Who: Caz Rosier (Narrative). When: July 14th. Late night. Where: Random back alleys of Muggle London. What: Caz finds a human guinea pig. Rating: PG for blood and drug use.
It was the darkest part of night, with clouds half covering the moon. The streets were as empty as they ever were, especially in this part of the city where only the brave and the bold – or the stupid – wanted to venture in the wee hours.
The figure that skulked through the streets was not really either of these things – it took proper emotions to be brave and Caz Rosier was far too clever for his own good (and the good of anyone). He was focused, was what he was, and keeping to the shadows and under a hood despite the fact that the face he wore was not his own.
Polyjuice was a potion that posed no problems for him. He had managed to clandestinely gather some hairs from a man he knew to be a drug dealer, and took his form. It amused him knowing that if he was seen it was the drug dealer’s face that would be reported, and believed – he was a drug dealer after all. And if a drug dealer was off the streets, well, Caz would be content with that – not because he was a concerned citizen, but because it was one less bit of competition.
He slipped into an alley, knowing in general what he was looking for and finding it – a homeless man, curled up under cardboard boxes and ratty pieces of fabric that had likely once been blankets. Slipping up to him as silently as possible, Caz drew his wand from his sleeve as quick as could be. He performed a quick and efficient freezing curse to make the man lock into his sprawled position. Caz pushed back his hood, revealing dark blonde hair and strong bone structure which were not his own.
“Silencio,” he quickly cast before the homeless man could start to gibber in an unbecoming way. The poor man’s eyes went wide as he realized that not only could he not move, he couldn’t speak. Which was all well and good for Caz’s purposes.
“Now now, I am not going to kill you. This time,” Caz said in a flat voice as he tucked his wand away and pulled out a small vial made from the darkest purple glass. He pulled the stopper and dropped into a graceful crouch. “I need you for more than that.” He reached for the man’s face with a gloved hand and pried his jaw open, dumping the potion right down.
“There,” he murmured, rising again and stepping back. The stopper was returned to its place and the vial to the inside of his cloak. Caz removed his wand again and cast a diagnostic spell. His wand hovered in the air, taking readings of various bodily systems and functions as the potion drug began to run its course through the system.
Despite the body-bind charm and the silencing spell, Caz could still see when it began to take effect, by the relaxation that entered the homeless man’s eyes. The drug had a mixture of effects, and relaxation and euphoria were amongst them. Everything just seemed nice when one was on the drug. Even things that were not so nice.
There was a gleam in Caz’s eyes that was rarely there. Because it was rare that Caz took true enjoyment from an activity but this? This he enjoyed. Crouching down once again he pulled out a rock he had found earlier, perfect for his purposes. Oh, he would have preferred one of his blades – there was nothing like the cool perfection of steel – but knives made cuts that were far too precise to be anything but. A rock, however, a nice sharp rock, well. That could have been accidental. The poor man was clearly a drunk, if the bottles nearby were of an evidence. He could have just fallen and cut himself.
“Let’s see how much you like this,” Caz said, wandlessly removing the silencing spell before he grabbed the man’s face again with his gloved hand. With the other, he pressed the sharp end of the rock again the vagrant’s cheek and pushed in until blood welled up. The man whimpered as he dragged the rock downwards, splitting flesh as he went, but did not make the usual screams of pain one would expect from a person getting their face cut open.
“Mmm, very good,” Caz purred. The look on his face was positively wicked, with his slashing brows and twisted smirk. He rubbed a glove-covered thumb into the blood and lifted it to his lips, licking the crimson residue away. The homeless man’s eyes followed his movements, but his gaze was cloudy. He didn’t realize the extent of the pain; wouldn’t realize it until the drug’s effects wore off.
Righting himself once more, Caz took his wand from where it was working. He would examine the stored information later. He dropped the rock to the ground with a dull clatter and removed the body-bind curse before Obliviating the homeless man. Carefully snipping memories of his face and these events from the man’s mind like sections of a spider’s web. Flipping his hood up, Caz slipped from the alley again. He would return, later, to acquire a blood sample, to make sure the drug was breaking down as it should, but he was pleased with this little experiment.
And people said the homeless weren’t useful members of society.