24th September, 8 am. Prison cell.

[therealpm]

*Peter wakes up feeling groggy and disorientated.  Although not as bone tired as yesterday, his muscles still ache and cramp.  Something nags at the back of his mind, something important that he needed to do and he rubs his eyes, mentally replaying yesterday's events, trying to remember.  The first memory that surfaces- being shoved into the wards by Alastair, causes him to shudder and wince.

His fringe drops in his eyes and he pushes it back, noting with distaste the grittiness of mud on his scalp.  Still trying to recall what it was yesterday, he heads off to the shower, limbs protesting against the effort and back stiffened straight more from cramp than good posture.

It is not until he is beginning to wash his hair for the third time (he hasn't felt so filthy since secondary school and it is not pleasant), that he remembers: the conference.*

Fuck!

*He finishes washing, then towels of and dresses rapidly, nearly running (well, hobbling quickly) to the phone.*


Text received from 07### ######

John,

my presence is required at Labour conference next weekend.  Cancelling not an option.  At least one of the events is after dark.

-Peter

Comments

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

*John is getting the children ready for school when his phone goes off.*

No, Freddie, you cannot answer it for me, you have to get your coat and shoes!

*John quickly checks who had sent the message and, upon seeing Peter's name, decides it can probably wait.*

*After a brief struggle with Oliver wanting to take all of his stuffed animals in for show and tell, John finally manages to get them in the car and then to school. He drives home and only remembers the message while making himself some tea. John gets out his phone, reads the message and sighs.*

Nothing is ever easy with you, is it Peter?

*John doubles up the water in the kettle and makes a pot of tea, which, along with a plate of biscuits and a full English break fast for Peter (it is starting to get near the full moon, after all), he takes through the fireplace to the werewolf.*

Good morning, Peter.

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*Peter is pacing anxiously when John arrives, running through a list of doppelganger potions in his head that can be brewed in under a week, and a list of people he would trust to impersonate him. So far, both lists are rather short.

His musings are cut off by the arrival of breakfast. He hadn't realised how famished he was until a plate of bacon wafted into view. Gesturing for John to sit down, he begins to methodically consume as much of the food as he can in as short a time as possible.*

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

*John pours the tea while Peter all but inhales the plate of food before him.*

This business with regard to conference is a slight kerfuffle, is it not?

Do you have a plan at all?

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*Peter nods at the first question, then waves the cutlery dismissively at the second. He pauses for a quick sip of tea and replies.*

No. Campbell only told me yesterday evening, and I was too busy...

*He stops. John doesn't need to know about what happened yesterday. It would only lead to Peter being monitored more closely, 'for his own good', of course and that is something he's anxious to avoid.*

...too tired to construct anything feasible.

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

...Campbell "only told you yesterday" that you had appearances to make at Labour conference?

*John smirks into his tea*

I didn't know he'd become your personal assistant.

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*Peter glares at John*

I don't see how I am expected to remember every engagement without access to either my Blackberry or a computer.

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

"Every engagement"?

It's conference, Peter. These things, as far as I can recall from my party political days, are planned months in advance. They're huge set pieces every year!

*John sips at his tea*

Still, never mind, we shall have to work something out.

A potion, perhaps? No, that's far too tricky and I've no idea how another potion will react with what you're already taking.

A spell then? A simple doppleganger cast would be easy, if somewhat tiring, I suppose...

*He thinks for a moment*

...but impossible since you shall be in wolf-form. Hmm.

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

*Some time later, John returns. He has warded the pathways and the control room as much as possible and sent a text off to Sally to explain that he will be too busy to pick the children up later so can she do it instead. He fully expects another night on the sofa.*

Hullo again, Peter! Ready to get to work, I take it? Jolly good, jolly good. Just give me one moment and then we'll be off.

*John hastily writes a note - explaining that he has taken the inhabitant of the cell out for a while and if anyone needs to contact either of them, John has his phone on him - and leaves it on the desk.*

*He then lets down the wards and ushers Peter out of the cell. The wards spring back instantly, and John's wand is pointed at Peter's throat the whole way to the control room.*

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*It's a tense walk down to the control room, not least because random bits of Peter's anatomy keep cramping up. It makes his walk wooden and twitchy, far removed from his usual glide.

The control pad on the main doors, more of a decoration than an actual security feature- Peter tends to prefer waving aside the doors with a verbal command- is covered in dust. No one has been down here for a while.

The main room itself appears similarly abandoned. Lack of use has led to The Machine cooling down, allowing ice to spread from the Nifleheim portal across half the floor. Under different circumstances, Peter would suggest bringing the children here and making an inpromptu ice rink. Instead he walks carefully over to the main console, hands fluttering over the keyboard, waking The Machine from its near month-long hibernation.*

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

*John keeps his want pointed at Peter, but takes a few glances round the room. He forgot just how vast it was down here. Perhaps backup would be a good idea...*

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*Peter grins as The Machine thrums to life, the keyboard vibrating slightly under his hands as the core processor accelerates from a regular ticking to a roar. Screens around the room flicker and the floor becomes damp as ice begins to melt. Peter strokes the side of the console and almost croons*

Good afternoon, Machine.

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

*John looks down. He's suddenly standing in a puddle.*

Eurgh...

*John tried to discretely shake the water from out of his shoes and keep his wand pointed at Peter.*

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

Yes, yes, I know I've been away for a very long time...

*Peter adjusts a few more settings and unlocks a lever.*

Machine, I have two tasks for you...

...firstly I need you to do a full scan and ferret out anything related to the cause of my sudden attack of lycanthropy- moon charts will not do.

Secondly we need to work on drawing together a sufficient database that you can conceivably project and control a doppelganger of myself in a week's time.

Yes I know.

Look, you get on with the first task, I'll start the programming for the second.

Hmm?

I missed you too, now I hope your long sleep hasn't slowed your system down too much...

[ribble-mp.livejournal.com]

*Nigel arrives at the prison cell for his shift to find it empty. Mandelson's blankets have been changed to a ridiculous snowman pattern- probably some petty revenge of John's- and Nigel smirks at them for a bit before turning his attention to the matter of the missing werewolf.*

*Oh, there's a note on Mandelson's desk. John's taken him for a walk? It's an odd thing to do right before the shift change. And there's no time on the note, so there's no telling how long they've been gone.*

*A little concerned, Nigel takes out his phone and rings John.*

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

*John's phone rings and he checks the caller ID before picking it up*

Nigel, hello - what can I do for you today?

[ribble-mp.livejournal.com]

Hello, John!

*He sounds alive, that's good.*

I just wanted to make sure everything is all right. Only my shift's started and you and Mandelson aren't back yet. He is with you, right?

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

*John quickly checks his watch*

Goodness, we have been gone for a while!

Peter's here with me and everything is perfectly in order.

Is that all?

[ribble-mp.livejournal.com]

Oh good.

*Nigel considers offering to relieve John on guard duty, but decides against it. Mandelson is scary enough when there's nice solid wall between them.*

Do you have any idea when you'll be back?

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

*John considers asking Peter how long it's going to take, but the answer will probably be "days" and John doesn't think that's particularly helpful.*

Not sure, we're playing it by ear at the moment, but I'm sure Peter will be back in his cell tonight, never fear.

*John is hit with a thought - having a second guard would make this whole scenario a lot easier to handle.*

Actually, if you wouldn't mind awfully, coming to help out here, I'd be very grateful...

[ribble-mp.livejournal.com]

*After half an hour wandering around the corridors below Westminster Palace- as intimidatingly gothic as those above ground, but these ones are lit by flickering florescent lights and their ceilings are interwoven with an incomprehensible web of pipes and cables- Nigel manages to find the entrance to Peter's laboratory. He's had to backtrack twice, and the shadows and rats that keep moving at the edge of his vision and the sudden rumblings of furnaces and hissings of air have him coated in a cold sweat by the time he arrives.*

*He steps cautiously over the threshold.*

Hello?

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*Peter looks up sulkily from his position hunched over the keyboard. John had recovered from nausea far too quickly in his opinion and had made pointed statements about lack of time before conference.

It's not that Peter minds coding the doppelganger model per se, but having John look over his shoulder every few minutes breaks his concentration and makes it difficult for him to focus on the overall structure the program requires. It means he ends up making stupid errors that he then has to correct under John's gaze as well. All in all it's a distinctly uncomfortable and irritating experience.*

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

*John is looking over Peter's shoulder at the screen (trying to work out what Peter's doing, but having no such luck) when Nigel arrives.*

Ah! Nigel! Come in, come in!

*John ushers Nigel into the room.*

[ribble-mp.livejournal.com]

*Nigel steps gingerly through the puddle of water- it is water, right?- covering the floor and looks around.*

*The walls and ceiling are a riot of multicoloured wires and clear tubes through which a wine-red substance- BLOOD? Is that BLOOD?- bubbles ominously. On the tables lining the walls a few computer monitors stand amidst a scattering of less comprehensible electronic devices and some dangerous looking magical arrays. Wires and glittering threads of magic link the whole mess together. At the far end of the room there's an ice-rimed portal that's being used as a cooling device, judging from the tubes linking it to the machines. Nigel gets the impression that he's stumbled upon some sort of vast, Rube Goldberg-esque supercomputer.*

What is this place?

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*Peter glares at the deputy speaker. One wand-happy idiot breathing down his neck was bad enough. With two, he'll never get anything done.*

A research lab.

*Peter looks wistfully at the slightly dismantled 'Tory In' pipe. It's probably still functional...*

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

*John rolls his eyes at Peter's unhelpful answer*

It's Peter's... office, of sorts. All very technical and I haven't the foggiest, so I thought perhaps you could help out translating some of this stuff as well as your usual duties?

*John catches Nigel eyeing the coolant*

...never mind those, Nigel. Would you come and look at this screen for me, please?