April 25, 2009
2:27 am

Friday night and things were finally shut off at Calaveras.  Lit by his own clove cigarette, Nate Briggs was walking home in the chilly spring night, with his damp black apron still around his hips.  A dirty white t-shirt and a shabby stalking cap set well back on his head were all he needed for the short walk through Diagon to the Sodding Arms in Knockturn.  His one-room, home-sweet-home, shared by his rarely-there, perfectly excellent wife Dazmond.

He sauntered down the cobbles in a night where the tight streets of Diagon were nearly empty, and the even tighter Knockturn Alley wasn't as empty as you'd want it to be.  But Nate was from these mean streets; Knockturn was his home.  That didn't mean a vampire could rush from the shadows and turn him into a bloodsucker, it just meant that among the living there was some straggling sense of neighborly feelings.

Well, not so much lately. 

A noise made Nate jerk his gaze towards a doorway and make a quick step in the other direction.  He coughed out a smokey breath before swearing and swaggering on.  "F-..."  he breathed.  He had to be so much more on his toes since the Aurors threw Old Rafe Sellaphix into Azkaban in February - imprisoned him on Nate's say-so.  It had not been easy to keep quiet, and now Nate wasn't enjoying any Knockturn block parties or friendly feelings from the others.

His new reputation as a rat had made Knockturn much colder.    He kept walking down the narrow, winding, forking Alley.

There are many components to a criminal empire which allow for it to run efficiently and effortlessly.  Kingpins.  Bosses.  Runners.  Lackeys.  Muscle.  Fall guys.  Sources. Ins and Boughts.  Every cartel, organization or crew has them, needs them, but just as much as they need them, sometimes the chaps working for the Law get some leverage and born from any of these reliable (or in many cases expendable) individuals comes a criminal's worst nightmare.

The Snitch.  Also called: Rat.  Turncoat.  Sellout. And most commonly, Dead Man.

The Snitch is the lowest of low, one side reveres them, typically the side to which they are informing for, unless of course their information turns up less than solid or reliable or they're simply playing the role but that makes things much more complicated than they need to be for now.  Moving on.  The other side, well, lets just say that less than favorable persons would find these sorts of opportunities to be a rather lucrative business proposal.  However Nathan Briggs was not a lost cause, oh damage was done to the criminal industry certainly but that did not mean that life necessarily had[ to come to a bloody standstill around him.  Bloody yes, but a standstill of death?  Eh, no.

In as easy as it is to figure out the snitch, it is just as easy to find them on any given day, for some reason people think that after they inform to the authorities on their boss that protection is guaranteed to a point where they can resume normal lifestyle choices.  Whomever's idea that particular notion is the one who deserves an ending to their life to be sure.

He had been lurking throughout Knockturn since around half past midnight, even once venturing inside Calaveras for a pint; not that it really made much difference if he was seen.  Sellaphix wasn't exactly one of his more common associates but their trails had crossed once or twice.  It was no real well kept secret that Briggs had been the leak to his empire's demise.  Truth be told part of Richard wanted to pat him on the back and give him a bone for removing some competition from the field, still most of wanted to sock him some mind.

Shadow to shadow, anonymous and alone as the minutes ticked on into hours and finally extended past the pub's closure point.  When tailing someone; most people followed behind a target.  Richard kept in front his; cloak hood drawn up up over his head.  Although he did almost lose him when his direction changed once courtesy of an alley cat and again later for well, fact is he didn't rightly care to notice.  Once they had put some distance between themselves and his work he allowed the gap to close.  Smaller...  Smaller...  Closer...

 And then comes the fist.

Turns out it's not hard to clock someone across the jaw from behind a stack of crates, probably the one thing all those muggle films got right about ambushes and surprise.  What they got wrong, was that leveling someone's jaw with momentum, actually hurts quite a good deal more than it appears.  Huh.  Imagine that. 

"You really should be more careful about where you're going; people might get the wrong idea."

Suddenly, a bus.

It came 100% out of nowhere.  So worried Nate had been about what might be following him, he didn't even suspect that a stack of boxes might have been laying in wait.  The force registered before the pain, Nate's head nearly taking flight from his neck, and his shoulders and the rest of him following down to the ground.  He lost his footing on some uneven pavement and landed hard on his elbows.

Buzzing, stars, what the hell!  His face and neck were wracked with an all-over sharp ache that came on fast like a wave and stayed. "Augh...!" he breath-groaned from the ground.  But Knockturn was no place to take a rest on your duff and he was immediately trying to clear his head, see through the stars, and get to his feet.  See the bus that had hit him.

A voice near the crates started to give some clues.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Oh for Merlin's sake... through the numbing pain in his mouth, he tasted blood.  He spat on the ground, a dark stain appearing in the darker street.  Still on the ground, too dazed to find his equilibrium, he reached round to his wand pocket on his trousers. 

"Do us a favor and sod off before I get on my feet and kill you," he said with more brash bravery than probably was appropriate.  He couldn't make out who this arsehole was, and at the moment he didn't care.  His face hurt and as soon as he could, he was going to get nuts.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

You know that deer in the headlights look most normal people get when you scare them out of their wits or inflict a random high level of pain on their body?  No?  Well good because Briggs didn't get that look, what he got was the look of a boar...a big, blind, angry and rightly pissed off boar.  Still, although he wasn't being necessarily bright,  he was being a right good sport about it all...

"Do us a favor and sod off before I get on my feet and kill you."

Or not.

Burke's wand was not out but it was within easy reach.  Instead he chose to keep moving, slowly, and non methodically, but moving.  "Temper now, Briggs.  Temper.  I'll die on my own accord if you don't mind," he paused to judge the man's condition.  Dazed.  Pissed.  Overconfident.  Perfect.  "You on the other hand, well, you might just want to stay down."

It was funny really, how both sides of the law could play the same corruption game.   Here was yet another man who had gotten himself in over his head, saw something he didn't like and went to the law.  They likely told him they could protect him given certain...conditions.  Those conditions sounded better than his present faced consequences, so he took the offer.  Ironically, no man can be made invulnerable, and more importantly, it's far less painful to ignore things than to confront them.  They never would learn the lessons in time.  School didn't last long enough.

"Lets talk, hm?  You recognize my voice?  Does the name Declan Montgomery mean anything to you?"

In the narrow street, Nate found the wall behind him (just near the door to a pawn-brokers' that was rumored to take payment in slivers of soul).  He closed his fingers around his wand with one hand, his other on his ringing jaw.  Mother- it had been a long time since he'd been hit like that; he'd completely forgotten what it felt like.  As much as he wanted to pop to his feet, lay out the mugger, and be on his way, his buzzing, swaying head had other plans.

"Ungh..." he groaned.  It was only a matter of time, though; he knew it wasn't a mugger.  The bad vibes that had swarmed around his return to Knockturn had finally materialized into whoever it was there in the dark.

More words from the dark figure and Nate was beginning to make out the shame. 

"..."  he paused for a moment at the man's three questions, then, an angry, exasperated, "NO!"

"What- No!"  Talk? Did he know..? "Montgomery...? I don't bloody know- !"  His voice was losing some of that in-control edge.  He was disconcerted at being dazed and finally just drew his wand and leveled it at the dark shape in front of him.

"I don't know what the hell you're talking about, you crazy idiot.   Psycho, back off. GOD!" 

Pace.  Pace.  Pace.  Pace.

People watching had always been a preferred past time of his, playing the guessing game of just what was making them act the way they were.  Honestly, knowing why Briggs was reacting as he was, was incredibly boring.  However, the responses he was getting, oh these were just hilarious.  Psycho?  Really?  That was hardly the word that he would choose to describe himself - of course he hadn't just been randomly blindsided in the jaw either so perhaps that could be taken as a bit psychotic out of context?  Oh well.  Most comical never the less.

Wand.

Truth be told, the wand's steadiness concerned him.  It was either a damn good bluff of stamina, or Briggs had regained his vision.  Perhaps both.  Perhaps none. Still; a threat was a threat and a poor choice to make when you're down.  "Now now, there's no need for theatrics.  You've done quite enough of those already.  If I wanted you dead I would have just done so already, it certainly wouldn't have been much a challenge."  One step back and a motion with his arm.  "Rafe would hardly approve if I took his revenge for him.  We don't see eye to eye often you see, but we do agree on certain...idealizations."

For a marked man he wasn't very bright to be still hanging around turf that wanted him dead.  Richard didn't right care if he [Briggs] ended up dead in some other ally after this little chat.  IF Briggs truly knew nothing of his operation,  then all he had to show for his night was a bruised hand and some otherwise calmed nerves.  If it went the other way however, well, he'd worry about that if it got there.  The streets and the underworld had their own court, of which society was well aware.  Justice in that court was cruel, unforgiving, biased, and rightly never gave a damn.

Oh.  And there's no Crown attorney fees.

Rafe? Oh shite and pissings.  Rafe Sellaphix.  Even as his brain was befogged by the hefty clout, it was becoming clearer what had caught up with him.  Nate touched his hand to his jaw again, the pain ringing in his ears numbingly.  He'd have to agree with the voice - Rafe Sellaphix was certainly not the type to order a hit.  Revenge in any form barely seemed his style.  For all the old Apothecary got mixed up in, he was very concerned about the appearance of honesty and propriety and abiding the laws (most of them, anyway). 

The mention of Sellaphix gave proper context to Montgomery though, and things started to make sense.  Sellaphix's lock up had probably been worse for some of his clients than his own affairs, clients who weren't as hung up on the appearance of being law abiding.  Dazmond had once described some of these sorts of witches and wizards as fanged grimbears in that if you shot your wand off, you'd better be shooting to kill.  Wounding one wouldn't do you any good at all.  And Nate wasn't a complete idiot, in fact, he was a very clever bloke when it came to saving his own skin for another night of drink and gambling and marital relations.  You might think it would be difficult to choose between a rock and a hardplace, but it really wasn't. 

"Alright, alright, we'll talk then," he said, his tune changing.  He even tipped back his wand.  The encounter had began with violence, but if he kept his wits he'd talk his way out yet, with less bleeding.

"Montgomery.  Yea.  Good bloke.  Businessman," Nate said.  "Always willing to negotiate.  Level-headed."

Not exactly true - more suggestive thinking. 

"Alright, alright, we'll talk then.  Montgomery.  Yea.  Good bloke.  Businessman.  Always willing to negotiate.  Level-headed."

Right.  When you toss a drowning man a lifeline of any sort and he'll do one of two things.  He will either cling to it with a furious passion of survival, or he'll flip you off a giant bird and try to swim away to certain death.  The first,  smart, while the second, obviously not so much.  He wasn't too sure which methodology Briggs was following but anything was better than listening to pissing and moaning.

But now we more or less moved on to begging...which really was just as annoying in its purest form.

"Businessman.  Right.  Glad to see the light's clicked on in the thick skull of yours."  Its always an amusing thing to witness, when the giant light bulb goes off  and suddenly everything becomes clear.  Okay.  Everything is never clear but that doesn't right matter, all that mattered to him right now was making sure he was still capable of saving face and keeping his racket out of the fast moving pinch.

"I can only negotiate if there's profit to be had so lets see if we can't make this worth my while.  Yeah?   Sellaphix is finished, that's a right give in.  Now what do you know about the rest of his network?"

(Oh that's god awful, my apologies in advance...)

Alright, we were finally going someplace.  Punches in Faces was just an attention-grabbing prelude; seemed there was more to this little knuckle-sandwich than meets the eye.  Mister Wizard had more on his mind than venting frustration with Knockturn's most recent pariah.  That was good.  If it was talking, Nate stood a chance. If it was more of that punching it was more of a toss-up.  (To be generous.)

Nate kept his wand pointed up.  The buzzy bees were beginning to fade and in the dark he was starting to make out his new... friend. 

"That they are all just as pissed off as you are," he answered.  He'd gotten owls, and a couple of death threats.  Sellaphix's had been vandalized nightly for a month straight back in the fall.  He had to imagine Mrs Sellaphix was probably getting more of the same.  Sellaphix hadn't done big business but he'd done a lot of it.  It had been a hub.  A quiet place for the right people to make the right kind of deals, all behind carefully kept books and owl deliveries.

"They're looking for an alternative and nothing's popping up handy.  Not as handy as Sellaphix, anyway.  Is that what you're after?  Names? Contacts?  It's Burke, isn't it?"

Nate now had the stability to get his feet beneath him and slide to sanding against the wall.  He kept his wand down yet.  And not because it was the best choice, but because he'd learned long ago that prey selection behavior was a real thing.  A defense posture only make an attack more likely.

(Glad to be of service then!)

"That they are all just as pissed off as you are.  They're looking for an alternative and nothing's popping up handy.  Not as handy as Sellaphix, anyway.  Is that what you're after?  Names? Contacts?  It's Burke, isn't it?"

Says the man with nothing to lose...

That wand was still there?  Ha!  Was it something he was supposed to be afraid of, muggles might fear firearms (unless of course they're carrying their own) but lets be real here.  People were decisive.  If Briggs had planned on using that flashy little stick of his, he would have done it by now and been on his way.  Was it a threat, certainly, but nearly as much a one as others might make it out to be.  The alley was starting to smell though, so the quicker this went the better off he was.

Still, the use of his name worried him just a tad...

Okay.  It worried him a lot.  'Punches in Faces' was not amused, time to dance.

"Quite right we're all pissed mate.  Quite right indeed.  No one wants to suddenly find out their possessions and funds were in the hold of the Titanic now do they?  I know Rafe wasn't stupid, but I'm betting his clientele has no assurances of that."  Anyone who played this particular game for a living always kept an ear to the street for contacts and fallout.  Sometimes you get goldmines, other times you get street rubbish but if you don't take the risk you don't have the slightest chance of any benefit.

"Everyone's lookin' for someone Briggs.  That's just the way the world turns.  If I find Burke, he'll get far worse than a shiner.  You can be bloody certain of that."

Briggs narrowed his eyes in the dark.  If I find Burke, he'll get far worse than a shiner. What?  He'd been sure he recognized this guy as Burke...  But in the dark maybe he was mistaken. 

"That's the trouble with alternate business models," he said, making a quaint euphemism for the part of Sellaphix's enterprise that was illegal.  "The Aurors are waiting to hex-melt your arse, and the shit you're trading in explodes from time to time," he said testily.  Yes.  Nate had been the one to screw everything up, but criminals were kind of asking for it.  Sellaphix was kind of asking for it.  So was Montgomery and Burke. 

And every other stinking person on the list that Nate had given the Aurors...

"If all you snakes start sticking your necks out you're going to get your heads hacked off.  Maybe take a lesson and keep your head low.  Is that why you came by? For advice, mate?"

True, risk was part of the job but there wasn't exactly a union readily available to argue that all criminal lackeys get some sort of hazard pay compensation now was there?  No.  No there wasn't.  And as to sticking one's neck out, really?  It's illegal.  Just by doing it you're risking a minimum five years in Azkaban if you get caught, tack on another three for every successful trafficking.  What's not to love about jail time?  Seriously, while Briggs' ravings thoughtful muses made perfect sense, they also answered their own unasked questions.


"Right.  Advice.  Exactly what I'm looking for.  Ah, no."  Brown eyes searched the man, but for what exactly still remained to be determined.  "What I do, I do because I'm good at it.  Just like an other chap on the street.   Some jobs have more bad days than good; and that's a risk everyone takes.  People have to make a choice on when to get out of the game and frankly, I'm not quite ready for that.  Every job has its risks; even the one you do now."  Some risks were just dialed down to a much smaller scale than others.

"Look, Briggs, I don't right care what you did to Sellaphix, or for what reasons you did it.  Your choice, your consequences."  Pause.  "You just keep off my toes, and I'll keep out of your face,  now let me give you a piece of advice.  Those aurors, now that you've done your bit, couldn't give two knuts worth a damn about your life anymore because you're worthless to them."

An indignant surge welled up in Nate Briggs and he scowled.  He'd been a fragglerockin' broompusher for Sellaphix and how he was bloody washing dishes for Meredith Renfield.  If anyone knew how to hide in a hole it was Briggs.  If we were all honest with ourselves, Nate had blown it whilst taking out the garbage.  He bit his tongue to keep from his mouth getting him into more trouble.

But his face fell when Burke or whoever he was mentioned the Aurors and how Nate had worn out his usefulness.

"That a threat, mate?  You bloody threatening me?  Look, I've sang like a banshee once and don't think I won't do it again," he said, bullshit pouring out his mouth.  There was no way in hell he was going to voluntarily have another tea with that Auror Eleor again, or any other Auror, again.  But then, he also wasn't keen on being bullied by this arsehole either.

He swiped his wand through the air to keep his personal space clear of thuggery.  "No no, stand back, mate.  I think I'm about finished with our little chat.  You don't have anything to worry about with me, understand? You let me go about my merry way and I won't bring down a brigade of red-robed jackwagons on this sorry city block.  Sound alright to you?"

Well, you know what they say; 'out of the frying pan, into the fire' and all that muck. It seemed that if Briggs was this insistent on signing his own death warrant, that Richard would simply have to make him wait a second while he retrieved the boy a bigger shovel.  After all, at this pace they would be here all night, still, his point was made.  He had to admit it was rather satisfying to watch the color of falsified bravado drain from someone's face.

""No no, stand back, mate.  I think I'm about finished with our little chat.  You don't have anything to worry about with me, understand? You let me go about my merry way and I won't bring down a brigade of red-robed jackwagons on this sorry city block.  Sound alright to you?"

Annnd there it was.

"That sounds like a grand notion, positively grand.  I love it when two men can have civilized conversation and come to an agreement! It makes life just  so much easier." Burke replied beginning a series of steps back toward the near adjoining walk.  It was quite likely that their shouting over the last minutes had attracted curious ears but that was hardly a concern in comparison to making sure Briggs stayed where he was...safer.

"Remember, Nathan, we're watching."

Nate glared at the wizard who's stance was easy and controlled, as the wizard began to stroll away on his business.  Nate spat on the ground, the flesh on his face stinging like crazy.  He was going to look like a moron for a few weeks.  A moron who 'ran into a door'.   Daz would, of course, fix him up, but black eyes tended to just run their course, magic or no.

"My arse..." he grumbled as Burke or whoever he was faded out of sight.  Nate had the same instinct that Burke did - their palaver had no doubt upset the shallow peace of Knockturn and that he best get the rest of the way home before something got curious.

He lowered his wand and gingerly touched the side of his face. "Mother...!" he hissed. 

As he set his mind to Apparate like a sissy to his flat, he realized that keeping his head low was not an effective plan.  He was going to have to do something about this mess.