[identity profile] fatalfrenzy.livejournal.com posting in [community profile] bait_backup
*The three of them are black-robed and nigh-invisible, across the road from the little brick house. It’s an unseasonably cool night for July, and the only sound is the rustling of the wind in the trees. It’s perfect. The calm exhilaration, the easy competence--Bellatrix feels pure and clean and deadly, sanctified, ready, wand in her gloved hand, mask pressed to her face. She feels as though she can do anything; she’s leading them, yes, but following too, always following Him. The work ahead of them is service to the Dark Lord, so every step they take from here on is in His safe and righteous shadow. They are untouchable.

The mission is simple, very simple. A new bit of intelligence has filtered in, and a new blow in the loss of the half-blood boy. She had no liking for him but of course it must be repaid in kind and then some, so here they are. The wand in her hand is Indian ash and occamy feather, intricately carved and inlaid with tiny chips of mirror. It’s gaudy and gauche, but if the Rosiers are absurd the goods that pass through their clever and far-reaching hands are impeccable. She has made her grudging peace with the thing. There’ll be no brilliance, tonight, maybe, but it’s powerful. It will suffice, and she is ready.

She toys with it as she speaks to her brother-in-law, her voice cool and removed.*

Shall we?

Date: 2011-09-04 02:38 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] mars-rising.livejournal.com
*Rabastan has never been possessed of his younger brother's calm; nor is he blessed with Bella's clarity in the face of battle. He's not afraid, but there's a tension that comes over him in the moments before the fighting actually starts. It shows in the lean lines of his body, the way his shoulders are drawn up slightly under his robes, and the face beneath his mask is lined in fixed concentration. He'll be fine once they're in, he tells himself, it'll all be fine but first they have to get inside. And that's part of his job.

He's not like Regulus. Regulus has learned to pick and prod apart wards like untangling a fine chain that's knotted. Rabastan lacks the patience for that kind of work, but what he does have is a certain knack for finding the edges of this kind of magic - and the power to exploit that. It'd be useless against the likes of Hogwarts, obviously, or Gringotts, but domestic wards are usually fairly easy to break into. It's the difference, between him and Regulus, between delicately picking a lock, and forcing the weak point of a door. And he's very good at it.

It takes a moment of running his wand around just shy of the ward itself, and then he finds it: the place where the magic sealed in on itself, the way in. That's what was causing the tension singing through his nerves like a kettle - if he hadn't found that (never mind that he always finds it), they wouldn't be able to get in at all, and then the Dark Lord would've been most displeased. And Rabastan would so hate to disappoint him.

But he's found it; it's alright, now. Relaxing a bit, he steps back and levels a stolen wand at the invisible seam in the spellwork. (It's not as comfortable in his hand as his own, but it'll do for now, until he can get a secondary one properly.) The curse he casts is powerful, if blunt - a gross exaggeration on a basic blasting hex, with a bit of a twist thrown in. The magic collides spectacularly with a sound like electricity snapping and flaring, arcs of it splashing out from the contact point in glaring blue lights. Rabastan keeps a firm hand and holds steady until, after a few seconds, cracks begin spidering out along a dome of nothing. Moments later ther'es darkness and silence, and he smiles at Roddy and Bella from behind his mask.*

After you.

Date: 2011-09-04 04:44 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] le-strangled.livejournal.com
*Roddy doesn't have half the relish for killing that his wife and brother do, but he is loyal, and they were given orders, and that is that. He moves quickly and silently past his brother, on alert for any signs of life. These are not just muggles who will lose their wits at the slightest provocation. These are Order members, if the intelligence is correct, and skilled wizards even if they are not practiced in combating Death Eaters. And neither Bella nor Rabastan are particularly careful duelists, so Roddy is ever on the lookout to cover them--the crucial sheild charm here, the lifesaving blasting hex there--and tonight is no exception.*

Date: 2011-09-04 06:42 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] mars-rising.livejournal.com
*Rabastan takes the lead, taking care to step quietly, but tonight fortune is on their side: no creaking floorboards, and a toy left on the stairs is easily nudged to one side. The sight of the doll stirs no pity in him - its owner is obviously being brought up to sick ideals, destructive values. Ridding the world of the whole batch of McKinnons now - children included - is to him nothing less than honorable, like drowning a puppy infected with something contagious and deadly to save the rest of the litter. It's a public service.

The bedrooms are easy to find. There are three upstairs: one each for the boy and girl, and one for the parents. That door's readily identified by the lack of brightly-colored drawings Spellotaped to the door, and it's to that one that Rabastan leads the others. He pauses just outside it, looking to Roddy and Bella and tilting his head questioningly - ready?*

Date: 2011-09-05 01:41 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] mars-rising.livejournal.com
*A more subtle man might ease the door open and catch the McKinnons by surprise, in their sleep. Rabastan fails to see the benefit in that; whether it's being immobilized in their sleep, or woken by the door crashing open in their sleep, either way they're at a disadvantage. The wood splinters with an almighty racket as he leads the charge, a quick, heavy-hitting curse flying to shatter the bedside lamps.*

Date: 2011-09-05 05:11 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] le-strangled.livejournal.com
*The sound of the door's collapse hasn't gone unheard, and behind them appears a shaking young girl--no more than seven years old--who shrieks the word Mommy! Their orders are to empty the house, and the fact that the Dark Lord chose Bella to lead them tells Rodolphus that He wants a certain amount of mess. But the thought of Bella amusing berself on the children makes him feel ill; they are casualties born to fools and filth, not objects of revulsion like their parents. The Killing Curse hits the little girl cleanly in the chest, and she crumples to the floor. Marlene, dangling there in the air like a pig awaiting the slaughter, lets out an awful sobbing, screaming sound. She doesn't know what a mercy her daughter's clean death is; her own will most likely be much messier.*

Date: 2011-09-05 05:48 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] mars-rising.livejournal.com
*Leaving Bella to her prey (he knows better than to pitch in), Rabastan is distracted enough by the flash of green behind him that he doesn't realize what's happening on the bed until it's too late. With a hoarse shout of 'Marlene!, Mr McKinnon is out of bed and armed, and fires an unfocused, indiscriminate blast of magic in their general direction. It narrowly misses Rabastan's head, knocking his mask clean off and forcing him to duck before igniting a family portrait on the wall behind him. Whipping back forward with a snarl, temper sparked, he lashes out furiously with one of the nasty little curses Severus had taught them. Gashes of scarlet bloom bright across the man's bare chest and face, and he staggers back against the nightstand with a hand to his throat, gurgling as he tries to breathe through the slash there. It isn't according to plan - the plan was interrogation and then execution, not severed vocal cords and cut throats - but he's too angry in that moment to care.*

Date: 2011-09-06 01:59 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] le-strangled.livejournal.com
*Roddy nods and leaves the room, wand raised. The boy's room is just around the corner, and he's sitting up with his covers up to his chin and shaking. He's no more than four. Roddy goes to the bedside.*

Come on, now. It's time to get up. Let's go.

*The little boy shakes his head, and Roddy gently tugs the blankets from his fingers. The boy is crying. He's scared. Well, he should be. But Roddy lifts him up out of the bed and leads him by the hand, encouraging all the way.*

Date: 2011-09-06 11:41 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] mars-rising.livejournal.com
*Rabastan's lip curls at Bella's reproval, but he backs off. She's taking point on this one, and he knows how to follow orders. Lowering his wand, he watches in contempt as the mudblood bleeds out all over the floor. He only looks away when Roddy comes back with the boy, turning then to Bella.*


Date: 2011-09-07 08:18 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] le-strangled.livejournal.com
*Roddy's not fast, but what he lacks in speed he makes up twofold in power and creativity of his retaliatory curse, half-remembered and half made up on the spot. The man on the floor twists and screams, his wand dropping to the floor, as his hands and feet roll in on themselves and curl inward, in a terrible bone-breaking spiral, to his shoulders and hips. They curl tighter and tighter, crushing inward to his chest, ribs crunching audibly. The man is just barely clinging to life, and Roddy lifts the curse, leaving him to finish dying on his own time. There'll be no more out of him.

That done, he turns and offers his hand for his wife to help herself to her feet.*

Date: 2011-09-08 04:45 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] mars-rising.livejournal.com
*Without pity, Rabastan looks flatly back to Marlene, ignoring the grotesque spectacle Roddy's left on the floor. It's no more than McKinnon deserved, assaulting a superior like that. He should've known what he'd get. He waits until he has her eye and then looks pointedly at her son, rolling his wand between his fingers.*

I'd talk.

Date: 2011-09-17 07:21 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] mars-rising.livejournal.com
*An hour later the bedroom is bathed in sticky crimson, but no one is satisfied. Rabastan leans against the wall with his arms folded, blood spattered across his handsome face, and looks with contempt at the pieces of what used to be the last three McKinnons. They have exactly as much information as they had before all the screaming, and he is not happy.*

What now.

Date: 2011-09-17 08:20 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] mars-rising.livejournal.com
And tell the Dark Lord what? We didn't get anything.

Date: 2011-09-17 08:51 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] mars-rising.livejournal.com
*The anxiety is creeping in through his ribs again - they'll be punished, they failed part of the objective and they've no excuse past 'they wouldn't talk,' which will not serve. Rabastan isn't afraid of the punishment itself, but there's a certain shame in failure that doesn't sit well with him.

Still, he makes himself listen to Bella. She's right; this will be harsh, but it won't damage the trust the Dark Lord has placed in the three of them. There will be other missions, other chances to act for the cause, and they won't let him down again.

Reluctantly he nods, but while he lowers his voice, the tension doesn't leave his shoulders.*

...Alright. Then what are we waiting for, the longer we wait around -


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