Something Wicked that Way Came

Julian Faulkner

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Thin fingers flexing as he waited for the inevitable, the cloaked man wondered what was taking his accomplices so long in their mission. He had full faith in their efforts. If everything went as planned, which he was almost positive would, ensnaring the old man would be simple. He had no doubt that their victim would put up a fight, and a good one at that. But his hunters had youth on their side, while their prey was well overdue for retirement.

He did not smile at those around him, did not give them any form of acknowledgement whatsoever. Indeed, he knew all of them by name- but on this occasion, he did not use them. It was his full intent to keep Taggart alive- but he was to be another reminder to the Wizarding World that they still had reason to fear. Those all around him had become too content, too satiated in their own comfort, to find any reason to not be safe. They were all too eager to cast away events that had occurred, just shy of three decades ago that had kept their hearts in their throats,their hope crushed to a pulp. It was time for them to remember, and remember well.

The man sighed as his fingers curled about his wand, peering through the blinds. It was a rather bustling day in Morocco, passerby blissfully unaware of the events that were about to take place in their midst. He had chosen this location so the group would be given little notice. Hooded strangers keeping to themselves were all too common in the vibrant community.

And hooded he stayed, though the air was unpleasantly warm. Not having been in a place so warm since his childhood, he had long since been forced to forget the heat. For many years, his retreat had been cold. Where that retreat was had only been known to him, however. Many things about him were a mystery, just as he thought the Death Eaters should be. A mystery, and nonetheless a mystery to be wary of.

His name was Julian Faulkner- though he never went by his real name these days. In the public, he was forced to go by another entirely. Those in the Death Eaters were rarely privileged with any information about himself besides his name. He preferred it that way- knowing their names in turn was as personal as he possibly wished to get.

Glancing back down at his watch, he waited, if impatiently, for his fellow Death Eaters to return with the old man, and most importantly, the information to come after. He preferred for things to be set in motion quickly- but over his years of life he had learned to accept patience as a necessity. A few more minutes wasn't giong to impair him, if heighten his frustration a little bit. Still, he did not speak to those who were already there. Soon, he would address them. It was important for everyone in this mission not to reveal their own names- whether it be their first or surname. They had to be a threat, not a threat that the Ministry could track easily.
 
Asparuh had gotten away from the forest, hoping the youth would do the job right, and not be caught. Asparuh had his robes wrapped around him, and his hair and face revealing who he was. However, only those who knew of his deeds would recognize his face, which did not appear as an elder man, but rather a younger one. His eyes flashed once he saw the leader of the Death Eaters, cloaked and mysterious. Asparuh did not say a word, but rather stood next to the man, hoping that the youths would be soon.

Asparuh was not known for patience, even back in the good days. He had been a ruthless, cold-hearted man of Pureblood. Now, however, he was much more wise, and much more powerful than he was fifty years ago. Asparuh held his head up, like he usually did. His eyes darted from one area to the next, disliking the warmth more and more.

Asparuh's hand ran through his hair, blond as can be. Some gray could be detected. He was blessed somehow with the look of someone younger than his son. He assumed it was to be Azkaban, having the opposite affect on him. Asparuh remembered being sent there, talking to the fellow Death Eaters which were captured, before breaking out. Not even Azkaban could hold down the will of this man.

Asparuh folded his arms across his chest. He wondered whether Lord Voldemort would have tolerated such tardiness. Asparuh remembered every memory of the great man, and felt pleased when the Dark Lord spoke to him. Asparuh shook his head, unnoticeably, trying to make his patience wait out just a little bit more. It would be over soon enough. The plan will be fulfilled, even if he didn't have much of a part in it. Asparuh's eyes stared in front of him, not paying much attention to the leader, Julian Faulkner. Asparuh would only answer if he were to say anything.
 
Thorine had left the small group in the forest by only a few moments, enough time to let their leader know that his prize was on its way. The scorching heat did nothing for the mood she was in, Taggart was as good as dead but first vital information would be gleaned from the old man. Refusing to remove her cloak and hood, she walked the last few minutes distance to the rendezvous point. On entering she ignored those other death eaters about her and went straight to Julians side, with her back to the rest of the group and for only his ears to hear, she whispered.
"The job is done my lord, they are on their way" She bowed her head in reference before taking her place amongst the group gathered around the room.

Still she did not remove her hooded cloak, she neither greeted or acknowledged anyone else but stood impassive, waiting for the others to bring the unconscious professor.
 
((Apologies for the godmodding))

The portkey sent Mark, Taggart, and the assortment of Death Eaters flying to their unknown destination. Mark, nor anyone involved, actually knew where they were - except for the fact that wherever they were, it was uncomfortably hot. Reaching the ground, Mark stood in front of the other Death Eaters, letting Taggart's body fall to the floor.

"My lord," he began, with a respectful bow of the head. "We have brought the old fool." He stepped backwards, allowing their leader to view the body, and waiting for whatever form of torture was to happen next. He knew he had succeeded in his part of the mission, and now he was looking forward to seeing how the most experienced of the Death Eaters worked.
 
Andy stood waiting by the leader of the Death Eaters in silence, her gaze looked cold and serious, she knew that she would not have much to do here, she was only a Death Eater in training but she would not pass up this experience for the world. As she waited her lips curled over slightly, clearly deep in thought, but she was brought back to reality when she heard a woman's voice, in a whisper yes, but she could still faintly hear it, she did not look at her, or Julian, she just stood looking ahead, much like the older man she knew to be one of many Zhefarovich's.

Andy glanced to the portkey when she saw Taggart and another Death Eater she did not know the name of. Andy had a face of no emotion, so much so she seemed quite cold as she looked at the unconscious body feeling her wand gripped in her hand carefully. Andy shot the leader a side ways glance waiting for his reaction wanting to see what would happen now, finding herself feeling a bit eager, but she didn't show any of it.
 
Canoc was filled with a thick seeping fog, clouding all thought except for the pain. Oh yes, the pain. It was constant, throbbing, seething agony. A million times worse than any physical injury he had endured in his long lifetime. Which he was pretty sure was about to be cut off.

He kept his body still. He would wait and bide his time. He wasn't going into that good light without giving all his soul into it.
 
Jacqueline landed gracefully in the location the portkey had taken them. Jacqueline stood next to Taggart with her wand still pointed at him. She nodded at the leader. She waited for him to speak.
 
Thorine took a step forward and looked at their leader, waiting for instruction on how the meeting and subsequent torture was to be conducted. Taggart was not to know who any of them were, by name or voice recognition. Every DE was dressed in his or her proper regalia, so no one would be distinguished that way either. Part of Thorine thought this was perhaps a cowards way of doing things, she wasn't expecting the professor to survive this ordeal so what did it really matter what or who he saw or heard.
 
A hint of a smile pulled up at Julian's lips as Asparuh arrived, giving him the slightest hint of a nod. He remembered the man, if only slightly, from his early days as a Death Eater, when Lord Voldemort was their rightful master. Barely anyone was left in the group from the old days, one of their number having died recently. Bearse's loss was definitely a blow, but they would have to move forward. Julian was confident in the group's efforts, and knew that one day they would once again be in their rightful place of power. If everything went in their favor, it was a day that would not be entirely far off.

The cloaked man nodded solemnly as the Dolohov woman informed him that their accomplices would be soon arriving. He stood prostrate, his hood remaining on his head as his eyes moved to meet every person that had apparated. He could not help a wicked smirk as Markus, one of the younger Death Eaters, dropped their victim with no care in the world to the floor. The man glanced around; everyone was here and accounted for.

Expecting nothing but silence, he moved forward slowly, the wood floor creaking under his boots with each lithe step he took. He hovered over the old man. Julian suspected that Taggart had put up a decent fight, but right from the beginning he had not had any chance. Putting aside the fact that he had been overwhelmed by sheer numbers, there was no way that the old man could have stood for long against such a highly skilled, dependable bunch of individuals.

With a glance to the table off to the other side of the room, the black cloth continuing to hide the objects beneath, he turned to bring his gaze to the old man once more. For a moment he had the urge to spit on the rather decrepit aged man, but he had to remind himself that that would be most crude. He instead turned the front of his boot into the man's soft side. Taggart had let old age take hold of him, fatten him up. Gently kicking him, he rolled him over onto his back, for a moment observing the wrinkled face. The man seemed to be a slowly dying fish out of water.

Julian decided not to hesitate any longer, knowing that it was pure torture in itself to make his accomplices wait. With a grin felt only by himself and seen by none, he waved his wand at the man's face, intoning the word 'Ennervate' as softly as he could. He knew well enough that Taggart would be in no sort of condition to be a real threat. His voice lilting and laced with amusement, he murmured, "So good of you to join us, Taggart."
 
Canoc hissed as the pain doubled, tripled until it was a steady pulse. Consciousness returned to him and for a moment he wished for that awful yawning black darkness to swallow him whole and take him to his sweet wife.

He hacked, his breath wheezing. Someone above him said something. He tried to process it but his mind remained clouded by the pain. He rolled to his side to take the pressure from his wounds and pressed his face into the cool floor.
 
Asparuh's hands clinched into fists, revealing impatience. It wasn't until he saw the others return. He showed no expression, but his eyes revealed nothing but irritation. His fingers rested on his arms once again, seeing that everyone was here, although much too late in his mind. However, over the last decades, his patience has grown with the younger death eaters, but shortened with children.

Asparuh's curiousity to what the man, Taggart, knew grew as each moment passed. Asparuh's dark gaze went to the grandchild of Antonin. Asparuh could recall him from the grand days of Lord Voldemort's ruling, also who fought in the first war as well. His eyes left her, which had only lasted a second, to the younger Death Eaters. Asparuh's mouth curled into a hint of a smirk as Markus carelessly dropped Taggart. He was shaping up to the Death Eater role, and having a heart for any victim would never prove to be a strong Dark witch or wizard.

Asparuh made no move to follow Julian as he stepped forward, not yet that is. Asparuh, instead, pulled out his wand from the inside of his robes, and softly tapping it on his arm once they folded back over his chest. He stepped forward, only to be close enough to see what the event unfold, but not close to anyone to where he would be touching them. The last thing he wanted was physical contact with anyone.
 
Julian smirked broadly as the old man writhed in obvious pain. His expression, of course, was hidden by his hood, but nevertheless his voice harbored his immense delight. The cloaked man figured that it was high time to get this show on the road. As much as he enjoyed the situation, he knew that his accomplices did not have as much patience as he. Using his wand, he accioed a chair his way, one that he had left next to the table of instruments. Julian moved Taggart from his rather despicable position on the floor to one in the chair. He didn't feel that it was necessary to use ropes to bind him- yet. His eyes gleaming in amusement, he chided, "My my, Canoc, it's rather unkind of you to keep us all waiting like this. There's so much that we still have to do." Straightening up, he waited for the man to reply, to give any sign of stable consciousness. His expression darkened as he wondered if the others had handled him with the gentle measures that he had demanded. The old man was tough, but an old man he still was.
 
Canoc coughed and felt blood begin a steady trickle from the corner of his mouth. It wouldn't be long now he knew. His thin mouth twisted in sick amusement. Perhaps he'd die and leave the bastards wanting. He raised his murky blue eyes to peer at the figure in front of him. "Cowards, hiding behind masks and hoods," he gurgled out, his words wet sounding. Whatever the witch had hit him with was killing him. "Ye'll get nothin' from me," he spat, literally, at the figure in front of him.
 
Jacqueline laughed at the old man's words. He did not have to say anything. Jac was a skilled legimins and could easily get the information they required. She glided to stand by Julian's side, awaiting her chance to look into the man's mind.
 
Julian looked sideways to Burke, but did not say a thing to her. He had faith in the fact that she was skilled at leglimency. However, there were barriers even leglimency could not breach. The cloaked man did not take Taggart for a simple pushover. Where magic failed remained other, more effective ways to break a man.

Sidestepping the glob of human saliva hurled at him, he could only smile. Long years of life had replaced rage with a patience that brought him success most of the time. He thought about striking the man, but no- that would be too obvious of a reaction, too predictable. His lips curled, he stated curtly, "In some cultures, you would spit at a man to wish him well. But I am assuming," his smirk broadened widely, "That was not your intent."

He neglected to remark on the state of their attire. In times such as these intelligence held dominance over the thought of honor and cowardice. What good- or bad, rather- would they do rotting in a cell in Azkaban?

His smirk replaced with a frown, Julian straightened himself up. He was pretty sure- no, he was positive- that they would get something out of Taggart by the end of the day. Looking about to his cohorts, he turned to the man with a hard gaze. His voice escalating from playful to harsh, he stated simply, "Don't bore us, Taggart. Do you have any idea how many before you have said the same?" He chuckled menacingly. "Would you like to know something about your darling Emma?"

The cloaked man smiled thinly beneath his hood, hoping that he would get some reaction from this. He wasn't sure how resilient Taggart was to speech of his dead wife- but if he was given hope, maybe, just maybe, they wouldn't have to resort to such drastic measures. Morocco was a sweltering place, after all.
 
Canoc's rheumy blue eyes widened fractionally before a chill entered them to mix with the pain. "Don't sully her name, ye coward. Ye deal with me, not the dead." His wife, his darling Emma. He dreaded where his thoughts would take him. They're not get those precious memories from him. Not of her. Or their son. The life an old spectre in a cape had robbed him of.
 
Asparuh rolled his eyes at the old man's words. Although, Asparuh thought that Julian would have struck the man for doing such a crude thing, but nevertheless, he did not. Thoroughly impressed, Asparuh thought, Perhaps I ought to be taking lessons... In his mind, he laughed, but his face expression was still cold as stone. Asparuh simply glanced over his attire, and rolled his eyes once more.

Asparuh's eyebrow went up slightly, wondering what Julian was getting at. Asparuh kept his arms over his chest, his height impressive to those who were normal height. Asparuh's black eyes stared at the old man, waiting for Julian's response. He noticed that the other comrades were as silent as he. Asparuh's thin lips twitched, not knowing whether to frown or smirk. Asparuh tapped his wand against his arm, a silent habit of his. It would keep him occupied until he was needed.
 
A hollow laugh broke past Julian's lips. "And what would you do," the cloaked figure paced about the creaky floorboards, "If I told you Emma was still alive?" He allowed the words to hang in the air for a moment, savoring what had just rolled off of his tongue. He was lying, of course- but better to lie than to have to resort to such drastic measures. On the other hand, he didn't want to disappoint his fellow comrades, who were surely by now becoming impatient.

His eyes glinted beneath his hood as he held his hands behind his back. "Your choice, Taggart. Cooperate with us, and no more pain will come to you, and we won't hurt Emma, either. However," he smirked, his tone softening, "If you do not choose to cooperate, you will not be the only one begging for death."

He pointed to Zhefarovich, bidding him to his side. Julian figured that Taggart would be a hard egg to crack, and Zhefarovich definitely had experience behind him. The man would know what to do. At Julian's signal, he could work his magic on Taggart. If everyone was lucky, they would have their shot at the old man before the afternoon was over.

"So," the cloaked man stated silkily, crossing his arms over his chest, "What will it be, Taggart? Choose wisely."
 
Canoc's shoulders began to shake and great gasping noises escaped him. He leaned forward, his head dropped and it sounded like sobs were wracking the old man. Then he threw his head back and the sounds were very distinct. Great guffaws of bitter laughter left the lips tightened with pain. He laughed and laughed and laughed. His head rolled on his neck and he regarded the robbed figure who'd spoken to him with blue eyes narrowed with contempt.

"Ye stupid son'b1tch," he said softly. "I buried her meself. Mebbe ye should all have stayed in school instead of being the stupid flunkies ye are now."
 
The movement of the man was silent, as Asparuh cautiously made his way to Faulkner's side. His cold eyes fixed upon the old man. The words of the old man repeated in his mind, as Asparuh's thin lips curled slightly in agitation. How dare that man assume that they were failures? Asparuh distinctively remembered being one of the top in his graduating class. Tsvetanka, however, he had forced her to drop out.

He wanted so much to end this man's life. However, that was not the case. This was the time to torture the answers out of the old man. Asparuh had history, getting and receiving information for the Dark Lord himself, back in the day. He knew how to get someone to crack. This would be most amusing though. This old man, their victim, seemed to be harder than the usual prey. Asparuh held his hands still, causing his wand to not tap again.

He resumed to stand by Faulkner's side, almost without any sort of movement besides the slow, smooth motion of his chest as he breathed silently. Asparuh located which spell he would use, although he had four favorite ones. Two would certainly bring death, one being the Killing Curse, while the other was Fiendfyre. However, if not handled properly, then it could lead to devastating results. Asparuh had only to choose between Crucio and Sectumsempra. By the time Faulkner would give his command, Asparuh would have made up his mind.
 
Julian frowned as Taggart responded. Well, the ploy had been worth a try. Maybe they could put it into play later on- for this man would take a long period of time to break, he now knew. Canoc was a hardened soul, which was rather unfortunate for him. Julian smirked. At least his colleagues could have fun.

Stepping back, the robed figure replied, his voice devoid of all emotion, "So be it." Inclining his head to Asparuh, he stated, "Your turn." He was curious to see what the man would have to offer. Julian had provided a lovely set of tools, and he wondered if anyone was going to implement them.
 
Asparuh had chosen what he wanted to use. Something that would cause plenty of damage, and would be pleasing to the eyes of this Death Eater. Pain was what this man wanted to see, and could care less about the former professor's age. Asparuh approached the man, Toggart, his black eyes looking over the man, savoring every second. It was one of Asparuh's favorite pasttimes. Asparuh pointed his wand at the man.

Asparuh's expression remained emotionless, just a serious and cold statue. Asparuh indeed to cause as much pain as possible, as his voice dripping with ice broke the silence, hopefully about to be filled with screams of pain. "Crucio!" It was an Unforgivable Curse, something he never thought twice of using.
 
Canoc locked his tongue firmly to the roof of his mouth, accurately reading the intent behind those cold inhuman eyes as the blond man cast the curse on him. His body tensed and flopped like a fish in the chair as pain, excruciating pain, wracked his body. As his pupils narrowed into tiny black pinpricks memories flashed through his head; Emma turning her head while gardening and laughing at his low murmur, their beautiful son happy and vibrant while riding his first broom. The pain overwhelmed him but the old man kept his sanity and waited, knowing it would be over soon. He had endured worse in his long years.
 
Thorine began to hum very very gently, it was a very old Scottish lullaby as if she were attempting to sooth the wild beast writhing in agony on the floor. Slowly she began to circle the outskirts of the circle of her fellow death eaters, her eyes riveted to the old man only taking them from him as she past behind each death eater. She was like a lioness summing up her kill, exacting in her own mind the best possible method to use on her victim. Her steps were slow and decisive, this would be no mean fete. He was strong even with her grandfathers curse breaking him down slowly, his body was one thing. It was his mind they needed to get at and she could do it if Julian only gave her the simplest of nods.

Her hood slipped a fraction revealing for the old man the face of the woman who had hit him in the forest with the spell that now tore threw him. She smiled as she walked on, around and around.
 
Asparuh lifted the curse off the old man. Asparuh glanced back at Dolohov, before turning his attention to the man. Asparuh did not put his wand away. He instead aimed at the old man's chest. He muttered, "Sectumsempra!" He did not put much force or power behind the spell, as it could kill the man. No, he wanted only to injure him, nothing fatal. Where Asparuh had aimed, it wasn't close to the major organs that would make the body die upon impact of the slashing spell.

The experienced Death Eater glanced at Dolohov as she continued to circle the room. Asparuh wanted the job to be done and over with, although, he was also one of the first Death Eaters since the beginning, and even then, he always loved to have fun with the victims first. However, it wasn't always fun when he was doing all the work. Asparuh wanted to see what the younger ones were made of, see if they were even fit to call themselves 'Death Eaters'. He turned to Julian and said, his voice stern and sharp, "I'm done." He backed away from the man, and still had a good view.
 

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