Play@YSDC

Sunday 07:50 hrs.

It may be a Sunday morning, but London is as bustling as usual. Traffic beeps and honks it's way around the green oasis of Russell Square, necessitating your disparate group of would-be investigators to scurry across the road at the urging of the pedestrian crossing. Before you a grand, five-story building seems to loom above you with Georgian hauteur.

Passing the wrought iron railings that guard the staircases leading down to mysterious basement rooms, you instead ascend the stone steps to a set of heavy mahogany front doors. Your eyes settle on the legend carved above the stone lintel: "Scientia Potestas Est" - Knowledge Is Power.

You are about to enter the Folly, headquarters of the Special Assessment Unit: the Metropolitan Police's supernatural division.

What led you to this place? How did you get mixed up in all of this? Do you talk to each other, strangers bought together in such unusual circumstances? Or do you keep your thoughts to yourself?

Des kept her head down and her distance from the others. She’d rather be anywhere else but here, but the old Police Inspector who’d caught her snooping around one of the outbuildings the other day had told her to come back at 8.00am on Sunday, otherwise he’d come and find her. He wasn’t exactly threatening, but his words had carried a certain weight that was difficult to ignore.

She tried to remember his name. A bird of some sort? Partridge? Cormorant? Nightjar?

In any other city, Izzy would be busy parking her car in the space at the back, the place where the old coach house currently acted as a technological oasis in the desert of analogue and tradition that was the Folly. But this being central London, traffic would make walking so much quicker than attempting to drive anywhere, and more to the point, though she has a license, Izzy doesn't own a car herself. No need, living in the heart of the capital, with easy access anywhere via the Underground, and having access to police pool cars if she ever needs to drive for work (and with the added bonus of the blues and twos to cut out all those other annoying drivers).

Instead, she takes the Piccadilly Line from Finsbury Park to Russell Square station, stepping out and walking the short distance down Bernard Street to the Square proper, and crossing over, passing the fountains at the centre and grabbing a quick coffee and bacon and egg sandwich from the van at the entrance to the park. She wolfs it down quickly as she walks, hoping that Molly won't notice the smell of breakfast on her when she enters the building.

Approaching the Folly itself, Izzy notices a young dark skinned woman, barely more than a child, approaching the main entrance. She's puzzled for a moment, since usually the only people entering the Folly would be members of the SAU such as herself, or other officers on official business, and occasionally affiliated friends and acquaintances - DC Grant's young cousin, Abigail, for instance. For a moment, Izzy mistakes this girl for Abigail, but that thought is quickly pushed aside as she sees the stranger's face without recognition. She calls out as she walks up.

"Hey, you okay? Can I help you at all?"

Des flinched as the policewoman spoke to her but quickly recovered and tried to brazen it out.

Gotta ‘pointment,” she said, pushing her shoulders back and looking her in the eye. Inspector Woodpecker wants to see me.”

"Woodpecker?" Izzy looks blank for a second. "Huh. Didn't know DCI Nightingale had hired someone else... I wonder what Inspector Woodpecker is like..."

She muses absent-mindedly as she opens the door, holding it for the young girl to follow. Stepping inside, she heads up the small corridor of the lobby booth, before entering the atrium, taking in the grand view as always. As she enters, Izzy takes out a small bottle of lavender perfume from her bag, spraying herself and replacing the bottle as quickly as she can before Molly can arrive and smell the greasy bacon on her.

Recruited by Postmartin, Harold felt compelled to give Leo a complete and exhaustive -- emphasis on exhaustive -- history of the Isaacs. While Leo did well in his university science classes, he'd never really paid attention to the history or who did what beyond remembering the odd last name when attached to a law. So when he initially appeared to have no idea about whom Isaac Newton was, Postmartin was apoplectic. "Is that the sort of education do they give you down at City these days," he managed angrily over his pint before continuing.

While werelight went quickly for Leo, the other two spells came more slowly. Theory, what little bit that was currently known, went more easily. While Nightingale said his forma were better than Peter's at that point in his training, Leo still didn't grasp how everything fit together so that he could -- eventually -- improvise spells of his own. The weeks zipped by, and now it was time for DC Arden to assist on his first official SAU case rather than just shadowing Peter and Sahra and hitting the Folly's libraries. He looked into the mirror, smiled nervously, adjusted his tie self-consciously before slipping on his jacket. He patted his suit jacket pockets -- phone battery in one and the phone in the other -- and headed downstairs, checking his inexpensive Timex self-winding watch that he buys by the case at Goblin Markets. Hey, practitioners on a budget have to know the time, too...

Crap, I'm late... he thought to himself as he took the stairs two at a time, risking Nightingale's ire at his lack of decorum. *He's already mad, right?*

As he zipped across the atrium, he offered his hand to Izzy. "DC Cooper," he said, smiling warmly at his fellow student. "It's a pleasure to see you again."

"You know, I thought Molly would have gone all out with a full breakfast spread for our newest addition and our first official case."

Then to Des, he offered his hand, "DC Leo Dansby. I don't believe I've had the pleasure..."

Izzy takes the offered hand and shakes it, smiling at her colleague. "DC Dansby, good to see you. Don't worry about being late, I've literally just got here too."

She looks at the girl beside them and then back at Leo. "Did you know we've got a new inspector joining us, apparently? Someone called Woodpecker? At least, this one said she was supposed to meet him here..."

Des’ eyes narrowed and she stared at the newcomer suspiciously. She didn’t take the proffered hand.

’Haven’t had the pleasure’?’ What did he mean by that? Another copper assumin’ she was nickin’ stuff! Dey didn’t just give you a kickin’ like in her dad’s day, now dey tryin’ to be friends ‘n’ that, get you to spill your guts…” she thought to herself.

She scowled warily at the both of them.

Dansby looks confused for a moment, and then as the realization sets in, he grins. For a moment, he almost lets the joke play out, but he knows how important first impressions are to The Nightingale, so he decides to cut the new lady a little slack. "Oh, yeah, DCI Woodpecker. Big tuft of red hair. They call him Woodie. Really annoying laugh. I know the guy. But he isn't going to be working this case with us. I think you're thinking about DCI Nightingale."

It takes another moment for Izzy to realise her mistake, but when she does, her face turns as crimson as her hair. She turns away, hoping that neither the girl nor Leo spot the embarrassment as she understands that the girl had been summoned by the Nightingale himself, and not some strange new inspector like she thought. She tries to cover it up by introducing herself properly to the girl.

"DC Isabel Cooper, new... um, new apprentice at the SAU. That is, the Special Assessment Unit. Although I guess you already know what that is, if you're here meeting Nightingale, right? I'm guessing you're some kind of fae? Maybe a river goddess? Mama Thames didn't send you here, did she?"

Izzy is babbling slightly, showcasing her unfortunate habit of not being able to shut up that had by now become infamous among her former colleagues in the Belgravia MIT. At least, in situations where professionalism wasn't needed, at which point she had the uncanny ability to switch to the ideal cop precisely as needed...

Dr. Jordan Schneider entered, his large frame masking the keen mind housed in it. He's used to working all hours, so he doesn't mind so much getting up early on a Sunday morning. That's nothing a nice cup of tea couldn't fix. Work as a medical examiner was nice, and he didn't have to worry as much about making a mistake. All of his patients were dead before he ever saw them. At least, it was nice until one of the corpses sat up right before he was about to make his first incision, then got off the slab and walked right out of the room. Too shocked to do anything at the time, all he could think about was what to say about it. His inherent honesty led him to tell the truth, no matter how crazy it made him seem. It wasn't unheard of for a live person to be mistakenly declared dead and delivered to the morgue. He knew perfectly well that the man had truly been dead, but he left that assessment out of his report. After all, he obviously had to have been mistaken, right? Apparently his report had caught the attention of someone important, and for that he had gotten a transfer to a unit filled with people as crazy as he must be.

"This must be the place," he says, looking around.

I haven't had time yet to finalize my character. I'm playing one of the pre-gens, but I'll be rewriting the background from scratch (I've already made some changes in this post).

Stepping into the atrium; more exclusive gentleman's club than police station; your eyes are immediately drawn to the statue of Sir Isaac Newton: founder of the Society of the Wise (the forerunner of the SAU) and the man who set down the official principles of magic. Flanked by two tall pillars, the great man stares outwards, as if grappling with some complicated forma or troublesome principal.

Autumn sunlight, courtesy of the large glass dome above you, illuminates the marble floor, as well as the stone busts of Newton and Victor Casterbrook: first 'reputable' president of the Society.

"Ahem."

A polite cough behind you causes you to turn.

"Ah, you're all here. Excellent."

Emerging from the lobby as if stepping out of a scene from Brief Encounter or some other black-and-white film is a well-groomed gentleman, seemingly in his 40's, clad in an immaculate if somewhat old-fashioned suit. Instantly recognisable, Detective Inspector Nightingale has arrived.

"If you care to follow me to the briefing room..."

He retreats back into the lobby and opens a door to the right. A brass plaque on said door identifies the room beyond as the visitors' lounge, so it's function has obviously changed.

"Please be seated and I will begin."

The visitors' lounge, once used as an agreeable space for wives, daughters and other suitably genteel visitors to be entertained by members (while making it quite clear that they weren’t welcome in the Folly proper), is a long room lined with oak panelling. Portraits of Newton, Queen Charlotte, the fifth Duke of Bedford gaze serenly from their frames while the comfortable, if second-best furniture has been collected in one corner to make room for hard plastic seating and fold-out tables. A large whiteboard dominates the wall facing you.

OK, no worries

Izzy steps through, following the guv'nor through to the newly purposed briefing room, and takes a seat about halfway up the table to await the purpose of this early morning summons. She recalls the phone call earlier in the morning, waking her from her pleasant slumber and startling Freya enough to leap off the bed, asking her to come straight to the Folly for 8am sharp.

Des took a seat at the furthest corner of the table, as far away from everyone else as possible. She had her hood up and had her eyes downwards.

’Nightingale! What a stupid name! Wan’t mi fault I got it wrong!’ she thought sullenly. ’ And what was dat copper on about?! A river goddess?!’

She shook her head and glanced at the others under the brim of her hood to make sure they weren’t laughing at her, then looked around the room. Fancy wood panelling, big pictures of posh white people. Yeah, she knew where the money for all this had come from…

Leo smiled. After studying at The Folly for the last few months, he would recognize that voice anywhere. He wasn't late, after all. And even better, he wasn't last. Suddenly, he remembered that he hadn't checked his shoes before he came down, and when he thought Nightingale wasn't looking, he wiped the tops of his brown dress shoes firmly against the back of his pants legs, hoping to catch any dust that he missed. Then he slipped inside the door and took a place at the table next to Izzy. He hadn't been this excited since he graduated from Henden.

Jordan finds a seat and makes himself comfortable, hoping for an explanation of all this that makes sense.

As they all sit, Izzy notices the newcomer enter quietly without a word, and gives him a quick smile, wondering who the other man could be. She reaches across the table, extending a hand as she introduces herself.

"DC Isabel Cooper, but Izzy is fine. This is DC Leo Dansby, and I'm not sure yet who this young woman is..." she says, glancing briefly at the girl. "I guess the Nightingale invited you here too?"

"Pleased to meet you all," says Jordan, smiling back as he shakes her hand firmly, though he doesn't use his full strength. "I'm Dr. Jordan Schneider, but you can call me Jordan. You probably know more about what's going on here than I do. I'm a medical examiner, but I've just been transferred here."

"Pleasure, Doc," Leo said, extending his hand. "You look like you've got a lot of questions. Believe me... We all did."

"And if you're going to be working as an M.E. with us, then get ready to have a whole lot more sooner rather than later. Be ready, though. Some answers aren't all that pleasant; some questions don't have answers at all. Yet."

"Thanks," says Jordan, shaking his hand too. "Well, I'm hoping I'll at least get some answers. And maybe learn what the right questions are, as I don't even know all of them yet either."

“Ah, perhaps I have some explaining to do,” Nightingale interjects.

“DC’s Dansby and Cooper have been recruited to our merry band under the auspices of the Folly expansion programme and have been training as magical practitioners. Miss Orivo and Dr. Schneider: you have had your own brushes with the supernatural and have come to our attention as people whose skillsets could be of use.”

He pauses to adjust a cufflink.

“However, you lack experience and it is high time you took to the field. As it happens, something has just come up and my colleague DC Grant is required elsewhere. Unless you have any questions, I will start the briefing.”

"Dad duty, by any chance?" Izzy asks, referring to Peter's recent fatherhood, his newborn set of twins, Taiwo and Kehinde. "And nope, no questions from me, if you're about to start anyway."

’Some dude older dan time itself, a couple of feds and some CSI doc? What de hell is dis?!’ thought Des to herself. She just shook her head…

Jordan smiles, thinking of his own children. "I'll save my questions for after the briefing," he says. "I'm sure I'll have more then."

Leo rolled his eyes but didn't say anything. He liked Grant and Bev well enough, although he was a little suspicious now that he actually knew about the effect that river goddesses have on humans. Before that night at Covent Garden, like many of his gay friends, he couldn't have been less interested in bringing a new life into the current world when they had even less to look forward to than his generation. However, the sense of wonder that awoke in him that night, and finding out there was magic -- real magic -- in the world had him believing that maybe this world wasn't so bad for kids after all.

This was the first he'd heard about Grant not being available, and suddenly the thought of being out there without training wheels sounded a little more intimidating.

"What have you got for us, governor?" he said. "Another haunted car?"

"Nothing so challenging as haunted cars or paternal duties - I hope," Nightingale replies.

"Earlier, I received a telephone call from our colleagues at the Charing Cross Primary Crime Unit. There was an incident late last night at Stonewaters Bookshop on New Row that they believe will be of interest to us. One of the booksellers, a Mr Warwick Anderson, was assaulted at approximately 12:30 am while rearranging a display in the bookshop’s basement. Mr Anderson, though somewhat concussed, managed to telephone the emergency services. The call handler sent a response team to the bookshop, where they had to force an entry in order to render assistance."

“Our colleagues from Charing Cross carried out a search of the premises while Mr Anderson was being seen by the attending paramedics. They found no alarms tripped and no evidence of a break-in, nor of anything having been stolen. However, there were obvious signs of a disturbance in the basement matching the description given to them by the victim."

“I would like you to interview Mr Anderson to establish his recollection of events. He is awaiting you at the Cappuccino Lounge, also on New Row. Then, I would like you to visit the bookshop and carry out an inspection, including an Initial Vestigium Assessment, to determine whether this is, indeed, a Falcon case. Ms Saffron Jackson, the store’s manager, will be on hand to escort you. The bookshop usually opens at 11:00 am on a Sunday, and, by all accounts, Ms Jackson is keen to resume business at the earliest possible convenience."

“New Row is a twenty minute walk via Montague Street, Shaftsbury Avenue and Monmouth Street. Report back here to me once you have completed your initial inquiries. I await your findings with interest.”

"Stonewaters? A little on the nose of the owners, don't you think?"

Still, Izzy isn't too concerned. It seems like an easy enough case to start out with, and she recalls the store well enough, having spent many an afternoon perusing the shelves of the same establishment building up her own little library at home.

"Can we take Toby with us? Oh... just an assault though... shame we don't get to visit Jennif... I mean, um, Dr Vaughan." She catches herself just in time, and only the most astute observer would notice a faint tinge of pink in Izzy's cheeks as she holds back from saying any more.

"DC Grant has taken Toby with him on his case," Nightingale replies, arching an eyebrow. "Although we do have a contingency plan, should the need arise. Let us cross that bridge if we come to it"

He turns to the others.

"Toby is our dog here at the Folly. A rather small and noisy one, yet remarkably adept at detecting ghosts," he explains, before checking his watch rather pointedly.

Jordan presumes Dr. Jennifer Vaughan must be a medical examiner like himself, though he's just as glad nobody is dead. The name of the bookstore is obviously a take on Waterstone's, where he's spent a good deal of time. He's a bit surprised that a dog can sniff out ghosts, but he supposes nothing should surprise him any more after what he's seen. But one thing goes completely over his head. "What's an Initial Vestigium Assessment?" he asks.

’Ghosts? I can see ghosts,’ Des thought to herself. Then she processed the rest of Nightingale’s statement.

“Is I just ‘ere ‘cos you’ve given yer dog the day off?!” she snapped!

DC Dansby drew his PNB and black pen from his inner jacket pocket and began to take notes. Given that this was his first real case with the new team, he probably was a little more detailed than really necessary, but he didn't want to have any questions later when some detail may turn out to be important.

He leaned toward Jordan and spoke softly, "It's a first pass attempt at determining whether any magic was involved at the crime scene. All magic leaves little traces of what we call 'vestigia.' If it's there, then it's probably a Falcon case...rather, a case for us." He gestured around the table. "If there isn't, then the traditional police get the case."

Since beginning his training here at The Folly, Leo hadn't had time for pleasure reading, but he was familiar with the store and location. After he stopped scribbling, he grinned at Des. "If Toby is with Peter, he is definitely working. Not a day off."

“Don’ patronise me!” Des snapped at Dansby. “I see ghosts an’ Woodpecker got me here instead of his dog!”

"I wouldn't call Toby Nightingale's dog, he's more kind of his own dog..." Izzy says, missing the point entirely.

"How long has this unit existed?" asks Jordan. "How did it get started?"

“I can assure you, Miss Orivo, you are most certainly not a replacement for Toby,” says Nightingale, somewhat awkwardly. “As I said, we already have contingencies for that. Suffice to say, I saw your potential and thought this arrangement would be beneficial to both parties. The last thing I want to do is patronise you.”

He turns to Jordan. “Our organisation grew out of the Society of the Wise, which was founded in 1774. Of course, practitioners have existed since time immemorial.”

“Vestigia is indeed the trace left behind by strong magic. With some practice, it can be detected by anyone. That inexplicable smell you suddenly get? That snatch of song that pops into your head? That feeling that someone is watching you? That could be your mind playing tricks on you, or it could be vestigia.”

Des glowered at Nightingale, hardly mollified by his reassurances.

Sensing the awkwardness, Izzy tries to move things along a little. "Maybe we should head out, let's not keep the victim waiting any longer. Unless anyone else has more questions for the boss?"

PC Dansby closed his PNB and slipped it back into his suit pocket. He recognized Nightingale's watch-tapping as meaning that he was ready to be rid of the team, so he nodded his agreement with Izzy. "No more questions for me, governor. Let's get cracking," he said perhaps a little too eagerly as he stood. He patted his pockets just to reassure himself that the phone and the battery were both present, stood, and headed for the door.

"The rest of my questions can wait," says Jordan, rising. "We'd better get to work. I'm sure I'll pick things up quickly. I've always been a fast learner."

Des merely pushed back her chair so the legs made a teeth-grinding noise as they scraped across the wooden floor and stood up. She looked at the others, waiting for one of them to make a move.

Izzy glances involuntarily towards the door at Des's action, certain that the scraping noise, horrible as it sounded, would attract Molly ready to rain down hell on the culprit. She remembers one thing as she watches Des stand up.

"Were we not waiting for someone else who you said was late, guv...?

A tall-ish, solid looking bloke ambles into the room, backpack over his shoulder. Few visible tattoos, nothing scary. Every item of clothing on his body looks like a decent quality second hand buy from one of the city's wandering laneway markets. Shades of dark blues and dark browns. Acceptable wear in an old corner pub or a City gourmet gin bar.

He tries a half smile and a wave. "How do. I'm Skipper, I may be in the wrong place..." East Ender accent without doubt.

"Huh, speak of the devil..." Izzy says, as she glances at the newcomer. "DC Isabel Cooper, but Izzy's fine."

She extends a hand to welcome Skipper, while hiding her slight puzzlement at the range of new additions to the Folly, Nightingale's new motley crew.

Skipper gently shakes the proffered hand. "DC Cooper, Izzy," he adds with conscious effort. "I'm really feeling I might be in the wrong place."

Nightingale nods curtly to the newcomer, as if peeved at the man’s late arrival.

“Ah, the final member of the team has arrived: welcome to the Folly Skipper. The clock is ticking, so I’m afraid the others will have to brief you en-route to the Cappuccino Lounge.”

And with that he takes his leave.

“Try not to blow anything up!” his voice echoes back through the atrium.

"Dr. Jordan Schneider," says Jordan to Skipper, offering his own hand. "I'm not entirely sure why I'm here either, but I guess they know what they're doing."