London Calling: Time Thief
May. 1st, 2008 04:13 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsWho: Bishop and Jack
When: Early evening
Where: From downtown to Tyburn
For the most part, London had been quiet - not deserted, but devoid of the usual crowds you'd expect on a Friday evening. Those pedestrians that had been about had been vague, almost dreamy, and not inclined to answer questions. Marble Arch, however, was something else entirely. The road that should have been busy with rush hour traffic was filled instead with people, standing silently, almost in expectation.
The awkwardness of the break in absence of bystanders wasn't above Bishop's notice. At first he expected some sort of organized crime to be setting itself up, remembering the conversation when they arrived. The more he looked, however, the more he noticed that more was going on then he expected. The crowd wasn't anywhere near regular, or even criminal, it was just entirely random; so much so that time wasn't even consistent. He was hesitant to enter the crowd but he saw no other way and though Bishop was a close to an expert at avoiding and spotting criminals as anyone he couldn't have expected the light brush of a pickpocket taking one of the things he didn't imagine could be stolen; his powers.
It happened quickly - a sudden jostle of someone bumping into him, the brush of a hand over his back and then the thief was melting through the crowd, glancing back over his shoulder once to flash Bishop a swift, mocking grin and to tug at the brim of his hat. The crowd seemed to part for him like water, his small, slight frame maneuvering easily past, and then closed behind him again.
A murmur arose from the crowd. "...Jack... Gentleman Jack... Jack the Lad..."
Bishop's heart felt as if it were slowing, like the life was draining from him. He was used to the strength his abilities gave him, the raw power. Despite the effects he responded quickly; he caught a glance of the thief and it was all he needed. The crowd didn't part for Bishop like it did for Jack. He had to part it himself, hands up, shoulder to shoulder he knocked people out of his way more forcefully then he likely should have. He could feel it, this was going to be a race and he knew that if he lost it would be his last failure.
"Oh-ho, a c-chase, is it? Many have t-tried, my fine dark gentleman, but t-there is no prison built that can hold Jack Sheppard!" The slightly stuttering voice seemed to come from everywhere, echoing off the curve of Marble Arch, reverberating among the pedestrian tunnels underfoot. Then there was movement, another mocking bow, and Jack was off, vanishing down a side-street that hadn't been there a moment ago.
Bishop knew how most people were spotted, movement. As long as he chased Jack would run and that would be the movement he needed. He was also exceptional with faces and focused on that since clothing no longer seemed to be a guarantee. “You're not going to prison!” It was short and sweet, he wanted to keep the guy talking, to take his wind. He didn't know if it would affect him like a normal person or not but it was worth a shot. Without his powers Bishop looked for every advantage since he could feel time closing in on him.
"Oh, so it's the hangman's noose, is it? You want old Jack to dance the gallows jig for you? Not very likely, my friend!" There was a clang, and when Bishop reached the side-street, it was to find a metal gate which had been locked was now swinging open, Jack almost skipping down the cobbled passage that wasn't on any London map, or at least no current London map.
“Not that either!” Bishop stumbled past the grate and into the beginning of the passage. He played weaker then he was, he knew full well that if it came to it Jack should think Bishop is much worse off then he is. “You can return my powers and we can part ways or you can see how I'll take them back.” He rested for just a second, his hand on the wall, taking advantage of Jack's currently casual fleeing.
"Lost your s-spark, have you? Oh, the c-chase has just begun!" Jack gave Bishop a jaunty wave and ducked down another street, darker and narrower than the last. "Jack be nimble, Jack be quick..."
While in view Bishop was slow and wobbly, however each time Jack took another turn he sprinted full force, expecting the echoes of all the footsteps to help mask his advance. He knew he was tiring himself out but this way he'd at least have some sort of tactics on his side. He couldn't do a straight run anymore. This was all about skill now.
"Too s-slow, too slow! A man has the time to make himself a c-cup of t-tea in the t-time it takes you to run, thief-taker!" The voice drifted back - apparently Jack enjoyed the sound of his own wit. "S-shall I make it easier for you?"
“Would you?” Bishop responded sarcastically. He was perfectly willing to play off the other man's overconfidence, of course. He kept working his angle, all he could do was hope it would pay off.
"You must think Jack's a fool!" The cackle came back loaded with derision. "They took me, locked me away, told me I would hang, but who is the fool now, thief-taker? I have your spark, and with it I'll escape the hands of Death himself!"
Bishop had taken advantage of the time it took Jack, with his self-indulgent narrations, to finish his thoughts. He had slowly worked down the passage at what seemed like a safe distance, before a burst of speed put him on top of the Gentleman in a flash. With a quick tackle they tumbled out into the square.
It wasn't, at the moment, that Bishop would note the significance of the location. Tyburn would mean something to him later on but at the moment his mind was on a singular event. He kept the man below him pinned and he rained fists down in absolute anger. He wasn't willing to stop until it was over, either he would retrieve his abilities or he'd use all his remaining energy. In Bishop's mind there were no other options; despite broken knuckles and torn open hands he continued to batter his opposition.
Jack struggled, trying to push Bishop away, but he was a small man and his advantage had been in speed and eluding his pursuers, not fighting. As blows rained down upon him, his struggles grew weaker, until he lay limply beneath the larger man. A hand flopped limply onto the ground, blood smearing the plain cement plaque beneath them.
When: Early evening
Where: From downtown to Tyburn
For the most part, London had been quiet - not deserted, but devoid of the usual crowds you'd expect on a Friday evening. Those pedestrians that had been about had been vague, almost dreamy, and not inclined to answer questions. Marble Arch, however, was something else entirely. The road that should have been busy with rush hour traffic was filled instead with people, standing silently, almost in expectation.
The awkwardness of the break in absence of bystanders wasn't above Bishop's notice. At first he expected some sort of organized crime to be setting itself up, remembering the conversation when they arrived. The more he looked, however, the more he noticed that more was going on then he expected. The crowd wasn't anywhere near regular, or even criminal, it was just entirely random; so much so that time wasn't even consistent. He was hesitant to enter the crowd but he saw no other way and though Bishop was a close to an expert at avoiding and spotting criminals as anyone he couldn't have expected the light brush of a pickpocket taking one of the things he didn't imagine could be stolen; his powers.
It happened quickly - a sudden jostle of someone bumping into him, the brush of a hand over his back and then the thief was melting through the crowd, glancing back over his shoulder once to flash Bishop a swift, mocking grin and to tug at the brim of his hat. The crowd seemed to part for him like water, his small, slight frame maneuvering easily past, and then closed behind him again.
A murmur arose from the crowd. "...Jack... Gentleman Jack... Jack the Lad..."
Bishop's heart felt as if it were slowing, like the life was draining from him. He was used to the strength his abilities gave him, the raw power. Despite the effects he responded quickly; he caught a glance of the thief and it was all he needed. The crowd didn't part for Bishop like it did for Jack. He had to part it himself, hands up, shoulder to shoulder he knocked people out of his way more forcefully then he likely should have. He could feel it, this was going to be a race and he knew that if he lost it would be his last failure.
"Oh-ho, a c-chase, is it? Many have t-tried, my fine dark gentleman, but t-there is no prison built that can hold Jack Sheppard!" The slightly stuttering voice seemed to come from everywhere, echoing off the curve of Marble Arch, reverberating among the pedestrian tunnels underfoot. Then there was movement, another mocking bow, and Jack was off, vanishing down a side-street that hadn't been there a moment ago.
Bishop knew how most people were spotted, movement. As long as he chased Jack would run and that would be the movement he needed. He was also exceptional with faces and focused on that since clothing no longer seemed to be a guarantee. “You're not going to prison!” It was short and sweet, he wanted to keep the guy talking, to take his wind. He didn't know if it would affect him like a normal person or not but it was worth a shot. Without his powers Bishop looked for every advantage since he could feel time closing in on him.
"Oh, so it's the hangman's noose, is it? You want old Jack to dance the gallows jig for you? Not very likely, my friend!" There was a clang, and when Bishop reached the side-street, it was to find a metal gate which had been locked was now swinging open, Jack almost skipping down the cobbled passage that wasn't on any London map, or at least no current London map.
“Not that either!” Bishop stumbled past the grate and into the beginning of the passage. He played weaker then he was, he knew full well that if it came to it Jack should think Bishop is much worse off then he is. “You can return my powers and we can part ways or you can see how I'll take them back.” He rested for just a second, his hand on the wall, taking advantage of Jack's currently casual fleeing.
"Lost your s-spark, have you? Oh, the c-chase has just begun!" Jack gave Bishop a jaunty wave and ducked down another street, darker and narrower than the last. "Jack be nimble, Jack be quick..."
While in view Bishop was slow and wobbly, however each time Jack took another turn he sprinted full force, expecting the echoes of all the footsteps to help mask his advance. He knew he was tiring himself out but this way he'd at least have some sort of tactics on his side. He couldn't do a straight run anymore. This was all about skill now.
"Too s-slow, too slow! A man has the time to make himself a c-cup of t-tea in the t-time it takes you to run, thief-taker!" The voice drifted back - apparently Jack enjoyed the sound of his own wit. "S-shall I make it easier for you?"
“Would you?” Bishop responded sarcastically. He was perfectly willing to play off the other man's overconfidence, of course. He kept working his angle, all he could do was hope it would pay off.
"You must think Jack's a fool!" The cackle came back loaded with derision. "They took me, locked me away, told me I would hang, but who is the fool now, thief-taker? I have your spark, and with it I'll escape the hands of Death himself!"
Bishop had taken advantage of the time it took Jack, with his self-indulgent narrations, to finish his thoughts. He had slowly worked down the passage at what seemed like a safe distance, before a burst of speed put him on top of the Gentleman in a flash. With a quick tackle they tumbled out into the square.
It wasn't, at the moment, that Bishop would note the significance of the location. Tyburn would mean something to him later on but at the moment his mind was on a singular event. He kept the man below him pinned and he rained fists down in absolute anger. He wasn't willing to stop until it was over, either he would retrieve his abilities or he'd use all his remaining energy. In Bishop's mind there were no other options; despite broken knuckles and torn open hands he continued to batter his opposition.
Jack struggled, trying to push Bishop away, but he was a small man and his advantage had been in speed and eluding his pursuers, not fighting. As blows rained down upon him, his struggles grew weaker, until he lay limply beneath the larger man. A hand flopped limply onto the ground, blood smearing the plain cement plaque beneath them.
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