As a London copper, I’ve seen some pretty weird shit, but even I was taken aback when I learned that magic was actually a thing. Real, proper magic, with spells and everything!
Also, ghosts are real! And vampires, trolls, fairies, river gods… and there’s this whole subculture of weirdos and half-fae… oh, and don’t get me started on talking bloody foxes…
Shouldn’t come as a surprise that the Metropolitan Police secretly know all about this crap. There’s the Special Assessment Unit, run from this posh house called The Folly by a posh Detective Inspector called Nightingale (and his apprentice Peter Grant), that investigates supernatural crimes and other weird bollocks. And it turns out, they’re recruiting…
OOC: Not sure how the combat rules fully work but I assume Skipper can attempt a hold as a combat manoeuvre. I hope.
Skipper raced up behind the skinhead van driver and attempted a BJJ [#] wrist lock, pulling the gent's arm behind his back.
1d%FH70%
Skipper spends 4 Luck to make that a success.
Skipper grunted at his skinhead victim. "Listen, we're not interested in you!! We need to find Barry, because his juice is poisonous. You and your lads are not our targets!"
"Oy, Sweeney twins, no flamethrowers!! And no one maim anyone!"
Leo utters "Impello" under his breath as his hands work the other portion of the spell, and he attempts to push the hindmost skinhead backwards, hopefully to fall, trip over something, or get his breath knocked out of him.
Skipper yells at the back of his skinhead's bald noggin. "You're their boss, right? No one's hurt yet. Just call time! Give us thirty seconds to do you a deal. If you're not happy, we ring the bell and return to manly fisticuffs."
"As I said, we're not really interested in you, just Barry and this poisonous plant juice stuff. If your lads are carrying it right now, it could be doing some grievous to their brains, mate."
Skinhead STR roll vs Leo's POW
[45] = 45
STR 1d100: [ 45 ] = 45
By the time Leo's Impello spell reaches the rear skinhead, it's force has reduced to nothing but a slight whiff of air - barely noticeable.
At the front of the queue, the skinhead stops, flustered by his stumble and clearly rattled by Izzy's challenge.
"We ain't doin' nuffink wrong!" he mutters. "We're jus' collectin' some stuff for a mate an' you lot come bustin' in. Can't blame us fer gettin' a bit defensive."
He nods at his unconscious colleague.
"Weren't no need to knock 'im out."
Back down the bottom of the steps, Des' heel causes a nasty scrape down the van driver's shin.
That's 1 damage dealt to the driver, Des.
He struggles against Skipper's grip and, also seeing Eli approaching, noticeably droops, defeated.
"L-look mate, I ain't no boss! We're just 'ere to pick up some stuff. I-I'm sorry I grabbed you miss, but I saw a bunch of people goin' up to my mates an' thought there might be trouble, that's all."
"You literally broke in, we saw it happen. Unless you want to rationalise the damage from your shoulder to the door." She gestures towards the front door and the frame, where it's rather obviously broken from the force of someone barging their way though the lock.
"Look, if you're willing to come quietly and answer our questions, then this can all be sorted much more smoothly. The CPS aren't going to bother with a broken door and nothing actually taken."
Not now we've stopped you from getting away with whatever you were trying to take, she thinks.
"They are, however, going to care a great deal about officers and staff being attacked. So, the easy way, and you can all go home without having to pay bail for the privilege. Okay? First question - who exactly is the 'mate' you were collecting stuff for?"
"No, there was no need for him to hit me first," says Jordan. While he had taken an oath to do no harm, he feels the exception was justified. "He'll live. I'll even patch him up when we get to the station."
Skipper sighs. "Gimme a minute," he says to the back of the skinhead he currently has in a hold.
"Oy! TEAM! We're not actually here to catch acts of minor anti-social behaviour, remember. We might have an opportunity to do a deal, here and now. Not in a more formal, Sweeney-esque setting."
"And, for all we know, these lads might have permission to break into this gaff."
"As I see it, we want the location of Barry and his poisonous plant juice, and a bit of an explanation as to what the Aylesbury is going on."
Up in Barry's flat, the skinheads mumble apologies, casting nervous glances at their unconscious comrade.
"Yeah, 'e shouldn't've swung a punch, but you gave as good as you got," says the next thug in line. "Better in fact!"
Despite his predicament, he smirks.
"Got 'im good an' proper - that's police brutality that innit? Look, can't we sort this out amicably like? I know it looks suss, but we broke in 'cos we couldn't find the key. Our mate said it was in the gnome by the door. but it weren't. We couldn't jus' turn 'round an' leave without our mate's stuff. Poor bloke's been the same clobber for weeks."
The skinhead behind lifts up the bulging bin bag.
"'is clothes and that."
Further down the steps, the van driver, letting go of Des, winces as Skipper yells by his ear.
"Yeah! Baz gave us permission!" he wails. "'e's stayin' at the farm and wanted a changes of clothes, 'is leather jacket and some motorin' magazines - nuffink dodgy, honest!"
Leo listened to the skinhead's explanation, relieved that that the blokes seemed to be alright after all. A few years of working security at at a lot of football matches to boost the crappy Met pay had caused him to lose a bit of faith in humanity, and he was disappointed that appeared to be affecting his professional decisions when he apparently immediately assumed the worst here. But its skinheads, he told himself. Who wouldn't?
Leo showed his warrant card and identified himself. "Do you mind if we take a look in the bag," he asked in a genuinely professional, polite tone, but he just couldn't tack "mate" on the end.
Izzy sighs in exasperation. She would love the chance to nick a few skinheads... but she has better things to do, and doesn't want the associated paperwork.
"Alright, fine. You know, you really did this the hard way... would have been so much easier for you to just call your man up and ask if there's another way in when you couldn't find the key..."
She doesn't mention the fact that the team had already purloined the key from the gnome to begin with.
"So, who's this 'boss'? And why isn't Barry allowed out?"
She wonders if Barry is being held against his will... and she wonders too, if the 'boss' could maybe be a particular individual. One who the group have been expressly ordered not to investigate, with friends in high places...
