underlondon_npc | Outside of Muses: Camden Market, Christmas 2032

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Outside of Muses: Camden Market, Christmas 2032

At first glance, the busy street Nix ushers Reid out to looks like something out of a Charles Dickens book, although slightly more sanitised than that. The street is narrow and jammed with stalls selling a massive variety of food, clothing, small animals, tools, odd-looking electronics and virtually anything (and everything) else. Few people in the street look particularly well-off - or particularly clean - although there's a wild variation in outfits, ages, genders and races. There are even horses and carts, although the occasional electric flicker betrays the fact that the horses, at least, are some kind of hologram, and in the sky are pigeons, and odd flying shapes that look as if they might be some kind of motorcycle or quadbike. Far off, and high up, an odd-looking machine like a train or perhaps a tram whirrs and rattles along elevated rails into the distance as it snakes through the tallest buildings.

The overall impression is that of noise and ragged colour and smoky late-afternoon air, all highlighted by the rather incongruous-looking strands of fairylights and the lightly falling snow. London smells odd: not entirely unpleasant, but smoky and damp, with an odd note of petrol and oils, maybe even gunpowder, behind the smells of dozens of cultures' worth of cooking food.

Nix turns to Reid with a laughing, red-lipped grin, gesturing with her furled umbrella. The door she's holding open for him is now that of a pub, the George Cross, with people laughing, shouting and drinking behind them as they had been in Milliways, but unlike Milliways it's far pokier, darker and overheated: it's no surprise that she preferred to drink at the end of the universe, when the opportunity presented itself.

"Welcome to London!"

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"These days the Peelers stay out of here if they've got any sense, but s'never a hundred percent," agrees the next to meet them: a wiry young man with a West Wales accent, cigarette in one hand, who’s wearing a short leather jacket and no gloves despite the cold. He's a couple of years older and an inch or two shorter than Nix, heavily scarred and tattooed, and he eyes Reid warily from under a mop of sandy hair. "Spencer, yeah? I’m Gryff – Nix’s best friend.”

When he offers a handshake, it’s clear his ring finger is missing.

"We've been hunting all over for that kid," he says, nodding at Elodie. "Which reminds me - the Abbess's still out lookin'. Jack, bring her in?"

"On it," answers a tawny-haired woman who might be a hunter in her belted long leather coat and riding boots, her rifle strapped across her back; she whistles to the three dogs and trots off with them into the alleys.

"A pleasure," Reid replies, shaking Gryff's hand without hesitation, though the missing finger does get another blink.

"Yeah, you too."

"I noticed you sent one of the ones that've never been to the bar," Nix says; she's quieter now, less eager to show off while they're surrounded, and though she's not defensive she did take care to put herself more or less between Reid and her group.

Gryff grins at her, and it's an attractive grin, though he doesn't use it often. "Well, yeah. There's just Carmody, now, and I think they're distracted for the time being."

Nix nods, looking over at the rest of the group, most of whom have stayed on the bridge for the time being, although there are plenty of curious looks directed Reid and Nix's way. As far as the adults go, there’s a short, shrewd-eyed plump girl, a black rose perched at a rakish angle on her blonde-and-pink dreadlocks; a slim, coffee-skinnned man in his late twenties with black curls and a tired face; a short blonde pixie of a girl with lively eyes, whose array of knives on her belt suggest she’s probably the Eden Nix was shopping for earlier; a tall, androgynous twenty-five-year-old with spiky dark hair, high-heeled boots and a perpetually wary look; and a dark, slightly older man in a faded blue keffiyeh with a gentle face and a soldier’s bearing.

Besides Elodie there are three other children with them, presently busy sliding on the ice: a shy-looking twelve-year-old boy in dungarees, his dark hair in neat cornrows, a sturdy, sharp-eyed ten-year-old boy with a shock of white-blonde hair, and a cheeky-faced seven-year-old girl, well muffled up, sporting blonde bunches and distinctive red wellington boots.

"Almost all here," Nix comments, and Gryff and Threnody nod. "Just Jack, the Abbess and Romilly left." She glances at Reid. "We'll be headin' back when they turn up. Should be able to find a door for you along the way, though."

Reid nods.

"It's been nice visiting," he says. "Very interesting, too; it does make me wonder, just how things will turn out back home, you know?"

"Yeah." Nix's expression clouds over: she's wondering if her birth parents are still alive in Reid's universe, or if they even exist at all. Gryff takes a long drag on his cigarette, shaking her shoulder lightly.

"Smile, Baldy. Lookin' like a hen left out in the rain's my job."

That makes her grin and poke her tongue out. "Cheeky bastard."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Gryff rolls his eyes at her, smirking at Reid. "She's so mean to me."

"You're both as bad as the other," Threnody declares. "Hey, did you two hear about Eden's run-in with the Ripper?"

"How could we?" demands Nix. "We only just got here. What happened?"

"Let Eden tell it, Threnody," Meda interrupts. "She'll play hell if she doesn't. Reckon you can cope with a bit more of our mob, Spencer? I don't think I've seen that girl on her own once since I've met her."

"...The Ripper?" he can't help but asking.

Nix nods. "We get them every so often - must be the bloody smog or somethin'. Some twerp decides 'e's Jack the Ripper back t'life or some such bollocks, and well... you get the idea. But if he's run into Eden then this is going to be interesting."

He nods; he gets it.

"Yeah... Uh, how thorough is the, ah... imitation?" he asks. "I mean, do they try to copy every detail of his MO, or do they tend to have their own unique psychoses?"

Gryff shrugs, neatly flicking his spent cigarette into the snow. "Depends on the idiot. There's been, what, three now?"

"Four if you count the one I sorted out over in Brixton two years back," says Nix. "Though that might've just been your average rapist in a daft get-up. Once he pulled the knife, I didn't let 'im give me chance to find out."

"This one's been keeping it pretty close to the classic model, far as I heard." Meda glances at her daughter, now sleeping soundly in her arms, then at Reid. "Want me to call Eden over?"

"Sure..." he says, almost absently. "Four? Really? I'd think it would get... old."

They would be far less likely to get caught if they didn't imitate the Ripper; of course, it could be that they were trying to get caught, trying for notoriety, more than anything else, and that would change the profile he had already started automatically building, too.

"They don't," says the woman grimly, "Not if we can help it."

Threnody is oblivious to Reid's thoughts, but Gryff, older and paying more attention, raises his eyebrows silently at Nix and gets a tiny nod and a warning shake of the head in return.

Meda whistles, meanwhile, and the set of notes must be a code because the blonde, knife-carrying teenage girl leaves the larger group to trot across to them accompanied by the keffiyeh-wearing man she'd been talking with.

"You rang?" Eden asks. As soon as she speaks, she's unmistakably Irish: a jaunty, lean seventeen- or eighteen-year-old of an inch or two over five feet tall, wearing a short parka, calf-high riding boots and an air of invincibility despite her height. She gives Reid a bright-eyed, flirty look as soon as she reaches them, unabashedly looking him up and down. "Oh, hello." Her smile is frankly wicked. "You're gonna have to introduce y'friend to everyone, Nix, before Celia gets so curious she goes bang."

"Uh, hi, I'm Dr. Spencer Reid," he says, offering his hand to shake. There's a slight hesitation as he remembers to omit the SSA part; it's kind of hard, with the way that his mind is working right now.

It is, however, definitely for the best that he remembers with this little group.

"Pleased to meetcha." Eden smiles up at him, eyes dancing as she shakes his hand. "Eden Bright. D'you always give y'name all formal?"

"Eden," the older man says warningly, "Play nice." He offers Reid a sleepy-eyed, slightly apologetic smile and a little wave, but no handshake. "I'm Ariel - Ariel Mohammed. I take it you're from Milliways?"

"Well... Depending on how you define 'from,' that could be an accurate statement," he replies. "Pleased to meet you both."

Ariel smiles again. "Ah, a pedant. I may have to rethink telling Eden to play nice."

The blonde girl shoves him playfully. "I am so bullied," she tells Reid sorrowfully. "You should take pity on me."

"Well, I don't think anyone is actually from Milliways," he says, frowning slightly. "It's not the sort of place people raise kids..."

"Well, I was tempted," Meda says, voice very wry as she hugs her daughter. "But I have a job to do."

"Anyway," Nix cuts in, "We didn't bring you over to flirt, Eden. Threnody said something about you meeting the Ripper?"

The blonde girl laughs infectiously. "Oh, that. Well, I was down near the old museum, you know? And I reckoned I'd beat the crowds coming back if I went round Pratt Street way, only I’m just goin’ round the corner wi’ Treacle Junction and there’s this feckin’ eejit in a black cape'n'hood and that, stepping out the shadows and swishin’ his cloak like he’s king of friggin’ everything. I felt like, oh, you have got to be kiddin’ me, but then he actually pulls out this bastard of a knife and starts mumblin’ on about how I was gonna scream and scream and scream, givin’ it all that like he was a third-rate superhero villain or somethin’. I tell him I’m with the Underground, so piss off, but he just keeps wittering about how much I’m gonna scream tonight."

Nix is leaning on Reid’s shoulder, evidently agog. “Go on, Ede, what did you do with the silly sod?”

Eden grins broadly, enjoying her audience. “Told ‘im I don’t scream for ugly guys, then kicked ‘is ‘ead in.”

o__o

....yeah, no, that about sums it up.

Nix snorts. "What did you do with the body?"

Eden shrugs. "He might've still been breathing? I didn't check, but if 'e was, it wasn't 'cause of lack of effort. I took 'is knife as a souvenir, and Me'n Ariel left 'im over at the cop shop down by Euston, anyway. We reckoned we'd make a present of it, so," she giggles, "I left a Christmas card and a little pink bow on 'is head. A sparkly bow."

The other three Underground members laugh, but Ariel raises dark eyebrows. "Reckon you've scared the newcomer, Ede. Not that you don't scare me on occasion."

Eden throws out her hands. "Well, what was I s'pposed to do? Swoon onto my faintin' couch?"

"...sparkly pink... bow? Really?" There, he manages to actually say something.

She reminds him of a demented Garcia.

Eden grins. "Like a little Christmas present, y'know?" she says, and Nix reaches in to give her a high-five.

"They'll prob'ly appreciate it," nods Threnody, slapping Eden's hand in turn and shaking her head.

"They'll appreciate not havin' to pretend they give a damn about people this side of the river gettin' tortured t'death, anyway," Meda completes grimly. "Fuckin' hypocritical little toerags."

"Anyway, Ede," Nix cuts in hastily, "Any idea where your sister is? Tisn't like her to be late - not this late, anyway."

The blonde girl shakes her head. "No idea. She had med supplies to get, 'sall I know."

"How late is she?"

Given what he's just learned about this place and time, he'd be remiss if he wasn't concerned.

Nix looks at her watch-chain again. "Gettin' on for fifteen minutes," she says. "That's not too bad. I'm not sendin' search parties until Jack gets back with the dogs, anyway."

"Romilly can look after herself all right," Eden says jauntily, but she can't quite hide her unease. "She'll be fine."

Gryff frowns. "We could send the rest back and go'n have a look for her ourselves, Nix?"

His best friend thinks about this, then shakes her head. "We're better off not splitting up any further. If there is trouble, then I want the kids as secure as possible - and besides, without the dogs we could be lookin' all day and not find them, not now night's coming in. Give 'em five more minutes, and we'll see."

"Might as well join back up with the rest, then," Gryff nods. "You lot, keep the rest busy? I don't want Carmody and Suicide askin' too many questions about our guest, like. They'll be asking enough as it is."

"Got it!" Threnody chirps, as the others nod, and wanders off ahead along with Eden and Ariel.

Nix slips her arm through Reid's again, albeit a little self-consciously this time, letting the others get a short way before she, Reid and Gryff start after them.

"Rom's probably just lost her way back," she tells Reid. "Probably. She's on Medical, so she doesn't get above ground that much."

"Still, the longer someone has been missing, the less likely they'll be found," he replies quietly. "I know you said it's only been fifteen minutes, but this seems like a very dangerous place."

Nix shakes her head. "Camden's all right, if you're Underground," she says. "There are worse places - and Eden was right, Romilly can take care of herself. Thing is, we're the only two Overgrounders with this lot - except for Meda, and she's usually on Security - so splitting up too far is a bad idea. Plus if you think I'm leaving you to the tender mercies of this mob, you're mistaken."

"We're in charge," Gryff explains. "So our job's to get as many back as possible. I do think we should go after her if she doesn't turn up by the time Jack and the Abbess are back, though."

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