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Author Topic: Family Business  (Read 12547 times)

Offline [archive] Sodom40280831

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Re: Family Business
« Reply #105 on: April 27, 2006, 09:04:00 AM »
                “You scratch my back and I scratch yours? Heh…cute.â€?
 
 If they had been anywhere else, Nail would have probably been intimidated by now. But there was very little that could throw him off while he was on Nosferatu turf.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Yes we are aware of the attempt on Caliori’s un-life, just like we are with you saving the day. I take it Caliori was pretty grateful for that. Nevertheless you’re asking for some pretty important info pilgrim. The kind of info that comes with a steep price-tag.â€?
 
 Nail glared at the visitor. If this guy wanted to know about the Elysium and Caliori so badly, he would no doubt be attending the party. Which came in very handy.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“But you’re in luck tough-guy. I’m willing to tell you all I know about Caliori, the Giovanni and the Elysium all in exchange for a minor favour. Its really nothing, won’t even take up an hour of your time. Intrigued?â€?
 
 Nail didn’t bother to wait for an answer.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Of course you are. Now listen up cowboy. From all the interest in the Elysium and your little encounter with the Torrie primogen earlier I take it you will be attending this little soiree, yes? Of course you are. Here’s what I want you to do: Also attending the Elysium will be a Toreador fledgeling by the name of Marie. She looks about eighteen, very good-looking, innocence incarnate really, you can’t miss her. All you have to do is go to her, tell her Neil sent you and introduce her to Caliori. Once she gets acquainted with Caliori you will have to vouch for her, say she learned about vampirism, the Camarilla and everything  through you, basically take responsibility for her if only for the night. And that’s all, do that for me and I’ll give you all the info you want, or at least all we have.â€?
 
 Nail took a few steps down the stairs into a spot illuminated by moonlight coming through a small crack in the wall, giving the visitor a clearer view of his face.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“I know this might not make a lot of sense to you but this is my offer. Now…do we have a deal?â€?
                       

 

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Offline [archive] Year_of_the_Scarab

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Re: Family Business
« Reply #106 on: April 27, 2006, 11:31:00 AM »
                Mike flipped through the contents of the folder, pausing to analyze the attached photos briefly. He recognized his Lasombra targets immediately, even if they both had altered their appearances slightly since the last pictures he had seen. So they were still in Cawford. Good. Not only that, they apparently had officially announced their presence according to Camarilla tradition and protocol, which would suggest they had either sided with the sect or ingratiated themselves to someone high enough in the local hierarchy to warrant their stay. Interesting, though not necessarily welcome information. Hunting down Sabbat stragglers in a Camarilla controlled city was one thing, striking at Kindred enjoying the protection of a possibly powerful elder was another. The contract didn't mention such a possibility, and as such, Mike wasn't obliged (as far as clan ethics went) to fulfill it. At the very least, this was a detail important enough to allow him to negotiate additional pay...
 
 Anyway, while the information provided by the ghoul's employer hadn't provided much insight on the Kindred's current location, it did give a pretty good idea of where they may appear soon, very soon. A Camarilla social event, so called "Elysium" was to be held tonight at a mansion located on the outskirts of the city tonight. According to the information, which did actually confirm what Mike had learned over the course of the past nights, the city's new prince had been – or would soon be – appointed. Events such as these allowed new arrivals to the given city to inform the local magistrate of their presence, intent or whatever it was that the official "ruling body" may desire to know. Camarilla or Sabbat practices may mean very little to members of Clan Assamite, but that did not mean they were oblivious to their existence – seeing as the employers of the Assamites' talents usually came from one of the sects, it was important for an assassin to know their customs well enough.
 Mike raised an eyebrow, thinking. Now, once again - according to the provided information, when Beaumont's Childer arrived the position of prince was still vacant, hence "proper" admission Cawford had yet to be issued… Logical conclusion? His targets would very likely make an appearance tonight in order to bow to the newly appointed prince.
 
 An Elysium was an open affair, any Kindred could attend. All were expected to. This presented an opportunity. Of course, violence was out of the question, there would be security galore, not to mention the presence of numerous Kindred, some of which would be the city's elders, capable of taking on vampires, mages or even werewolves. And the hated Tremere, the blood magicians towards whom Clan Assamite bore a special hatred and who would ultimately be hunted down to the last and their blood offered to the Father, will most likely have placed their magics on the place, preventing bloodshed among the participants... Yet the prospect of searching through a 4-million city block by block was largely unappealing, when the opportunity of at least observing his targets presented itself so openly.
 
 There was a small voice in the back of his head wondering, just slightly, what were the real intentions of the ghoul's employer. The information provided was undoubtedly useful, and could prove to lead him to his goal in a matter of hours instead of weeks, but... If there was anything his Rafiq Assamite elders had agreed upon, it was that the get of Khayyin, the lesser clans - whether Camarilla, Sabbat or independent – as long as not of Assamite blood – were not to be trusted entirely, ever. For every truth they presented, two lies were hidden. There was always a scheme, always a plot. A skilled assassin would see through them and play a part in the schemes only as long as it suited his own plans, not more.
 This Kindred, who had sent the ghoul to him, and who had wished the local Ventrue's men dead, was most likely no exception. That Kindred had a scheme just as any, and Mike had already played a part in it – question was, would he still. Was this information, assuming for the moment it was accurate, purely payment for a service rendered or was it a path that would lead him further along the machinations of this individual? Did that Kindred not care what would happen to Beaumont's Childer after tonight... or did she or he very much care, and was sending Mike after them deliberately?
 
 Questions, questions, precious little answers.
 
 The Elysium would take place in a few hours, and Mike doubted he would gain any insight into them before it. And, as his elders had taught him, knowing all the answers was a luxury that few could enjoy. It was the important answers that mattered, and now it was a simple question that he could answer himself – go or not.                        

 

                                                  

Offline [archive] Grendel8101

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Re: Family Business
« Reply #107 on: April 27, 2006, 05:06:00 PM »
                This is bullshit.
 
 The last three nights I have been attacked, drafted into politics, had to cover up three crime scenes, only one of which was caused by me, and now I have to go pull a Houdini in front of a bunch of firemen and cops.  I thought most of my stress would be abated for awhile after last night, but no, fate shovels shit my way again.
 
 I’m working myself into a really good tantrum, so I stop, and breathe.  Stress and high emotions lead to the flashbacks, part of the reason I’ve had such a shitty time with them the last few nights.  If everything’s going good I get maybe one a week, if that.  I’ve been having several per night.
 
 I step out of the shower and quickly shear the longer hair off with an electronic clippers, then get the shorter stubble with my razor.  Shaving relaxes me, even when I’m in a hurry.  I hope Star is wearing something really slutty right now.
 
 I dress quickly and walk out of the bedroom, crunching over the shattered telephone.  Rowdy is still on the couch, looking a little wearily at me.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“I heard something smash against the wall…â€? he said.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Bad news.â€?  I extract my fangs and bite my wrist, then offer it to him.  I fill him in on the details while he feeds.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Shit.â€? he says after I shake him off.  Ã¢â‚¬Å“What are we going to do?  The store’s in my name-â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“You’ll be there.â€?  I say, examining his face.  He’s got an odd nose, broken several times in his life.  His hair is longish and a little greasy.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“What-â€? he begins, then stops.  He’s looking at a carbon copy of himself, standing where I was a minute ago.  Ã¢â‚¬Å“Oh.â€?  Rowdy looks at me a little odd.  People are uncomfortable with doppelgangers, for some reason.
 
 I suck down a couple of blood packs from the fridge, not having time to feed.  All of my spiked blood is gone, which I find odd until I see the empty bottles by my chair.  I must have been celebrating last night.  I’m going to have to start cutting back.
 ___________________________________________________________
 
 Mal knows who I am as soon as I walk down the stairs.  He’s got cash and my keys waiting for me.  I look at the cash.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Bribe money.â€? he shrugs.
 
 I nod.  Might be worth a shot if they seem like the type.  My other options are restructuring their memory, which is damn near impossible with the big damn group that’s likely to be gathered around the store, or obfuscating all the guns, which I’m pretty sure I can’t do.
 
 My Mustang is still pissed at me for scratching her.  She stalls a bit before starting, reluctantly, and nearly slides into a snow bank on the way out of the driveway.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“I said I was sorry, baby, c’mon, help me out here."  I stroke the dash affectionately and she straightens out a little.  Ã¢â‚¬Å“That’s my girl.â€?
 
 Okay, how am I going to play this?  I need to do some reconnaissance before Rowdy shows up.  Hopefully Star remembers that I don’t officially own the store, being as I have a fake birth certificate, ID, and social security number.  They’re good fakes, but they won’t hold up if someone is really looking into them.
 
 I park the car a few blocks down, get out and do my invisibility trick.
 
 Star has a little crowd of firemen hanging around her, grinning at her while she leans against a cop car and laughs girlishly.  She’s wearing a tube top and jeans that look a little like paint, with a long coat that’s not currently covering anything useful.  Good girl.  She’s come a long way since that junkie I found on the side of the road one night.  I’m going to have to get her that boob job she’s been asking for, it might help with these situations.
 
 There are two cops waiting.  I groan and look at the sky, expecting to see God giving me the finger.  They’re the same two cops from the church the other night.  The rookie is trying to get Star’s attention from the firemen.  The older cop is rolling his eyes at the whole fiasco.  He’s looking too, but he’s also fingering the gold ring on his left hand.
 
 I slide up to her, avoiding touching the crowd.  
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Don’t react.â€? I whisper in her ear, barely audible.  She stiffens a little, but relaxes almost immediately.  Ã¢â‚¬Å“Start focusing on the kid cop there.â€?
 
 She turns to him and gives him that wide-eyed look that makes men into little idiots.  The firemen look a little uncomfortable with the turn of events, the rookie puffs up like a balloon and nearly turns scarlet.  I could swear the girl is using disciplines.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Hey, uh…well, ma’am…I, we need to look in on the scene and investigate the, uh, the scene and see what, I mean, see if there was an arsonist, er, see if a crime was committed tonight.  Ã¢â‚¬Â¦Um, please?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“I don’t know,â€? said Star.  Ã¢â‚¬Å“I’m not sure my boss would like that.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“And who is your boss, young lady?â€? the older cop asked.  He was getting suspicious.  Tone it down, Star.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Rowdy Parkinson.â€?  
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“’Rowdy‘?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Sorry, Randy Parkinson.  Everybody calls him Rowdy.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“And where is he?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“I called him a half-hour ago, I’m sure he’ll be here soon.â€?  She flashed a smile and got a stiff smirk in return.
 
 The rookie tried to get attention back to him.  Ã¢â‚¬Å“I think we should look over the fire, Bob.â€?
 
 Officer Bob looked at the kid patiently, like a dog owner looking at an energetic puppy.  Ã¢â‚¬Å“Sean, are you the fire Marshall?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Uh… no?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Have you been trained to investigate arson?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Uh…no.â€?  Sean looked at his feet.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“How about we wait for the Marshall to show up, then what do we do?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Uh, help him out?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“No, then we wait for him to tell us if we need to arrest anyone.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Oh.  Okay.â€?  he was glowing red right now.  Some of the firemen snickered.  Poor kid.  I’d feel sorry for him if he hadn’t shot me the other night.
 
 I retreated and looked over the store.  The front was destroyed, but the back looked more or less intact.  Most of the goods were in the back, including quite a few guns I didn’t have a permit to sell.  Fubar.  There was a lot of smoke in there and I was not going in.
 
 I backtracked my way to the car and put on the Rowdy mask.  I gunned the engine and screeched to a halt in front of the burned out store.
 
 I tried to look as shocked as possible at the wreck.  I asked the firefighters how this could happen and in general tried to look like a worried businessman.
 
 The cops sidled their way over to me.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Mr. Parkinsons, can you account for your werebouts for yourself within the last twenty-four hours?â€? said Sean.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Huh?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“My partner wants to know where you were today.â€?  said Bob, rolling his eyes at Sean.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Oh.  Well, I was sleeping off a mean drunk over at Charlie’s Tavern.  My friend Bitterman rents the apartment on the second floor from the owner.  Why, you guys don‘t think I had anything to do with this, do you?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“We’re just trying to get all the facts straight, sir.  Who is this ‘Bitterman’?â€?
 
 It took me a minute to remember my fake first name.  It should have been easy, considering I took it from the name of my bar.  I didn’t like mentioning myself here, but if everything went smoothly, they wouldn’t check into my background too hard.  Ã¢â‚¬Å“Charlie Bitterman.  He helped carry me up, and the owner Mal Richards can tell you I was there.â€?
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“We’ll be checking into that.â€?
 
 Time to pull out the stops.  Ã¢â‚¬Å“Officer, I really had <orange>nothing to do with this</orange>.â€?  he blinked, a little bit.  I was hoping it would work, he had a pretty strong mind-set, but I was being sincere, here.
 
 He nodded, slowly.  Ã¢â‚¬Å“Were just doing our job, sir.â€?  Good, I think it took.
 
 One of the firemen came up to the officers.  Ã¢â‚¬Å“Hey, Bob.  It looks like Dennis isn’t going to show up, he’s still investigating that fire from last night, the one that killed that family.  He said he‘ll be here tomorrow morning as soon as possible.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Yeah, I heard about that.  Terrible mess.â€?  Bob turned to me.  Ã¢â‚¬Å“Mr. Parkinsons, if you could come with us down to the station, we’d like to verify everything and try to sort this whole mess out.â€?
 
 Hmm.  No good.  The Elysium was tonight, and I had to be on a plane later.  Ã¢â‚¬Å“Officer, can this wait?  I have to try and get ahold of my insurance company tonight and wrestle anything out of them, I need to call my suppliers and tell them to delay shipments, I’m going to be on the phone all night with a lot of pissed-off people.â€?
 
 Bob sighed.  Ã¢â‚¬Å“Alright, we can’t make you come in.  But we’ll be in touch, and do not leave town.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Alright, thank you officer.  And thank you gentlemen,â€? I said to the firemen.  They waved their hands in recognition.
 Star was getting Sean’s phone number, she joined me after Bob yelled at him to get in the police car.  When the car was out of sight, she crumpled up the paper and dropped it.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Pick it up, we might need him later.â€?  She frowned, but did as she was told.  Alright, fine.  
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Good job tonight.â€? I told her.  Let no one say I’m an ungracious master.  I turned and headed for the car.
 ________________________________________________________
 
 We got back to the bar before the college kids were out.  There were only a few drunks watching TV and minding their business.
 
 I signaled Mal.  Ã¢â‚¬Å“You and Star go grab that last van from the warehouse, get the spare set of plates and put them on it.  Go to the store and get those fucking guns out of the back room and take them to the storage garage in Redbrock.  Here’s the key.  Do.  Not.  Let anyone.  See your faces.  Star, you remember that shadow trick I taught you?â€? she nodded, reluctantly.  Mal knew it, and could use it effectively.  Ã¢â‚¬Å“Use it if you have to.  Then get your asses back here, make sure you’re not followed.â€?  They nodded.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“What’re you going to do?â€?  Star asked.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“I gotta get ready for prom.â€?                        

 

                                                  

Offline [archive] Killer39787726

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Re: Family Business
« Reply #108 on: April 27, 2006, 05:57:00 PM »
                Innocence incarnate.
 
 How fucking stupid he thinks I am?
 Taking responsibility for an unknown leech; introducing her to one of the most important bloodsuckers of the toreador clan. Next she does something really stupid like killing the primogen and I’m turned into instantaneous celebrity, top five of every assassin’s hit list.
 My right hand moves on its own in direction of the berettas, but I manage to stop it mid-air.
 
 Give me a lever long enough, and a place to stand, and I'll break my lever.
 
 Now, how fucking stupid you are again? This is no street trash you’re dealing with, the kind who will spill its guts if he has a gun pressed against his forehead. This is a fucking vampire, on a house that’s probably filled with his undead friends. I cast a weary glance around the room.
 
 I casually reach for the smoke and take another drag. Unknowingly he had just given me an important piece of information. Nothing I came here for, but he just exposed part of some plan that seemed to, in the very least, to include an informant in the torrie clan.
 
 It was something he wanted. Badly, it seemed.
 
 He steps into the light. Ugly bastard. I preferred when he was back in the darkness.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Now why would you think she trusts me? Whoever knows me, sure won’t take me for one to take lost leeches under my wings. Let alone a fledgeling torrie.
 Give me a reason not to get out of here and tell Caliori the connection…â€?, whatever it was, “…between your sweet little Marie and nossies?â€?
 
 Risky move I know, they might as well come down and finish me off. But it might give something to bargain.                        

 

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Offline [archive] Year_of_the_Scarab

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Re: Family Business
« Reply #109 on: April 27, 2006, 08:39:00 PM »
                The Lick reached for a weapon, then thought better of it and turned the motion to just stretching his right arm. In response, the jagged piece of wood that Hives had picked up from the rubble stopped its movement toward the vampire's back, an inch or two short of impaling him between the ribs. Not that Hives believed Nail would let himself get shot just like that, but not knowing what sort of heat the Lick was packing or quite what he could do with it, he preferred to be on the safe side. The Brujah did restrain himself, and Hives was just slightly disappointed – the facial expressions of staked vampires were often priceless.
 
 Now the Lick in front of him was talking again. He wasn't stupid, even if he did have a temper that would get him killed soon, as, admittedly, most of his clan had. Well, that much Don had told them before they departed from the warrens earlier anyway. Kraven. Not much of a power in the city, whether when measured by resources or by influence. Short of the Primogen, he didn't seem to pull any weight in the higher ranks. Or at least that's what someone wanted it to appear... At any rate, Hives smirked, the Brujah had some nerve. Though already had he said more than he needed too, and while the Nosferatu already knew about the assassination attempt screw up, he was giving away information for free. And, he was asking for information on a goddamn Primogen... possibly behind her back, though that was just a guess. All the while threatening his source of information to boot, if indirectly.
 
 To tell the truth, Hives didn't particularly cherish the idea of the Brujah running around, telling that damned Torrie all about their project. Stupid he may not be, but not what you'd call delicate either. The Nosferatu weighted the makeshift stake in his hand, awaiting Nail's move.
 
 Charlie's Tavern
 
 It was some time after the ghouls had left that the phone rang. Bitterman ignored it until it managed to irritate him enough to make his way to the back of the bar and pick it up
 
 "What?" he wasn't in a chatty mood
 
 "Bits...? Bits, dat you...? Yo, Bits, my mayne, wa's goin'on! Holler... I wake ya?" came the decidedly familiar, and decidedly drunken, voice from the receiver
 
 "Don't want to talk to me tonight. Piss off." the Malkavian had told Martinez and was about to hang up when the kid cut in
 
 "Esse, hol'on, hol'on, too bad 'bout the fire, eh? Heard'at was a bitch, homes! I mean like woof, shit wen'up in flames, yo." Martinez's slurred slang made even less sense than usual, but the message got through clear enough. There was a pause on Bitterman's end, after which he drew breath to speak with a forced calm, but Martinez, over the sound of other voices on his end, interrupted him again
 
 "Dat's how it goes down 'round here, ol' man. Too bad 'boutchu shit, but that's whatchu get, runnin'round threatenin' respectable people wit' guns, mayne." the sound of one or two other voices, most likely Martinez's 'posse', which had assisted him in drinking some courage into himself, echoed in the back "But yo, I gotta run, you hang tight there homes, y'hear?"                        

 

                                                  

Offline [archive] Sodom40280831

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Re: Family Business
« Reply #110 on: April 28, 2006, 06:37:00 AM »
                Nail clapped his hands together with a huge smile on his face.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“How positively adorable, he wants to play ball!â€?
 
 Nail moved towards the corner of the hall which had a small table. He reached out and pulled half of a Cuban cigar out of the ashtray on it. He took a match, lit it, took a small drag of it just for laughs and started casually waving the cigar around to spread the smoke a bit.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Very well then, lets explore both scenarios, shall we? Possibility number one: I let you walk out of here knowing what you now know. You go to Caliori, whom you don’t even trust, which is why you came here in the first place. You tell Caliori all about this and then what? She’ll take your word for it? Yeah sure…why not! And then? What kind of threat does that pose to me? I’ll tell you what. Nothing! You know why? Because…â€?
 
 Nail leaned in close and looked at Jake as if he was a three-year old.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Are we paying attention kiddies? Because none of my actions have broken Camarilla-conduct. I haven’t endangered the masquerade or killed a fellow kindred and I don’t plan on doing either in the near future, be it directly or indirectly. So I get away scot-free. You on the other hand will have made a serious nuisance of yourself by making a big uproar out of nothing and you will have made an enemy out of every Nosferatu in town because, make no mistake my friend, when you mess with one of us, you mess with all of us.â€?
 
 Still casually waving the cigar about, Nail continued.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Hah! Even if you did manage to find something on me, what are you gonna do? Come drag me out of the sewers yourself? You don’t even know my name and besides, I know my clan and my primogen have my back. Can you say the same about yours? In short…possibility number one doesn’t really work out as good for you as it does for me. Now lets move on to possibility number two: You do my tiny little favour for me and I give you your info. Everything nicely fitting in with the rules of conduct as declared by the camarilla and everybody’s happy. So what’ll it be hotshot? Will you walk out, squeal on me to someone who could just as easily betray you, leaving both of us worse of than before. Or will you do me this one stinking little favour and get what you came here for, making both of us happier Licks than before.â€?
 
 Nail paused
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“I know my face my not be as pretty as Caliori’s but I would much rather have you as an ally than an enemy. So I’m going to repeat my offer one more time. Do we have a deal…Jake?â€?
                       

 

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Offline [archive] Grendel8101

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Re: Family Business
« Reply #111 on: April 28, 2006, 04:01:00 PM »
                There was a brick of red rage where I squeezed the phone so tight it cracked.  Then everything went calm and clear.
 
 I closed the bar.  I started making calls.
 
 When Star and Mal returned, I had my suit laid out on the bar, in plastic covering.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Why aren’t you dressed, Boss?â€? Star asked.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“I don’t want to get blood on the suit.â€? I said.  She looked confused.
 
 Mal stepped forward.  Ã¢â‚¬Å“We found some molotovs-â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“It was Martinez.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“…oh.â€?  Mal went behind the bar and opened the safe.  He took out his gun and checked to see if it was loaded.  Star was hiding hers…somewhere.  I had Martinez’ Desert Eagle.  Poetic justice and all that.
 ____________________________________________________________
 
 The little shit was in Redbrock, that much I’d found out already.  If he had a brain in his head he would be on a plane right now, but Martinez was stupid.  
 
 They know me in Redbrock.  Anybody who needs a gun but has a criminal record knows who to talk to.  Where to go.  Mal was driving, Star right beside him, I was in the back.
 
 I stop at CC’s corner.  The whore had once been attractive, but the years and the business had been brutal.  She was missing most of her teeth and her nose had been broken so many times she couldn’t smell anything anymore.  Paler than I was.  She was twenty-seven going on fifty, but she made her rent, and she worked her corner with no pimp.  You have to respect a girl who can survive this long in a world this bad.  She trades information as well as her ass.  The Nosferatu would be well-off if they recruited her.
 
 She walked over to the car in that way that only runway models and street hookers can walk in high heels.  I rolled down my window.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Hey, Bitterman, baby, was’sup!?â€?  She leaned into the window and looked in.  Ã¢â‚¬Å“I don’ know honey, you and big boy over there, fine, but the little China skank’ll be extra.â€?  Star nearly shot her, Mal put a restraining hand on her shoulder.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Just looking for info tonight, CC.â€?  I was amazed how calm I was.  I don’t even feel mad.  Almost serene.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Oh, that’s all you ever want, baby.  You know I be treating yo’ tool like no other girl in this hood.â€?  She was lying, of course.  Information was a better deal.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Where is Peppe’ Martinez, sugar?â€? I asked.
 
 She paused.  Ã¢â‚¬Å“Shit, this about yo’ store, ain’t it?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Martinez, CC.â€?
 
 She looked a little fearful.  Ã¢â‚¬Å“My girl Tasha came by an hour ago.  She say she goin’ over to 3rd avenue an’ Orchard for a party for Peppe’.  Don‘ hurt Tasha, ok?â€?
 
 I handed her a wad of cash.  Ã¢â‚¬Å“Go buy yourself a sandwich, darlin’.  Bad night to be on the streets.â€?  We drive off.
 __________________________________________________________
 
 Martinez and four of his buddies are passing around beer and smack.  They ordered some hookers, every now and again they go off into a back room or a corner and use them.
 I’m looking through a window, cloaked, watching the festivities.
 
 They had two spotters across the street in an abandoned house.  They’re both dead, one of them with a lot less blood.
 
 I’ve got Peppe’s gun, my straight razor, and an axe I grabbed out of the garage.  I’m still so calm it’s unnerving.  
 
 Star and Mal had screwed silencers on their pistols and were waiting for my mark.  They were wearing bulletproof vests, just in case.
 
 I wait for the moment.  Peppe’ grabs a hooker and takes her into the bathroom.  I motion to Mal.  They go in.
 
 Mal goes through the front door, Star through the back, whisper quiet.  The dumbass kids look up and they have guns pointed at them.  They don’t move, they just freeze.  They might have had a chance if they reacted.  Probably not, but this here was Darwinism at its best.
 
 I walk through the door casually, the axe over my shoulder, gun held loosely in my hand.  I focus and my senses become sharp and clear.  I can hear Peppe’ fucking the whore in the bathroom, I can hear the heartbeats of the four children in front of me.  One of them loses his bladder when he sees the axe.
 
 I look the four boys over.  Two of them resemble Peppe’, likely his brother and his cousin.  The other two are just friends, they aren‘t needed.  I point at them and Star and Mal shoot Martinez’ friends in the head.  Blood splatters the two survivors.
 
 The hookers are huddled together in a corner.  I pull three $100 bills from my money clip.  
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Which one of you is Tasha?â€? I ask.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“She…she in the bathroom.â€?  One of them says.  The others nod.  I hold the cash in front of their faces.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“What happened here tonight?â€? I ask them.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“What happened where?â€? another one pipes up.  I smile and give them the money.  They take it and run out the door, into the cold winter night.
 
 I find a chair and turn it to face the hallway, sitting down and resting the head of the axe on the floor.  I look at Mal.  Ã¢â‚¬Å“Go get Peppy.â€?
 
 I look at the two surviving boys.  Ã¢â‚¬Å“What are your names, children?â€?  They don’t answer.  Ã¢â‚¬Å“C’mon, now, don’t be rude.  You should answer someone when they ask you a question.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“F-fuck you.â€? one of them stutters out.  Ballsy little bastard.  Got to respect that.
 
 I hear the bathroom door crash open, a little squeak from the whore and I hear Peppe’ struggling a little.  Mal could have easily taken the scrawny little shit even if Mal wasn’t a ghoul.
 
 Peppe’ comes out, his pants around his ankles.  Mal restrains him with a single arm.  The hooker, Tasha, is with him.  She’s pretty young for a whore.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Tasha, come over here and sit by me.â€?  She looks nervous, but does as she’s told.  She sits on the floor, facing Peppe’, but looking at me with wide eyes.  Shit, she’s younger than the punks.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Tasha, do you know who I am?â€? she nods.  A tear rolls down her cheek.  Just a damn kid.  Sixteen at most.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Hey, now, none of that.â€?  I take out a kerchief and gently wipe her face.  Ã¢â‚¬Å“I don’t want you to be worried, Tasha.  I don’t want you to even fret.  You’re going to walk out of here tonight, and nobody’s going to hurt you.  In fact, anybody fucks with you after tonight, for any reason, you call me, and I will fuck with that person three times over.  You are under my protection, do you understand?â€? She doesn’t, not really, but nods anyway.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“You pussy, Bit’man, I kill you-â€? Peppe’s bullshit is cut short by Mal’s arm around his throat.
 
 I return my attention to Tasha.  Ã¢â‚¬Å“Honey, here’s what happened.  This little shit fucked with me.  He got mad, and he’s stupid, and he fucked with me.  So now he dies.  This is what happens.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“I’m not even mad.  Not at him.  More at myself for not seeing that this was going to happen.  I over-estimated his intelligence and it bit me in the ass.  I should have taken care of this last night, it was my fuck-up, and I paid for it.â€?
 
 I stroke her hair.  She’s still scared, and that’s good.  She’s going to have nightmares about this the rest of her life.  I look at Star.  Ã¢â‚¬Å“Make sure those punks don’t have guns on them.â€?
 
 I return my attention to Tasha.  She’s shivering a little.  I pretend it’s from the cold, so I slip off my jacket and wrap it around her shoulders.  I stand up and lift her by her arms and put her in the chair, facing the others.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Now, I’m sorry for what you’re about to see, sugar.  But this is going to teach you a very valuable lesson about the life you’re in.  Where are you from?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“R-redbrock.â€?  she stuttered.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Is that where your parents are?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“My mom, she still lives here.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“You still live with her?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“N-no.  I ran out-â€? her story spills out, the same one I’ve heard before.  She ran away from home, ended up on the streets.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Tasha, honey, when this is over, you’re going home to your momma.  You’re going to keep off the streets.  You’re going to go back to school.  And every time you think about going back to the streets, you think about what I taught you here tonight.  Star, come over here and take care of Tasha.â€?
 
 Mal points his gun at the two punks as Star walks over to Tasha and crouches beside her, rubbing her shoulders sympathetically.
 
 I pick up my axe and look at the punks.  I look at the one I think is Peppe’s cousin and grab him by the hair and throw him to the floor, taking a clump of greasy fur from him.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Keep your eyes open, Peppe’.â€?
 
 I start at his legs.  Bones break and gashes open as the axe does its work.  It isn’t the sharpest, but the kid feels it.  Everybody screams but Star and Mal.  They’re just stone quiet.
 
 The axe doesn’t make clean cuts, and pieces of the VC bastard stay attached by ropes of skin.  I’m not exactly sure when he dies, but he stops moving and I keep going for awhile.  I’m up to his chest now.  Burn down my store, kill my platoon, this little fucker will pay for every inch of ground we’ve lost in this fucking war.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Jesus,â€?  Martinez prays, too little, too late.  I stop hacking and get in his face.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“This is what happens, punk-ass VC bitch.  You fuck with my business, you hide guns in this shithole village and make bunkers for the NVA, you burn down my store, this is what happens, Pepper.  Keep your fucking eyes open.â€?
 
 I wheel around and my eyes meet Peppe’s brothers.  Ã¢â‚¬Å“No!â€? he screams and tries to bolt.  My axe extends from my arm, the top blunt part hitting him in the head, knocking him over the couch.  He tries to crawl away, so I launch over the couch.  I’m roaring as I swing the axe one-handed, burying it just above his pelvis, through the flesh and into the wood floor.  One more VC-fuck not sniping us from the bushes.  He struggles a little, but he’ll die eventually.  Probably doesn’t even feel the axe in his back.
 
 I slap at a mosquito as I turn back to Peppe’.  To my left the village burns, to my back Tasha cries.
 
 I take out Peppe’s gun.  He’s bawling his eyes out, snot running down his nose, eyes so puffy they’re almost closed.  I have no words to say.  He probably don’t speak English anyway.  Wallace lets him go and gets out from behind him.  Peppe’ falls to his knees.
 
 Peppe’ looks up at me.  Ã¢â‚¬Å“Please-â€? he starts.
 
 I smash the butt of the gun in his temple, sending him to the floor.  I shoot him once, in the head.  The guns fires a .50 AE, so there isn’t much left for Mama Martinez to identify.
 
 I walk over to Peppe’s still-struggling brother and put him out of his misery, then drop the gun.
 
 I look at Tasha, she’s shivering violently and making gasping noises.  
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Here endeth the lesson.â€?
 _________________________________________________________
 
 Star is cleaning the girl up in the bathroom, I’m getting dressed for the Elysium and surveying my work.  Mal is outside smoking.  He’s never been big about blood, unless its mine and he’s drinking it.
 
 The suit is nice, not what I like to wear, but comfortable in that way that only tailor-made clothes can be.  Dark-gray, with a deep-red silk tie.
 
 I add a small gold tie-pin, shaped like the cracked mirror of Malkavians, to the suit.  I wasn’t going to wear the pin, but after tonight, what the hell.
 
 Star leads the girl out, making sure she doesn’t look at the bodies.  I go into the bathroom and look in the mirror, making sure everything’s in place.
 
 I walk out, passing Mal.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Jesus Christ, Boss.â€? is all he says.
 ________________________________________________________
 
 I drop the girl off at her mothers house, I give her some cash and tell her to keep her mouth shut to cops, but fill everyone else in on the details.  She barely acknowledges me, but she’s listening.  She’ll do as she’s told.  I give her my card, and she takes it like it’s a snarling rat.
 
 Sometime later Mal pulls up to the mansion and I get out.  Star and Mal will wait with the car.  Time to get this over with.                        

 

                                                  

Offline [archive] Killer39787726

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Re: Family Business
« Reply #112 on: April 28, 2006, 08:35:00 PM »
                When you put it this way…
 
 He called my bluff. I knew the nosferatu wouldn’t let me walk out of here unless we had a deal. There was only two ways this could go from here. I say no, and maybe take this ugly bastard down with me. Or I say yes, get the information I came for and risk my neck, but I’ll live longer.
 
 You don’t need to be a genius to figure out which way was the winner. I may have to protect Caliori, doesn’t mean I have to like her.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Ok, I will play. I will introduce sweet little Marie. But this is how it’s going to work; she gets me in trouble she is deadâ€? And then, well, we can think about that dragging out of the sewers idea.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“I don’t give a damn about what you’re planning to get from Calioriâ€?
 
 Take another drag out of the smoke. Anger is an expensive luxury in which only men of a certain income can indulge.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Other than that, I’d say we have a dealâ€?
 
 Play smart, play it cool, and if chance arrives, kick the deformed bastard in the teeth.
                       

 

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           Cant we all just get along?...No? Ok...then i will just rip your head off.    
                                                  

Offline [archive] Skinweaver

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Re: Family Business
« Reply #113 on: April 28, 2006, 11:38:00 PM »
                Rebecka turned to the side and opened her eyes.
 Complete and utter blackness. Had the chantry suffered a power outage? No, that wasn't very likely. Realising her fault, she rolled over to the other side, looking straight into the wall. An ugly thing that had been discoloured over the years of experimentation by at least three other Neonates before her. The blindness. That idiotic weakness she carried with her everywhere. Of course she had woken up and tried to look around with the eye that didn't work!
 
 She sighed deeply even though she hardly needed the air and crawled out of bed with none of the gracefulness people seemed to connect with her. She was tired, in pain and mad at the world so what else to do than force herself out of bed like the reanimated corpse she was?
 
 Rebecka looked down at her sheets and realised that she had been bleeding during the night. The wounds of yesternight had taken a slow time to heal and had left their traces in both her mind and body. Just moving at all seemed to be a crime punishable by caning and her head was throbbing from the blow that waste of unlife had landed on her before dragging her into that rat infested basement...
 Just thinking about it was enough to send her into a foul mood. She dragged the covers over the stains, leaving them there. There were more urgent things to worry about than a few stains.
 
 She wrapped herself into her bathrobe and checked her alarm clock. It hadn't been working for a decade and she had never really had any use for the alarm anyway but it could still show time and that was all she really needed.
 Of course, she had overslept. As far as Kindred "sleep" go.
 Too much to do. The report had to be finished and then there was the notes she had to document about the earlier experiment along with a truckload of other things she should have started working on about three hours ago. Oh, glorious night!
 
 She too a quick look in the mirror before turning away in disgust. Her hair had ascended beyond the state of your average crow's nest into something more commonly enountred among the homeless she used to analyse just a few days ago.
 After a few attempts to comb it out into something remotely presentable she managed to make it revert to the semi straight style she found acceptable.
 And the eye. That disgusting, milky eye!
 How she hated it...
 
 "Leftie, leftie, how do I loathe thee? Let me count the ways."
 
 Rebecka sighed again and dug her sunglasses out from the drawer. Broken, of course. That piece of ratdung had stepped on them before she took his leg off. She would have to buy new ones to look presentable at the Elys...
 The Elysium! She had forgotten all about it! And the other things on the list! She rummaged through the mess of discarded paper that some would call a dump but to her, it was her archives. If a single post-it got displaced she wouldn't be able to find anything!
 And there it was. She wrote it down and stuck the note above her computer screen.
 
 "Let's see... meet with this Sorana creature... Elysium... Munroe... and the Giovanni. There."
 
 So much to do and so little time.
 At times like this, she really felt the need for that supernatural speed the Toreador and Brujah seemed to love so much...                        

 

                                                  

Offline [archive] munchies.Trooper

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Re: Family Business
« Reply #114 on: April 30, 2006, 07:07:00 AM »
                Closing his folder, Mike leans back in the chair that he is sitting in. After a few minutes sitting going over the information in his head, he grabs the folder and leaves. Hailing for a taxi Mike stands looking over the streets wondering what his life would’ve been if he had not taken that assignment all those years ago. A taxi pulls up and he gets into the back and gives the driver instructions on where to drop him off at.
 
 Back at his haven or make shift sleeping quarters, Mike paces back and forth in the small area, thinking over the problem that he now faces. Reviewing the given information one more time he picks up the one of the cell phones that he has not destroyed and makes a call. After a few rings a woman’s voice answers.
 
  “Thank you for calling Reynolds printing services this is Ashley how can I help you?â€?
 
 Ashley was Ms. Reynolds ghoul and long time companion, and sometimes blood donor. Mike let out a sigh and spoke.
 
  “Ashley is Ms. Reynolds in? This is Mr. Davis.â€?
 
 There was a long silence on the other end of the phone line before Ashley answered.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Yes, she is Mr. Davis let me transfer you to he office.â€?
 
 There were a few clicks and some cheesy elevator music came on the line. After a few minute another female voice picks up the phone.
 
  “Mr. Davis it is good to hear from you. I hope everything is ok with are business arrangement?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Yes and no Ms. Reynolds.â€? Mike stopped for a second to collect his thoughts and then continued. “I have located the Beaumont's childer, but they have made them selves known to the local camarilla. As you know, this information was not included in the contract that we agreed to.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Yes I am aware of that Mr. Davis. Does this mean that you are going to call the contract null and void now?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“That is one of the things I am thinking about doing Ms. Reynolds. But before I give you my answer I need to know a few things.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“What would you like to know Mr. Davis?â€? Her tone shifted like she was nervous.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“How bad do you what this childer gone?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“I would do anything, and I mean anything Mr. Davis. That fucking sabbat childer needs to die for killing my beloved childe.â€?
 
 Mike pauses a moment before responding.
 
  “Well then my fee has just gone up then. Three times the amount we agreed upon half now and the other half on delivery of the childer. Also I will need you to do some things for me on your end as well.â€?
 
 It was Ms. Reynolds turn to pause.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Agreed, give me a second as a sign of good faith as the kine say.â€? There was a paused and some clicking of a key board before Ms. Reynolds spoke again. “Check your account Mr. Davis.â€?
 
 Mike turned on the laptop that was in his haven and went to his hidden account and saw there was a huge amount of money deposited into the account.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Very good Ms. Reynolds the other half in the form of non money will be fine.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“How many pints is it going to take?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Four should be fine.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Now then what do you need me to do on this end Mr. Davis?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“I just need you to send me an official contract, and arrange a meeting with the new prince here Ms Reynolds.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“That is simple enough; I will get you the meeting. Do you know where the childer are at?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Yes I am going to learn more about what they are planning tonight.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Very well Mr. Davis.â€?
 
 Both of them hung up the phone.  Mike had thoughts that Ms. Reynolds was hiding something but would it go for now. Walking over to the folder on his table he pondered on how to handle this, three things came to mind. One he could get his rifle and post up one miles away from the party and pick off his targets with ease. The only problem with that is no one can know what a bullet is going to do after it hits its first mark. It could hit and kill a few others after the first target. Second Mike could just wait tell after the party thing and kill them as they were walking away from the place. Final thing was he could go to the party and do some recon and learn all he could and place a GPS transmitter on his targets to know where they were hiding.
 
 Weighing all the outcomes Mike went with the third one hence it was the safest for his survival and it would give him a chance to learn all he could. Problem with this was most functions like this would normally force him to wear his class A dress uniform from the military. But he wanted to stay hidden so the childer would not recognize him. Looking over his selection of clothes Mike puts together a suit and tie combo that could make him pass a newly turned venture which was what Mike hoped to pull off. He was a venture from out of state and not clan assamate. After placing a few calls to Limo Companies he found one that would pick him up with in the next hour.
 
 As he waited, Mike went over what he was going to tell the people at the Elysium. His fake name was James Mills of clan venture and he was from out of state and fled here when the sabbat attacked and over thrown the local camarilla. If that didn’t work or if they had kindred checking the guest’s auras he would go with whom he was really Mike Davis of clan assamate.   As Mike was finishing getting ready a horn sounded from out side. Grabbing the two GPS transmitters and a coat, he left his haven to get the information he needed.
                       

 

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           I do not dare deny The basic beast inside
 It's right here, it's controlling my mind
 And why Do I deserve to die?
 I'm dominated by This animal that's locked up inside
 Evolution by Korn    
                                                  

Offline [archive] Sodom40280831

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Re: Family Business
« Reply #115 on: April 30, 2006, 07:42:00 AM »
                “Well that’s better. And believe me, you don’t have to worry about Marie.â€?
 
 For a moment there, Nail came pretty close to losing his cool. But he should have expected the Brujah wouldn’t go down without a fight.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Now as for my end of the bargain…â€?
 
 Nail took a seat in the armchair positioned next to the table in the corner.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“As far as the Giovanni go we only have bits and pieces of information. However, I can assure that there have not been any Giovanni in Cawford for some time now. And don’t even try to argue with me on this one Jake, I guarantee you that if there was but one Giovanni Lick in town, we would know about it. Those Italian assholes have been trying hard to play nice with the camarilla recently so any trouble coming from them would be unexpected to say the least. However you can never be too sure with the necromancers. Personally I wouldn’t trust the bastards If my un-life depended on it.â€?
 
 Nail put out his cigar in the ashtray and continued….
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Which brings us to the assassination attempt on Caliori. To be honest with you Jake…even we have absolutely no idea who was behind it. Sure, Caliori has enemies but what kindred with a little power doesn’t? But we do have a small theory that might be worth mentioning. You see, Caliori is a very old and very powerful kindred who possesses some extremely potent divination abilities. People, things, you name it, she can find it. The woman is like a walking radar. Now suppose someone wanted to stay under the radar…â€?
 
 Nail stood up and started heading for the stairs again.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“And the Elysium? Well there really isn’t that much to say. We need a prince and a prince needs crowning. Nothing suspicious about that. Well except for the fact that it involves a party of which the guest-list consists almost solely of bloodsucking predators of the night.â€?
 
 Before exiting the room, Nail turned around and looked at Jake.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Its been a real pleasure hotshot. And remember: when you talk to Marie, you tell her Neil sent you, you never met me and this conversation never took place. Take good care of my little girl, she means the world to me.â€?
 
 Nail disappeared up the stairs, Hives following closely behind, still cloaked.
                       

 

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           I'm so serious it's comical!    
                                                  

Offline [archive] Killer39787726

  • Ancillus
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Re: Family Business
« Reply #116 on: May 01, 2006, 12:10:00 AM »
                For a clan that prided itself to know everything about everyone up to the color of your underwear, he didn’t seem to have much on this.
 
  Anyway the picture was getting clearer.
 
 He seemed very certain that there weren’t Giovanni in town. Or at least he was adamant to make me believe in that.
 
 There was always the off chance one had slipped through the cracks. And where there was one, certainly there would be others. Reality is nothing but a collective hunch.
 
 In any event, the walking corpses from last night meant one of two things. Either the Giovanni wasn’t playing nice anymore, or someone was planning some serious shit and was trying to place blame on them. The greatest trick the devil ever pulled was convincing people he didn't exist.
 
 The attempt on Caliori and the proximity with the Elysium sounded all too suspicious to be mere coincidence.
 
 This would be an interesting party, providing the ugly fuck was right about the guest list. He mentioned a coronation. I heard the one closest to the throne was a ventrue prick by the name of Rocher. Not that this name meant anything to me. For the night was not impartial. No, the night loved some more than others, served some more than others. And if someone wanted to make him look bad and steal his throne, this was the perfect time for that.
 
 The info provided about Caliori made clear that someone was probably trying really hard to stay unnoticed in town. Most likely someone she knew. It would be a lot easier to play bodyguard if she talked. I still didn’t have all the pieces.
 
 I take one last drag before throwing the smoke on the floor and killing the flame under my shoe. Time was a wasting, and it looked like I had a date.
 
 Sweet little Marie.
                       

 

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           Cant we all just get along?...No? Ok...then i will just rip your head off.    
                                                  

Offline [archive] Year_of_the_Scarab

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Re: Family Business
« Reply #117 on: May 03, 2006, 02:20:00 PM »
                Ceremonies were a thing of the past. But then, in a way, so were most Kindred. The methuselahs, elders, walking anachronisms, dwelling in centuries long past, who for all their power and influence, could not grasp the idea of a cellular phone for the unlife of them. In some respects, Sorana pitied even her own Clan's elders, those who had distanced themselves from the world so much, that in the end it had left them behind. Satellite connections, alphanumeric pagers, computers and artificial intelligence, spy cameras, magnetic cards and finally Kevlar vests, machineguns, liquid explosives and phosphorous bullets – those were all tools and weapons which most elders could not wield and would not trust. Eventually, it would be their undoing. They would have to rely on younger, if not as powerful vampires to guide them and use the "contraptions" they would not.
 
 They did, however, love their ceremonies.
 
 In an attempt to bring their realities into the modern nights, the most ancient of Kindred often practiced formalities, codes of conduct and behaviors fitting the Middle Ages more than the XIX century. And, as was their wont, they forced them upon any Kindred unfortunate enough to find themselves in their presence. Sorana recalled with a mental shudder the occasions where she had been forced to go through such pretentious ordeals while in the presence of her elders' elders. If nothing else, it had been an awful waste of time. Luckily, this wasn't such an occasion. With the Elysium and recovery after the siege on the Primogen's side and dealing with the aftermath of the war in general on the Justicars', the passing of the mantle to Rocher had been a brief affair. His recommendation came all the way from Europe, bearing the signature of Hardestadt the Elder himself, and had been seconded by several other influential, if not as high ranking, Camarilla personalities. Considering the relatively... well... insignificant part Cawford had played in the recent conflict, Sorana wondered briefly who really had an interest in her Sire's promotion; had the idea been passed all the way down from the Inner Circle? She shook her head slightly to clear her thoughts, there were other concerns now. She was on her way to Bishop's Hill, and both the Elysium itself and her meeting with the Kindred accompanying her to Munroe was ahead.
 
 Now, Elysium - that was an interesting concept.
 
 The idea was allowing all the Kindred residing in a given city, be it permanent or only passing, to meet on so called neutral ground and take a respite from all the politics of the Jihad (the description for Kindred's everlasting war had spilled to the world of Kine, as their own "Holy War" was picking up speed; one could only wonder how much of it was fallout from the centuries old conflict raging among Kindred?), violence and scheming. So far the theory. In practice, many a neonate had met their Final Death, whether during or immediately after the supposedly peaceful meeting, because of one breach of decorum or another. Many more deaths were fruit of the right word spoken in the right ear during the festivities; evil tongues even said the whole pretense of a party was usually held precisely for that reason. Current circumstances being what they were, it would be hard to argue with them.
 
 Marinard Chantry
 
 He had him.
 
 Giles' open palm hovered several inches over the table, and as it passed over the symbols etched into it in various places, the pendulum in his other hand gave soft vibrations. He couldn't quite place it just yet, but he had him. A single drop of blood mimicked the slow movement of his hand, running through creases and rows in the table's surface. He had been at it for hours already, but time was not a concern. Ever since the failed attempt he was combing through the corridors of the chantry, never loosing focus once. The corruption was there. The bloodied sheets were testament to its presence. He had felt it, as had select few others, but none had yet been alerted save for Regentia's second, and even he was informed only because of the chantry's head being away with the Justicar. The wards had contained and neutralized the verboten rite, even if the most attuned had not been left untouched by it – now the invoker had to be traced, and for that to succeed, he could not be made aware that he was detected befo... There.
 
 The drop of blood curled around an unmarked spot on the table like a viper and evaporated with a sharp hiss at the touch of it. The pendulum grew still. For just a moment, Giles' usually near expressionless face turned into a mixture of cold anger and contempt. Then, after having meticulously folded the pendulum and wiped the remainder of the blood from both the table and the short blade that had drawn it, the elder spoke several hushed words, and a name.
 
 Bishop's Hill 091
 
 Sorana exited the car through the door opened for her and after trading a few words with the driver made her way up the stairs. There were a few vehicles parked on the far side of the courtyard, which was a bit surprising seeing as it was barely 22.30 PM – the Elysium proper was scheduled for midnight. Then again, Caliori's people and the Primogen herself surely wanted to make sure everything was in place, so she must've rushed for the mansion right after the council's pro forma meeting and Rocher's, pardon the expression, "coronation". Few others were most likely also permitted an early entry in order to discuss things not fit for large gatherings; nevertheless, Sorana was definitely one of the first arrivals. Having a minute to spare, she surveyed the courtyards and the mansion's exterior. Caliori's staff had, unsurprisingly, done an excellent job of making the place look distinguished yet modest, if such a thing was possible. The building itself was fairly new, per Kindred standards, if she had to make a guess she'd estimate it being around a hundred, perhaps hundred twenty years old, though the pillars along the entrance gallery had to be at least twice as old, most likely remnants of an older structure of European origin flown in and incorporated into the building. Such a procedure had been en vogue in the early 1900s.
 The snow had been cleared from the driveways, even if they would most likely be covered in it before the festivities begin. Subtle lighting installed around the fountain in front of the mansion gave the sculptures on it an eerie, mysterious shading. She held the top cherubim's unblinking gaze for a moment, then spun around and headed for the door.
 
 "Ms. Patillo. The Primogen is expecting you." Caliori's doorman said with a slight bow "If you would kindly wait in the hall, you will be taken to her shortly." she acknowledged the advice with a nod and entered through the large portcullis.
 
 The interior of the mansion had changed since she the last time she had seen it. Clearly, the book for tonight was the teachings of the I-Ching (or perhaps, she mused, Sun-Tzu's "The Art of War" considering this was almost as much a war-council as the meeting two nights ago) as the décor was Oriental to the last. Not in an obtrusive pompous way – this was a Toreador's house after all, but she already knew (without needing to actually see the Chinese dragon sculptures gracing the mansion this night or the calligraphy marking the glass panels in the ballroom) the furnishings further into the building would surely match the hall's ambiance.
 
 "Good evening, Miss." yet another servant spoke as she was examining one of the few paintings in the hall, largely outnumbered by various bozzettos, displayed along the lengthy corridor. "You look exquisite as always, if I'm allowed to say so." the man continued shortly. She knew she did, but soaking in compliments befitted those of Caliori's clan better than her own, even if they were both more than adept at utilizing their looks and graces for gaining the favor of Kine and Kindred alike. The black and white striped '50s style dress suit she was wearing was a testament to the time of her Embrace, though coincidentally, the current fashion seemed to draw largely upon the era, which made her look a bit more fashion-oriented than necessary, but whatever. "May I take you to the Primogen?"
 
 By the time she left Caliori, who had received her in on of the galleries on the first floor from which the entire ballroom could be seen (though if the occupants of the gallery could be just as easily seen from downstairs remained an open question), and was making her way to the "conference room" Caliori so graciously allowed her to use for meeting with the rest of the delegation, there were already two small groups and a few individual Kindred in the ballroom. Upon closer inspection, the 7 or 8 feet tall glass panels dividing the large room (which in turn consisted of at least two smaller ones originally) into several more private sections, were largely opaque, but not enough so that an individual could remain hidden between them, and the way they were arranged suggested that they could be seen into from selected vantage points. Sorana suppressed a smirk Enough seclusion to suggest privacy, not enough to actually provide it.. She nodded her greeting, noticing a familiar face in a group of three Kindred standing on the far side of the room, and sadly signaled lack of time for conversation at the moment, hastily exiting the ballroom.
 
 Marinard Chantry
 
 The report was already well underway when Rebecka's head whipped around at the sound of the coarse, Germanic words of a long dead tongue, wailing alarm. She caught the meaning in seconds – the security system had detected an unauthorized use of thaumaturgy within the chantry (when was the last time that ever happened?) and was moving in to neutralize the source. A barely noticeable surge passed through the air, making her draw breath reflexively as the wave of energy moved through her. Most wouldn't have noticed. There were up- as well as down-sides to her mastery of the Sight, though she couldn't decide at the moment which of the two this was. At any rate, the individual targeted by this force was only to be pitied. While it was fairly low ranking apprentices that tended to the wards in the chantry, it had been masters of blood magic that had woven them, and the power they invoked was overwhelming.
 
 Then, as soon as it had begun, it was over. Obviously, the disturbance had been neutralized, whatever it had been. The ancient words reverberating through her head had fallen silent and the air settled down again, leaving only a tingling sensation in her fingertips as a memory of the energy rush. As brief as it had been, in its absence she felt her weariness return seemingly twice as heavy, and she muttered a single word of complaint under her breath
 
 "Damn."
 
 Bishop's Hill 091
 
 "Her? One of the Prince's childer." the Kindred offered in the way of explanation "You know Massicus, right? Yeah, well she's his, uh, sibling. Expect them both start barking orders in a matter of nights, as if having a Ventrue for Prince wasn't bad enough."
 
 "They're not all like that, you know?" one of his companion replied, rolling his eyes "By stereotype, you should be diablerizing someone as we speak, at which I should rebel against 'the system', whatever that is supposed to mean... Anyway, fuck it. What I meant before was that if the 'Prophet of Gehenna' is dead, doesn't it finally prove this whole thing just another myth? I mean even if you were to believe only half the stories about him, you'd think he'd be the one to see it all end. You know, put the lights out after God's Creation ends."
 
 "A-ah, ah. Au contraire. It can just as well be proof that it's already ending; we just haven't noticed it yet. Think about it, what if it doesn't end in some apocalyptic destruction, flood or what have you. What if it goes all silently like, here we are not a worry in the world, at Elysium chit-chatting, guards all around, safest place in town and all the while – as they say – the clock's ticking all the way to seven and it's half past six?"
 
 "You've been feeding near the clinic again, haven't you, Jonah?" the third Kindred laughed
 
 Marinard Chantry
 
 "Damn."
 
 Vielacados cursed as knelt down by the fragile construct of ash vaguely resembling the shape of a man that until mere moments ago had been Novice Albert, shaking his head with regret once. Not because of the fate that the young Tremere had just met, but because of its timing. His spell had all but incapacitated the apprentice sending him sprawling to the floor, which would allow, in the very least, to question Albert before his due punishment if no alleviation for his condition could be found. Or if the Regentia decided no alleviation would be allowed. Being as it was however, the security grid had evaluated the novice as a threat when he invoked the power of the blood in a struggle to counteract Vielacados' binds, and reduced him to mere ash in nearly an instant. The system was comprised of various electronic layers, grids and sub-systems, but governing it was a bound spirit and – as often the case with such primal elemental forces – it was all too eager to utilize the means at its disposal. The case would have to be brought to the Regentia's attention eventually, as the spirit may require additional enchantments placed on it, Vielacados made a mental note. For now however...
 
 "Alright then. Get me all the security tapes on which Albert appeared, I want to know all he has been doing over the last week. I'll be at the monitor room upstairs with Cole, so bring them there when you have everything." he said finally with a sigh, standing up "And have Stein come by before she leaves the chantry."
 
 Bishop's Hill 091
 
 The faint music in the background seemed to carry an almost tangible sense of peace with it. Clear, yet subtle enough to slip under the level of perception most individuals, whether still living or not, could apply. Some of the attending would probably feel the change coming over them after a few minutes in the building, fewer would connect it to something supernatural and fewer still would pinpoint the source of the calm. The feeling wouldn't restrain an all out act of violence, and it wasn't its purpose anyway. But the chances of a heated discussion turning to fangs and claws were reduced by just that much and it was good enough.
 
 A propos discussions.
 
 "...You have to be kidding, what would that accomplish? Just look at L.A. does that look like the way to go? Or, better yet, look at San Francisco." a dark skinned, slightly dishelved looking Kindred clad in a loose fitting suit was saying to his interlocutor
 
 "San Francisco?" the taller man asked over the wine glass he was sipping from, its content a bit thick to actually be wine
 
 "Yeah. It used to be an Anarch city, just like L.A. They've more or less shouldered the Camarilla out for a good couple of decades, far as I know, mostly kept the Sabbat out too. They've had a pretty sweet thing going on for a while. Oh, how they went on about their freedom and independence 'Break the oppression. You've got nothing to lose but your chains!' and talk like that. Show me a living Anarch in San Fran now."
 
 "Man, c'mon, that's different; it was the Easterners that killed the Anarch movement there." the other Kindred interjected
 
 "How is that different? If they meant it about their nonsectarianism, they should have factored the Kuei-Jin just as us or the Sabbat. I say that was still their fuckup, and it proves they don't know what they're talking about. And oh, a propos L.A.," he laughed "you heard the word is now that the Anarchs didn't even actually take the prince down themselves? Supposedly it was one of his own people that dusted him."
 
 "No shit? Heh, but c'mon, that's bull. Though hey, if it were true it'd prove my point: the Anarchs could get one close to a damned Prince to join them, they must be doing something right at least. Don't give me that look, ok? Why else would...?"
 
 "Why 'else'? You're seriously asking why else would someone kill a prince, are you? Jeez. I don't know, mind control? frenzy? maybe they went Sabbat. Maybe they wanted his job. Or maybe they rewired his TIVo wrong and it blew up. Was apparently just a fledgling, way it's told. Hell with it, whatever. My point about the Anarch thing is that they talk about a new order, but it just doesn't amount to anything. Their whole plan is to be anti-Camarilla and anti-Sabbat. You can't build a society on damned contradiction. Sooner or later you have to choose a direction for what... huh, wait, 'scuse me for a second." he said, and lifted his wine glass to a Kindred just entering the main ballroom in greeting. Then he shook his head to the side, pointing at where Pina's boy was making a spectacle of himself, scaring some neonate almost into flight. The Kindred followed his gaze for a second and rolled his eyes. This clearly wasn't improving the general image of Malkavians, they both seemed to agree.
 
 "Friend of yours?"
 
 "Guy from uptown, goes by 'Bitterman', he's Clan." he explained "Anyway, as I was saying..."
 
 Elsewhere in the mansion
 
 "He's early, good. Let me know when the remaining two arrive and show them to the room by the west library." Sorana said to the ghoul who informed her that the Malkavian had arrived at the mansion. Then, as the ghoul was already at the door she thought better of it "Wait. Inform me when the Tremere woman appears, you may miss the other one." even if the Nosferatu would use the front door, odds were he'd be disguised way beyond the ghoul's recognition. And even an undisguised Nosferatu may be hard to find, seeing as there would be at least a couple attending tonight. She would find him herself; Caliori hadn't restricted her access to the galleries. When all of them were present she could get the introduction and any questions out of the way, then they would all still have up to two hours until their flight. With any luck, the 'official' part of the Elysium wouldn't last longer than that, after all, after her Sire arrives it was only a question of minutes if there were no complications, and even if there was a relatively large estimated number of new arrivals to Cawford, who were expected to present themselves to the newly appointed Prince, Rocher wasn't one for pretense until now. There had to be protocol, but wasting half a night wasn't his style.                        

 

                                                  

Offline [archive] Killer39787726

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Re: Family Business
« Reply #118 on: May 10, 2006, 07:47:00 PM »
                I had been drinking from the winos downstairs. Long time vices died hard I suppose.
 I thought it would help me relax, all it did was to arouse the ghosts in my head.
 
 The past was a gaping hole. I try to run from it, but the more I run, the deeper, more terrible it grew behind me, its edges yawning at my heels. My only chance was to turn around and face it. But it was like looking down into the grave of my love. Or kissing the mouth of a gun, a bullet trembling in its dark nest, ready to blow my head off. This is what I see when I look back. These moments, blinding as snow, they killed me, changed me, I died and lived again. Remade.
 
 The world was out of joint. I was hallucinating. I had to get away.
 
 Through the blinds night-time was crawling in, laden with foreboding.
 
 If I was going to play bodyguard, I had to pull my act together. It would be a good idea to make a recoinassence of the manor before the party started, maybe try to get more info out of Caliori.
 
 I stood up and reached for the coat. Then I grabbed my beretta, enjoying its comforting weight. It was like embracing an old friend. The stolen clothes from last night seemed the ones suitable for the occasion. The only ones without blood stains or cheap liquor smell. Someone once said I was a Gucci-esque killer.
 
 I took a long drag of my smoke. Somewhere down below a car alarm burst into life, a banshee wail on the cold night air. I crushed the cigarette out on the wooden window-ledge.
 
 As I made my way across the streets, I tried to shake off a crushing guilt. Was this running away from my problems? Above me a halogen street-light burst rudely into life, a gentle hum filling the cold air. Was I just a moth, blindly following the light, thinking that it would solve all my problems?
 
 With no way to deal with the past, I kept my eyes on the road. I chased lesser mysteries. Other people crimes. We’re all guilty of something if you look hard enough.
                       

 

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           Cant we all just get along?...No? Ok...then i will just rip your head off.    
                                                  

Offline [archive] Bloodreaper33413943

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Re: Family Business
« Reply #119 on: May 18, 2006, 04:46:00 AM »
                Marie drew in yet another breath as she entered the mansion.  She knew that they were uneccessary, but indulged the old habit all the same.  In the back of her mind, she wondered in such actions would be considered as social blunders among her kind.  As she made the last few steps up the steps and through the doors, she forced her chest to remain still.  After only a moments concentration, she had managed to stop herself from breathing entirly.  It wasn't at all as difficult as she thought it would be.  Indeed, this total lack of breath now seemed more natural than the masquerade of taking breath.
 
 She wished she had had time to check hair once more.  Arinna had helped her with it upon her awakening.  She thought back to that time.  She had awoken with the usual disorienting feeling of all of her limbs filling with blood and coming to life.  It was as if she died each sunrise and had to claw her way to the world of the living each sunset.  Arinna had been in the corner, curled into a ball and shaking.  Marie's first feeling was of annoyance.  What did this woman have to complain about when SHE had to suffer through the motions of death each sunset.  She wanted to throttle the girl, show her what REAL fear really felt like.  She had stalked over, ready to take out the pain in her own soul upon this quivering maggot, when Arinna looked up.  Her eyes were swollen from crying for hours.  When Marie looked into those eyes, she saw fear, but also... adoration.  Despite all that Arinna had been through, she looked upon Marie like a child upon it's mother.  She was reminded of herself suddenly.  How could she even consider harming this girl?  It would be like killing a part of herself.  In Arinna, she saw the innocent girl who was dying night by night.  Instantly, all of her anger melted away and she pulled the ghoul into her arms and softly stroked her hair, trying to push away the fear.  When she was finished, she gently ran her left fang over her lower lip, slicing the skin and letting a single bead of reddish black vitae rise to the surface.  She then guided Arinna's head upward and captured her in a deep kiss, letting the cursed blood flow into the girl's mouth.  When Marie broke the kiss, she looked into Arinna's face and saw the glassy eyed look of total euphoria.
 
 She had then had Arinna help her change into the green, strapless dress she had bought earlier.  She smiled and the knowledge that in her mortal life, mother would never had allowed her to wear such a revealing garment.  Arinna had styled her hair into a simple ponytail, and although it was a simple style, Marie fussed over constantly before she left, making Arinna check it again and again.  Before leaving the apartment, she asked Arinna if she had her own apartment in the city.  Arinna had said yes and supplied the address and telephone number.  Marie told her to go there and wait for her.  She decided that although she was grateful to Neil for letting her use his apartment, she would feel better having her own haven to stay at.  Besides, it would also mean that she was a little bit less in his debt.
 
 In the present, she made her way through the lavish halls of the elysium.  When she entered the main reception area, she stopped for a moment and took in all she heard and saw.  Guests in various forms of dress were quietly mingling, as well as attendants who carried crystal flutes of red liquid.  Marie had little trouble guessing what that liquid was, but was slightly surprised that it was offered so openly.  She saw no one she recognized, which didn't really surprise her.  She allowed herself one last breath before diving into this sea of sharks posing as humans.                        

 

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