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by: Liam O'Donnell
#11089
3 June 2012
11:15 p.m.
The Abbey


Bridget. Where the hell was she? Why hadn’t she returned his call?

Muggle methods of contact were the only way to go, at least for now, while he was trying to lay low. The full moon was the following day and he wanted to get the hell out of London for a while until he could figure out what he was going to do for now, since the changes were all so new and they knew things were bound to get dangerous. Liam would wait here until he heard back from her, maybe head up into the office if he had to. He’d lie down on the small bed he had set up for late nights he or Kara had to stay here after an event or just a busy night and didn’t want to head home. It was quiet enough here that he wouldn’t have to endure the busy streets with all the sights and sounds and smells that were bright or loud or foul.

The aftermath of that attack gave him a window to escape, and he would have been a fool not to take it. Unfortunately, the only place he thought to go was the Abbey, deep into neutral territory as opposed to the dangers of a home he had left in shambles since the night he destroyed his marriage. God, he hadn't thought of that since the night after, before they retrieved him. Everything with the attack made things so hazy, and the rapid heartbeat and feral instincts were throwing him for a loop.

Liam impatiently tapped at the side of his glass, hearing the clink of the ice breaking apart into smaller pieces. Liam sighed. What the hell am I supposed to do with this place? And my house? Kara wanted a divorce. Thinking about her saying those words made him revisit the rage he felt from that night—and he nearly cleared the middle shelf of the expensive bottles and alcohol. How could he be so stupid? So God damn careless? He was losing the love of his life--if not, he'd lost her already. She. Wants. A. Divorce. He kept going over those words in his head as if reality hadn't truly settled in yet, it just smacked him around a couple of times and here he was. Lost. Hurting--physically and mentally. He cursed her? Everything about that night was so fuzzy, he was so angry. Angry, because it was an affair with Casey stacked on top of the terrible, emotional outbursts brought on ever since those scientists in Azkaban did...whatever it was they did to him. He knew he wasn't himself anymore. He wasn't the same.

He was a fucking monster.

NO. Breathe. Just breathe. His insides were lava hot, and his hands were shaking as he clenched them at his sides.

They bar closed at 11 on Sunday nights, to his recollection. Regardless, this Sunday of all Sundays, it was going to be shut at 11. No questions asked. The staff already went home, leaving Liam alone with his own bar for the first time in over a year. So much space and so much alcohol, entrusted to the owner himself. At one point, he thought to drink himself stupid, catch up on lost time, let the stress drown in the sea of mixed liquors…but he didn’t. If the plan was to run out of town, he knew he couldn’t dull his senses too much.

The bell over the door rang and as the jingle echoed in his mind as if it was amplified tenfold, Liam cursed under his breath. He forgot to lock the door behind him. With a vice grip, he held onto the bar counter, and dipped his head low before bringing his gaze up to the door, where his new guest had entered. “Hello.”
#11094
Enter: A man in blue. “Hi there.”

Liam examined him briefly, assessing the man was a close to his age, if not the same age, though he had a certain air about the way he carried himself, and the way he spoke. Even in those two words, Liam could deduce this mysterious stranger came from an affluent background, and that was enough for him to dismiss him right away. “We’re closed, sir, I’m sorry. If you’d like there’s a nice upstanding bar down the way open for at least another—”

“Oh no,” A smile appeared over his features, reaching those blue-green eyes that were brilliant against the cobalt blue. “I’m in the right place.”

Right place? Who is this guy?… Liam narrowed his eyes and shifted his stance uncomfortably behind the bar. “Sorry to disappoint you sir, but I was about to close up. Sign says eleven and we—”

“Open sign’s still up…door’s unlocked.” The man gestured toward the items and then shrugged. His hands trailed up to fix the cuffs of his slate gray shirt. “Is it really closing time?”

“Fine.” Liam snapped. He sighed, exasperated, exhausted, and completely frustrated with the new guest. Being locked up for as long as he had been in Az meant it was difficult to interact with strangers like he did before, but he did his best not to snarl and cuss out his intruder. “What do you want?” It was posed more for his beverage preference, but doubled as an inquiry about his arrival. There were plenty other bars on the strip with later closing time, so he wondered why this fellow decided to stop here of all places. The right place, he said.

“I’ll take the finest scotch you have, sir. Neat. With a twist, if you don’t mind.” He grinned, undoing the buttons on his coat to make things comfortable as he took a seat on the closest stool. Once Liam retrieved the rocks glass and filled it with the liquor as requested, the man in blue smiled as he took a sip of his favored scotch. “Ah. Cheers, mate.” Little did Liam know, that this man in particular had been scouting the Abbey for a few weeks. He'd waited for the right time to approach his sister, and even waited for a time to inquire about his father, but he felt like he struck a gold mine with the appearance of his ex-con brother-in-law, who just so happened to escape after the attack devastated the Wizarding world.

The bartender was nowhere near amused by his candor. It appeared he’d been interrupted with something prior to his guest’s arrival, but until that glass was empty, the man in blue wasn’t going to be leaving.

“Alright.” The man in blue placed his forearms on the counter and leaned forward, as if to speak with him quietly, even though they were the only ones in the room. “Now I’m going to cut right to the chase here. I know you don’t know who I am, but I sure as hell know who you are. Your name pops up a lot in the system circuit. The man with blood on his hands who got away.”

“I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” Liam pointed at the door. He wanted to knock the glass out of his hands for effect, but the less theatrics, the better. He didn’t want to have to clean up any messes and answer any questions to the staff about any altercations. He’d just been freed, after all, no need sullying his name any more than it had been by making an error in judgment on his first day back.

“Oh, I’m not going to do that.” The man set down his glass, but he didn’t budge from his chair. Instead, the man pulled a small vial of what appeared to be a glowing substance, a potion even, inside of it. “You see this right here, brother…is the key to your true freedom.” He held the glass between his finger and his thumb and shook it slightly.

It was mesmerizing, as Liam had trouble peeling his eyes away for a moment to look at the guest but he forced himself to, in order to get a word in. “Who the hell are you?” He wanted to reach for his wand, sitting there behind the counter, but he waited. As long as he knew where it was, he wasn’t keeping himself vulnerable to this stranger’s attack. Whatever was in that vial too, just screamed danger.

“You, brother…you can call me Tristan.”
User avatar
by: Liam O'Donnell
#11100
I don’t know anyone by that name…

The man in blue finally revealed himself, if it was his real name, that is. Liam huffed. “Alright. Tristan. I’ll bite.” He grumbled and jut his head in the direction of the glowing vial. “What the fuck is that?”

“You see, this…” Tristan shook it again, his grip rather tight on the vial, to make sure that not one single drop of it would come out and endanger either of them as they were both wizards, after all. He trusted the quality of the product but hardly trusted the workers set to seal the vial; one ‘accident’ or mistake on this product by means of poor handling and poof! They’d both be in a world of hurt. Tristan closed his fist on the product, holding it in his hand firmly. “As I said, this is going to get you your sweet revenge…”

Liam narrowed his eyes. “I don’t know what you mean.” As much as he disliked playing the idiot role, it was a trick that he could never forget. Bartenders around the world heard many a secret from petty to incriminating (usually from the unsavory lot) and said bartenders would do well to close their ears and turn the other way from the mess to make sure they didn’t inadvertently get themselves into some hot water. This situation, however, seemed to be a special case.

“Hey. I’m on your side. Betrayal is a bitch, and believe me, I know that one all too well. The heartbreak. The pain. The rage.” Tristan remained still, but the way his eyes were boring into Liam with that accusatory glare made each word he spoke underline, bold and punch him right in the heart. He chuckled, “And well, this here? This will be paramount to not only my success, but give you piece of mind and an opportunity to take out your loved one. Take out whoever might stand in your way and effectively, I might add. Though, it’s only been tested in the minor-league bit—sort of a beta if you will, but oh…this will give you a chance to shine, and earn some decent money while doing it. I promise you, we will reward you accordingly.”

The target? Well, the implication here seemed as if this Tristan fellow wanted Kara dead. Or maybe Casey? Or … Liam looked up from the man’s closed hand, to his eyes. Where did he come from, who is he working for, and why did he pick Liam out of the blue—it seemed—to work with this mystery potion. What if it was all a setup? What if it was all a clever plan to get him near his wife again so she could kill him?

“Hm? What do you say, brother?”

“Why do you keep calling me that—” Liam glared, “I’m not your brother.” It wasn’t ‘bruv’ or ‘bro’ or any other equivalent to the term. He kept saying brother as if they were related. The family he hadn’t seen in over a year were far from here, and rightfully so. Things were a bloody mess around these parts and he didn’t want anyone to see him like this: afraid and yet, at the same time, terrifying. How was he going to explain any of this—the fact that he was not only alive and out of Azkaban but now he was…something else, something not human.

A smile blossomed on Tristan’s face, as if anticipating Liam to ask that very thing from the start. He took another sip of his drink, and by Liam’s count, it was almost gone. “Figure of speech. For most, really. But as far as we’re concerned, brother…”

Liam’s lip twitched, irritated as he hadn’t gotten his answer.

“Is to extend my financial assistance to someone who actually is a part of my family.” Tristan sipped his scotch again, “Finances and my current status in the city, that is. I’m willing to help you, if you help me.” This interaction was interesting. Fun, and interesting. Normally he would have had one of his contacts do this, James even, to contact local potentials throughout the city. But this one was close to him, a place he’d been scouting out, so Tristan decided to walk in of his own accord, and see the damages for himself. He wouldn't generally be so forward with his real name or with the openness he was giving Liam, but this was too laid back of a scene and a connection to this contact that he figured it be best to maintain this vibe so Liam would trust him.
Last edited by Liam O'Donnell on Sat May 20, 2017 11:14 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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by: Tristan Viridian
#11103
As expected, the bartender was skeptical. Paranoid. Confused. He reached for his wand, not bothering to shield his action from the man in blue, but he made a flourish that would normally scare off anyone else…but not this man. Liam just wanted him the hell out, even if he didn’t bother to pay his tab for the drink, he didn’t care anymore. He wanted this Tristan fellow to leave. “What the hell are you on about?”

“What I’m on about, Mr. O’Donnell is that you are in fact my brother.”

“…What…” Liam uttered, quietly. It just wasn’t possible.

“In-Law. Oh, I forgot to attach that part. Brother-in-law, you see. Your wife? My dear baby sister Kara. Did she not tell you about me?” Tristan pulled back from the bar with a mock-offended look, but then he chuckled and relaxed. “That’s because she has no idea who I am. She has no idea that I even exist.”

Another Viridian? Liam knew that Kara was close to her mother so ties on the Winter side of the family might not have been possible. The resemblance to Minister Darque was there, so Liam assumed that was the link there. But why the secrecy? Were there affairs in that line too? Given Kara’s heritage, the bloodline, the family was all sorts of strange and divided, rerouted through lovers and other affairs through the years. Perhaps things weren’t that different with their marriage, either, given the affair.

Liam looked down and sighed. “She’s…she’s not my wife anymore.”

Tristan frowned, but he shrugged lightly. He’d heard about Kara and Liam’s spat through the grapevine, but wasn’t positive of its outcome. Given the mournful look on Liam’s face, he knew things ended terribly, but that would only be in his favor now. He’d utilize this time, seize the opportunity to manipulate his brother-in-law in this vulnerable time. “Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that. But I’ll tell you what, in my eyes, for all intents and purposes, I still consider you my brother. How does that sound?”

Recuperating from the flicker of a painful memory over his loss, Liam sighed. “So be straight then. What’s in this for me?”

Tristan scoffed. “Oh, I promise you revenge and enough capital for you to run back home to Glasgow or wherever it is you’re from—”

“Here.” The bartender glared. Just because he was an O’Donnell and the remnants of his accent were peeking through in the aggravation of the tone of this conversation, didn’t mean he needed to be thrown out to the highlands. His home was here, and even after he ran, after the full moon was done terrorizing him and Bridget, he’d want to be back, if not here then somewhere close.

Tristan shrugged, “Well, think of it this way. You can run away when this is done, travel. Do whatever it is … you and your kind do."

Liam tilted his head at that remark. My kind? How much does this guy know? If he was honest with himself, Liam didn't even know the full story, other than the fact that he was a damn beast.

Clicking his tongue, Tristan pointed up, "And I think it’s fair to say that if any of this goes sideways…”

“I have no idea who you are.” Liam mumbled. This was expected. Cut ties with someone who fucks up an operation. There were enough criminal underground films or hell, even criminal underground operations going on in the city for him to understand how it worked.

“Now you’re speaking my language!” Tristan laughed and pat his palms flat on the bar counter. “So, what do you say?”

This was nonsense. However, for some reason, it made sense. It was all falling into place, and now that he was out, Liam was going to start taking some chances. Considering the bridges he’d burned, and the life he had inadvertently thrown away with the woman he loved, he needed any and all connections that he could get. Was this the right call? Time would tell…he knew he was going to have to see Kara at some point and with any luck, Casey would be there, or perhaps Bryden? Whoever the hell that was. All he knew is that he had a blinding rage at the thought of him, or Casey Winslow or even his wife at this point. Anger. Despair. Pain. Hate. This was a chance of a lifetime, it sounded like, and he’d be damned not to take it. He’d known this alleged brother-in-law for all of five, maybe ten minutes, but for some reason, Liam trusted him.

Would Bridget agree to this? Perhaps not. Maybe it would have been better to ignore the man in blue altogether and just run away from the city like they planned. But she wouldn’t mind a brief detour, would she? This matter was personal.

“I’m listening.”

“Good. Now let's make a deal, brother.”
Tristan grinned as he finished his drink.


[end]
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