Horse Guards Parade (Let the Games Begin)

[Sansa]

Sansa complied with the request, peeling off her blood soaked shirt and shimmying out of her jeans, her sandals left neatly on the carpet. Standing in a mismatched bra and thong, she used the towel to dry off her hair as best she could.

She could think of a lot of different things to say but in the end said nothing, suffering the indignity in silence. Sansa felt a little warm thinking of Rod's eyes on her ass, but didn't look at him to verify what she imagined as she ran the towel over her hair again.

[Mr. Plainview]

"Five... four..." Mr. Plainview paused and listened intently, there were sirens approaching, "They're improving!"

This appeared to please him. The pocket watched snapped shut and was replaced inside his jacket. When at last he took stock of the all-but-naked couple before him, he frowned, although less bloody, they still made a rather frightful sight. There was movement behind him; one of his colleagues, a goateed cockney in a navy blue suit, cleared his throat for attention.

"All is in order as per your request, Mr. Plainview. Me an' the boys- I mean, the team is ready to depart. Sir."

"Very good. Return to headquarters, Mr. O'Connell. You will be debriefed shortly. Now, where was I? Ah, yes."

Once his trio of snappily-dressed associates had taken their leave, Mr. Plainview returned his attention to Rod, Sansa, and then the bedroom at large. First he gave them both a quick once over, head to foot, then apparently satisfied, he scrutinised his surroundings down the length of his nose, as if he were in deep contemplation about the colour scheme. Again, using the tip of his walking cane, he tapped the floor twice, and the room shattered. All around them the bedroom fell apart in large shards; the ceiling, the walls, the furniture, and then, with a soft hiss, the shards disintegrated into a fine grain. When it struck the floor, the shower of sand simply fell through it, and all that was left behind was Rod's bedroom, untouched by destruction and death, exactly as it had been found. Mr. Plainview gave them both a look of pained consolation:

"I grant you, that was rather Nanny McPhee of me. Shall we?"

And with that, he left the room.

[Rod Stafford]

Given Mr. Plainview's unfathomable composure, Rod had expected something to happen, but he had not been prepared for that. He spun, stunned to find his bedroom completely restored to normality; gone were the fragments of wood, in their place there stood a fine wardrobe; gone were the bullet holes and the discarded weapons; gone was the blood; gone were the bodies of Abbie, Sarah, and the Russian - and gone was Rod's concern. After a couple of rotations, he stopped to share an astonished glance with Sansa, and without a word, the surprised gaping mouth stretched into a delighted child-like grin, and he dashed out after Mr. Plainview in nought but his underwear. He caught him on the staircase, given his decidedly leisurely pace, and negotiated each step with all the barefooted grace of a bounding dog.

"Mr. Plainview! I have to say it was a real pleasure to see you at work, sir! That was the finest display of co-location I have ever seen!"

[Sansa]

The transformation of Rod's room was nothing short of breathtaking. But once the two men left the room, Rod following Mr. Plainview like a teenage groupie, Sansa realized that her bloodied clothes and sandals had disappeared as well. Towel still in hand she walked out and down the stairs, catching up with the pair as they walked out the back door into the garden.

"I was thinking of borrowing some of your roommates' clothes," she stated, in case anyone cared what she thought. "Gallivanting around London in my knickers isn't exactly my cup of tea."

[Mr. Plainview]

Such a display of adulation was, in Mr. Plainview's opinion, unbecoming of a gentleman. However, despite his best efforts to ignore him, so effusive was Rod's praise, that he couldn't resist a thin sliver of a smile. It had been, after all, a rather excellent piece of work. His good mood was to be shortlived, he realised, upon spotting his associates engaged in a scuffle with a young man. When he was at last pinned against the wall, and silenced, Mr. Plainview addressed his lieutenant.

"Mr. O'Connell, I believe you were instructed to return to headquarters."

"This sleeper 'as gone phoned the police, 'asn't 'e?" grunted Mr. O'Connell, as he struggled to keep his hand clamped firmly over the man's mouth, "Nah 'e's seen us an' everythink!"

When Rod saw what was going on, he advanced, his face set in stone. The slap of a walking cane against his chest stopped him in his tracks, and before he could lend voice to that damning glare, Mr. Plainview interjected:

"Here you have a choice, Mr. Stafford. Your friend-"

"Sully."

"Your friend, Mr. Sully here, is a witness to all that has befallen you and this household tonight. My... colleagues and I have gone to great lengths to eliminate all incriminating evidence relating to these events. The question is this: do you trust Mr. Sully enough to protect you and Miss Martin when the authorities arrive? Or, if you prefer, we can adjust your friend's memories of this tragic night, permanently."

Hereupon, Mr. Sully started to really put up a struggle and his muffled cries threatened to alert the neighbours. Rod looked troubled as he considered his captive roommate, but time was no longer on their side, for it seemed police sirens were closing in from every direction. Now, for the first time, there was a sense of urgency in Mr. Plainview's voice:

"Mr. Stafford!"

[Rod Stafford]

Rod bristled to see his friend handled like that, especially when it was by a pack of such glorified thugs. What he must've been thinking: his home raided, his housemates murdered, and now this, his friend, reduced to his underwear, in the company of suited men intent on covering the whole thing up. His head was pressed flush with the brick wall, scraping his cheek, and in the waning moonlight, his red wet eyes spoke volumes. In the end, the choice was obvious.

"He was drunk when he called the police, and was mistaken about the shootings. Abbie and Sarah left with the others but they just... never came back. He has never before seen me, or Sansa, in his life," Rod swallowed hard, "Sorry, mate."

"Sounds good enough for me!"

Evidently pleased with the news, one of Mr. O'Connell's friends clasped Sully about the jaw, and gave him a headbutt. The back of his head made a deep thud against the brick wall, and he slumped to the ground, dazed. The thug who'd attacked him promptly found himself on the recieving end of a right hook and collapsed into O'Connell's arms. Rod, who looked ready to follow up with a haymaker, was consequently restrained by the third of Mr. Plainview's suited understudies, while Mr. Plainview himself was hissing like a boiling kettle amidst the fray.

"Stop it, both of you, for God's sake! He was just doing his job! Miss Martin, please get in the shed!"

[Sansa]

Sansa didn't know what to think, but really, if they were going to kill her then they were going about it in a weird way. She stepped nonchalantly into the shed, looking around as she did so. It was a bog standard garden shed, complete with a composty smell and empty flower pots, but she didn't have time to fully enjoy her new surroundings before everyone else was piling in behind her.

Rod was still shoving the others, intent on getting their hands off him, and Sansa looked at him from the other side of the small shed as the door was pulled closed. She was surprised to find that she felt a little nervous, with what she assumed were mages shoved in so close around her that she had an elbow in her ribs and someone was standing on her foot.

[Mr. Plainview]

By a miracle, the entire party managed to squeeze inside the dank little shed, but not without a substantial amount of pushing and shoving. The wail of police sirens built to a climax and the neighbouring house was suddenly ablaze with blue flashing light, and with not a second to spare, Mr. Plainview closed the rickety wooden door. When it was reopened, the shed was filled with the glare of florescent lights, and the soft buzz of conversation. Out filed Mr. Plainview and his three associates into a large office; it had a high ceiling and stunk of freshly varnished floors, ranks of large oak desks divided the room into three rows of three, some were occupied by men and women who wore headsets and were only interested in the new arrivals long enough to give them a cursory glance. One glare at O'Connell and his boys sent them packing, and Mr. Plainview stepped aside to make way for Rod and his vampire friend.

"Mr. Stafford, if you'd be so kind as to refrain from attacking my staff, I'd be most grateful. Miss Martin, I have some questions to ask of you, so if you could please join me in my office."

[Rod Stafford]

Thankful though he was to be out of the cool night air, Rod became painfully aware of his own state of undress as he shuffled after Mr. Plainview. Regardless of his views on Sansa and her kind, there was no way he was going to leave her to the mercy of these people, whatever their plans. His office was at the end of the room, behind a heavy wooden door, where there was carpeting, leather chairs, bookshelves, and a fireplace - that this was Mr. Plainview's office came as no surprise to him whatsoever. Once inside, he sought refuge by fireplace, which was already crackling with warmth.

"What is it you want with Sansa?"

[Sansa]

Sansa's hair was still sticky with blood and her skin was stained with it, though the streaks where she'd wiped with the now absent towel were drying to a dark brown. She was conscious of her bare backside as she followed Rod into the office, but the people around her didn't even look.

She stood just inside the warmly decorated office, folding her arms in front of her chest out of displeasure not modesty. "I have been fairly patient with these shenanigans, so far," she said, though a person with Mr. Plainview's abilities could probably boil the vitae out of her body before she could cross a room. Maybe he would, too.

[Mr. Plainview]

On his desk stood an ornate decanter, from it Mr. Plainview poured himself a glass of scotch - it was telling when a man elected to decanted his scotch, a wholly unneccessary practice, except for what it actually said about the man himself. And that, he didn't mind, for in Mr. Plainview's line of work, appearances were everything. Hence, the scotch went unoffered to his guests.

"Have you, indeed," he said, with a thin, humourless smile, "You asked me earlier what it was I did, and now I will answer you: I am a caretaker, Miss Martin. In this case, that means I clean up your mess. Your turn."

He settled into the large wingback chair that sat behind his desk.

"Why were those men after you tonight?"

[Sansa]

"I have no idea," she said honestly, then thought for another moment. "My... partner was attacked at our flat a few nights ago." Her lips twisted but she took a deep breath and pushed through the stab of emotion. "The two humans who killed him were still there when I got home. I... returned the favor to the one who was responsible for his murder."

[Mr. Plainview]

It was more information than he'd anticipated, a veritable outpouring, in fact, compared to his expectations. And he lapped up every bit of it, so much so that he'd neglected his poor glass of scotch, a shortcoming he was swift to remedy. He studied Sansa from over his glass, she was surprisingly accomodating for a vampire - it was a thought that had the wheels of his mind turning.

"And are you aware of any other recent instances of vampires being targeted like this?"

[Sansa]

She shook her head, a crusty strand of hair falling in front of her eyes before she swept it back behind an ear. "I don't socialize much."

The understatement of the year. She might as well have crawled out from under a rock two days ago for as much as she was aware of Kindred politics or gossip. Roland was Prince, that was about it as far as her information went. Up until now it hadn't bothered her, but she was beginning to realize that Gabriel had placed her at a distinct disadvantage. He'd had good reasons, she figured, but it still... it was unsettling.

[Mr. Plainview]

"I see. Well then, allow me to illuminate you. Over the last three weeks, there has been a sharp increase in the number of vampire attacks across London. By which, I am referring to incidents in which vampires are the victims, of course. If we were to keep tabs on every instance in which one of your lot gets the munchies, well, our work hours would be highly unsociable indeed."

Affording himself a momentary reprieve, Mr. Plainview enjoyed another sip of scotch, but not before offering Sansa the most miniscule of toasts. So, she was an alienated vampire, much as he had suspected. What a boon to the institute she would be with the right amount of encouragement and, more crucially, the right friendly face. The glass was deposited on the desk to indicate she now had his full attention.

"These attacks are being carried out by a well co-ordinated and highly-organised group of hunters, of whom you encountered but a small fraction, I'm afraid. They specialise in hunting vampires - they know your weaknesses, your feeding patterns, and it seems they have a highly-sophisticated means of tracking you, too - if tonight is any indication."

[Sansa]

"Wonderful." She looked down at her near nakedness, and then back to the alcohol sipping Mr. Plainview. Rod, it appeared, was happy to warm himself at the fire and let them talk, or perhaps he just was afraid to interrupt the man who was obviously his superior or something, Sansa had no idea how mage hierarchy worked.

She had no idea how a lot of things worked, actually.

"I'm not sure what you want me to do with that information. They managed to track me when Rod did... something that allowed us to avoid a Garou's eyes and nose. Is it magic?"

[Mr. Plainview]

"Mr. Stafford is a fellow willworker, yes. You would be right to call it magic."

Mr. Plainview made certain he was quick to answer her questions, for the impression he was getting was of a woman who had never been propely inducted into her new world. That was cruelty, regardless of one's background - much like abandoning a domesticated animal to the mercy of the wild. He considered her words further, then frowned in thought.

"If these hunters are able to trace magic then there are even graver implications to consider - they may have enlisted the help of another supernatural."

There was a knock at the door. When it was opened, there stood Mr. O'Connell bearing in his arms a small mountain of clothes; a university student catalogue of tee shirts, sweatpants, hoodies, and trainers.

"Thought the lady could do wiv sam new ki', Mr. Plainview," he said, dumping the clothes upon his boss's desk, "An' Mr. Stafford, o' course. I fink I go' your measurements righ', Miss Sansa. Picked you aht a lavely little top wiv pink-"

"Thank you, Mr. O'Connell, you may go now."

When the nuisance was at last gone, Mr. Plainview visibly sagged with resignation, and he met Sansa's gaze, "Apologies."

[Sansa]

Sansa's mouth twitched, an urge to giggle bubbling up inside her caused by the sight of Mr. O'Connell and his fashion suggestions. She was fairly sure, however, that if she started laughing she wouldn't be able to stop, so worked hard to stop another episode of hysteria from occurring.

"It's okay," she said after a moment, and quickly crossed to the desk and pulled on the smaller pair of sweatpants. The lovely little top with pink writing on it (LONDON 2012 it proclaimed) was tugged over her head and smoothed down before Rod could even rouse himself from the warm hearth.

[Mr. Plainview]

"Miss Martin, there is one more thing to consider. The increasing number of attacks co-incides with the advent of these... olympic games. Our sources inform us there was an identical pattern in Athens, and later in Beijing, which suggests things will only get worse for you and your kin over the coming weeks."

Mr. Plainview strode from his seat and straightened his jacket. He crossed the room and stood by the door, indicating to his guests, in no uncertain terms, that it was time for them to take their leave.

"I would ask you to keep Mr. Stafford notified of any such incidents in the future, if you would be so kind. While we may not play for the same team, don't let that suggest we're not often on the same side. Thank you for your time, Miss Martin."

Again, the thin smile, but this time it came with an extended hand.

[Sansa]

She shook his hand automatically, a learned response to a politely offered hand. Sansa walked out of the office, Rod trailing behind reluctantly, and found herself in the large room full of desks and people who were much to busy to waste time looking at a disheveled person in sweats and trainers.

Sansa looked over her shoulder and saw Rod talking to Mr. Plainview. She tugged on her filthy hair, and wondered how angry Ewan Dunsirn was going to be if she showed up covered in dried blood.