Back Alleys of London
It was a bleak and cloudy night in the city of London, as it had been for almost a week or so in these parts. It was that awful kind of bleak where the weather couldn't quite decide whether it was going to rain or not. This obviously did nothing to stop the late night crowds from wandering the brightly lit streets and bar-hopping between pubs to try and listen in on the big football game. Even if Cascite had been here on a casual basis, it wouldn't be for football. Sports bored him to tears, whether magical or muggle. No, his business here was far more pressing.
He was cautious as he left the somewhat warm glow and descended into the dim and dank alley where he'd been instructed to go. It was a trap, that much was obvious. You didn't need to be Cascite Ingem to know that the "smugglers" he had been in contact with for the past few weeks were actually Death Eater peons attempting to set him up. Still, Cascite needed those goods and he could only play into their hand in the hopes that they would actually have them in an attempt to bait him in. After all, his gadgets did require magical parts for him to make them, and he could only do so much with his wand.
He reached a large metal door that looked strangely out of place in this shanty area and proceeded to knock four times. He heard a muffled "Who goes?" from the other side.
"Dragon Heartsting," Cascite stated blandly, revealing the password for entry.
Curiously, there was a lot of fumbling on the other side. He heard a distant second voice yell "You have to punch in the numbers like I told ya!" and the original voice mutter "Damned muggles..." Cascite's heart sank. It was an electronic lock. He hadn't planned for that. Why the hell would Death Eaters be using an electronic lock?
As soon as the door swung open, Cascite was grabbed by the scruff of his shirt and dragged inside. There was no turning back now as the door ominously clicked behind him. It was a tiny room with a table and some dilapidated chairs in the center. Curiously it appeared that this was all there was to the room. There were, however, three of them. They were the towering, goonish looking types: all muscle and no brain he presumed. The one who let him in was patting him down.
"He got 'is wand on 'im?" The head goon from behind the table asked.
"No, I do not," Cascite answered for the goon, not that they believed him. "As agreed," he reminded them.
After they were satisfied he did not have a weapon on him (ha, idiots), they shunted him over to the chair across the table from the head goon. They had a minor stare-off as they sized each other up, albeit in vastly different ways. "Now then," Cascite started, pulling a small sack of gold out from his pocket, "I have your payment here. Where are my goods?"
The head goon gave a quick nod to the third one whom tossed over a package onto the table. In the meantime, he snatched up the gold and began counting. Cascite grabbed the package and turned to leave, knowing this was all too easy.
"There's just one problem mate," the head goon said, still counting. The smirk on his face was a tell for what was about to happen. "I'm afraid you won't be needing either the gold or the goods when you're rotting in a cell in Azka..." but Cascite didn't let him finish. He ripped the false gem off of the ring on his right hand and forcefully threw it into the head goon's face. It shattered and in a flash of light the man's face slumped forward and smacked flat into the table before his body slipped off of his chair, unconscious.
Cascite took advantage of the slight confusion to rip a band-aid off of his arm and toss it on the floor in front of the third goon. It immediately sprung to life, growing and extending to start wrapping and entangling the poor sap. That just left one goon to go and then...
"Stupefy!" the first goon had managed to get a spell off while Cascite had been paying attention to the other one. Unfortunately for him, the Protego charm stored in the pendant around Cascite's neck activated and reflected it right back at him. He fell forward and crashed to the ground, snapping his wand in the process. Unfortunately for Cascite, that was exactly not supposed to happen, since he needed, or rather wanted, a wand to get past the electronic lock.
"Damnit!" he shouted, kicking the first goon on the floor, hoping he broke some ribs or something. He didn't have much time before the enchantments wore off. There was no wand visibly present on the head goon, and the third's was wrapped up with him inside his bandage prison, now on the floor. Time was of the essence and without the code to open the lock, he was basically trapped in here until somebody woke up. He had no choice then, it seemed.
He pushed a button on his watch and it ejected a small rectangular battery-like object. He would only have a few moments. Cascite sighed and snapped it in two. What happened next was pure chaos. Snapping the battery let loose what Cascite jokingly referred to as an EMP: an electro-magical pulse. Everything electrical within an approximately 25 mile radius would have it's electrical energies interfered with and essentially stop working. This would last until the magical energies dissipated: between 1 and 5 minutes depending on how close the area was to the origin of the pulse. It was definitely a last resort sort of thing and would no doubt be inconveniencing a lot of the city. At this point, Cascite didn't care though.
The wave of magic rushed over him and in an instant everything went dark. He quickly tapped the side of his glasses, which weren't his real ones and purely cosmetic, except for the fact that they now essentially granted him night vision. He scooped up his gold and the package which was noticeably lighter than it was supposed to be, gently pushed open the door and ran out into the now pitch black city. He sprinted as fast as he could away from the meeting place. After all, they could just apparate to follow him if they got out of their own predicaments. His wand was stowed in a cache in the side of a building a few blocks away.
It looked like it would be smooth sailing as he brushed past confused, frightened, or angered muggles on the main street. That is, of course, until he stepped into a pothole and tripped. He fell flat on his face, scraping himself in several places and losing his glasses in the process. "Damn it all!" he scowled, now unable to see a thing. The weather prevented any sort of moonlight and without his glasses he wasn't about to find his way without them. He was also NOT about to lose his glasses in addition to that battery. He blindly fumbled around, feeling the ground. They couldn't have fallen too far away...