Just Like Clockwork: Scene VII -- Caelan, Erin, Ilkin, Rakesh, Rose

12:14 PM, Tuesday, November 12th, 2003

Being a reporter and independent film producer, it seemed, paid very, very well. J. Ilkin Aylesworth lived in a two-floor flat on West End Lane, overlooking the picturesque Pinner Memorial Park. It was a rather nice place, a studio apartment of the sort that only the very rich and very fashionable could dwell in. The first floor was largely devoted to a single room that was part kitchen, part living-room, part dining-room, and part bar, with the ceiling reaching a good twenty feet above your heads. A stairwell and walkway led to the upper level of the apartment, where Ilkin and his friend and roommate Benjamin Dranias had their private quarters.

The flat was decorated in a rather loose, comfortable style, the furniture low and sleek, all very modern looking. It was onto one of these very modern and very fashionable couchs that the three of you man-handled Robert Hammond onto. Getting him into and out of the car had been a bit heart-racing, since there were really precious few good explanations to give the police for why three people, one of them a stripper, were dragging a sleeping man into a car. Something, either the Tapestry, dumb luck, or a bit of minor magic was with you however, and you managed to arrive at Ilkin's flat without having to answer any very awkward questions.

It was around this point that Hammond stirred, opening one bleary eye to gaze out at you. His eyes were bloodshot, and he looked, by and by large, like hell. The changeling made some unidentifiable noises, then muttered. "...Where is this...? Ugh... my head... that was a bad nightmare."

The dog had asked her if she was possessed or schizophrenic and all she had done was shrug. Did it really matter? She was talking to a dog after all. Rose was pretty sure what she and her geist had wasn't considered possession and even more cretin that schizophrenia wasn't this annoying.

There had been some idle chat about changeling hunters, wormwood's, and Russian Mafia. Most of it Rose hadn't payed attention to since she wasn't sure entirely what a wormwood hunter changeling was, but Russian Mafia she had a grasp on.

Ghosts? Doable.

Weirdo investigators? Manageable.

Russian Mafia? **** that!

Ever since she acquired her little mind nudest she had come to terms that the weirder things were to handle the more likely it was she could handle them. If this lot was about to head off somewhere and do god knows what it was probably way safer to stick with them then head off and get found in a trash can two weeks later.

The first agenda had been to move a sleeping man into a car. While her boots may have been made for walking they were NOT made for walking with some other persons added weight on them. GeGe watched the sleeping man with the same mild curiosity he had the mouse woman, few things were more frustrating then feeling like you were missing out on something.

"When the hell did you become a people person?" she bitched after finally dumping this Robert fellow on a couch. Yawning and stretching with great multitalented ability Rose leaned as far back as she dared on her precarious poise atop her heals, viewing the room from a lopsided upside down point. "Fancy digs."

"Ugh... my head... that was a bad nightmare."

Raising her eyebrows Rose finished her stretch and turned to plunk herself down on the arm of the couch the blood shot eyed fellow was sprawled on. "Well good morning to you to sunshine." her attention wasn't even on him as she said this since she was still taking in her surroundings.

Rose's penchant for talking to herself kept throwing Ilkin off. He gave her weird looks whenever she spoke up, but otherwise kept quiet. The fact that her presence made the hairs on the back of his neck rise in alarm didn't help put him at ease.

But they finally got Robert to his place. Ilkin had everyone wait outside for a second until he and Ben could assuage their resident guardian ghost. Finally, Ilkin came back and let everyone know it was safe.

"You're at my flat, Robert," the Acanthus said, "It's safer here. The Russians were killing people with an Awakened device. That's, ah, that's what happened to Colin."

Ilkin headed to the kitchen where Ben was getting a beer.

"Hey, who's the bint?" Ben asked.

"Rose," Ilkin replied, "Did you call the Guardians?"

"Yeah, yeah, and I sent off your little picture. Creepy, isn't it?"

"The ghost was sawing people's heads off," Ilkin stated, "I'd say that's rather creepy."

"No, I mean the stripper," Ben gestured toward Rose with his beer can, "And that you brought one over. I thought you liked classier women. And fairies." Ben felt the same hair-raising warning about Rose that Ilkin did.

Ilkin snorted and laughed, then headed back to the living room. "I'll have tea up in a moment," he said, "But some other mages will be coming by soon. That clockwork brain isn't something that should be allowed to remain in their hands. These mages look for this sort of thing and deal with it regularly. With any luck, they'll be able to help us figure out what to do."

The recent hour had left Caelan taciturn. Once Robert was safely laid out on the couch, she stepped to the nearest window and crossed her arms.

She might not get to sleep somewhere safe this morning. She hardly deserved it, she thought bitterly.

The vampire said nothing to Robert when he awoke, she merely looked over her shoulder at him.

"Charmed." Hammond was a tall, rather moody looking man, with dark coloring - black hair, dark-grey eyes that were currently markedly bloodshot, skin that was just perhaps a little greyish - dressed in a turtleneck and jeans, a good watch on one wrist. He had elegant hands, with long fingers rather like those of a pianist. He had the look, on the whole, of a certain kind of very depressed poet. "Er... do I know you?"

"Damn." Robert said tiredly. He looked as exhausted as he sounded, the mixture of sleeping pills and mind-rending nightmares combining with confirmation of Colin's death to enervate the changeling altogether. "I... just damn. I never dealt with Aleksander and Sergei much."

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2:53 AM, Tuesday, November 12th, 2003

Getting to Ilkin's flat probably took more effort than it should have. In part this was because they had to take the bus, which required a certain amount of persuasion on behalf of Erin and Rakesh of the bus-driver, before he agreed to let a small woman, a large dog, and a trolley containing an even larger grandfather clock onto the bus. It was probably only the fact that it was late and the driver was bored, and that Rakesh had absolutely no shame about using his canine wiles.

A short while later, one dog, one woman, and one trolley with a grandfather clock were taking the elevator up to Ilkin's apartment. It was a large elevator, but even then it creaked a bit when the grandfather clock was wheeled into it. Upon reaching the correct floor, Rakesh trotted off to the door of the flat the two mages shared. Then, he opened it in the traditional canine fashion. He scratched at it.

Ben went to open the door. He was a big fellow, looking a great deal like Ilkin only notably more athletic and broad-shouldered. "Hey Rakesh. Uh... hi, miss."

"Good morning Benjamin, your mastery of opposable thumbs is once more unparalleled." Rakesh padded into the apartment.

"Hello, sir," Erin replied politely, peering out from behind the seven foot tall monstrosity of a clock. She trotted around to the other end of the trolley, as if preparing to unload it. "Is there anywhere it would be okay for me to put this?" she asked brightly.

"Hello everyone," she greeted again when she saw the people inside the flat. "It turns out the Wormwood is definitely the mafia film producer. I guess he must be coming by to check on the filming tomorrow or something. Mr. Isengrim wouldn't tell me anything about him, though. Jerk." Erin shoved her hands in her pockets and kicked one of the trolley wheels, which had the grand effect of doing absolutely nothing and didn't even make her feel better. She sulked a bit.

"Anyway..." she continued, still sulking. "I think... maybe... the film crew shouldn't be there when he comes. Mr. Isengrim said it might be really dangerous. Poor Mr. Fletcher probably won't be happy if he knows Wormwood is coming and filming gets shut down but... I guess if they kill Wormwood he won't owe any money or anything..." Erin's antenna perked up suddenly. "Mr. Ilkin, do you have a remote control I could use?"

"What the hell?" Ben stared at the clock, dumbfounded, "What the sodding hell is that?"

He opened the door wider and waved something off -- something nobody except maybe Rakesh could see, then stepped out to help push the clock inside. "Hey, Jay?" he called, "Where d'you want this...thing?"

By this time, Ilkin had arrived at the door. He frowned at the dog as it trotted inside. "I do hope you're going to change back soon," he said, "I don't want dog hair all over."

The Acanthus picked up his remote and tossed it to Erin. "Mr. Clements, if you must use a Mr," he said, "Or just Ilkin. What do you need a remote for?"

The dog sniff disdainfully at Ilkin, and padded into one of the side-corridors. He disappeared from sight for a moment, then there returned to the room a man.

He was a little taller than average, albeit he never seemed to stand up completely straight. He had short-cropped black hair, dusky skin, and rather noticeably out-of-place blue eyes. He was dressed in khaki pants and a plaid, short-sleeved shirt despite the weather. One could see a set of three ugly, parallel scars along his upper right arm when the sleeve rode up.

"Good evening, Ms. Lamothe." The half-Indian man said, in the same polished, Recieved Pronunciation accent. He glanced at Ilkin. "And I do not shed. Now, are we expecting anyone else?"

"Er... do I know you?"

Rose brought her attention round to the moody broody man with his stuffy looking turtleneck.

"Might, do you ever go down to the Spearmint Rhino Gentleman's Club?" She leaned back a bit supporting herself in what looked like a rather uncomfortable position on the arm rest and winked as a smirk spread on her lips.

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It was probably the slowest she had stripped in a long time. After the first half hour she had given up on being polite and taken off her healed boots, after forty five minutes the jacket came off exposing her glorious leopard print daisy dukes and blue zebra striped half shredded tank top. At about 1:30 am the knee high fishnet's had come off, they were cute and blue to match the tank top but they were not practical without the boots.

She really aught to charge someone for this.

GeGe all this time was to busy playing the silent observer, much to Rose's frustration.

And now, there was a giant clock was at the door followed by that weird chick from earlier and the talking dog.

Apparently the mafia really was being involved and Rose finally came to the conclusion that Wormwood was a person. Chalk one up for brain power.

"Mr.Ilkin, do you have a remote control I could use?"


"That's probably a bad idea..." She watched as Erin got hold of a remote shaking her head slightly. The chick had ripped apart cameras like it was nothing, god only knew what she could do to this guys cable bill. GeGe shushed her, curious what the woman was going to do with the device "No, seriously, shes probably going to end up ordering paper view for everyone in a five mile radius..." Rose pouted as she was being ignored by her stripper and instead turned her attention to the man who reentered.

He wore tweed, which was probably her least favorite word in english. Rose did her very best slow hooker walk stepping around him and the Ilkin in a half circle.

"And I do not shed."

"Oh..." she muttered to herself and only herself, "I see..." Rose reached out a hand and ruffled the mans hair ignoring anything as trivial as personal space. "You were the dog!"

"It's a clock," Erin explained, somewhat unnecessarily. "I just thought it'd be good to get out of the door..."

She easily caught to remote, holding it in her twisty fingers like a kid with a candy bar. "I installed a kill switch on the Devourer - I'm so sorry, Mr. Hammond!" she exclaimed. "But I don't think... I don't think the filming crew should be there if something goes bad... and Mr. Isengrim seemed to think it would go bad. And I don't think Mr. Fletcher would want to stop filming for any reason, especially not if the Wormwood is coming. Mr. Fletcher was very frightened of the Wormwood," she noted, looking pretty concerned herself, though that might have been out of concern that she was imminently about to be fired.

"So I'm going to rig the switch up to this remote control," Erin continued, hefting it up and pressing a few buttons at random. "And that way if anyone else messes with it we can turn it back on immediately, sir. I hid the kill switch so it's hard to find, but it's also hard to get to. So I'll use this remote, and then if it comes down to it, we can click the Devourer off. It'll shut down filming for the day." She bit her lip. "I hope..."

She paused in her explanation to examine the man that had walked back into the room, trying to assess whether she preferred him or the dog.