londoncallingmods: (spoops)
[personal profile] londoncallingmods
The press weren't talking about it, but there were whispers on Twitter- Chatter about strange events, odd happenings. Little pockets of London where seemingly impossible things were happening. ...Except no one seemed to be able to get photos of these 'strange occurrences', and as we all know, if there are no pictures, it didn't happen.

A girl near the Thames had tweeted about seeing what looked like tiny creatures dancing across the surface of the water. A man on the underground had reported his bag briefly floating a foot off the ground. A boy in Topshop had tweeted about his own reflection trying to have a chat with him. 

Those with magic in them could feel it. Little bubbles of playful power popping up all over the city, then vanishing again. Like a pot of water that never quite reached a boil. It was a gentle kind of magic though. Soft and playful- Not from the other side or any other part of the world, but right here in London. It was old and forgotten, and very keen to play with everyone- Magic and non-magic alike.

(Open all through next week and next weekend. Have the magic effect your character however you like, but keep in mind that this magic, whatever it is, is very pure and playful. It wouldn't cause harm- Though maybe inconvenience.)


Aug. 17th, 2016 03:17 am
0_0_7: (Default)
[personal profile] 0_0_7
Q was missing.

It wasn't unusual for him to not come home, or for he and Bond to pass like ships in the night. But when he didn't answer his texts or emails and when Bond found out he hadn't been to Q Branch in two days, he began to do some digging on his own. He certainly wasn't as adept at Q at hacking and such, but he knew his way around. He still could manage a few new tricks. And so he hacked into the CCTV near the last ping of Q's GPS and watched intently. What he saw was Q being snatched off the street on his way to a tube stop, likely on his way home.

Bond had lost precious time and knew Q could be anywhere. He resolved not to panic. Instead, he steeled himself and began to work methodically through contacts and back channels, trying to track down the white van. He finally narrowed it down to a rental agency at Heathrow.

Going there only got him so far. A bogus credit car, a fake name. But he did know when it had been dropped off and he began to pull up flight data of planes that had taken off within a four hour window of when the van had been returned. He was casting a wide net. He knew he needed help.

And so he opened his phone and scrolled through the numbers until he found someone he thought could help. Hitting call, he rang them.

"This is Bond. I need a avour. Meet me at Piccadilly in a half an hour."

Nothing more, no details. He made the call and then went to the meet.

He'd find Q if it was the end of him.

(A bit different of an OTA...especially looking for spies but if Bond knows you and he thinks you'd be of use then do tag in! Excited to kick off a new plot!)


Aug. 3rd, 2016 02:30 am
codenameathos: (murderous intent (the milady look))
[personal profile] codenameathos
Oliver had waited until he had another day off to pour over the contents of the memory stick Victoria had given him. He had read every word of that file. Every mission she'd been on. Every death she was officially responsible for. Most of them aligned with British interests, but that wasn't the issue.

The issue was that this was Anne. His sweet, beautiful Anne, who had insisted that she had only been fighting off her brother. She was capable of these things, had probably always been capable of these things.

There was nothing on her recruitment, and he had no way of knowing when she had started for them. The file as it was started a little while after her 'death', but what did that mean?

He had waited until he had another day off, because after he was done reading, Oliver went out to the pub, a solitary figure huddling over ever-coming glasses of scotch at the counter. He only moved on when the bartender cut him off. A few pubs later, he was stumbling through the streets of London, until he found himself outside her house.

The address had been in her file, the house of late Lord Winter. He rang the bell and banged on her door, yelling for her to open - without ever using a name, what name was he supposed to use? - until he gave up hope and sagged against the wall beside her door, barely holding himself up in his drunkenness.

OOC: find him in the pub, on the streets, outside her door, as you prefer! From tipsy to next to blind drunk!
lcrpg_npc: (closeup)
[personal profile] lcrpg_npc
It was about to be quite a long stretch of rainy days in London, with only a few cloudy days sprinkled in between. Still, it took more than a little rain to slow down London, and the city was as busy and alive as ever.

Rain also wouldn't stop most of the events happening that coming weekend. From the pubs to the parks, from food festivals to public Wimbledon viewings, there was something happening on every corner.
londoncallingmods: (calling)
[personal profile] londoncallingmods

(As always gathering posts are open for at least one week. Feel free to use the heading of your comment to let other players know what day and time your top level takes place. Tag in now and check back often to tag others!)
utterly_mysterious: (smirk)
[personal profile] utterly_mysterious
A girl couldn’t rely on regular customers forever, especially not a girl like Angelique. She was a novelty, she knew. A fetish, even. Not a long-term sort of mistress, but a way to scratch a very, very particular itch.

That suited her quite fine. She got bored with them well before they got bored with her.

Case in point: walking through one of the city parks on a drab London Saturday, Angelique made a splash in a cinched-waist long pink coat and black leather boots, a bold flower on a gray day. Her unique style, Victorian-expired with modern tailoring, made her memorable -- especially to people she would rather forget. A small group of young men were gathered around a park bench not far ahead, talking and laughing loudly, and Angelique recognized them from a recent stag party who hadn't been entirely happy with her services.

With a burst of nervous energy, Angelique quickened her click-heel steps and swept up to the side of the nearest convenient person. "Be a dear and pretend like you know me for the next ten minutes," she requested, dark eyes glinting with mischief over a barely-suppressed little smile.


A girl like Angelique couldn’t drum up new business just anywhere, nevermind the fact that her primary profession was actually illegal. She had to be careful about where and when she gave out her card. Bars here and there in the LGBTQ-friendly parts of the city were welcoming enough, but she had to work at it. That meant a lot of drinks, a lot of flirting, and a lot of strolling the pavement in ridiculously high-heeled boots.

She was tragically exhausted by the time she found a high-backed seat at the bar of a trendy hot spot popular with the queer community, later that night. Her day had been exhausting, and she deserved a drink. Just sitting down in her dress and corset in this club was like a neon Open for Business sign,which was exactly what Angelique wanted. She ordered herself a strong martini, crossed her ankles in ladylike fashion, and waited to be approached. They would come to her, sooner or later.

((OOC: either at the park or later at the club, Angelique wants to meet you!))


Jan. 13th, 2016 03:05 pm
offthebeatenpath: (spent tears)
[personal profile] offthebeatenpath
Victoria's seat by the café's window gave her a good view not only of the café and its various exits, but also the pavement outside. Later, in reviewing what had happened - some habits never died, whether there was a debrief required or not - she would decide the combination of the weighty bag worn across the man's body and the way he held his head under a brimmed cap to minimize exposure to the cameras dotting much of London that first caught her attention. Victoria raised the mug to her lips as she gazed out the window, taking in the man in an instant as her eyes moved on to the traffic beyond him. The face she remembered. He'd been barely more than a boy then, working for some... Italians, secondary players with a connection to last official target for Six. She'd only seen him once, through a scope during some early recon, and their paths hadn't crossed beyond that. She didn't even know his name, but she knew his type, and Victoria had little enough going on after the holidays it was worth looking into herself.


The contract specified the kill be public and from a distance, but the file from Il Bisturi had implied the target was cagey. She spent most of her days in public spaces, but with no rhyme or reason to where she would be when. Even her more regular haunts were hard to predict accurately. And the file said nothing about where she lived, so Vargas wasn't able to trail her from there. There was a square popular with buskers not far from where the mercs sent earlier had found her - the file was light on details of that encounter, and when Vargas had asked, he was ordered again to keep his distance - and lacking better ideas, he'd kept the area under video surveillance for the past week and a half waiting for the girl to show up, and she finally had. He'd had plenty of time to work out the best rooftops and upper floor empty office spaces overlooking the square, so once the target had set up her tiny folding table and put up her sign, it was a simple matter of letting himself into the corresponding building and into position.


The tarot had shown Em in spots all over the city so far this year, often in places she'd never been before, and it was unusual enough she'd done multiple readings trying to find out why. The images the cards showed her hadn't been very forthcoming though, and it had left her unsettled, but not knowing what else to do to prepare for whatever was coming. Without any real information, she hadn't shared her concerns with anyone, because what would she tell? I've got a bad feeling about this wasn't helpful, even from a precog.

Two women from Florence stopped for a reading, and were so thrilled to discover Em spoke Italian they hung around chatting about places they'd visited for awhile after she was finished with the cards. When they were ready to leave, she recommended a nearby coffee shop with excellent espresso, and stood watching until they were out of sight to make sure they didn't miss the first turn. She was about to sit again, when there was a loud crack and a sudden searing pain in her hip that made her crumple to the pavement.


Victoria headed toward the back of the café as though going to the ladies', but instead slipped out the backdoor and down the block so she could catch sight of the younger assassin before he was too far to follow. The office building he entered was, unlike many in the area, fully occupied, leaving the roof most likely, and by the time she got to the top, he had his Nemesis unpacked, assembled, and aimed down at the street below. She quickly crossed the space between the roof access door and his position, swinging her weighted handbag, which was as much a weapon as the knife in it or the guns tucked into her coat, into his head, "None of that then," just as he exhaled before taking the shot. He managed to pull the trigger, but neither had time to see if the shot hit true, as they scrambled for control.

[[Joint EP. Help Victoria deal with the assassin, or come to Em's rescue down on the street. ST/LT are always welcome.]]
londoncallingmods: (Default)
[personal profile] londoncallingmods
Halloween was as spooky or dull as you needed it to be in London. From handing out treats to those who came knocking, to attending costume parties and concerts all over the city, there was something for everyone tonight.
Plenty of bars and clubs were offering discounts to anyone bold enough to turn up in costume, and even the underground was bursting with holiday cheer as costumed commuters came and went, breaking up the dull day to day routine one usually faced while making your way from point a to point b.
Even those who chose to skip the costume were indulging in treats or maybe a creepy film or two.
There was no excuse to be bored. Not tonight. Not on Halloween.
(General Halloween GP for those who aren't keen on the haunted house! Feel free to post your pup anywhere in the city, from fancy dress parties to street corners. Go wild (or, you know, stay tame. Your call) Also, because there are two GPs going up this week, both are open to new top levels for two whole weeks! And, of course, you can keep tagging long after that if you want. :D I'll post reminders daily on slack.) 


Sep. 22nd, 2015 01:40 am
codenameathos: (brooding is my life)
[personal profile] codenameathos
Oliver had been drinking a lot these last few days, even for him, which ought to be saying something. Vincent and Isaac had been shooting him a few looks; Isaac had even tried to talk him about it, but Oliver had cut that short, and focused back on work.

Work had been over for a couple of hours, and he wasn't sure how many glasses of whisky it had been by now, but he was feeling appropriately sluggish, his mind a-buzz. He was equally uncertain how long it had been since someone had claimed the seat beside him at the bar, but he was still staring down into his glass as he asked them, as nonchalantly as he ever did, "Do you believe in ghosts?"
londoncallingmods: (calling)
[personal profile] londoncallingmods
Summer was coming to an end, and fall was slowly creeping in as the temperatures dropped and the store fronts down the high street started to change to muted and earthy colours.

Menus at restaurants were beginning to change, and school for many was already back in session. Though there were still people attempting to enjoy the last weeks of summer, despite the fact that the weather was already turning on them.

As always, there was plenty to do this weekend, and though tourist season was slowing down, the streets and the underground were as busy and bustling as ever.

(Though the GP takes place over the course of Sat & Sun, it is, as always, open for as long as people want to top level and tag in. Be sure to check back throughout the week to see who has tagged in!)


Jul. 5th, 2015 09:48 am
quartermaster_q: (all in black)
[personal profile] quartermaster_q
"Q could do it," Tanner had suggested, prompting the young Quartermaster to look up from what he was doing and frown deeply.
"He certainly could not," the fluffy haired boffin replied blandly, shooting Tanner a look, then returning his attention to his laptop. "Besides, I don't go into the field without double-o seven."
It wasn't even official work they were talking about. Q Branch had simply gotten wind that a certain soviet agent was in town, apparently not on business, and at some point had started talking about how useful it might be to bug his personal laptop before five worked out he was here and got to him first. It had started off as light banter, a joke even, but it had gotten more and more serious as the time passed. Serious enough that someone had opened the man's file and had started reading up on the agent in question.
"It's not the field, it's a bar," Hopper, a young tech, chimed in. "Besides, you're just his type. Go in, have a flirt, bug him, then get out."
Q scowled, but it was obvious that they weren't going to let up- And really, it wasn't a terrible idea. He didn't like going out on something like this without Bond, but Bond wasn't in the office right now. He'd have to do this alone.
"Fine," Q eventually agreed with a sigh. "I'll do it."
That was how he wound up in a dreadful bar, sitting at a filthy table beside a large man who was attempting to get him very drunk. 
"Oh, just one more, come on," the man insisted, putting another beer down in front of Q.
His head was already spinning, and he knew if he drank any more he wouldn't be sober enough to do what needed to be done. His fingers grazed over his ear, tapping the device that sat inside as he assured the man he couldn't have another drop, hoping to alert his team that he needed some help- Except there was nothing. No static, no sound at all.
"What's wrong?" the Russian asked, his tone calm as his arm snaked around Q. "Can your friends not hear you any more?"
Q's pulse fluttered, and he tensed as he felt a small blade press against his side.
"You're right, you've had enough to drink," the man whispered. "Let's get out of here, hmm?"
Getting to his feet, Q let the man guide him, though the young Quartermaster moved slowly, scanning the crowd for help. He'd known this was a dreadful idea, and the moment he got away from the bastard he was going to march right back to Q branch and tell them all what a bunch of idiots they were.
(OTA! Feel free to have your pup notice the hidden knife, or not notice and simply approach Q by chance.)


Feb. 26th, 2015 08:13 pm
quartermaster_q: (undercover)
[personal profile] quartermaster_q
 It was rare that Q worked with anyone but Bond now, and rarer still that he worked in the field without double-o seven. However, M had requested he be on site with one of their newer double-o's, and M's 'requests' weren't things any sensible person turned down.

New double-o's were wild cards though, and the mission had been completed- But not without it's fair share of complications.

The end result was Q riding home alone on the tube, his hand beneath his coat so he could apply pressure to the small knife wound in his side. ...Well, as small as any knife wound could really be. He was concealing the blood well enough, but anyone who looked his way would easily see the young man was clearly in pain.

(Late tags welcome!)


Jan. 13th, 2015 06:00 pm
quartermaster_q: (searching)
[personal profile] quartermaster_q
Outside of work, outside of his relationship with James, and outside of the various naughty activities (both online and off) he got up to in his spare time, Q lived a fairly normal life. He rode the tube, picked up his shopping, took care of his beloved cat... Normal things. Boring things. ...Things that kept him grounded at least somewhat in the world all the normals and civilians called home. It was nice, usually- A tiny escape from the reality he knew.

Though it was also, on occasion, painfully dull- And living in said world meant dealing with normal inconveniences, like going to the bank- and having said bank held up when all you wanted to do was deposit a bloody check- Something you could have done online if their website hadn't been so bloody rubbish.

He was sitting on the floor, along with several other hostages, watching as four armed men shouted at the two cashiers and the bank manager. They wore masks, so Q didn't feel as though he was in any intimidate danger (more likely to just take the money and run than shoot), but he was feeling a touch inconvenienced. The sooner this was over, the better.

Slipping his hand casually into his pocket, he sent off three texts.

The first went to Bond:

If you're not terribly busy, perhaps you could come fetch me? 4m4g17hSparrow

The next went out to all of Q branch:

Activate LCCTV44670. Thank you. - Q

The last went out to a special list he'd compiled of local agents and officers. Not just five and six, but anyone he'd deemed competent and worthy of a small amount of trust:

If anyone would be so kind, I could use a little help. Code 8967-793Q

With any luck, this would all be sorted soon enough.

(Open to all! If you are police/agent/whatever feel free to assume you got Q's text (and that the code given lets you know who he is and why you should go get him). If you are none of those things, feel free to be a hostage as well, or simply passing by! I'd prefer if no one got hurt or anything (it's just meant to be a tiny bit of excitement), but if you really want your pup to get hurt, that's fine.)


Jan. 9th, 2015 09:32 pm
raisedbycarnies: (Default)
[personal profile] raisedbycarnies
Okay. This could be worse.

Sure he’s still favoring his right leg after crashing through a window and his left hearing aid is futzing up, but he can cope with those. He’s got two knives strapped to his right thigh and left calf, alongside a padded gym bag that’s slung over his shoulder like the bow and quiver they contain. Dressed in torn jeans and a wool coat, he’s given himself an underconfident slouch, playing up his bad leg. The result is the picture of a man pushing forty who works out like he’s in his prime and suffers an injured ACL for his troubles.

His target is three meters ahead of him, window shopping with no idea that she’s being followed.

She’s got to be twenty-three, tops, cute and sweet in a wholesome way. The type you’d never figure for a spy. Hell, you’d hardly figure she has more than cotton fluff up there.

It’s why she’s a good spy. Tasha would like her.

So now just has to keep walking too. Pretend to think about buying something here. Grab a can of soda there. Keep his head down but his eyes peeled and he’ll get her pinned down.

After half an hour, his target pulls something from her pocket and it looks like a wadded up receipt. For a second, Clint almost second guesses himself as she throws it in the trash but there’s no mistaking the white chalk mark on the trash can that wasn’t there before.

So she’s signaled her handler. Now I need to follow her and find her dead drop.

[[Find Clint in any part of the tracking process! OTA!]]

londoncallingmods: (calling)
[personal profile] londoncallingmods
It was Christmas Eve in London, and all around the city people were out and about. Enjoying various parties, grabbing last minute gifts... Enjoying the lights and décor around the city. London was always beautiful, but in December it truly sparkled.

Outside shops, people collected toys and money for charities, hoping for last minute kindness from strangers to make the holiday even brighter for those in need. However, as the night fell, many shops shut early- While many bars and clubs did quite the opposite, opening their doors earlier and inviting people in.

All around there was bustle and lights, making the city appear even more alive than usual.

(Gathering post! Timed to Christmas Eve (day or night), but open all week long! Tag in, tag others, and check back often! Happy Holidays guys!)
show_me_something: (simple)
[personal profile] show_me_something
A job had kept Victoria busy the past week or so, but her Chiltern Court flat was gilded and greened like something from a magazine for the upcoming holidays. Cards had been posted beginning of the month to those she knew socially and distant relatives, complete with handwritten good wishes for the season, but gifts required a more personal touch.

A more personal delivery too, in some cases. Marvin would have a stroke if anyone were so bold as to order something sent to him at an address Victoria was one of the few to have. And Ivan, well, she had thoughts on how to give him his gift which very much required a personal touch. Frank and Sarah obviously needed something as well, although it wouldn't arrive until after the holidays at this point. And perhaps gifts for James and his young man, if she came across the perfect little something, as much Thinking of you as Happy Christmas.

She liked the bustle of the holidays, her talent for remaining calm in the face of others' stress letting her enjoy the shopping and the busy-ness of it all. A large bag dangled from the crook of her elbow as she left a shop, and she paused a moment to decide whether to continue on to the next, or stop first for tea.

[OTA: Find her on the sidewalk in any shopping district, heading into another shop, or stopping for a quick bite/cuppa, whatever works best for you and yours.]


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London Calling RPG

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