Cinaed decided to do a little tampering.

Dugan grinned- viciously- when Colin asked how it was working out. "Well. More convenient to be out in the day. Easier to find people to eat. You know any muggles, Colin?" he asked, tapping his ashes into the floor. "They taste different from wizards, did you know that? Smell different, too. Air is thicker, dirtier in the muggle world."

"Spent last month's full moon chasing 'em in the morning. Figured it'd be a pretty little mess for the ministry to clean up. A werewolf attacking muggles in the day time. Brilliant, really. Fun, even. Seems you're the sort who doesn't embrace your bestial side, Colin. You've never ripped into an innocent person's throat and enjoyed it? You're missing out. Nothing more exhilarating than causing trouble. Never had more excitement in my life than I did last full moon. Chasing everyone all over Diagon. Want to guess how many people I killed?" Dugan sneered.

He gave Dugan a measured look again - of course he knew Muggles. His parents were muggles, but he was not going to mention that if he could avoid it - no, he wasn't going to mention it at all. The last thing he needed was for them to pay for his mistake.

"Not surprising that they taste different," he said automatically. "Different diet, exercise routines, changes the blood content - taste, therefore, would be slightly changed. Natural magic may also change it." He couldn't help it - he was interested. He didn't kill himself, but...death was interesting. The fact Wizards tasted different could mean any number of things.

"I don't give in to my bestial side, no. It's annoying, being a werewolf. I get a five day weekend, every now and then; that's a perk. But I don't like it. I'm not that type. Sorry. And no, I haven't killed anyone. Not directly, anyway." He rubbed his arms; it was kind of cold in here, though the goosebumps on his skin had little to do with the temperature. "I don't know - seven, eight? Been a month since I read the papers, mate."

He paused. "How do they taste, Muggles, Wizards? What's the difference like? Does the curse cause the wounds to change at all - is death swifter?" His interest was overpowering his common sense.

Dugan couldn't believe that his intimidation tactics (even if they were poor ones) weren't being effective. This man was shackled to the floor by one of Britain's most wanted wizards and he was taking it in stride. It was weird. And for some odd reason, Dugan felt the tiniest hint of respect for the man that could keep his cool.

And he also liked that the man was asking him questions. Nobody had ever asked Dugan about killing people before, and he couldn't help but feel a little pride that someone was finally interested in the fact he killed people beyond... well.... just the killing part, and for reasons other than hating him.

"Best way I can describe is that muggles taste gamey. Ever eaten a wild animal?" Dugan asked. "They taste different. But they were salty, like ham. What I imagine a wild boar would taste like." He put out his cigarette on the heel of his boot. "Wizards, on the other hand, taste sweeter. If you're really interested you should do a study of it this full moon," Dugan suggested. "You can't remember what you're doing now when you're a wolf now- but I aim to fix that for you."

"So tell me, Colin, do you like your steaks rare? I hear that's pretty standard for werewolves." He stood up again, went over to the icebox and pulled two of them out. "There are two things in life a man should never compromise, Colin. That's good food and good beer."

"What, like deer and such like? No, only as a human. I've never gotten out of my safe room, MacDuff - I'm cautious. Even if I did, and I could remember, I'd probably have gnawed on someone's cat, given my luck...hear they're not the most satisfying meal." He was working to commit Dugan's words to memory. "Any different reactions to your bites, at all? Different tearing patterns or odd coloration? More or less blood loss?"

Admittedly, someone like Dugan probably didn't take note of such things. In a twisted way, Colin wished he did.

His eyes bugged out for just a moment at the implications of what Dugan said. "How do you plan to fix that, then?" He asked. "Got a direwolf on hand to feed me to, or something?"

The steak...his stomach growled. He hadn't eaten since lunch the day before, and the prospect of a good steak was appealing, despite the twisting in his gut at his predicament.

"Yeah, rare. Juicy, too," he added. He wasn't going to disagree with Dugan's comment on compromising; he was right. Colin drank from his beer again, eyes following the steaks in Dugan's hands. "Did your steaks have a name, or are they just cow?" he asked - tone somewhat jesting, but question serious.

Dugan grinned. Did his steaks have names! "I wouldn't know, I don't slaughter cows," he answered. With a quick spell, he thawed the steaks and then tossed one- rare and totally uncooked- at Colin. It splatted to the ground in front of him. "That's as rare and juicy as it gets. Better eat up, friend- because that's going to be your last meal until the full moon."

Then Dugan used another spell- barely cooking his own steak, and then sat down at the table to eat it. He figured that if Colin was hungry enough that he would be more vicious in his wolf form. At least, that was his logic. And the angrier and more vicious that Colin was, the better it would work out for Dugan and for Cinaed.

As far as Colin's questions about bites and things of that nature... "I don't know, mate," Dugan said. "It's not like I pay attention to them. I kill them and then I move on. Or terrify them a little. Sometimes the chase is more satisfying than the catch." Sometimes. Usually it was a combination of everything that Dugan liked. The terror, the biting, the destruction... The killing, the blood, the reputation. The power, mostly. Dugan liked being in control.

Splat.

Colin looked down at the steak, picking it up with the tips of his fingers, stomach growling but...he wasn't particularly hungry at the moment, all of a sudden. He did his best to clean the side of it off, then very carefully ripped off a chunk, trying it. He'd have to eat something, he rationalized.

It actually wasn't that bad, though it wasn't completely unfrozen either. He choked it down and carefully laid the rest on his leg, trying to ignore the cold of it. Thankfully, it was cow. Cow was...cow. It might have had a name, but frankly, who cared what cows were called?

He sat against the wall again, trying and failing to get comfortable, but attempting to seem comfortable and nonchalant anyway. "So what's the plan for now, MacDuff?" He asked. "And please don't tell me I can't have beer for a few days. Have some mercy, would ya?"

Dugan laughed. "I may not be the smartest person out there, Colin, but I am smart enough to know that you are smarter than me. Now if I tell you too much of the plan before it happens, that just gives you more time to figure out a way out of this mess. So you'll just have to be satisfied knowing I don't intend to kill you, and that you won't thirst or starve to death in my care."

He took another bite of his steak, thoroughly amused that he had even tried a chunk of it raw. Part of Dugan wanted to cook it for the man just because he had tried, but he didn't need to be too nice. He needed to be careful about being too friendly. But the kid was alright so far. Though Dugan had to admit it would be a lot more fun if he was putting up a fight- then he could laugh at him.

"Maybe not beer, but at least water," he assured Colin. "I don't think keeping you drunk for 2 days is in either of our best interests."

Speaking of... "I guess I better find you a bucket to do your business in then, yeah?" Dugan said with a chortle. At least it would be easy to clean. Dugan could at least manage vanishing charms well enough. "Hope you're not shy, Colin. Cause I'm not undoing those chains for anything."

Damn. Well, that axed that little nugget of hope, but oh well - he hadn't exactly expected Dugan to had him a schedule of events. Admittedly, having one handed to him would probably have amused part of him - the crazy part that was controlling him, at the moment.

"Might be in mine," he muttered, nursing the beer Dugan'd tossed him again. "Tell you what, when this is all over I can chain you up in my flat, see if beer or water works better. Make a proper study of it." His tone was rather hopelessly amused; that was assuming there'd be an 'after'. (Or that he'd be able to get Dugan chained up, but that was what...ah..well...that was what luck was for.)

The bucket. Colin stared at him; he'd be privately wondering about that, but hadn't really wanted to ask, honestly. "I'm not shy, though if you'd turn your back, that'd be dandy," he said with a sigh. "Unless you want to see me whip out my pan handle, in which case you wouldn't really have to wait for that. Knife to the throat'd do it."