Alfie Solomons (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
devoutish) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
wickedchouette2018-06-08 12:15 pm
devoutish) wrote in wickedchouette2018-06-08 12:15 pm
(no subject)
[If one goes deep into the heart of London's wizarding community, and then goes deeper still down into the bowels of it, they might just find Alfie Solomons and his people. They're not the lowest of the low - most people, especially in this day and age, reserve that for Voldemort's followers - but they're pretty far down there. They're black market dealers, illegal bookmakers, racketeers, and occasional murderers.
But when something unknown and unfindable starts wreaking havoc in their warehouse, they have no idea how to deal with it.
At first they think it's simple sabotage: when Alfie, the gang's leader, comes in to find several shelves of expensive rum smashed to bits, it seems like the most obvious answer. The night watchman gets reamed out despite his being positive that no one could have snuck past him and into the building, and three more able-bodied men are posted alongside him for the next night. But it happens again - and again, and again, until it's been going on for over a week. Sometimes it's valuable and expensive product that's destroyed; sometimes record books are thrown across the room, their pages scattered; sometimes it's nothing but a tin of fountain pens that gets upended. Men are sent to patrol the halls at all hours of the night, scouring the building from top to bottom for any evidence of the person or persons responsible. Not so much as a footprint is ever found.
No one is ever hurt, but the waste of time, resources, and manpower are draining at a time when things are already strained; when they really can't afford to lose what they're losing. And even beyond that, the fact that somebody or something is so clearly running rings around them is making them the laughingstocks of the neighborhood. The gang is by nature closed-off and tight-knit, used to dealing with their problems themselves. But even though no calls for outside help are made, information still trickles out - a guy tells a friend who tells a friend who tells his pub buddies, maybe speaking a little too loudly at a crowded bar counter. Word spreads. Maybe word will eventually spread to someone who can actually do something about it.]
But when something unknown and unfindable starts wreaking havoc in their warehouse, they have no idea how to deal with it.
At first they think it's simple sabotage: when Alfie, the gang's leader, comes in to find several shelves of expensive rum smashed to bits, it seems like the most obvious answer. The night watchman gets reamed out despite his being positive that no one could have snuck past him and into the building, and three more able-bodied men are posted alongside him for the next night. But it happens again - and again, and again, until it's been going on for over a week. Sometimes it's valuable and expensive product that's destroyed; sometimes record books are thrown across the room, their pages scattered; sometimes it's nothing but a tin of fountain pens that gets upended. Men are sent to patrol the halls at all hours of the night, scouring the building from top to bottom for any evidence of the person or persons responsible. Not so much as a footprint is ever found.
No one is ever hurt, but the waste of time, resources, and manpower are draining at a time when things are already strained; when they really can't afford to lose what they're losing. And even beyond that, the fact that somebody or something is so clearly running rings around them is making them the laughingstocks of the neighborhood. The gang is by nature closed-off and tight-knit, used to dealing with their problems themselves. But even though no calls for outside help are made, information still trickles out - a guy tells a friend who tells a friend who tells his pub buddies, maybe speaking a little too loudly at a crowded bar counter. Word spreads. Maybe word will eventually spread to someone who can actually do something about it.]
no subject
He watches as Alfie examines the captured chameleon ghoul, or at least what can be seen of it as it rockets around its cage. Now that the creature has been captured Alfie doesn't seem to be showing any ill will towards it; in fact, he's looking at it with a level of interest that Remus had not at all expected. Behind them he can hear Alfie's employees murmuring about the ghoul, but since they don't sound like they're moving any closer Remus ignores them.]
He should tire himself out quickly. I'll remove him as soon as he's fully corporeal.
[He takes a step closer to Alfie and the cage as Alfie frowns curiously in at the perpetrator of so many little crimes within his warehouse. Remus expected Alfie to tell him to exterminate the creature right away, but that no longer seems to be his top priority. His gaze flicks to Alfie's face as the big man looks back at him. He gives a small smile.]
I do, I'm afraid. There are a great many magical creatures that can cause trouble around humans.
no subject
[Alfie murmurs, still staring fixedly at the cage. It's not that he hadn't known that, of course, it's just that this is his first time being bothered by one up close and personal. He can't remember the last time he thought much about ghouls - it's possible they haven't crossed his mind in any significant way since his school days, when learning about them had been part of the curriculum. That makes him lucky, he supposes; in some places, magical pests are a blight. Hell, he's heard of people who have ghouls living in their attics for years on end. And apparently, creatures like this can be enough of a problem that guys like this one, this Lupin, are able to make a living hunting around for them and getting them out of people's hair. He's clearly not rich, if the worn state of his clothes are any indication, but still - he's alive, he's here, and he's well-known. It's sort of impressive.]
Fucking hell, the stories you must have.
[Alfie says, finally looking up at the other man.]
This is what you do, then, as your job? Traveling around London, solving mysteries and hunting ghosties?
[The fact that Lupin might work beyond London - beyond England, even - hasn't quite occurred to him yet.]
I should be pouring you a drink, mate, and asking for some tales.