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PNP Roleplay => Interactive Story Board => Topic started by: [archive] Signothorn on October 03, 2005, 05:06:00 PM

Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Signothorn on October 03, 2005, 05:06:00 PM
               
 
 As soon as the stretch limo pulled up to the curb one of the guards approached it, and opened the door for it's passengers. A tall, striking brunette in a sinfully expensive gown gracefully accepted the hand offered to her and got out of the car. She looked around, noticing with satisfaction several other vehicles parked in front of the restaurant. Everyone appeared to be here already, which meant they were forced to wait for her and her companion. Ah, nothing like a good entrance.
 
 "Hurry up, Vincent. We don't want keep the Council waiting... much longer." she said to the man following her out of the limousine "Rocher must have a sore leg from tapping his foot while glaring at the clock already." she added, awarding the guard next to her a brilliant smile, which sent all sorts of signals to various parts of his body.
 
 "Vincent" meanwhile got out of the car and surveyed the scene before him. The "René Magritte" was as exclusive a restaurant as they get - marble floors and crystal chandeliers, live music and world class cuisine, the whole nine yards - and tonight it was closed to anyone but the Primogen, their entourages and the security. To most passers-by it would appear this was some sort of an exclusive suit-and-tie event, or a noble family gathering perhaps, both of which weren't that far from the truth when you though about it, Vincent realized. The parking was occupied by a rental stretch, not unlike the one he just got out of, an A-Class Benz with tinted windows, a gray Range Rover and several other uncharacteristic but expensive vehicles, most of which he guessed to be additional security.
 Well, security was a must. Even if the gathering inside consisted of the most powerful Kindred in the city (or perhaps precisely because of that), and even though the recent Sabbat attack has been thwarted, Cawford wasn't a completely safe place. Truth was that despite the acclaimed Camarilla victory in the war for the East Coast in general, and the local success in defending the city, there were still a few Sabbat stragglers around and reportedly even the occasional firefight on the South Side. Officially? Cawford wasn't even under regular attack, according to Camarilla protocol. In reality, true - the Sabbat didn't lead a full scale assault, choosing only a few targets instead and striking at them with a surgeon's precision (and a jackhammer's discretion), effectively crippling the local Kindred network as well as decapitating the Camarilla ruling body. Normally the few Sabbat vampires who slipped into the city would've been taken care of in one night, but this wasn't "normally", and without much doubt the situation wouldn't change soon. Still, the tide has been broken globally, and now damage had to be assessed, losses accounted and influences re-established. So even if the ashes of the late Cawford Prince haven't yet settled, already there was vying for power and territory. This was so Camarilla, Vincent mused.  
 
 "Waiting..." the brunette said pointedly, brushing aside a stray lock of hair, breaking his distraction.
 
 "Sorry." he smiled at her offering his arm, after which they entered the building and were escorted through the hall, past the private lounges and to a separate room on the back of the building. They may have the entire restaurant to themselves and security to boot, but the Council of Primogen wasn't going to be held in plain view nonetheless.
 
 The room was all western tapestry, large mirrors, stylized chairs and tables - some of which were holding various printouts and maps while the rest has been shoved aside, allowing a large round table to dominate the floor. A makeshift model of the city sat in its middle, littered with colored confetti-like markers, and several chairs stood around it, most occupied. All the various paraphernalia strewn about gave the gathering a very military-conference sort of feel. Were the Prince's court in a lesser state of disarray, the Council would certainly have been held there, but as the Brujah had went through a lot of trouble to turn it into an impenetrable fortress it was naturally one of the first targets on the Sabbat's list. Now the battered interiors of Lydia's domain were too much of a reminder how much a single Pack can complicate matters, and so a different locale has been chosen for the meeting.
 
 "Ms. Isabel Caliori and Mr. Vincent Reed." their escort announced, after which he promptly left and closed the double doors behind him. Vincent glanced around the table as Isabel made some halfhearted excuse for their late arrival. She might have made the impression of taking the Council as a whole all but serious, but like every so often, such impressions were deceiving. In fact, not only did she choose the restaurant for the meeting, but it were also her... employees, who were in charge of the majority of preparations and security. She also had Vincent prepare for this night, even if he was only a pro forma participant, he'd spent a few hours looking at photos and reading through dossiers. Isabel would not have her Childe attend such a gathering ignorant of the Kindred he would meet. Let's see...
 
 The first couple on the left were Joachim Neillsen, the infamous Brujah Primogen, along with his right hand – Evelyn. They were a comically mismatched set – the Primogen a burly, sour looking man of advanced age garbed in a loose-fitting suit, his enforcer a lithe woman Embraced in her early teens, dressed in baggy sportswear, which made her seem even smaller than she actually was. Nevertheless, they were both powers to be reckoned with, if in different ways. Next to them sat Regentia Anna Johnston of clan Tremere, accompanied by one of her adepts – Marc... Marc... Viel-something, a bigshot. Vincent couldn't recall the Kindred's full name and he hoped he wasn't forced to use it during the evening. Of course, being a neonate among Primogen meant he wasn't very likely to have a chance to speak at all, which suited him just as well. Moving on, he ran his eyes to the next two Kindred, one of which was standing now, speaking his greetings to him and Isabel.
 
 "Welcome. Isabel. Vincent. We were beginning to worry you've encountered some difficulties on your way here, glad to hear it's not the case." he spoke with that artificial familiarity one normally used with his distant but wealthy cousin who could leave a large inheritance one day. However when Eric Rocher spoke it, you almost believed it – or wanted to do so. Rocher, the Ventrue Primogen and soon-to-be Prince, with his eldest Childe Sorana by his side, the initiator of this meeting. An imposing man, reportedly a natural born speaker and leader even before his Embrace into clan Ventrue, who's sheer presence and personality left very few, whether Kine or Kindred, not feeling dwarfed by. Isabel was one of those few however, and as they traded greetings, Vincent had a moment to cast a brief glance at the remaining Kindred. The next two fashion disasters were Victor Pina - the soon to be appointed Primogen for the Malkavians, staring at the exchange between Isabel and Rocher with a cynically raised eyebrow while his companion, known only as Nook, scribbled something on the table with a fork. So far he got the letters P, Q and H (or a leaping frog perhaps). While Pina was generally well respected and competent, Nook was... disturbing, even for a Malk. Apparently he cut out his tongue out before his Embrace, and had a curious... "habit"... of cutting off other parts of his body afterwards. Tonight his face and what was exposed of his forearms were covered in scars, and considering the curative effect of the vampire blood, those cuts must've been recent. Why Pina would bring him to the Council was... well, probably not all that surprising. Reasonable or not, he was a Malkavian after all, Vincent supposed. Still, the madman make shivers run down his spine.
 Finally, there was the Nosferatu Primogen, Hernandez, known among his own as Hunchback Hernandez for quite obvious reasons, as his posture reminded vaguely of a walking paragraph. Isabel had spoken highly of him though, in that grudging but honest sort of way, which was quite rare for the Primogen, so there had to be something to the misshapen Kindred. The uncharacteristically looking male of Caucasian complexion who sat beside Hernandez would be his protégé, Doe, probably masking his true appearance for their collective benefit. The Primogen either didn't remember to do so or didn't care enough. Reed took his place beside Isabel and the meeting officially had begun, as Pina was unanimously offered the position of Primogen.
 
 Evelyn was bored out of her mind. She glanced at her watch, to note with surprise that only little over two hours has passed since the Torrie chick arrived and they got started. She could've sworn half of the night has went by already. Damn, she was so going to kick Joachim's ass for dragging her along. Well, not really. The Brujah elder intimidated even her, even though she'd known him for half a century. But he'd get an earful, she swore herself that. She had to admit she was curious, and even honored in a way when she'd been picked as "representative for Clan Brujah", but by now, her curiosity sated, she felt like a five year old on the big boys' playground. This weren't the streets, and her voice didn't carry weight here, which didn't sit well with someone used to being in charge of her turf. I mean shit, she though to herself, don't the Prince's people deal with all of this crap? Assign-feeding-grounds. Establish-domains. My ass, Donald Trump. Then again, Cawford didn't yet formally have a Prince, and while Rocher could as well have held the meeting at his court and nobody would have argued much, there had to be protocol, so for now the Council had to deal with such matters. Evelyn paid scant attention to what was being said until a familiar name caught her ear.
 
 "...all he way to Munroe, after all. That is also the next point on our list tonight." Rocher was saying. Munroe, the Giovanni controlled city north of Cawford was a considerable thorn in the Cam's side ever since the Sabbat assault on the East Coast had begun. This did pick up Evelyn's interest, but she tried not to show it.  
 
 "After the Sabbat has declared it's intentions toward the city, in that narrow-minded self-destructive way of theirs, all alliances between the Giovanni and them would appear to be broken." Rocher continued "Now, taking anything coming from the Giovanni at face value is a pretty poor concept, but in the light of the recent events and our contribution to the defense of the city against the Sabbat att..."
 
 Hernandez snorted.
 
 "Contribution... We should've let them bloody take it. Punking it out with the surviving Sabbat would've been simpler than negotiating with the corpse-fuckers, and the city would've been ours by now." he said, looking up from the printout he'd been making a show of reading intently, when obviously if anyone knew those reports front-to-back, it were the Nosferatu "We'd have them kissing our ass for permission to crawl back into their havens. Instead, we bled for them and now have to go ask for acknowledging the favor, while they're none the worse for wear."
 
 An uncomfortable silence fell. No one countered Hernandez's assessment, since everyone was thinking the same thing. The Giovanni wanted to play both sides against the middle during the Sabbat offensive, and as the confrontation got more intense both the Camarilla and the Sabbat found themselves desperately needing the influence and resources that the Giovanni could supply. Before any definitive deals were made though, the local Sabbat apparently decided they were fed up with negotiations and they'd simply take what they needed, without asking for permission. Munroe found itself under attack, and the Camarilla bigwigs decided it was for the best to aid in it's defense, reasoning that this would seal an alliance with the Giovanni (the logic behind this was questioned heavily afterwards). As things stood right now, the Inner Circle was apparently expecting keys to the city handed to them, while the Giovanni figured a "Thank You" card would suffice.
 
 A wet "thud" sound drew everyone's attention to Nook, who snickered after jabbing the fork he was holding into his palm. Victor Pina - that is - Primogen Victor Pina smirked.
 
 "This about sums up our situation in that episode, yes?" he asked, playing with his earring idly.
 
 "Perhaps... though the past cannot be changed." Rocher was the first to recover "And it's not entirely like you're putting it, Raul. Regardless, we have recently made contact with the Giovanni of Munroe and a meeting with their representatives has been arranged, at which precisely this matter can be discussed furth..."
 
 "Vhere?" Neillsen's question interrupted him "Vhere iz this meeting suppozed to take place?" he added in his thick accent that he never bothered to lose, making sure the word "meeting" was said with as much contempt as possible. Neillsen wasn't necessarily as blunt as he liked to let on, but he wasn't one to veil his opinions. Rocher shuffled uncomfortably.
 
 "Willow Grove, Munroe City. Before you protest the idea though..." he replied and raised his hand, cutting off Hernandez's and Johnston's vetoes a millisecond before they were voiced "Ahem. It is not a meeting "on their terms". The Giovanni intended to uphold the status quo for as long as possible, but with the recent turbulent happenings in mind, that status quo is no longer an option."
 
 "Most likely. But have you told them that, Eric?" Caliori interjected "Or is this just the official Camarilla opinion? Because you know where they usually have our opinions."
 
 "As a matter of fact, it was they who proposed the meeting." said Rocher "Having lost some of their allies during the recent events, the Giovanni would... negotiate a treaty. They are, apparently, willing to seal Munroe's gates to the Sabbat altogether."
 
 "As if they could pull it off. And in exchange...?" Hernandez asked
 
 "They haven't specified their terms. Seeing as they're pretty much cut off from their branch in Pittsburgh though, most likely the way they would have it, we grant them free transport routes as well as acces to some of our infrastructure."
 
 "The fuck??" Evelyn said. All this commotion because of that? Then she grew completely still, having realized she had spoken out loud. Eyes were directed at her and she was again acutely aware she was a kid among ancients, when the Torrie chick laughed and broke the silence.
 
 "A refreshing perspective."  
 
 "Care to elaborate?" Rocher asked, turning to the Brujah
 
 "Well... we, I mean the Camarilla, doesn't control the fu... the roads. Why would anyone need permission to go to Pittsburgh? ...Sir." Evelyn answered hesitantly ]b]Did I[/b] just call that limpdick Ventrue "sir". she mocked herself mentally, and strained to calm down "And... like, if even we can't make a city tight enough that the Sabbat assholes don't get in – how they gon' "seal" their city, if they don't have half of our numbers?"
 
 "We do not need to place armed guards along roads in order to control them, Miss Bradley." Rocher said with a bemused smile How'd that anal limpdick know her name anyway? She hadn't used it in years "The Camarilla wouldn't claim a single city by that rationale. Where a single vehicle can move freely, a whole transport caravan won't go unnoticed."
 
 "Likevise, the Giovanni don't have to drive all Sabbat out of their city or allov none to enter. It's all about the... "persona non grata" tag, so they know they're not velcome. There's a difference between valking the street and ducking behind fences." Joachim had picked up where Rocher left Hmph. Persona non whatta. Since when do you talk Ventrue, your majesty. Evelyn eyed her elder sourly while Rocher spoke.
 
 "Of course, Cawford cannot remain without even one of it's Primogen at the moment, but let us not downplay the Giovanni offer. The fact that they need us more than we need them is one of the prequisites for succesfull negotiations after all." he said. In a way he had a point, but as a matter of fact the Camarilla didn't need an alliance with the Giovanni as much as it did only months ago. Still, sealing it would be a badge of honor to anyone "Now, proper... conduct requires that our representatives be no thin-blooded vassals, this is a matter of utmost importance after all. Therefore Jullian will lead the delegation to Munroe, which is to speak with the Giovanni on the Cmarilla's behalf."
 
 "A really subtle way to keep all the credit, putting matters into the hands of your own Childe like that." Caliori chuckled.
 
 "Quite not so. He has conducted business with both the Giovanni and their associates before, so they will have one less reason to be mistrustful." Rocher replied. This information may have been only half true, but that wasn't a concern of the remaining Primogen. One must not appear to be acting in self-interest only though "And of course, assistance in this matter will be necessary."
 
 Sorana noticed knowing glances being exchanged and she wondered who would be first to act upon the opportunity to gain leverage. Both the Torrie chick and Johnston weren't likely to pass it up, but before any of them could react - to everyone's surprise - Pina spoke.
 
 "The emissary needs... soldiers. We will provide." he finished, smiling knowingly to himself. Rocher seemed to give that some thought at first but nodded with satisfaction
 
 "Of course Victor, whoever you feel is best suited." he replied. A smirk crossed Johnston's face for a second. Yes, of course, Pina's madmen will help this indefinitely.
 
 "Quite. Marc will assist you in this, he..." she began, but was interrupted
 
 "No, Anna. We need your people here now. There's still much to be done, and Mr. Vielacados' presence, you'll concede, is much more required in Cawford presently." Rocher said, and turned to Neillsen before she could answer.
 
 "Vrite us out. Ve have other things to do than run messages for you." The Brujah wasn't a fan of politics, and didn't bother pretending otherwise. Or more precisely perhaps – he wasn't a fan of politics if it didn't suit him at the moment. "Things that aren't a vaste of time." Rocher accepted the answer with a brief nod.
 
 Caliori only gestured at Neillsen, meaning "likewise".
 
 "Very well. It would also most likely prove wise to have someone with an... understanding for subtlety in recognition... along." Rocher said, turning to Hernandez. The Nosferatu let out a raspy sigh.
 
 "Are you putting us into this just so it doesn't look like the Venture field trip that it really is? You know my take on this matter already. You knew it before, didn't listen, and look what it brought us. Now our people are supposed to risk their necks for what we don't need or want anyway? Pfeh." he shook his head in disgust. Johnston meant to interject, but Hernandez spoke first "Yes, yes, you'll get your support. You know how I just live for your plans." having said which he turned to the man beside him, and tapped a tapering claw on a piece of paper he was holding. The man nodded briefly and took the paper from Hernandez.
 
 Rocher smirked and continued without paying that exchange any mind "Good. It is settled then. They should handle the matter well enough." If anyone had looked at Johnston at this moment he would have seen her expression grow wide-eyed and give Rocher an incredulous look, though she remained silent as he continued "The delegation will leave for Munroe in two nights time." No one bothered questioning the delay, the Venture never ran. "As for the means of transport..." he looked down on a chart on the table "There is a private line we have some stock in, which will do nicely."
 
 Having finished that matter, the Council moved on to the tedious task of dividing territories of the recently deceased, or otherwise incapacitated Kindred – like Lydia's sheriff who slipped into torpor from his wounds, which dragged on for what seemed like an eternity. Finally however, the matter also was dealt with, and after ascertaining there were no other issues, Rocher stood again.
 
 "I believe this concludes our business for tonight, as I'm sure, no – in fact I know we all have things to attend to." he spoke with satisfaction after glancing at the papers spread on the table in front of him.
 
 After a while the Kindred slowly filed out, some deep in conversation, taking much of the documents with them. Rocher gave his Childe the sign to go as well as he left behind to gather up his papers. Once done with it he turned around to face the table, only to see Johnston still in her chair, leaned back, arms crossed, staring at him expectantly.
 
 "Now what was that all about?" she said accusingly before he spoke himself
 
 "Pardon me?" he cocked his head to the side quizzically
 
 "Oh, quit that, will you. Are you trying to shoulder us out of the Munroe deal?" she laughed "Send in Pina's lunatics as what, comic relief perhaps? You're going to need us there." she didn't so much as mention the Nosferatu's contribution as it was self-explanatory.
 
 "I'm not sure why you treat this so seriously, Anna. We've called this a "delegation" too freely, it's not ev..."
 
 "No, no, no. Call it whatever you like, I've got apprentices back at the Chantry to argue on semantics with. I'm asking what that little display before was supposed to mean."
 
 "The only thing I'm trying to do is protect your people from taking more heat. If this goes sour, do you really want having your own in the epicenter? I'm not shoving you aside, we wouldn't be here tonight if it weren't for..."
 
 "Trying to protect... Stop being so patronizing. And feed those flatteries to the Toreador, they're the ones falling for them. Or to that fucking Viking, Neillsen, he so loves to beat his chest. I'm too old to be blown off like this, and far, far too old to play games with." she stood by now "You may almost be Prince, but there's still that "almost", Eric. You need the vote to be unanimous to mean anything." she walked up to him, so their faces were mere inches away "The world is flat, Copernicus, unless we all agree otherwise." Rocher held her gaze for a long moment. She backed away. They stood in silence for a while. It wasn't hard to see those two had a history.
 
 "I see. If that's how you want to have it." she said straightening her shirt, spun around and walked towards the door. She already had her hand on the door knob when he spoke. "Alright. Fine." that stopped her in place, though she didn't turn around, forcing him to talk to her back.
 
 "Fine." Rocher said again in a more casual tone. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, and added after a pause "But not Vielacados. Can't have you send your second in command, not now. There's too many people pointing fingers at your back already, quite regardless what you think of it, and tensions are too high to play with them. I won't risk it, I'm sorry. Pick someone else, Anna, someone lower on the ladder." he finished wearily. Johnston didn't turn around to face him nonetheless.
 
 "As you say, my Prince." she said with just a hint of sarcasm and left without another word triumphantly. It was not every day that Eric Rocher was changing his mind. Not every day that he was being forced to change his mind. Clan Tremere would not be outcast, put second to the Malkavians of all clans, not if she had anything to say about it.
 
 Rocher sighed slowly, picked up his briefcase and set it on the table. He just stood there for a while, staring at the door thoughtfully. Finally, when he heard the last set of doors close, he allowed himself a small smile. This turned out indefinitely easier than he'd imagined – he really thought he'd be forced to allow Vielacados to tag along, and the presence of Johnston's right hand man would complicate his plans indefinitely.                        

 

                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Grendel8101 on October 04, 2005, 02:11:00 AM
                The guards were coming, he could hear their footsteps.  They liked to stomp, letting their victims know they where they were.  Would they grab him this time?  Wallace?  Thompkins?  No, that was right.  Thompkins had made them angry.  He’d never given in, spitting in their faces and being beaten into unconsciousness.  He would be revived and then would start the cycle over again.  Last time he’d seen Thompkins, the man had been sitting in the corner of his cell, staring at the wall and drooling.  He doubted what was left of Thompkins was still there.  Easier to drag him into the jungle and let him rot.
   
   Bitterman had cracked the first day, the first hour.  Problem was, he didn’t know what they wanted to know.  Lately he’d been making shit up, just to get them off his back for awhile.  The last lie had been a big one.  Once they checked it they would probably kill him.  
   
   The boots stopped outside his cell.  Bitterman started to cry.
 ____________________________________________________________
   
   I’m awake and shaking.  Nightmares.  Vampires aren’t supposed to dream.  But every night I wake up covered in blood from the sweat and the tears.  The smell of it makes me hungry.  
   
   Ã¢â‚¬Å“Boss?â€?  Star was standing in the doorway.  Small, pretty, Vietnamese.  The ghoul looked like my Maggie.  She could have been Maggie’s twin sister.  Of course they’d all looked alike to me, so maybe I’m just putting Star’s face on Maggie’s body.  
   
   Wouldn’t be the craziest thing I’ve ever done.
   
   Ã¢â‚¬Å“Boss?â€? she repeated.  I’d been staring at her.  And smelling her.  And hearing her pulse.  I’d turned on my super-senses without even realizing it.  Shit.  I hadn’t fed last night.
   
   Before Maggie could blink I had my fangs in her throat.  Ã¢â‚¬Å“Me love American.  I love you long time.â€? she’d always say.  Then we’d go up to her apartment…
   
   I let Star go.  Star wasn’t Maggie.  Maggie had been a cheap whore I’d had a thing for.  Maggie hadn’t even spoke English, outside of the typical “me love Americanâ€? shit.
 
   I remembered to lick the wound before tossing her on the bed.  Her pulse was steady, she was breathing.  She’d be alright, I just couldn’t feed from her for awhile.  Old needle marks littered her tattooed arm.  She’d stopped using when I’d told her to stop.  It’d been easy for her, she had another addiction to fall back on.  I’ve been clean two years and I still find myself thinking about that dope house in Redbrock.  And all its helpless little junkies…
 
   I walked into the bathroom and looked into the mirror.  I never look more like a typical member of my bloodline than after a good nightmare session.  My prisoner’s beard and my hair are matted with blood.  I chuckle at myself just to get the point across.
   
   Shower and a shave later and I’m standing in the living room, half dressed, leaning against my big picture window.  College brats poured into Charlie’s like locusts.  Karaoke night.  If I wasn’t damned before, I sure was now.  
 
   I turned from the window and finished dressing.  I had to get out of here for awhile.  I can’t stand being cooped up for too long.  Especially on karaoke night.
 
   I slipped on my leather jacket and grabbed that damned phone-thing my ghouls gave me.  I set the electronic lock behind me and went downstairs.  I could smell tobacco and beer, and I could hear a really horrible rendition of “Walk This Wayâ€?.  Yeah, it was time to go.
 
   I came out of the back room and nodded at my ghoul Mal, the head bartender.  I made my way to the till and grabbed some cash.  Money flows like water on a night like this.  The I.R.S was only going to see about half of it.  I grab Mal’s shoulder before leaving.  Ã¢â‚¬Å“Go check up on Star every now and again, make sure you bring her some food.â€?  he nodded.  Good ghoul.  No stupid questions.
 
   Behind the bar is a garage with my 1970 Mustang.  She’s black and sleek and runs like a dream.  I’ve got two Barracuda’s and another ‘Stang in a garage, but this is my favorite to drive.
 
   An hour later I’m sailing down the empty highway.  The Doors are on the radio and undeath is fairly sweet.  I knew something big was coming up back then, but I wasn’t sure what it had to do with me.  
 
   Probably should’ve kept on driving.                        

 

                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Sodom40280831 on October 05, 2005, 11:56:00 AM
                In a gadda-da-vidda honey
 Don’t you know that I love you
 In a gadda-da-vidda baby
 Don’t you know that I’ll always be true.

 
 Nail was quietly singing to himself as he observed the teenage girl who had lost her way in the Cemetery. Thinking to himself how easy it had been to lure her there, just mask yourself as a handsome playboy in his early twenties and they always come running, it wasn’t even good sport anymore. Oh well, better put the helpless little bimbo out of her misery, Nail thought to himself as he emerged from his hiding place and approached the girl as an unseen presence.
 
 When he was just a few inches away from her he removed his invisibility and tapped her on the shoulder. She turned around with a look of eager anticipation on her face as she expected to see her handsome playboy. That look quickly turned to horror as she found herself staring at the Nosferatu’s horrid face. Nail always treasured those looks, he took a few seconds to appreciate it before he sank his teeth into her neck.
 
 For the past few days Nail had had to live on a strict diet of rats as he had patrolled the sewer, now that that chore had been done Nail could finally have a taste of some first rate kine once again and he planned to enjoy it to the fullest. However after only a few seconds of feeding Nail noticed the girls body had suddenly gotten heavier so he let go of her and let her body fall to the ground, lifeless. Nail stared at the body with a slight look of amazement in his eyes.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Dead already? I don’t believe this! Don’t these youngsters know anything about taking care of themselves? What kind of a person goes out on the town when their health is this bad?!â€?
 
 Nail was angrily shouting at the corpse for a few minutes before he calmed down, he figured he should probably get rid of it or he was in for a major masquerade violation so he looked around for a place to hide the body. Fortunately for him he was in a cemetery so a place to hide a corpse shouldn’t be so hard to find. So Nail grabbed the girl’s lifeless body by the hair and started dragging her to the large mausoleum in the centre of the cemetery. Once he was inside Nail started checking the tags on the coffins, “Andrew Wilkinson 1920-1996â€?, “Sara Livingston 1916-1993â€?. Ah this was a good one: â€?little Timmy Johnston 1990-1999â€?  Nail opened the Coffin (which was adult-sized) and found himself looking at the half-decayed body of a nine-year-old  boy.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Hey there Timmy ya lil’slugger, you’re looking good this evening. Y’know Timmy, I brought a friend with me and she is so excited to meet you she could just die, OOPS, TOO LATE! Well you don’t mind sharing your coffin with this lovely young lady, do you? Of course you don’t.â€?
 
 Nail was laughing his head off as he unceremoniously dumped the girl’s corpse into the oversized coffin, After he folded her legs into what would have been an uncomfortable position were she still alive the two bodies fit perfectly in the coffin. Before he closed the lid Nail took one last look at the two.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Kids these daysâ€?
 
 Nail closed the lid, slid the coffin back into the wall and left the mausoleum. Before leaving the cemetery Nail took a small moment to look at the night sky, the good thing about being underground most of the time is that you learn to appreciate what’s above ground so much more than most people do. Nail disguised himself once again using the mask of a thousand faces, left the cemetery and disappeared in the crowd.  
                       

 

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           I'm so serious it's comical!    
                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Year_of_the_Scarab on October 05, 2005, 02:08:00 PM
                Corner of Peacock Alley and 5th.
 
 Victor Pina read the street names and wondered. What was he doing here? He looked around. Did he just leave that café behind him? He didn't seem to have been drinking coffee... No, wait. That's right. He didn't drink coffee nowadays, or even eat food for that matter. He smiled to himself. Vampire-thing, he'd forgotten again. Maybe he should write it down, least he starts walking the streets during the day or something. Oh, he could do it, of course. The sun wouldn't hurt him, pfeh, it was just a game after all.
 He began walking. Music was coming from his earphones, it wasn't bad but he didn't really listen. Around him, the puppets, his puppets, walked from and into the café, talked and laughed pretending they really had a life of their own. Victor Pina wasn't fooled. He knew the truth, and it made him smile again. It was all just a dream.
 See, Victor has had a car accident, nothing major, but he ended up in a coma. From the brief glimpses into reality he had, he guessed he was in a hospital, hooked up to some life-support machines, doctors checking on him regularly. Others too, though he couldn't place their faces... family? friends? He didn't know, but he hoped he'd remember when he wakes up. He will wake up eventually.
 For now though, his subconsciousness has created this world for him, so that he had somewhere to go with his thoughts during the long hours of his sleep. At first he didn't want to play a part in it, but with time, he came to appreciate the subtleties, and even began adding creations of his own. Like magic, ghosts, werewolves and vampires... yeah, it was silly, he knew, but it gave him something to do, otherwise he feared he might go crazy.
 
 For some time now, Victor's creations began developing a will of their own. They would plot and scheme and even wage wars against each other, even though he'd never allowed them to do so. It was like a soap-opera-gone-bad, but he'd play along. Hell - he even accepted the position they've offered him tonight. Primogen Victor Pina... His own vanity made him chuckle... they've spoken highly of him, praised and flattered him. Being creations of his subconscious, they only spoke his own image of himself. He felt mildly embarrassed.
 That reminded him of another thing - he'd sent Nook to find someone. But who? He had no idea... He knew his creations were sending out puppets of their own to another city, claiming it was for their collective benefit, but in truth all they wanted was to further their own goals, each one having secrets from the other. Victor knew he must guide them, lest they tear each other apart and kill his dream – that he couldn't risk. He feared he might lose his mind if they did.
 
 Still, he couldn't recall which puppet he would use for this. No, not a puppet. A toy soldier rather. Which one, which one... Well, no matter, Nook would remember. Nook always did. He was his alter ego after all. Victor's mind created Nook to vent the anger which would overcome him when his creations behaved other than he'd like. Fearing he might break from the stress, he took all of this anger and made it a separate being. He couldn't recall when exactly, but Nook has been with him ever since.
 
 Victor had spoken with, no, spoken to him tonight after they'd left the oh-so-official meeting (Victor's puppets were so cute when they were acting all big and political...). He'd held Nook by the shoulders, and forced him to focus.
 
 "Go. Find who we need." he had said. Nook was distracted and agitated, as he usually was. "Find him." Victor had repeated. Nook bared his teeth and hissed. "Find. Him." Victor said again, growing angry himself. That got through - Nook eventually nodded and shook free of the hold. He'd understood. People feared Nook, and they were right to do so. Even Victor himself would wonder at times, what did it say about him, if his darker half was so bloodthirsty... But such thoughts led nowhere, Victor knew, so he brushed them aside and looked around for some entertainment.
 
 Nook would find whoever it was he needed.
 
 Elsewhere.
 
 The Nosferatu cleared the way as their Primogen stormed through the corridors. Old Hunchback was in a sour mood pretty much on a regular basis, but lately he's been downright scary. Conversations died down at his passing and wary glances were exchanged. Only after the elder had disappeared in his lair did the atmosphere ease down. Not for all though.
 Snake Eyes scratched his chin for the umpteenth time, standing outside the Warren Chief's door. He had news for the Primogen, but what with bad news and killing the messenger... Perhaps he should've used the intercom? That's what it was for in the first place, right? Then again, you couldn't gauge the Chief's reaction over the intercom. Well, he could not just stand there forever.
 
 "Um... ?" he began eloquently, sticking his head brazenly halfway through the door
 
 "For crying out loud. I was beginning to think you've grown roots there. What is it?" Hernandez asked without looking up from whatever he was studying on the battered monitor on his desk
 
 "Doe and Pauline got back from Chesterfield..." Snake Eyes replied meekly. This time the Primogen did look up, he'd sent out for John Doe a while ago. Nothing came. He began tapping his claws on the desk expectantly. John and Pauline were tracking down a clever little Lasombra, who slipped under the Cam radar and disappeared somewhere in Mornington after his Pack got obliterated a couple of nights ago. Hunchback didn't like leaving loose ends behind, so the Brood was to localize and dispatch this visitor. Last night's info was that he was laying low in a warehouse on Chesterfield, and Doe, Hernandez's right hand, and Pauline went to finish the business. The Lasombra wouldn't pose much threat to Pauline, much less to Doe by himself, so the matter should have been resolved easily enough. Emphasis on "should".
 
 "Aaand...?" The Primogen spoke in a tone reserved for idiots and very, very little children. Snake cleared his throat yet again.
 
 "Pauline's in sick bay and Johnny D's out cold Trish says he's torpored dunno for how long." he spit the sentence out in a single breath and got ready to duck whatever might get hurled at him. The elder didn't throw anything though, or even raise his voice. Instead he flicked his talons, motioning for Snake to continue "Bad recon. We thought that creep would be alone and hurt, but he got a bunch of armed Kine together and got the drop on Johnny. He gutted a few but took a bullet to the head. Pauline got plugged too, but she'd dragged him away in time."
 
 "Ghouls?" Hernandez asked, but cut Snake's reply off, thinking better of it "Doesn't matter. Pauline is to be commended, tell her she did good, and keep me updated on both her and Doe. As for that Lasombra, I want him eviscerated..." he looked at a torn wall calendar "...by Thursday. He'll be expecting more visitors, so the gloves are off. Kragen is to gather the muscle to do it. Go."
 
 Having sent the young vampire away, Hernandez let out a disgusted grunt as he remembered what he needed John D. for in the first place. Munroe, dammit. He was going to send him along with Rocher's Childe. Dammit again. Well, he would have to rearrange, after all the Nosferatu were nothing if not adaptive. He looked at a printout pinned to the well beside his desk, and after a moments consideration picked up a pen and put a black X next to one of the names listed there. John Doe wasn't going to be available for... some time, Hernandez thought to himself grimly. As for Munroe, he needed someone not only able to sneak in and bust a few heads but with "people" skills too. A name on the printout caught his eye. Artemis wasn't one for choosing inept childer... and what he knew of this Kindred himself was fairly promising.
 
 A few minutes later the Primogen was told Artemis' boy wasn't to be found in the Warrens. He did appear to have a ghoul somewhere in Redbrock however.                        

 

                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Grendel8101 on October 06, 2005, 04:13:00 PM
                They were playing AC/DC on the radio.  There isn't much I hate worse than AC/DC, so I started dialing through the stations.  Not much out there.  Maybe I should get an FM radio.
 
   Talk shows and country music.  I'm about to give up and go back to AC/DC when i hear something faint on the channel.  Where do I know that song?
 
   It's barely coming in.  It sounds like good old rock, 60's, 70's.  The Stones?  Maybe, but I'm not sure.  I turn a corner and it starts coming in clearer.  
 
   I follow the road absently, trying to place the song.  It gets clearer as I pass an intersection, then starts fading.  I whip the Mustang into a U-turn and head back to the intersection.  I turn onto it and it starts to come in again.  The song has a distinctive guitar solo.  The singer croons something about heaven.
 
   I kept following the song for what seemed like hours.  It turned me one way, then another.  I ran stoplights and dodged cars.  At one point I drove around the same block 5 times.
 
   I lost the signal for a few seconds and my heart nearly beat.  I had to hear it, had to find out what it was.  The Siren call came in again, clear as bells, and led me into St. Augustin.  I pulled the car over to the side of the road as Robert Plant finished the last lyric, "And I'm buying a stairway to...heaven."
 
   I hadn't heard that one in awhile.  The radio kicked back to static.  I looked out the window and chuckled to myself.  Stairway to Heaven indeed.
 
   Led Zepplin had lead me to a church.                        

 

                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Year_of_the_Scarab on October 06, 2005, 06:08:00 PM
                Despite the late (or very early) hour, Gallery Square was brimming with activity. Most of the restaurants were serving customers practically all around the clock, and so were most theatres. The Square was a place to satisfy most tastes and pleasantly kill time for virtually everyone. Sorana's thoughts at the moment also revolved around killing, though not in a metaphorical sense.
 
 That fool Bernstein was still talking. She had known he was an idiot after the first thirty seconds she talked to him on the phone, but now, the extent of his idiocy was astonishing. He'd called one of their offices and demanded to be put through to Rocher. Sorana took the call and convinced him he could... discuss the matter with her instead. Ever since she arrived at the café that he had sooo cleverly chosen, probably reasoning that the amassed crowd would warrant his safety, he didn't stop producing that cretinous gibberish. And to think she'd taken him seriously enough to bring bodyguards along. She had given them the signal to leave a few minutes after her arrival, as she realized they wouldn't be necessary. Bernstein didn't even notice them, he really thought he had her where he wanted her, that she was afraid. If stupidity could kill... What a waste of time. But still, it had to be taken care of.
 Henry Bernstein was a P.I. A sleazy, washed-up, dimwitted one, but a P.I. nonetheless. Through some twist of fate he came across "clues" which had eventually led him to uncover a secret he should never have toyed with. There was a secret society, directing the flow of the city from behind the curtains. And it consisted of real-deal vampires! But who were they when compared to Henry, right? So he'd called them out on their game, he would expose them and their whole society to the world. That he would. Unless they paid him, big time. That was his ingenious reasoning, apparently. And while Sorana was certain at this point that he posed as much threat to the Masquerade as the flu did to a Kindred, he did get that information from somewhere or someone, so she had endured his cretinism and gradually pulled that knowledge from him, without him even realizing it. He was far too caught up in his own speech. She's had enough.
 
 "Mr. Bernstein, please do shut up." she said. Though the words were spoken calmly, he couldn't resist the command in her eyes and immediately grew completely still. Ah, this was better. She reached for her purse and took out a bill from her wallet. Laying the tip at the table next to her full soda glass she continued "You think yourself safe because of the people around. Truth is, I could kill you in at least six different ways without so much as batting an eyelash, much less resorting to violence. Your "insurance" warrants nothing, were I to decide you cannot be suffered to live another day. Quite frankly though, you're not worth the trouble." He was angry, but scared also. For the life of him, he couldn't speak a single word.
 
 "This so called evidence, this proof of your wild claim..." she cast a doubtful look at the folder he'd handed her so smugly a couple of minutes ago "...consists of blurred photos, dubious reports and testimonies of prostitutes and drug-addicts. You not only cannot prove the existence of a worldwide conspiracy with this sort of evidence, you couldn't win an appeal against a parking offence." As she spoke, something in her voice made him gradually doubt his information himself. By the time she was finished and bid him goodnight, he just felt stupid. He looked at the folder and chuckled. Those couldn't be real. what the HELL was he thinking... damn, he'd wasted that chick's time and made a dumbass out of himself. He should burn that file... and cut back on the old whiskey bottle.
 
 Ten minutes later, the Kine already forgotten, Sorana was driving to see Eric Rocher, her Sire. There were leaks that had to be taken care of and he would like to know about them. She didn't feel particularly inclined to see him, but he was her Sire and her Primogen, not to mention most likely her Prince soon, so she would go see him, no matter how pissed she was. Damn. It was that Munroe deal. It kept on bugging her. It wasn't big enough of a deal to be angry about, and if he had asked her to go she might've had second thoughts. Thing is, he didn't ask her. Julian would go. Juilian! Given, he did deal in the same business as the Giovanni and knew his way around, she supposed, but he was just a promoted thug in the end, barely worth the blood granted him.
 She was being absurd. She sighed. Well fine, he wasn't worthless. He couldn't be – he was her clanmate after all and the Ventrue didn't Embrace worthless rabble. That's what the Brujah were for. Still, he had nowhere near her experience, and in the end she was her Sire's favored progeny, while he was... convenient. That's what gave it the sour taste. The omission. Perhaps Eric thought she had grown complacent. There was no room for complacency among the Ventrue, and maybe this was a reminder... Well if it was, she didn't need it, and she would prove it. In time.
 
 She clenched her teeth, just once, which was a real outburst for the levelheaded Kindred and got out of the car. By the time she entered Rocher's building, she was the image of politeness everyone knew again.
 
 Elsewhere.
 
 Bitterman was about to turn the car around and drive away when he caught something from the corner of his eye. Eh, shit. It's been a while since he'd seen one of those. He parked the car and got out. Not that it bothered him, but the night air was cooler than he'd imagined. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and walked towards the church slowly. A few lights were burning in the building across the street, but the church itself and it's nearest vicinity were pretty much drenched in darkness save for the streetlights.
 
 He came up to the body and halted. The man was tied to a fence with some cord in a crucifix position, unmoving. To the average observer also – quite pale. But Bitterman had seen that shade of recent pale, and knew a human that's been fed from when he saw one. The fact that the Kine was a priest and the position he was in spoke of a bad sense of humor. So, one of those Sabbat bastards is still kicking, eh? Every now and then accidents happened, tough luck, but hanging the corpse like that was a cle... No, wait, not a corpse after all. Bitterman took a closer look. The priest was still alive, though the loss of blood and the cold December night have slowed his metabolism somewhat. They'd find him in the morning, so he'd survive. So what was this display for, Bitterman wondered as he looked around. Hmm. Another one. Right in front of the church portcullis, possibly a nun. Upon closer inspection also alive, albeit unconscious. Then he'd heard a humming coming from the church itself. He smirked. So you've led me here? He walked towards the large door Alright, alright. It's obvious enough. he thought, matching the words to the melody in his head:
 
 "...Your head is humming and it won't go
 In case you don't know   
 The piper's calling you to join him..."
 
 The interior of the church wasn't as dark as it was outside. Candles burned by the altar, and there were beams of subtle light coming through the stained glass windows. Bitterman slowly made his way to the front between the rows upon rows of wooden banks. As he was about halfway through, the humming became more traceable. There was someone sitting at Christ's feet. Dramatic much? He rocked back and forth in catatonia-like manner, all the while humming to himself. Bitterman was standing directly in front of him now, so despite the poor lighting he could make out his features.
 Dreadlocked and scarred, dressed in mismatched pieces of clothing the man was definitely Kindred. In fact, he was most likely of Bitterman's clan. It seemed that for every competent member, his clan had at least a dozen all-over-the-place lunatics who couldn't get their shit together.
 
 The messy one had stopped the humming meanwhile and looked directly at Bitterman.
 
 Eh, no. No at. Through.
 
 Whatever he was looking at wasn't in the church at the moment, probably not even in the city. Bitterman cleared his throat and waved a hand in front of the other's face halfheartedly, to no effect. Well, this was pointless. He shrugged inwardly and turned to leave. A flicker of sudden movement caught his peripheral vision, and led by pure instinct he ducked. Something thrown, heavy and metal crashed against the portcullis loudly. What the...? He spun around to face the other Kindred, only to see him charging at him with coat flailing. The vampire tackled him at full speed, the momentum carrying them both several feet, and crashing into a confessional. The sound of wood breaking filled the church.                        

 

                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Grendel8101 on October 07, 2005, 01:18:00 AM
                The little VC bastard snuck up on me.  Damn, didn't think anyone could sneak up on me.  He was on top and that isn't where I like my enemies to be.  He starts punching.  One good one hits my cheek and I see colors for a minute.  Shake it off, man.
 
   I grabbed his shirt collar and twist it, choking him.  He keeps going, like he ain't even breathing.  Damn.  I grab his shoulders and lift up hard as I can, pushing his head back.  At the same time I twist my right leg up and hook it under his chin.  He's off.  I'm moving.
 
   I look for my M-16, but it's gone, lost somewhere in the rubble.  My platoon's nowhere.  I grab a jagged piece of wood and dive behind a pew.  Pew?  Where the hell was I?  I shake it off.  Questions later.
 
   I can hear him.  The little Viet Cong fucker is freaking out, throwing things out of his way looking for me.  he's got his back to me, looking through the remains of a confessional.  Doesn't make sense to be looking for me under there, but you don't see me arguing with him.
 
   I slide out from under the pew and start making my way over to him.  Wood floors, I have to shift my weight to each foot slowly.  Even then it creaks, but he doesn't seem to notice.  
 
   Then his back stiffens and he whips around.  No time to think.  I lunge forward and drive the stick up under his ribcage, right into his little commie heart.
 
   The Malk stiffened up and fell over.  Right about then would have been a good time to start looking for something to cut his psycho head off, but I wait.  I'd been lead here, and I don't know why.  I don't like those two phrases in the same sentence.  
 
   I find the cord he tied the kine up with in a pocket and wrap him up good enough to stall a Brujah.  I use a piece of his rags to blindfold him, just in case.  
 
   I notice one of the statues in the church has an outstretched hand and grin.  A little blood and some grunting later and he's hanging upside down from the hand.  
 
   This is a bad idea, I tell myself as I remove the stake.  I start swinging him just for the hell of it.
 
   "What's happening?"  I ask.                        

 

                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Sodom40280831 on October 08, 2005, 08:40:00 AM
                “Oh come on man, you can’t do this to me!â€?
 
 Skull was practically on his knees in the filth of the alley where he and Nail met every week. He was begging for his weekly fix of blood. For a moment Nail looked at his ghoul, almost pitying the poor creature, Skull was the only kine he actually liked a little bit, but the poor bastard had to learn that if a ghoul doesn’t make himself useful he’s dead weight.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Skull, you know the arrangement. No info, no fixâ€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Well yeah but there’s nothing going o……..â€?
 
 Nail interrupted with an angry hiss, he grabbed Skull by the hair and pulled his face up close to his own and calmly spoke to him.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Skully-boy there is always something going on, take it from an expert, there’s always some loving wife cheating on her husband, there’s always some criminal about to pull off a job, there’s always some goodie-two-shoes secretly downloading kiddie-porn off the internet, there’s always something going on. You just have to look past the surface of things, you understood that when I first met you. You aren’t getting lazy on me are you?â€?
 
 Nail let go of Skull who immediately took a few steps back to create a little distance between them, he was wondering to himself why he ever wanted this, he didn’t have such a bad life when he was normal, a mother, a father, a little sister, a nice home uptown. Why did he have to run away? Why did he have to make a pact with this….thing standing in front of him. No! Don’t let me be weak! Don’t let me be innocent! The ghoul thought to himself while trying to hold back the tears that could have burst out of him at any moment.
 
 There was nothing Nail hated more than watching his ghoul feel sorry for himself, he was just about to slap some sense into him when he saw Skull pulling something out of his over-sized black leather jacket, it was a nice juicy packet of blood.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“I got this from the blood-bank, the security there is total horseshit, I assumed you wouldn’t be so angry if I brought you some dinnerâ€?
 
 Skull nervously handed Nail the pack, Nail took it while looking at Skull with a slight look of satisfaction.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Assumption is the mother of all fuck-ups. I just had dinner but fortunately for you it wasn’t exactly satisfactory, so I guess I’ll let you off with a warning and a little bit of my blood to get you through the week. But don’t expect me to be so soft again.â€?
 
 Nail picked up a small plastic cup lying on the ground, slit his wrist and let a few drops of blood fall in. After which he put it back on the ground and watched Skull crawl to get at it.
 After he was done drinking Nail’s ghoul left the alley, leaving Nail to enjoy his blood-pack.
 
 A few moments later Nail was just about to get a move on when a familiar voice called out to him.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“So this is where you’ve been hiding!â€?
 
 A figure emerged from the shadows, it was a Nosferatu wearing a dirty old bathrobe, Nail recognized him immediately.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Hives! What are you so worked up about?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Hernandez has been looking for you, he says it’s important, if I were you I wouldn’t keep him waiting, he’s in an even worse mood than usual, so get your ass over to the warrens before he starts taking his anger out on the rest of us.â€?
 
 Nail tried to ask what Hernandez wanted to see him about but before he even had time to think, Hives took him by the arm and forced him to the nearest sewer-entrance.
 
 While he and Hives were jogging through the Cawford sewer-system, Nail was thinking to himself about what Hernandez wanted to see him about, it couldn’t possibly be about that girl in the cemetery, it wasn’t the first time he had disposed of a body like that, it always worked like a charm. Maybe it was Skull, maybe Skull had committed some major violation to the masquerade and had to be dealt with, that would be a shame, the kid had talent and could be very useful if he didn’t whine so much. Maybe it had something to do with the primogen-gathering tonight. Oh well, there wasn’t anymore time to think about it anyway, they had arrived in the warrens and were standing in front of the primogen’s door. Nail wanted to ask Hives what he knew about all this but apparently he already snuck away while Nail was thinking, Nail didn’t blame him. He looked down to straighten his tie and pulled himself together before going in to see what Hernandez wanted. Nail opened the door:
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“You wanted to see me sir?â€?          
                       

 

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           I'm so serious it's comical!    
                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Skinweaver on October 20, 2005, 05:29:00 PM
               
 "You a doctor?"
 
 The old man looked up from staring at his worn shoes.
 He was in his late fifties and aside from his world weary eyes he also sported a greying beard. The perfect acessory to his torn clothes.
 The man was one of the many homeless in the city and aside from the clothes on his body and the bottle of scotch in his hand he had no other possessions. Exept for the cancer.
 
 "Yes I am. They sent me here to check up on you guys. I saw you coughing earlier and I don't need a doctor's degree to tell that you're not quite well."
 
 The man looked back at his shoes and coughed again before looking back at the visitor.
 
 "Yeah. I've been like this the last few years. Wilma told me t'was because of the smokes but I know why it's really here. It's those damn government bastards, spreadin' their diseases and biologistical weapons around here to get rid of us!"
 
 Rebecka scoped the room. Numerous people of varying ages were all sitting at tables in the shelter, either sipping on a soup mostly consisting of dishwater or mumbling to themselves. Some were even sleeping.
 Lowborn, all of them.
 
 "It's called biological. I really should take a few samples to see what's bothering you. Let me just get my things out on the table..."
 
 She slipped out a syringe from her bag and the old man's face turned into a mask of fear. He stood up on his frail legs, pointing at the doctor with a shaking finger.
 The bottle he had been holding fell to the floor and shattered.
 A few people turned to look at what was happening but went back to their own things when they noticed who it was.
 Sam was like this, they all knew it. That was also part of the reason why the visitor had chosen him.
 
 "Nononono... you're not injectin' me with anything! I know your types, missy! I'll just go to sleep and wake up strapped to a table in area 51 just like old pete! I know that's where he went!"
 
 These simple people could really be a bother! They were usually more gullible than the more prominent specimens but why this one and why tonight? Rebecka didn't like to control the minds of others. She preferred talking them into whatever she wanted them to do but at times like these it was nothing less than a necessity.
 She stood up and looked the man in the eyes.
 
 "Look at me. It's not dangerous at all. I'm just going to take a sample back to the lab to see what might be wrong with you. I just..."
 
 The man stepped back toward the wall shaking his head violently. The Tremere walked up to him, grabbed his chin and fixed her eyes on his.
 
 "You will sit down and let me take a bloodsample. You trust me and you will cooperate."
 
 A few minutes later she slipped the full vial into her bag right next to the other samples from various levels of the human hierarchy. Buisnessmen, preachers, that clerk at the 7-11 and the 5 doller hooker. All diagnosed with various diseases. She smiled as the old man waved at her as she was leaving just as if nothing had happened.
 Tonight had been a fruitful night.
 Rebecka left the homeless shelter and headed back to the chantry. Lots of testing needed to be done.                        

 

                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Year_of_the_Scarab on October 10, 2005, 08:33:00 AM
                The Primogen acknowledged Nail with a nod and motioned for him to enter while he was writing something on an ancient-looking map. Having finished writing he folded it several times and got up from his desk. He walked past Nail and left for the corridor without a word. Uh? Nail guessed he was supposed to follow.
 As they were walking through the Warrens, which by the way have suddenly become suspiciously empty, Hernandez spoke:
 
 "Back when you've arrived here, Artemis said you know how to play with others. He doesn't indulge fools, so I'm going to take his word for it." Nail wasn't sure what the Primogen meant. The "others" would be other clans, probably, but...
 
 "The Primogen are sending a "delegation" to Munroe. This is your lucky day, you get to go with them." Hernandez continued as they descended into the lower part of the Warrens, which was off limits to any and all visitors to the Nosferatu domain (there weren't many, but occasionally someone was allowed to enter).
 
 "Rocher's boy Massicus will lead it. He's less of a prick than Rocher's other one, but he is his Sire's Childe, so don't expect too much." the elder continued "The Malkavians are supposed to send someone along, though what becomes of that remains to be seen, and from what I hear the warlocks weaseled their way in too. This delegation is to negotiate a deal with the Giovanni of Munroe on the Camarilla's behalf." Hernandez related briefly and sparsely what had been said during the Council, and they reached a large, steel door, which would look awfully familiar to the Neville & Davenport Bank employees of year 1923, when the bank had been robbed of it's safe by unidentified crooks. The Primogen produced a digital card and a heavy keyring from his pocket and began working his way through the locks.
 
 "You'll be there to support Rocher's kid - talk big, look tough, nod along with what he's saying if it doesn't sound too stupid, that sort of thing. That's your part." The last key turned, something made a "ping!" sound and the Primogen opened the massive door "Officially."
 
 Nail entered the large room after Hernandez and looked around curiously. He hadn't been in there before. Various cabinets, shelves and folders were stacked up along the walls. There were dozens of cardboard boxes wrapped in plastic arranged on the far end, and a whole electronic "wall" of servers stood in the middle of the room. The steady hum of computer-fans mixed with the buzz coming from the overhead lamps filled the dry air. Archives. Wow. It was like a giant phonebook, only with a log of secrets, crimes, frauds and depredations listed under each entry. There was more information on any given person in the city in here than they'd even know themselves. Nail grinned to himself. The other clans may have their money, their weapons, puppets and their schemes, but it was all so easily taken from them. When it was all said and done, it was the Nosferatu who had the real power.
 
 Then the last part of Hernandez's speech got through.
 
 "Uh, officially, sir?" Nail asked. The elder gave him a measured look and handed him a dossier he picked up from one of the cabinets.
 
 "You're new here, so you might not know that we have a bone to pick with the Giovanni perverts." he said as Nail looked through the contents of the dossier. It held some old, yellowed letters, various bank accounts and some black and white photos with matching personal information. Most of the people mentioned were long gone by now, though there were photos of two Kindred among them, Gianni Milliner and Maria Pasanoda, both identified Giovanni. Some thought that every single member of the Italian clan had their last name, but it was no secret among the Sewer Rats that the family had branched out quite a bit.
 There was also one more recent photo, of one Frankie Moore, apparently Kine, born 1906. Ghoul, eh?. Nail looked up to the Primogen questioningly.  
 
 "Back when, before the sister-screwing assholes took over Munroe, we've already had our net set up there – bugs, wires, informants, the whole package. Frankie here was one of our people in the commissioner's office. Smart kid, too. He'd keep tabs on stuff and make sure no one there sticks their nose into stuff that didn't or shouldn't concern them, in exchange for his fix. So far so good, right?"
 
 Nail had a hunch what was coming, and he memorized the ghoul's face and made a mental note on his last reported address – Dover Rd. #22, all the while listening attentively to Hernandez.
 
 "Then the Giovanni show up, and "claim the city" theirs. Whatever, we figured. Camarilla, Anarch, Setite, Giovanni... we have our channels in almost every city, regardless of allegiance. Thing is, all of a sudden they decide they don't want nobody looking over their shoulder when they do that goomba voodoo of theirs, and they go for our people. Now, your individual Giovanni may have a set of beyond-the-grave tricks at his disposal, but isn't worth snot overall, unless he's got backing. A whole conclave of those assholes however... Long story short, we've had to retreat."
 
 Nail nodded. This explained a bit why the Giovanni were a touchy subject among his brethren in Cawford. Not that anyone would have a "whole lotta love" for the necromancer clan in the first place, but when he'd asked about them sometime ago he only got sour looks and monosyllabic replies. It hadn't been the local Nosferatu that had been driven from the city of course, but, in stark contrast to most of the other clans, the Sewer Rats had a very collective sense of honor.
 
 "Well, that happens." Hernandez continued "And wouldn't be so much of a deal in the long run, we had our sources in there still after all. Hadn't it been for Frankie. See, when the ghost-shit started happening, Frankie decided he'd rather suck Giovanni blood and play "cappo", so he handed them our layouts as a Welcome-gift. He'd been involved in a fair share of our deals, so he knew a lot. Not that much, but enough to give the Giovanni a head start."
 
 The Primogen handed him a printout, holding information on Moore's mortal family, friends and habits along with another photo. Hmm. Moore had a wife. How the hell did he keep his "Honey, I'm a 100 year old ghoul!" secret from her? Hernandez put the dossier away, and turned to Nail
 
 "You know how they say we never forget, right? Well Frankie seems to have forgotten that and it's time to give his memory a little "nudge". That little ghoul has wheeled his way too far for the little bug that he is. We'd like to get him alive, he'll know useful things since he's got such an intimate relationship with the Giovanni nowadays, but if you can't get him out breathing, then just shut him up for good. However!" the elder held up a twisted finger before Nails eyes "This is our business, and ours only. The negotiations aren't just a free ticket into Munroe, the delegation represents the Camarilla, and has its own business there. While no one among the Giovanni is going to cry their eyes out over a dead ghoul, if they do get wind of who's done it, there'll be complications. Make sure they don't. Also, Massicus ain't a fool and will finger you to his sire in an instant if something goes wrong and he learns of this. Make sure he doesn't either. And finally, what the Giovanni can't find, they can't bring back from the grave and ask questions, right?"
 
 Hernandez closed the cabinet and regarded Nail coldly "If you don't think you can handle yourself, I'll get someone else to do it. Think about it if you must, but I haven't got all night."
 
 Elsewhere.
 
 Nook stirred. He shook the cobwebs from his mind. The big one had surprised him, this was uncommon. Normally when Nook was fighting someone he anticipated their moves, seen through their game. He would know from where they'd come even before they did. This one however had disappeared from Nook's mind, as if he were somewhere... else, fighting a different fight... This was unexpected. Unexpected but great. Not many things got through to Nook, but violence was definitely one of them. The other was Pina. And... well, honestly, that was pretty much it.
 
 The other had spoken, asked something. Nook pouted. It wasn't even the fact that he cut his tongue out, or that the voices of half the city were filling his head to the point where he couldn't understand anyone talking to him, it was just that Nook didn't speak English, plain and simple. He meant to move, but realized he'd been tied up. The other one was waiting. Nook frowned at the ties that held him, the way a child might frown at a piece of jigsaw puzzle that just. won't. fit. where it should. But then a noise from outside made that frown turn into a toothy grin.
 
 Bitterman got no answer from the Malkavian, save for a couple of grunts. He was beginning to wonder what he was going to do with him now, he couldn't just leave him dangling there... And then he heard movement from outside the church, a lot of movement. So the crazed bastard wasn't alone, that figured. They were close. Bitterman dived behind a pillar and prepared to vanish from sight as soon as they came into his field of view.
 
 But "they" never did.
 
 Damn! The oldest trick in the book and he'd fallen for it. He spun to where he'd left the vampire. Sure enough, he managed to free himself in the meantime. He was standing there, blood dripping from his claws, as he must've cut himself as well as the cord, but if it caused him any discomfort at all, he gave no sign.
 
 The big one was a few feet away, just beyond Nook's reach, and seemed to ready himself for round two should it come. And while Nook thought that was a marvelous idea himself, he had a different reason for being here tonight. He knew by now this vampire would be suitable for Pina's task. Violence would wait. But he'd remember this one.
 
 Slowly, as if trying not to provoke Bitterman unintentionally, the vampire crouched down and ran an open palm across the marble floor, leaving a bloody smear. Then he made another one. And another. He was... drawing something? Bitterman remained alert though, "Fool me once", asshole. The dreadlocked Kindred meanwhile drew a few crude lines resembling... well, resembling crude lines, what can one expect. But there was something to them, Bitterman realized. What were those supposed to be? Snakes? Fingers? Whatever there was, it was hidden between the lines, in a matter of speaking, rather than being actually portrayed. Bitterman had heard of this, he believed. The Malkavian blood recognized markings made by Malkavians that others would not...
 
 (A skeletal figure) ...what, death? (Keeping it's hand on a heart, no, a house. Houses. A city.) ...a ghost town? the death of a city? What did he... wait, the Giovanni... (Death controlling a city.)
 
 "Munroe?" he asked the crouched vampire suspiciously, and even though there was no answer he knew he was right. So, this had something to do with Munroe. Hmph. Whatever. But he looked again.
 
 (Vipers, four of them.) ...what has this to do with anything? (One wearing a hat. No, a crown. But it was dirty, as if picked up from the gutter. Elevated.) ...did he just think that, or did that crazed asshole made him think it? He'd best be ready for when the madman would get bored with this shit and decides to punk it out again... (The second snake, all in blood. Made of blood.) ...this was stupid, it was all drawn in blood, why was this one bloodier than the rest. But still... (The third all twisted and deformed, with venom dripping from its fangs. Out for a kill. A stalker.) ...Bitterman noticed the sharp piece of wood lying nearby and ever so slowly began moving towards it. And how was that bastard able to draw so much with a bit of blood. (The fourth viper caught his eye.) ...This is bullshit. (Familiar looking that one.) ...complete bullshit. (It had his eyes. He was the fourth one.) ...completely retarded bullshit. Why was he even wasting his time with this. Then the crouching Malk drew a fast, angry line across the previous. (The first three vipers crawled from their nests and to Death's city. They moved with a purpose and Death retreated before them. But then something happened, all had their own purposes and turned on eachother. Death saw it's opening and killed them all. The fourth could prevent it, stop them from loosing their purpose, if it went with them.) The dreadlocked vampire looked at him meaningfully.
 
 "Uhuh. Was that all?" Bitterman snorted. He'd wasted time and blood only to "hear" a crazed vampire's daydreams. Helping a clanmate - if possible - was fine and well, but a lot of Malkavians were simply beyond any help. Well, fine. Alright. There was something to that tale. But even if the lunatic had already forgotten that they'd been at eachother's throats just minutes ago, Bitterman didn't.
 
 Then again, he remembered the drill sergeants and their less-than-safe methods of testing their soldiers' abilities. Is that what this was?
 
 The ragged one stood and held a crumbled piece of paper at an arms length. Bitterman took it from him cautiously and read the brief note. A date, an address and a signature.
 
 In two nights, a small local airport and Victor Pina's name, preceded by the word "Primogen".
 
 Ah hell. Well why didn't he say so. This was a direct order.                        

 

                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Sodom40280831 on October 12, 2005, 06:50:00 AM
                Nail took another good look at the printout while considering if he should go. He had encountered the Giovanni before in Chicago, they gave him the creeps and he didn’t really feel the need to ever meet them again and he certainly didn’t feel like going behind enemy lines with a Ventrue, a Tremere and one of the looney tunes.
 
 But on the other hand, this was probably one of those times where you have to step up to the plate and show your worth and what kind of fun is eternal life anyway if you don’t take a chance every now and then. Besides, how hard could it be to get one asshole ghoul out of the city, this guy even has a wife for god sakes, how tough could he possibly be.
 
 Nail observed the primogen, remembering what Artemis told him “Hernandez may not be the cheeriest guy around but there isn’t another of our kind more suitable for the position of primogen in a city like Cawford.â€? Hernandez always knew what he was doing and Nail guessed that if the primogen thought he was right for the job then he was right for the job.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Very well, I’ll do it. Any other details I should know about?â€?
                       

 

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           I'm so serious it's comical!    
                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] dalver on October 21, 2005, 04:09:00 PM
                The elevator doors slid open and Julian stepped out, he was followed by his aide. Two ghouls and a Kindred, all in expensive suits, were standing in front of two massive mahogany doors.
 
 The Kindred made a sign and the ghouls moved aside and opened the doors. "He is expecting you, sir. You should go right in".
 
 "Wait here" Julian said to his aide then stepped through the doors. The hallway leading to Erics office was long and filled with paintings and statues. Some of them made a symmetry of some sorts that revealed Obfuscated creatures. Some sort of Blood Magic at work. Julian didn't know the details, he just knew it was there and that he didn't need to worry about rats hearing in. He calmly walked on the thick carpet looking at the nice tablieaus and admiring the marble statues. The light was dim.
 
 The doors to Erics office opened and Sorana stepped out. Her hair in a perfect bun, the dark dress impeccable, with long elbow-length gloves and a frown who disappeared as soon as she saw Julian.
 
 "Where the hell have you been? You were supposed to be here after the Council!"
 
 "Got held up by business, dear sister, what else?" he saw her clench her teeth. When used at the opportune moment "dear sister" would get under her skin in the nastiest way possible. This was an opportune moment.
 
 She didn't say anything and Julian realised she was somewhere else... listening to... something. He strained and picked up the conversation between his and her respective "aides", outside the hallway. A charade prepared by Julian. He'd known her aide would convey the story to her mistress, he hadn't counted on Sorana overhearing in person. It made it so much sweeter. The aides right outside the massive mahogany doors leading into Eric Rochers Sanctum. Impossible to hear by human ears but quite easy for Kindred and easier still for Sorana who was notorious for her acute hearing. She had developed the skill to such a degree she could listen to 100 different conversations in a building and sift through them all remembering only that of importance.
 
 His aide was speaking: "Julian was annoyed. He had things to prepare people to call, meetings to set up. He didn't have time for this shit! The deal was supposed to go down next week. Not only did the buyer, the filthy peasant, change the dates with seven days, he also changed the place. Something that made Julian think the buyer was either incompetent, a fed or a cheat. If he was incompetent, he would pay in cash for wasting Julians time, if he was a fed he would have to be persuaded it was only a misunderstanding and be sent on his way back safe and sound to his superiors and if he was a cheat then he would die. It was a delicate deal and no one competent enough to deal with all of the possible scenarios, so Julian had to make a personal appearance.
 
 He had a small convoy of cars. A carfull of tough-guys with shotguns drove in front, then Julians Mercedes then a truck full of guns and finally another car with tough-guys. It made its way to the warehouse-district where the meeting was to take place. Julian had a Toreador bitch clad all in leather with him in the car so she could stake out kindred or snipers or whatever. She didn't see anything suspicious so Julian gave the go-ahead sign.
 
 The car before Julian stopped and the men got out, weapons ready. Two of them came over to Julian and the Toreador bitch, for cover. They stepped over to the waiting pistoleros in the jeeps. A dirty guy sporting a thick moustache with AK wielding thugs all over him seemed to be the head honcho, so Julian started speaking to him. The Toreador took someone back to the truck to inspect the crates. The guy looked pleased and signaled his boss. So the guy with the moustache brought forth all these bags with cash. Julian took a look and wasn't pleased, he wanted another 10 million. The Moustache started screaming and gesticulating and we thought, shit we're going to shoot it out with these losers and it was close. Let me tell you, the pistoleros were wound up, they only needed a spark to explode. But Julian stared the Moustache down, said one word and the Moustache started quivering and saying he was sorry and apologised for the inconvenience. Can you believe that shit?! He apologised for the inconvenience! Then he ordered one of his guys to give us another 7 seven mil! Just like that straight up and down, Julian made them pay" then the aides started a courteus laugh.
 
 "Oh please, you bullied some poor kid into giving you their last lunch money, how amusingly... you" Sorana finally said, not hiding she was listening in.
 
 "I guess that's my cue to leave you to your scheming. As you said, I am unduly late for a meeting"
 
 She took a step then reconsidered and said "You should know Julian, he's sending you away".
 
 Not for the first time, Julian wondered what a swordstrike would do to her head. Probably nothing more than scratch the surface of her perfect skin. Sorana was tall and thin, looked underweight. Impulsive Kindred would underestimate her strength. Nevertheless Julian was quite certain, there would come a time when he would find out inevitably. He returned his thoughts to the matter at hand "Ah, the Munroe deal, of course. I've made arrangements".
 
 The half-second it took her to respond made Julian think that her thoughts also revolved around a sword and his head. They were quite alike after all. "You knew" she put it as a statement not a question.
 
 "Of course. Didn't you?" and with that final blow he left Sorana and entered Erics office without knocking.
 
 This "war of honor" of theirs had been waged for half a century. Of course, Julian knew Sorana wouldn't take a hit without retaliation and he knew she would use the time he was away to undermine his position, unless he left her a "gift of troubles" to keep her occupied. He was still working on that.
 
 Eric was on the phone with someone and he gestured Julian to take a seat in one of the big leathered chairs with sculpted lions-heads and claws. Julian shook his head and crossed the huge office to the enormous windows. He stood there for a time looking out over the city, while his sire was on the phone. It was nearly dawn, but the town was still alive. Sometimes, he wondered if he would miss his "sister" and their animosity, after having ripped out her throat with his fangs.
 
 Finally Eric Rocher joined his childe by the windows and as he stood beside him. Julian took a respectful step back and turned his thoughts back to the business that had brought him there. For minutes they stood there in silence, brooding and gazing upon the city.                        

 

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           in vitae veritas    
                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Year_of_the_Scarab on October 26, 2005, 08:22:00 PM
                He staggered. With a concentrated effort he kept his jaw clenched until he reached the alley behind the café. It was all he could do to run behind a corner before the contents of his stomach, which was no longer able to contain them, came up to his throat. He coughed violently as the dinner and wine were expelled from his system. He reached for the wall for support as he gathered himself, and for the briefest of moments, he envied the thin blooded fools, who in their weakness could keep the ingested food without an effort, however the thought has passed as fast as it came. It was ridiculous after all. Sure, this ordeal was tiring and humiliating every single time, but if that was the price he had to pay for upholding the illusion, then he'd pay it gladly.
 After all, the information the human has provided him was virtually invaluable, and the Kine were so dependant on going through the motions.
 
 Elsewhere.
 
 There it was again. The taint was strong in the blood - no. #12, taken tonight.
 
 Rebecka put a red string on the sample she'd been testing and put it in the container holding other similarly marked vials. Six, together with tonight's one. This was beyond coincidence, she was certain, some fool was spreading disease among the Kine. It was relatively subtle and had only touched several drug addicts and lowlifes until now, so neither the local Camarilla nor the Kine authorities have noticed yet. But they would, and given the current situation in Cawford's Kindred society, the mortals could be the first to pick up the trail, and that could quickly become a problem.
 
 But this was still only her reasoning, her theory – obvious or not, she would need more evidence than what she had to bring the case before the chantry head. She studied her notes – four of the six had been crackheads, and the drug seemed to have the same approximate consistence in all of their systems. So, same crackhouse or the same supplier perhaps. Hmm. All of the infected samples came from Redbrock, three of which from the shelter on Barrington St. Redbrock didn't have a very good reputation by itself, but the Park slums made the rest of the borough look like Beverly Hills in comparison. Though it definitely was a good place to stay hidden, if one desired to, and if the occasional thug or drunkard disappeared hardly anyone would notice.
 
 So, if there indeed was a disease spreading there, it had to be proven with some more solid facts before the chantry would take action. She would need to do some investigating.
 
 Elsewhere.
 
 After having "told" Bitterman what he'd presumably lead him there to hear, the ragged Malkavian walked out of the church casually, not paying him any more attention. The note still in his hand, Bitterman absently ran a foot across the bloody scrawl on the floor. After all, if he could read it, so could others theoretically. He mused at the though for a moment, and made his way to the exit. Looking at the battered remains of the confessional, he couldn't help but think there were much, much simpler ways of delivering messages nowadays.
 
 He walked through the portcullis and was pocketing the note, still thinking about what he'd seen in that drawing, when a flashing blue light caught his attention. A squad car was parked right in front of his machine. When did the damned cops show up? Then he remembered the tied up Kine – either somebody noticed them and called the police, or the sounds of the church being demolished accounted for that. Either way, he'd better move quickly before...
 
 "Freeze!" the voice came from the other side of the gate, behind him "Put your hands up so I can see them, slowly!" the owner of the voice couldn't be older than in his twenties, and he sounded nervous. "Put your hands up, I said! Rob, get over here!"
 
 Bitterman heard someone running.
 
 Elsewhere.
 
 "Very well, I’ll do it. Any other details I should know about?" Nail asked.
 
 "Good. I'll send someone to pick Moore up once you "secure" him. That way no one will have reasons to get suspicious when you disappear." The Primogen said, and handed Nail the folded map he'd been working on earlier. "We've got our own ways of reaching Munroe, so you'll drop him off at the marked point." That made sense. Nail had been wondering how he'd pass the ghoul to his clanmates, especially since the roads became perilous to Kindred these days. The Sabbat war and increased movement of large groups of undead had somehow attracted the attention of lupines, as some unfortunate fools have learned the hard way mere days ago. This was also the main reason why the delegation was using a plane as a means of transport.
 
 "Now," the elder continued "we don't know who Pina is sending, or if he's really sending anyone in fact. I've had his lapdog trailed ever since he got dispatched after the Council. The last report we have places him somewhere around the South Presbyterian in Augustine, about ten minutes ago."
 
 "We're assuming he's to contact someone there?" Nail asked. The Primogen nodded with mild satisfaction. He hated spelling obvious things out for anyone, and he would've been "disappointed" if he had to do so for Artemis' Childe.
 
 "Your guess is as good as mine when it comes to the Malkavians. But if he was indeed sent to fetch someone, it might be a good idea to take a look. You'll have this Kindred watching your hands for a while. And if he proves as labile as Pina's errand boy, well, at least you'll be prepared. It's your call, but if you do manage to find anything out, let Don or someone at the com know. They'll match you a sheet to that name."
 
 Always go prepared, eh? Nail nodded and turned to leave "Oh, one more thing." the Primogen added on an afterthought "It goes without saying - watch your back around those bastards. And the Giovanni, right? Good. Well go already."
 
 Having sent Nail away the Primogen returned to his chamber and clicked the intercom on.
 
 "Connect me with Rocher." he said to the machine. A moment later a message stating "SchreckNet: secure connection." appeared on the monitor standing on his desk. He pushed the "speaker" button on the phone.
 
 "Raul." came Rocher's voice. He knew who was calling, there were very few individuals who had access to his personal line. Hernandez sat behind his desk and leaned back in his chair, putting his elbows on the armrests and interlocking clawed hands under his chin.
 
 "You'll be happy to hear that as of 2 A.M tonight the city is free of Suahwe. Permanently. Though you'd like to know." the Nosferatu said
 
 "Ah, indeed. I trust no one will ever find out what has really happened?"
 
 "Who do you take us for?" Hernandez replied "I doubt any snakes will come slithering in here looking for him, though even if they do, they'll only learn about how he's had an unfortunate run in with the Sabbat during their attack. So tragic."
 
 "Most excellent. Speaking of which, what's the status on the survivor you've been tracking?"
 
 Hernandez sighed.
 
 "That little Lasombra is proving more trouble than he's worth. He may have to be disposed of altogether." Both he and Rocher were intending to track the Sabbat's source of information which allowed them to infiltrate Lydia's domain, and had earlier decided to capture the Lasombra more or less unhurt to interrogate him for the leak. Truth be told, Hernandez didn't actually write Rocher completely of the suspect list, but he kept those suspicions to himself. And if they did manage to get that Sabbat in one piece after all, well, then he'd see when and if Rocher should know about it.
 
 "Hmm. That is unfortunate." the Ventrue had answered meanwhile "But in the end, he's not our only lead, so it's no tragedy. There reportedly were several 911 calls about a shooting in Chesterfield earlier..." he let the sentence unfinished
 
 "That'd be him." Hernandez confirmed
 
 "Yes, I had assumed as much. The police have been taken care of for the time being, it will be chalked up to gang activity." Rocher said "Well, when he's taken care of, one way or another, we'll have one less problem. As for other matters, I've yet to receive word from the Tremere on their representative to fly to Munroe, though as we know Anna..." they had spoken on this before "Any news on the Malkavian?"
 
 "Working on it. We'll send you a word if anything comes up." Hernandez picked up the faint sound of doors opening on Rocher's end and someone walking in. He didn't appreciate having eavesdroppers, whether Rocher was comfortable with them or not, so after trading a few more words he finished the conversation. There were things to attend to, and he wasted enough time tonight as it were.
 
 There was a saying about knowledge, and it most certainly applied to it's keepers - the Nosferatu were a double-edged sword, Eric Rocher mused, as he walked up to the window his younger Childe was standing by. If one insisted on calling them "the eyes of the Camarilla", then surely those eyes intently observed everything within as well. Raul Hernandez' brood were an invaluable tool, but for every secret they supplied, he felt, they concealed two others at least. Even after working with the Primogen for decades he knew he was being watched and measured for weaknesses. So far he had turned each one into an advantage, and he intended for it to remain that way.
 
 But this wasn't the time for such musings. The "I'll rest when I'm dead" saying didn't apply to Ventrue.
 
 "I trust everything went well? You were going to conclude some business tonight, if my memory serves me right." he said to Julian, still looking through the large window. He knew precisely what, when and with whom his Childe was meeting tonight of course, and Julian for his part knew that he knew. They went through the motions nonetheless.
 
 "Barely worth calling it "business", only a minor transaction." Julian chuckled briefly "And yes, it was concluded without any complications."
 
 The elder smirked ever so slightly at his Childe downplaying his success. Most likely it meant Sorana was in hearing distance, and that she'd know exactly what has happened. Ever trading those small barbs - they were like that. Or perhaps, he made them like that. He was aware of their rivalry, he observed and encouraged it night in night out. Not only did it keep both his Childer focused, but also kept their energy directed outward rather than inward, one must be always wary. The latest turning point in this… stand-off? was him entrusting negotiations with the Giovanni to Julian. His elder Childe wasn't particulary fond of that development, he knew, though she held her posture in his presence, she knew better than to question her sire and Primogen. Still, he would talk to her later and explain – she would believe and he would remain impartial. Direct outward rather than inward. And, regardless, in this particular case, his decision was really neutral. Julian was better fit for the job, even if she had more experience in the long run, since he treaded on common ground with the Giovanni in some... business matters.
 
 "I see. Well, I'm glad nothing will preoccupy your thoughts." The Primogen had spoken with his Childe about the Giovanni deal even before he presented the matter to the Council, as they've both had their own interests in connection with Munroe, which, while not directly colliding with those of the Camarilla in general, were no concern of any of the other clans. Thing was, even though the Giovanni were really cut off from the "family" in Pittsburg, they still had a long arm, particularly in the local weapons market. And while Rocher indirectly and Julian directly held the large share of the Cawford black market, the Italians' influence has repeatedly proven a hindrance, therefore this delegation was a brilliant opportunity for the Ventrue. The Primogen continued
 
 "The reason why I wanted to talk to you tonight is that there has been a slight change in plans." Oh? This was uncommon with Rocher "The newly established Primogen Pina has seen fit to take part in the deal, so a Malkavian will take the place of Ms. Caliori's protégé, as - contrary to our predictions - she hasn't volunteered anyone."
 
 "I see." Julian said, the swapping of a Malkavian for a Toreador didn't make much difference from his point of view. It was something else that he was curious about "What of the Tremere?" he asked. Rocher turned to face him
 
 "Mr. Vielacados won't be accompanying you." Well, this was good "Though seeing as someone will go in his stead you'll do well to be mindful of what is being said. There are certain priorities." Indeed  Ã¢â‚¬â€œ if the Giovanni were removed from the Cawford black market operations, Julian's (and by extension Rocher's influence) would increase by that amount. On the other hand, should the Giovanni come through on their promise of banning the Sabbat from their city altogether, the entire Camarilla would have that much less to worry about. The elder had spoken of priorities, but hasn't named them. Julian realized he was to make the choice which goal to pursue, and carry the responsibility for it. In the end, it came down to this – if he managed to make the Giovanni ally themselves with the Camarilla and recede their business from Cawford without the others realizing that two deals were made, he could consider himself successful. Anything less... well, anything less would be weighted and judged. As he was considering this, his cellphone rang, distracting him. The elder gestured for him to take it.
 
 "By all means." He said with a bemused half smile.
 
 Julian cast a brief glance at the display and rejected the call. Rocher raised an eyebrow.
 
 "Nothing important then I presume." In truth it most likely was important, seeing as his assistant who had called him knew he'd be busy at this time, therefore a call now would mean trouble. Julian had no desire to discuss trouble in the presence of his Sire.
 
 "As I was saying then..." the Primogen picked up where he left. They've talked for a few more minutes, though the most vital things have already been said, and when Julian felt the elder give him the cue he excused himself and left Rocher's office.                        

 

                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Sodom40280831 on October 27, 2005, 12:07:00 PM
                Nail was replaying his assignment in his head while walking through the corridor that led to his haven when he was greeted by Hives.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“So, are you gonna tell me what that was all about?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“I’d love to. But the thing is: if I told you I’d have to kill you.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Really fuckin’ funny mister bigshot. Ah screw you, it probably isn’t all that important anyway! At least not compared to some of the other shit that’s been going on tonight.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Would any of that shit be happening around the South Presbyterian in St. Augustine by any chance?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“South Presby…. well now that you mention it we did pick up a message on one of the police scanners about a minute ago, some rookie calling for backup in front of the church. Why do you ask? You got business there?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Sort of.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Man fuck that! There’s still some time left before dawn and there’s a big fashion-show in Annsbridge, let’s kidnap one of the models and make her scream her lungs out. It’ll be fun!â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Some other time maybe, I’ve still got some business to attend to.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Your loss man, see ya around!â€?
 
 Nail was thinking to himself as he watched Hives disappear into the shadows. It would be a real coincidence if that police message had anything to do with whoever Pina’s assistant was contacting. On the other hand, when Malkavians go bump in the night something is bound to go wrong. Nail looked around, the warrens were designed so you could get to any place in the city within the shortest possible amount of time. Getting to the cathedral shouldn’t take more than a few minutes. Ah what the hell, curiosity may have killed the cat, but it’s what keeps the rats alive. And if this was an opportunity to learn more about whoever Pina was sending to Munroe Nail would be damned if he passed it up.
 
 A few minutes later.
 
 Nail lifted the manhole-cover to see if the coast was clear. Not a soul in sight. He carefully slipped out of the sewers and into the shadows when suddenly he heard a voice.
 
  “Freeze! Put your hands up so I can see them, slowly! Put your hands up I said! Rob get over here!â€?
 
 For a moment Nail thought someone had spotted him but then he realized the voice was coming from around the corner so he closed in to see what all the commotion was. He saw two figures standing in front of the church, one in police-uniform and pointing a gun at the other’s back. The other was six feet tall, muscular and didn’t exactly look intimidated by the blue boy behind him, probably kindred. Nail suddenly saw another cop running towards the scene. “Well, this should get interesting.â€? Nail thought to himself as he observed the situation from his hiding place.  
                       

 

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           I'm so serious it's comical!    
                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Grendel8101 on October 27, 2005, 01:46:00 PM
                Dammit, where the hell are you guys when my shop gets knocked over?
 
 I allowed my senses to flare up and listened.  There were two of them.  The one pointing his gun at me was young, he was using the same deodorant the college kids use.  I heard a light sound in the distance, a metallic scraping.  A man-hole cover.  I put it out of my mind.  One of the cops was calling for back-up.  Never a good sign.  I was going to have to do this quick.  
 
 I hate being rushed.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Turn around!â€? the officer shouted.  I thought he’d never ask.
 
 I slowly turned around and put on my compliant face.  Oh boy, was he nervous.  His heart was beating like a jackhammer.  This kid was brand-spanking new at this.  He looked me in the eyes.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“<orange>Put it down</orange>.â€?  I said.  He complied, glancing at his arms stupidly.  He looked back up.  Ã¢â‚¬Å“I’m <orange>no threat</orange>, officer.â€?  He relaxed, his body losing some of the fight-or-flight responses.  His heart slowed.  I stepped closer.  This next part was going to be tricky.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Back away!â€?  said his partner.  Trouble.  Rookie’s were always pared with veterans.  This guy had seen it all, and hadn’t been too impressed.  His eyes were ice and his gun was steady.  You could set a watch to his heart rate.  His belly said that he was a fan of donuts, but it was hard to argue the point when he has a gun pointed at me.
   
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“<orange>Drop it</orange>!â€? I shouted, putting all my attention behind the command.  He did, and looked at the ground, confused, before diving for his gun.  I stepped forward and kneed him in the ribs, grabbed his hair and slammed my fist in his face.  The fight went out of him.  
 
 Then the rookie shot me three times.  It would have been four, but he was a lousy shot.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“<orange>Sleep</orange>!â€? I yelled, and the kid dropped, unconscious.  The sirens were getting closer.  I only had a few minutes.  I looked the veteran, Rob, in the eyes and started working my mojo.  I made sure he forgot me and my car, and the last ten minutes.  They’d think he blacked out.  I limped my way over to the kid and slapped him awake, probably harder than I had to, but I really hate getting shot.
 
 I replaced his memory of me with a basic description of some gang bangers that like to rob my store in Redbrock.  He’d think the banger had attacked his partner, he’d shot at him, then the punk had come after the punk officer, knocked him out and stole his gun.  It was more complicated than I like, but I was running out of time.  I clubbed him in the head and drank some of his blood to heal my wounds.  I took his gun.
 
 The sirens were a few blocks away when I took off.  I glanced in the rearview.  What a fucking mess.  Me and Pina’s errand boy were going to have a  chat sometime.  
 
                       

 

                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] dalver on October 30, 2005, 10:17:00 PM
                Julian crossed the hallway at a quick pace. He had a bad feeling about the call earlier. The human ghouls pushed open the heavy mahogany doors as he neared them. He saw Sorana speaking quietly with her aide off to the side.
 
 "Eaves-dropping again, Sorana?"
 
 "Oh please, is that what passes for humour in the streets?" ...where you belong. She didn't say it, but both knew it was what she meant "I am still here because your bullying in that thing you call a business, provided you with a surplus of cash. Cash that you will have to launder and you will have to do it through my establishments. I filled Anna here" she waved her hand at the small woman in glasses by her side "in on the details. Saving time, considering you soon will be out of town, out of touch. As we both know, this outfit would benefit greatly by some efficiency".
 
 Julian had been deep in thought about the call and was taken somewhat unprepared by her present tirade "Well, how altruistic of you. But I don't think paper-management equals efficiency"
 
 "Obviously you don't... anyway, there was something else I wanted to speak to you about. Come join me" she said as she walked towards the big windows lining the grand reception hall they were in.
 
 Big windows, grand views... Sorana and Eric were extremely fond of the melodramatic effect of them. Julian had only adapted it, but it didn't mean much to him, not in the same manner as it meant for Sorana, or Eric. Sorana watched the streetlights below, Julian had already gone through this game once tonight and he was quickly losing patience. He completely ignored the view and shoved his hands in his pockets glaring at Sorana.
 
 "You are going to be away for a couple of days. We don't know for how long."
 
 "Get to the point Sorana, the sun is coming up"
 
 She clenched her teeth, but didn't face him "Your business... I hope you leave it in good hands".
 
 "Come now. Don't insult my intelligence by trying to persuade me to leave it to you. I don't have time for this nonsense"
 
 She faced him "I wasn't... look... we both know you are going to leave it to that Toreador bitch you've got on a leash" she raised an eyebrow "...or is it the other way around?"
 
 "If I would leave it to her then I would know it would be in capable hands. But however that may be, the bottom line is that whom I leave my business to, is none of your concern".
 
 "She's not clan... Julian, don't make a fool of yourself"
 
 "Sorana, you and me... we're fucking done for tonight!" Julian fought the urge to backhand her through the window for a moment then stepped over to the elevator and entered it. Sorana was still standing at the window, unmoved as the elevator doors closed.
 
 She had pissed him off and he realised she had played him. The charade with the windows... why? Did she only want to stall him? Was something going on? What was she after? He was angry and he knew he didn't think straight. Did she oppose of Belle, his Toreador asisstant, because she knew he would spite her and leave Belle in charge? Did she want Belle in charge? Sonofabitch! He needed to calm down. Julian turned his head to his aide "Your brother, why did he call me in the middle of a meeting?".
 
 "Uh, I don't know sir. The call didn't go through me... sir, is something the matter?"
 
 "Of course it is! It always is... Well, call your brother then".                        

 

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Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Year_of_the_Scarab on October 31, 2005, 07:17:00 PM
                The Kine produced a cellphone from one of his pockets and hurriedly scrolled through the entries, but before he got a connection, the elevator came to a stop and the door opened with a chime. Even though the hall was quite long and it was fairly dark outside, Julian immediately recognized his assistant who'd called him earlier. He didn't bother informing the human beside him that his brother was in fact waiting just outside the building and therefore there was no point in calling him whatsoever, instead he walked towards the door, leaving the Kine behind.
 
 He might not have been the greatest reader of body language among the undead, but he knew enough to register the human was both anxious to speak to him and reluctant to do so, at the same time. This served to confirm his bad feeling from before, but he purposefully took his time crossing the hall. When he finally exited the building, the Kine approached him right away and spoke
 
 "Erm... Good evening, sir. I couldn't reach you via phone so I took the liberty of seeking you out here." Julian offered no verbal response, only motioned for the man to continue. This had better be important "I'm afraid there's a problem with the delivery due today. It, uh... appears that someone has beaten us to the deal."                        

 

                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Skinweaver on November 01, 2005, 12:51:00 PM
                The cool night air was uncomfortable. If Rebecka still had a hearbeat she would have shivered.
 She stepped out of the cab and wrapped the coat around her as the driver stretched out his hand in hopes of payment.
 The run down buildings of Redbrock surrounded the Tremere like a minor army of broken giants, various junkies and homeless people were stumbling through the dark streets and in the distance, some mutt of indestinguishable race barked at a cat.
 
 "Hey, lady! pay up!"
 
 Rebecka shook her head and turned around, leaning into the cab.
 She let her sunglasses slide down her nose and looked at the man as his's face stiffened with shock.
 
 "But I have already paid."
 
 She said. The cabdriver's face went blank for a moment but turned into a bashful smile a moment later.
 
 "Right you have. Must be gettin' old. I'll be leaving. Two more hours left on my shift and this part of town gives me the creeps anyway."
 
 She slammed the door shut as the cab turned left and disappeared from the neighbourhood.
 
 "Sheep. All of them! Now, to find that pusher..."
 
 Malcom park wasn't far away and any muggers would provide little more than a distraction and possibly a few interesting samples.
 Through testing, Rebecka had managed to filter some of the filth into a seperate vial and then there was the powder...
 A brown substance that would turn bright red when exposed to the proper chemicals provided that she could find the right pusher but more importantly, the right chemical...
 
 A few minutes later she found one. As if that had been a challenge to begin with!
 The tall guy was dressed in a blue, ragged jacket and the only thing that acturally set him apart from the human waste around him was the Rolex and gold ring on his right hand.
 He smiled as he recieved his fifth bunch of Benjamins for the evening and handed a small bag of coloured pills to his underaged customer.
 Rebecka couldn't help but smile at the situation.
 
 "Ahh... the humanity."                        

 

                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Sodom40280831 on November 05, 2005, 09:44:00 AM
                “Well he’s definitely Malkavian, no doubt about it.â€?
 
 Nail wanted to approach the church to see if there was anything else that might give him some insight into the kindred’s identity when the sound of approaching sirens caught his attention. He quickly entered a dark alley where he disappeared into the shadows. After putting some distance between himself and the crime-scene Nail found himself alone in a dark street a few blocks west from the church so he decided to take a break for a while before finding a way back to the warrens. He sat down on a green wooden bench and started humming a few of his favourite songs while staring at the night-sky.  
 
 Living easy, living free
 Season ticket on a one-way ride
 Asking nothing, leave me be
 Taking everything in my stride
 Don't need reason, don't need rhyme
 Ain't nothing I would rather do
 Going down, party time
 My friends are gonna be there too
 
 I'm on the highway to he…

 
 
 Nail was suddenly rudely interrupted by the sound of screeching brakes as a large black car was racing down the street and almost hit the bench he was sitting on. The car was heading for the turn at the end of the street but it was going far too fast to make it, sure enough, it didn’t make it. There was a large crash as the car spun out of control and flung itself into a large brick wall covered with graffiti. It all happened so fast Nail needed a moment to pull himself together. He quietly started walking towards the car, which was still (barely) in one piece. Suddenly the car-door opened and the driver crawled out, Nail almost instinctively cloaked himself. The driver quickly got back on his feet, he was obviously kindred for no kine could just walk away from a crash like that. He was Caucasian, tall and wearing a torn trench. Nail had never met him but the description seemed familiar somehow. And then Nail suddenly remembered. The driver fit the description he had been given on that Sabbat everyone had been chasing!
 
 Before Nail could get any closer to him he started running as fast as he could. “Shit!â€? Nail whispered. He approached the car, there was a body in the backseat drained completely dry. He spotted a payphone on the other side of the street, he raced towards it and dialled the warrens’ number. A suave male voice with a Spanish accent answered the phone.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Good evening, you have reached “Latin Nightsâ€?, I am your host Don Carlos, the man that can make every woman feel like a goddess!â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“It’s me Don.â€?
 
 The suave Spanish voice suddenly turned into a horrible, twisted, cracked parody of itself as the next few words were more hissed than spoken.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Well if it ain’t Nail, what can I do fer ya?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“I think I just spotted that Sabbat everyone has been talking about.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“No kidding?! That lasombra asshole?!â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Yeah I think so, he crashed his car right in front of my eyes and then started running.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Where are you?!â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“I’m a few blocks west from the church in St Augustine.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Do you think you can still catch up to him?!â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Well I guess, but I don’t have time for this!â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Then you make time! Just follow him and see where he goes. Then come back here and tell us so we can send some muscle over.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“There is a body in his car, drained completely dry, you should probably send someone to..â€?
 
 Nail was interrupted by the sound of the car behind him exploding.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Never mind. Oh Don, I also need some info on a Malka…â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“There’s no time for that, come visit me later. Now go after that Sabbat asshole!â€?
 
 Nail immediately hung up the phone and started running in the direction the Sabbat was going, hoping there wouldn’t be any kine on the streets seeing as he wasn’t cloaked anymore. The Sabbat couldn’t have gotten that far, not at the pace Nail saw him go. Not that Nail was a true athlete but he should have been able to catch up to someone who was just in a car crash. After turning a few corners and making some lucky guesses Nail caught up to the Lasombra and started following him from a safe distance. He was playing with the idea of taking him on himself, but it was too late for fighting and he didn’t know exactly how powerful his enemy was. So he decided to stick to his assignment and just follow him.    
                       

 

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           I'm so serious it's comical!    
                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Grendel8101 on November 05, 2005, 03:06:00 PM
                I felt a sharp pain in my back, something digging around underneath the skin.  They’d given me booze to dull the pain.  Hospital tents must be running low on cash.  The alcohol tasted bad, and wasn’t really doing the trick.  I grunted as the nurse went in a little deeper.
 
 Fire, then a strange coldness as whatever the fuck she was using was torn out.  I heard a metallic plunk as a bullet was dropped into a bowl.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Why aren’t you throwing that away?â€? came a male voice.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“He collects them,â€? the nurse said.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Oh, yeah.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Anyway,â€? the nurse continued, “that’s one.  He said there was two still stuck in there.  How you doin’ boss?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“How’re you doing, darlin’?  How about when you fix me up we go hit that bar over on Dung Lao?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Oh.  Right.  He’s gone again.â€?  she said to the other.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“No, I’m right here.â€?  
 
 I heard a door open.  Ã¢â‚¬Å“Hey, boss, I got…Star, are you digging around in his back with a needle nose pliers?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Yep.â€? the nurse said.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Christ, are the med workers really that under funded?  I thought it was goofy when you gave me booze as an anesthetic but shit, you’re using pliers?  What kind of fucking hospital is this?  I want to see my L T.â€?
 
 There was a silence.  Ã¢â‚¬Å“Does it bug anybody else when he does that?  I mean, beings as we’re all his oompah loompah’s and shit?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Shut up Rowdy.â€?  said the other guy.  Was he a doctor?  Why wasn’t he operating?
 
 The mud sloughed away from my brain as Star dug the pliers deep into another bullet hole.  I was lying on the bar in Charlie’s.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Star!â€? I yelled.  Ã¢â‚¬Å“Wrong hole, that one punched clean through.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Sorry boss.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Rowdy,â€? I said, “Did you get the tires?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Yeah.  Right size, different treads, just like you asked.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Good, you and Mal put them on the Mustang, and get rid of the old ones.â€?  Somebody might have seen my car by that church.  The ’Stang was registered, and if they matched my treads with the black strips I left by the church I could be in a world of hurt.
 
 I had made a quick stop in Redbrock and left the cop’s gun on a punk who matched the description.  I might have to call in an anonymous tip later.  It seemed too complicated for me.  I know cops, they were going to smell something wrong with the picture I’d painted.  Hopefully I’d broken all connections between me and the church, though.  Only time would tell.
 
 I grunted as Star dug the pliers in deeper.  She found the bullet, but couldn’t get a good grip on it.  The pliers kept sliding off.  I took another swig from the bottle of blood, taken from a drunk, and clenched my teeth.  I felt the wrenching as she tore the bullet loose, taking more ligament and tissue than I like to think about.
 
 I focused, and healed the wounds, sealing up the skin.  I looked around and caught Star sucking the gore off the bullet and pliers.  She smiled sheepishly.  I shrugged and turned away, wincing as I got down from the bar.
 
 Only a few hours to dawn.  I wondered if fate would shovel some more shit my way before I retired for the night.                        

 

                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] dalver on November 08, 2005, 06:26:00 PM
                "Well do continue. Tell me what happened? Someone hijacked our guns?" ... if that was the case, there would be bloodshed, examples had to be made.
 
 "No sir. They bought our guns before my guy got there"
 
 "Bought? Our guns... without violence? Details please" Julian said and started walking towards his car, he had one hand in his pocket.
 
 "My guys got there at the time we and the seller had agreed upon. The seller was still there, which to me indicates he would be clean - and told our guys the goods were sold. Our guys got pissed so they broke some arms and nearly cut off some fingers..." he carefully looked at Julian to see his reaction.
 
 "For fucks sake Tony I told you I wanted this done quiet. I told you I don't want more of those trigger-happy types" Julian wasn't angry, he said it matter-of-factly.
 
 "They weren't sir. But what were they to do? A 10 million deal and when they got there someone told them - it's sold, goodbye - what were they to do?"
 
 "Whatever Tony. It's obviously already a fuck-up and I'm fairly certain that you're aware this hangs on your head. So please, finish the story and leave the excuses out of it"
 
 "Sir, I wasn't making..."
 
 "The boss asked you to finish the story, Tone" his brother said and shot Tony stern look. They had reached Julians black-grey Mercedes and Julian leaned on the hood.
 
 "Sir, the seller said that some weird asian guy was waiting for them when they arrived and that he had the ammount of money we had agreed upon. He thought he was making business with us! He didn't know!" Tony looked up, Julian was smiling.
 
 "I like it. A smooth operation. Quiet no one got hurt and everyone thought the business was done correctly. Obviously they didn't want to mess with us more than necessary otherwise they would have killed and mutilated... at least someone" Julian rubbed his chin thinking "Who was the seller?"
 
 "We've done at least seven deals of the same size with him before. He's clean... well as clean..."
 
 "Well, then who was the buyer we were going to sell to?"
 
 "Hmm, the buyer was a local boy. Someone we've kept our eyes on for some time. Someone who's done some deals around town. Not one of you types, so a ghoul obviously. We stayed away. He provided guns and fought against the Sabbat incursion, recently. Seems to be clean"
 
 "Do you think he would be capable of going over our heads? Wait... who's ghoul is he?"
 
 "Crazy guy rolling around town in an old Mustang. Thinks he's Steve McQueen"
 
 "Hmm, Bitterman... Is the ghoul doing business on his own?"
 
 "Not likely, in fact most certainly not, but it's kind of hard to tell with that guy. I mean... he really is crazy. I'm not exaggerating"
 
 "I know... Well if Bitterman is the buyer then it wasn't him. He wouldn't..." dare, thought Julian but realised that would be a dangerous assumption, given the unorthodox nature of the madmen "...need, all the extra trouble of dealing with a war between us. He may be mad, but he isn't stupid" Julian looked up towards his sire's haven. His thoughts went to Sorana and her mentioning Belle. Why had she done that?
 
 "Boss, what do you want us to do?"
 
 "Talk to Bittermans people, set up a meeting as soon as possible. Get an exact description of the asian who made the deal. I'm going to Cyprus. Find me there" and with that he got in his car. The Mercedes purred like a cat. Julian thought of Belle and the coincidence that her club was right next to Bittermans dive bar. The traffic was light and Julian bounced the pedal to the metal.
 
 ***
 
 Cyprus an old ghoul and ironically greek, had his office in a one story building, rundown like hell. Outside were some five tough looking hoods rolling dice on the pavement beneath a streetlight. The cold didn't seem to inconvenience them in the least. Julian stopped the car in front of them. They briefly looked up and nodded to him. Julian went up the short stairs and into a shoddy hallway. In a sofa sat a teenage boy in gang colors, with an Uzi in his lap reading an "The Authority" comicbook. He jumped as Julian entered but resumed his postition as he recognised who it was.
 
 As much as the building and the neighborhood was rundown so much was the stark contrast of the greeks office. It was clean and the furniture was antique, completely renovated by the greek and brought from his ancestral home on, ironically Crete. Cyprus wore a white shirt with large collars, the shirt was buttoned up and heavy gold chains rested on the greek's broad hairy chest. He sat at his desk reading a file, typing at his computer and talking on the phone at the same time. Julian went in and sat in one of the big leathered chairs. Cyprus quickly ended his conversation and turned to Julian "Welcome sir. Should I order in some refreshments? I have two sixteen year olds sleeping downstairs".
 
 Julian thought of feeding, he had done so earlier in the night together with Belle. It would have been nice though to indulge himself again and the sixteen year olds sounded like a treat, but he didn't feel the need, yet. "That won't be necessary". Julian slouched deeper into the ancient chair and brought his fingertips together in front of his face "Cyprus, the Malkavian Kindred who provided the shotguns and Uzis for us when we had the Sabbat on our streets. You know whom I speak of, yes?"
 
 "The one with the cars"
 
 "The one with the cars, exactly and his ghouls. I need to know what they've been doing tonight"
 
 "I'll put the word out immediately, sir. Should be simple, those cars don't exactly blend in" the greek started punching in numbers and making phone calls. He had a net of informants, sponsored by Julian, made up of pimps, dealers and thieves. The low-lifes of Cawford nights, the living low-lifes. After the last call, the greek turned to Julian again "Sorana, after the Council of Primogen, made a side-trip to a restaurant where she met with a mortal. They argued, then she left. My man talked to the guy and he hardly knew which planet he was on. So I ordered a quiet investigation. It would seem he was a private investigator. A cousin of mine broke into his apartment and found the poor sod, burning rolls of film and some papers, he was so drunk he didn't even see that someone was in his apartment. In any case, he passed out and cried in his drunken sleep, so my cousin put out the fire and had a look at the papers. Some halfbaked pictures and testimonies regarding a conspiracy. Naturally, I ordered a more thorough investigation but came up empty. It seems Sorana wrecked his mind and memories"
 
 "A clean and quiet Sorana job. The girl has skill..." he was interrupted by the greek's phone ringing.
 
 Cyprus picked up the phone and started scribbling down notes. As soon as he put down the phone, it rang again. This continued for a couple of minutes, each time Cyprus putting down some more scribbles, cutting words with harsh lines, then added more. Until finally the phone stopped ringing. Cyprus picked his notes and started "the man's car was first seen outside a church, near Augustine. Someone had hung up a priest and a nun, in indecent postures prior to the gentlemans arrival. He apparently entered the church and was in there for a couple of hours at least. The next report says he saw a squad car in front of the church and heard some gunshots. Then he saw the Mustang speed away" the greek looked up from his notes "Should I make some quiet incouragements for the case to be quieted down?"
 
 "I'm sure the man has things under control, besides it's his mess. But do keep an eye on it, to be safe, so it doesn't turn into something else. Do we know where he went, after that?"
 
 "Of course, sir. He drove straight to his place, Charlie's. The cars haven't left since"
 
 "What did he do in the church for so long?"
 
 "One of the hookers spoke to a man whose jacket said "Coroner". He told her the nun had died, that the church was completely trashed and that a lot of blood was everywhere on the floor. Seemed to him, someone had tried to wipe some ritualistic imagery drawn in blood. Supposedly it was impossible to make out anymore"
 
 "Imagery? Was he alone in there?"
 
 "Doubtful. We don't know yet, but someone will remember something, soon"
 
 "Of course. And the ghouls?"
 
 "They've all been at Charlie's all night"
 
 "Are you sure of that?"
 
 "I've got a god-child running a cardgame in the backroom there. He's seen them around all night" Cyprus put his notes down and scratched his chest "May I ask what this is about, sir?"
 
 "Heh sure. One of my boys was going to buy a shipment of guns tonight and someone beat him to the buy. This is the strange thing. The shipment wasn't highjacked, it was bought. The deal went as it should just not thorugh us who made the deal in the first place. My boy was going to sell to Bittermans people, so naturally Bitterman is a suspect"
 
 "I haven't heard anything about any of it sir. I shall put out word immediately"
 
 "Don't bother. It was a smooth operation with inside knowledge and I doubt they left any kind of traces"
 
 "Someone from our outfit?"
 
 "Probably Kindred disciplines at work. As I said, a very smooth operation. What I don't understand is, why buy the guns? Why not kill the couriers and take the guns?"
 
 "Seems someone wants to keep good relations and just went after the business end of the deal, not the manpower. Going after the men would have made it personal, this way they kept it business".
 
 The simple answer dawned upon Julian and complicated matters wide and large in his mind and in his unlife. Suddenly the simple arms-deal had become something more intricate and dangerous than what it first had seemed. He had found an answer but the answer brought 1000 new questions and complications. A bad feeling about the next few night settled on Julian. He didn't like it.
 
 Where were the brothers? They had been told to set up the meeting with Bitterman as soon as possible. What kept them? He needed to unwind "You mentioned something about some sixteen year olds, Cyprus?".
 
 The greek smiled like the maddened Cheshire cat, showing his golden teeth.                        

 

-----signature-----
           in vitae veritas    
                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Year_of_the_Scarab on November 10, 2005, 05:57:00 PM
                ____________________________________________
 
 Don punched a code into the intercom, listened to the short beep-sound and frowned at the silence that followed it. The Primogen wasn't in his 'office' apparently. The Nosferatu fidgeted with his headset for a second, thinking, and spun his chair around.
 
 "Ray!" he called towards a room across the corridor "Find the chief, news of the Lasombra in. Way over in fucking Augustine!" as he said that two figures appeared in the other doorway, facing Don's cockpit-like desk filled with monitors, cables and keypads
 
 "Say where!? Hehe, oh shit, no way. Don't tell me Nail ran into him?" one of them spoke
 
 "That he did, Hives. What's the funny part?" Don asked over his shoulder "Kragen and his boys went to look for that Las bastard in the exact opposite direction, now they'll never catch up with him before sunri..." he stopped mid-sentence noticing the Kindred beside Hives "Holy crap." he muttered flatly under his breath "Look like you've ran into a firing squad or something. Shouldn't you be in m...?"
 
 "I got bored." the raspy voice interrupted him "And I've got a check open with that shady creep. Where exactly is he?"
 
 "Uhuh, calm down killer. I was just going to send word to Hernandez, first things first." Don replied
 
 "I don't think so, that's still my responsibility. Where." Don sucked on his fangs, eying the two, and finally shrugged. Some people you just didn't argue with
 
 "...'Kay. Fine. Have it your way – Nail said he'd seen him bust a car down on 23rd, west from the Presbyterian in Augustine. There's a body in that car too, but I'll have some ghouls take care of that. Anyway, he'd took off north then, and in a hurry. Nail is on him now." he sat back down and turned to one of the monitors "So get there, once Nail gets a chance to call with something more specific I'll let you know."
 
 "Shit, this beats kidnapping models!" Hives said cheerily, then paused and added "...Sort of ...Hmm. Ehm, count me in anyway."
 
 Somewhere in lower Annsbridge.
 
 The thick fog which blanketed the streets didn't make Nail's job much easier, even if it did probably cover him from any distant observers. He had to shorten the distance between himself and his target in order not to lose his trail. The Kindred he was following was sticking to backstreets and poorly lit blocks, casting wary glances around every once in a while. On two instances, he'd actually stopped in a shadowed corner and seemingly waited for any followers to reveal themselves, but such measures were wasted on a Nosferatu. There were relatively few Kine on the streets, which considering the hour and neighborhood wasn't all that surprising, but the Sabbat vampire had stalked and fed from two hookers on his way, curiously leaving both alive, though most likely due to being in a hurry rather than anything else.
 
 Even though Nail was making a point of not looking up at the sky, he could nonetheless feel the dawn approach ever so slowly. It couldn't be much longer than an hour, maybe two hours away now. There was little chance of reaching his haven in time if this went on for much longer, he'd have to crash somewhere in the sewers or maybe some basement or something, luckily there usually were ample opportunities for one of the brood. Besides, his target was also Kindred, and as such just as unable to continue for much longer. They would most likely reach his destination soon, and with some luck he'd succumb to the day sooner than Nail. That was only wishful thinking, but it could happen.
 
 As he was analyzing the other vampire's walk to occupy his thoughts, which suggested the Sabbat was carrying something underneath his trench coat, Nail suddenly felt something cold on his forehead. Then another. He looked around. Snow. Great. In just a few moments, the few flakes turned into a moderate snowfall, limiting the seeing distance even further. Nail cursed to himself as the other Kindred turned a corner, he'd have to catch up or possibly lose him now. He quickened his pace and reached the chainlink fence, but as he crossed it, a gust of wind, gravity or some other factor caused the gate to move behind him with a loud creak.
 
 Nail's subconscious alarmed him to cloak his presence as shadows in the alley flickered to life and the Sabbat spun around rapidly with a feral hiss...
 
 Elsewhere.
 
 Bitterman winced as he got on his feet. A moment later Mal entered the room again.
 
 "All set" he said "Rowdy's gonna burn the old ones, 'less you've something else in mind?" Bitterman shook his head in response. As long as they'd be disposed it didn't make much difference. He stretched his arm, inspecting the recently healed wounds, as he wondered if he should expect more to come, or just call it a night before more actually did come. He caught his reflection in the mirror behind the bar. Well, either way he'd have to get dressed.
 
 "Oh yeah! Wait a sec" Mal called after him, as if on cue "remember that pusher, Martinez, from downtown?" Bitterman searched his memory for a few seconds. Ah, yes. A small time fence who used to hang around a few blocks from his store in Redbrock. Spanish kid, banger, his "posse" called him something stupid... started with a "P".
 
 "Poppy?" Bitterman asked over his shoulder
 
 "Peppé." Mal corrected, leaning on the bar and wiping the smear from his hands on a piece of cloth
 
 "Whatever, Peppé. I remember. What of him?"
 
 "Some Brothers were here earlier, left a message. Apparently Peppé is, like, aching to have a talk with you. He seems to be in a hurry to get some merchandise off his hands or something. Gettin' all paranoid 'bout it too - he didn't even tell them precisely what it's all about by the looks of it. Could be big." Bitterman raised an eyebrow. Oh really? As far as he recalled, Martinez was a little flea that was aiming way to high, but he'd occasionally have an interesting bargain, and considering his suppliers, he usually wasn't picky about whom he sold to or where the payment came from, as long as his cut was large enough. Who said the Kine weren't practical. Bitterman seemed to recall he had his number... somewhere.
 
 "Well anyway, you said to keep an ear out for stuff." Mal finished with a shrug and went back to his work.
 
 Back in lower Annsbridge.
 
 ...and froze. Nail's muscles tensed as he prepared to dodge the inevitable attack, but as seconds passed, nothing happened. He'd managed to disappear out of sight before the other Kindred turned around to face him even if by just a fraction of a second, it was enough. The shadows around writhed menacingly as the Lasombra still searched for any trace of a follower, his eyes narrowed to slits. Nail instinctively focused on maintaining his cover, as the other vampire seemed to be utilizing means beyond those of normal sight.
 
 Eventually though, the shadows ceased moving at the edges of Nail's sight as the Sabbat eased his stance. Having apparently inspected the alley to his satisfaction, he turned around and resumed his journey. Nail lingered for a moment before continuing as well to avoid stepping on the other's toes. When he finally did follow, he found that they'd reached the destination, as his target moved a large metal obstruction (by the looks of it a bit heavier than an average Kine could manage to move) and slipped through the door hidden beneath it. Nail scrutinized the building. It could pass for a warehouse, or something of the sort, with one large welded-shut door and police tape over the few, boarded-shut windows. This place had too much of that "haven" look to it to be a just a checkpoint in the Lasombra's run. Come to think of it, how come did a Lasombra have a goddamned haven in Cawford? That question would have to wait, Nail realized. He had to get in touch with Don.                        

 

                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Skinweaver on November 15, 2005, 08:11:00 PM
                In Reply To nothing in particular.
 
 The pusher didn't seem very threatning but throughout her Kindred existance, Rebecka has learned that looks could be all too decieving.
 Typical streetrash but he still showed signs of being somewhat more successful than the other vermin in the neighbourhood.
 Of course, in his vanity he had traded the hoody for last year's fashion to look more proper.
 These days in this part of town he was as much an obvious pusher as those other suits with their trinkets during the days when the word "pimp" was more an honour than an insult. Of course, these days the vermin used it as a compliment to their male associates who were lucky with the females.
 Know thy vermin... the words "king rat" came to mind and she smiled at the thought from her vantage point on the parkbench.
 
 "Of course, he must be armed."
 
 She thought. No dumb muscle around to protect him so of course he would have to arm himself against the crazies who wanted his lucky charms without paying.
 Judging by his skittish behaviour and his way of looking around like a scared bird revealed him to be lightly armed or doped up on something. Probably both.
 Maybe a switchblade or a Glock. Possibly even a Tech 9 but she doubted it. Big guns always made the males confident and this one was scared.
 Obviously on the wrong sides of the tracks or maybe something in his simple vermin mind told him that something other then the average, sweaty bum was around. In any case, Rebecka would need a sample.
 No matter how much this pusher's behaviour revealed about himself one could never be too sure.
 For a moment, she considered probing his mind for an clue as to what he was thinking before deciding.
 
 Mumbling. These creatures always had things going on in their minds, never capable of settling for one focused thought even when sleeping or mating!
 Names, places, childhood memories... oh, yes. Daddy had really liked the sauce and mommy had been chewing painkillers like candy.
 Fun for the whole family!
 What a surprise that sis was born blind with no hair! Right... entertaining but irrelevant... last night... scruffy guy that reeked of... cigars?
 Could be important. The ratking had obviouly been frightened by this man. Maybe his employer?
 No, something was wrong about the guy. His eyes had been weird. More than usual. And his voice... a strong clue indeed but she still needed that sample to confirm things.
 
 "What are we thinking of now, ratking?"
 
 Images. Fear. Something was bothering him... people. Filthy, filthy people. Everywhere.
 Wonderful! Too bad that his views were to twisted and his mind useless. The Kooks could have this one if they ever found him...
 A name... what could be his name...
 Rebecka stood up from her bench and walked over to the ratking where he stood in his alleyway.
 
 "You Miles? A friend of mine told me to talk to you since I'm thinking of organising a little private party."
 
 The ratking looked to both his sides and behind his back before answering.
 Obviously anxious.
 
 "Who's asking? I... uh... only deal with respectable folks. Reliable and... trustworthy... you know."
 
 "Reliable? Like that kid over there? Or the less than dressed young lady over there? The name is Chalmers. Linda Chalmers if you must know. Don't bother looking it up. I'm more connected than you can possibly hope to be."
 
 "Don't tell me how to run my buinsess, OK? I know... people and they know how to deal with... untrustworthy folks. Now, what do you want? I... I carry lots of nice stuff in here. You'd be surprised how many kinds of... things that have been popping up on the market the last few wee... I mean years."
 
 "I know what I want, thank you. It's different from your other stock. Not like the snow or the chillpills. Special stuff. Trust me. My client is very demanding and I know all about this whole little arrangement already so you can trust me on this."
 
 "You sure... that you're not a cop? Cuz' I know how to deal with cops...."
 
 The ratking reached slowly into his jacket to grab something. Hopefully not that Glock. Those things always stung something terrible...
 The Tremere offered the ratking a knowing smile to calm him down a bit and it seemed to acturally work.
 
 "Not a cop. Do you see a badge anywhere? And don't get any ideas, ratboy, the coat stays closed."
 
 Either the rat was easy to trick or just plain dumb but he acturally fell for it. Must have been the drugs...
 
 "No cop is that suspicious. Here's the bag. Premium stuff... you know, I expect the usual payment for this. Up front... cash. No tricks! I know... people..."
 
 Of course. Payment! What could possibly be a suitable price for this kind of poison?
 If she would ask, the ratking would get suspicious for sure.
 Confidence...
 
 "Of course. I'd never rip you off! Here's 250 and keep the change."
 
 "Pretty rich for a junkie. I mean, just look at your skin... all pale and pasty... altough, you're pretty generous. I'll... uh... set you up with something special next time."
 
 Rebecka smiled at the pusher as she took the small bag of powder and stuffed it into her pocket.
 Phew! Lucky break! What if he had demanded a thousand or something more... revolting? With the sample in hand she could head back to the chantry for the tests. Hopefully it wouldn't distract her too much from her duties.                        

 

                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Grendel8101 on November 15, 2005, 08:27:00 PM
                So Martinez wanted to deal?  Not surprising, punks like him flood the market.  I don’t like dealing with kids like him, they have a bad habit of fucking up deals.  Always too eager, too greedy, too willing to take chances.  They die a lot.  But business is business.
 
 I should make the punk call me, but I have an hour and some change before the sun comes up and I don’t have anything better to do.  I find his number and dial.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“What?â€?  Martinez said.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“I hear you’re looking to talk with me.â€?  I say.
 
 There’s a silence.  Ã¢â‚¬Å“Bitterman?  Yo, ese’, I been trying to get ahold of you, man.  I got business.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“So talk.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“I got shit to move, an I gotta move it now, ese’.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“So how’s that my problem?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“…Bits, listen-â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Call me Bits again and I’ll feed you your tongue.â€?  You got to remind the punks who they’re talking to, especially when they start acting like an equal.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Sorry, man, sorry.  You know me, I don’t want to piss you off, you hear?  You got the cajones, I just trying to make a buck, you know?â€?  
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“If I wanted a blowjob I would’ve stopped by your sister’s.  Tell me the deal.â€?  He was good and flustered by now.  
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Okay, man, I got you.  I got some shit you might be interested in, but I got to move it.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“How much heat?â€?
 
 He hesitated.  Ã¢â‚¬Å“Not-â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Bullshit.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Okay, there’s some heat, but you can get around it, ese, I swear!â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“What kind of heat?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“It ain’t blue.â€?  The police weren’t looking for it then.  Whoever he’d stolen it from was.
 
 He told me the amount.  I had to say, I was impressed.  
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“I’ll get back to you.â€? I told him, and hung up.
 
 I went back downstairs.  Rowdy and Mal were helping themselves to a drink.  Star was dancing by herself near the jukebox.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Martinez just offered me enough guns to supply the Chinese army.  I want to know where he got ‘em from.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Oh, yeah, I forgot to tell you Boss,â€? Rowdy said.  Ã¢â‚¬Å“You know that deal we were going to set up with that big-time Ventrue, Rocher’s kid?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Massicus?  What happened?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Sounds like somebody bought all the guns he was gonna sell to us before he could buy them.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Bought?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Bought.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“You didn’t…â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“No Boss, it wasn’t me this time.  I learned my lesson last time, I swear!â€?  Rowdy had been my ghoul too long.  He was starting to pick up some unpredictable habits.
 
 I looked him in the eyes.  Ã¢â‚¬Å“<orange>Don’t lie to me</orange>.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“I’m not!â€?
 
 I bit my tongue lightly, thinking.  I was betting Martinez was trying to sell me Julian’s guns.  I might be able to get them cheaper from the punk.  Problem was, he was the middleman.  I was going to want to talk to his boss.  I needed to know the specifics, you don’t just shoulder out a guy like Massicus without a substantial dollar value.
 
 I went back upstairs and dialed Martinez’ number.  Ã¢â‚¬Å“It’s me,â€? I said, “tell whoever you’re working for I want to meet with him.â€?
 
 There was a pause.  Ã¢â‚¬Å“Sure, man, whatever you say.  How about tomorrow at noon?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Tomorrow night or never, kid, I got shit to do after tomorrow and I’m busy during the day.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Okay.â€?                        

 

                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Year_of_the_Scarab on November 16, 2005, 10:06:00 PM
                Her cab gone, Rebecka found herself forced to walk, at least until finding another one. Which could be a while, considering the neighborhood. Still, dawn wasn't close enough to be worried yet, so she casually made her way towards one of the main streets, where her chances of catching a cab would be substantially higher. She pocketed the plastic container purchased from the dealer while walking and looked around. Most of the shops around were closed and sealed tight behind reinforced shutters, but in some displays here and there first Christmas decorations appeared. Even here, in the indisputably worst part of the city, the Kine prepared for the supposedly joyous season. Hell, one of the lowlifes standing around a burning barrel even called some mumbled season's greetings to her, for whatever reason. She didn't pay that rabble much mind though, as her thoughts were currently occupied with the man following her.
 
 She'd first noticed him watching her even before making the transaction with the dealer, but from the blank look in his eyes he fit right in with what passed for the pusher's "clientele", so he didn't seem worth the attention. When she'd made her choice of ware however, her admirer's gaze focused, and he'd been trailing her ever since. She didn't need to turn around to notice that "on the hunt" look on him, even though he tried hard to be inconspicuous. Either horribly inexperienced or playing with her. He didn't really look Kindred, though with some you never knew for sure at first glance.                        

 

                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Sodom40280831 on November 19, 2005, 07:41:00 AM
                Nail was investigating the area around the warehouse for any way to contact Don. There didn’t seem to be a payphone anywhere in sight and he was just about to leave out of fear for the rising sun when he suddenly heard a phone ringing near him. Following the rather annoying James Bond ring-tone led him to a dumpster which had a smell coming from it that could knock even the most experienced garbage-man out cold. The smell was being produced by the half-decayed body of what looked to be a woman lying in the dumpster. After searching the body Nail found the ringing cell-phone in her purse and, being the polite undead gentleman he was, answered the call. A high-pitched male voice came in from the other side.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Kristy? Is that you? I swear to god she means nothing to me! And……I can’t even remember her name! And……..it wasn’t even that good! And……..I love you! And…….
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Sorry pal but Kristy can’t talk right now, I’ve got my tongue halfway up her brain. Bye!â€?
 
 Nail couldn’t help but smile while he was dialling Don’s number, but there was a time for play and a time for work.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Nail, is that you man?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Yep and I’m standing outside the Lasombra’s haven.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Outstanding work! I’m tracking the cellphone you’re calling from. Hives and Pauline should be there any minute.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Pauline? I thought she was out of action?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Well you thought wrong, she’s back in action and mad as hell at the Lasombra. And it’s a good thing too because you’re gonna need her. That Lasombra is a real badass, but the three of you should be able to take him.â€?
 
 Nail was staring nervously at the sky, he didn’t have a lot of time to be hanging around while the sun was about to come up.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Don, I’m a little short on time here.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Just stay cool, it won’t take more than a minute or two. And remember, we want him alive! You hear that?!â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Yeah, I hear ya.â€?
 
 Nail hung up the phone and started pacing around. The snow was getting thicker. After two minutes Nail saw a figure emerging from the snow. It was Hives.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Well fancy meeting you here handsome! You didn’t think we’d let you have all the fun did ya?!â€?
 
 Nail was about to return Hives greeting when he heard heavy breathing coming from behind him. It was Pauline and she had murderous rage in her eyes. She looked at Nail the way a comic book villain looks at one of his minions when he needs to vent some rage on someone weaker than him.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Where is he?â€?
 
 She asked in a tone that would make the grim reaper himself shit his robes. Nail didn’t feel at all comfortable around her but if there was one thing he knew how to do it was hide his fear from others.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“In the warehouse, through the hole behind the big metal thing.â€?
 
 Pauline immediately stomped towards the entrance and tossed aside the metal obstruction as if it was made of foam rubber and ventured inside, leaving Nail and Hives with a raised eyebrow.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Hey Nail, do you think it’s still possible for vampire women to have “that time of the monthâ€?.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“I honestly wouldn’t know Hives.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Hey! You guys coming or what?!â€? Pauline yelled from inside the building. The two Nosferatu quickly followed her inside.
 
 Beyond the entrance was a staircase which led into the buildings basement. Following the staircase led the three to a locked steel door. Nail stepped forward, readied the long, sharp fingernail on his index-finger and started picking the lock. However, after a few seconds Pauline lost her patience and started bashing at the door using potence. The door held out for a few seconds before it fell backwards causing an enormous BANG to echo through the building.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Well, so much for the subtle approach.â€? Nail commented.
 
 The corridor behind the door led them to a large square room with a bed and a table with four wooden chairs surrounding it. There were bloodstains throughout the room and two long dead bodies were lying in the corner. There was no sign of the Lasombra.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Crap, he must have heard the door fallingâ€? Pauline said as Nail replied with an accusing look and an overly sarcastic “Gee, ya think so?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Really funny, Come out where we can see you asshole!â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Um Nail, Pauline, I don’t mean to be a crybaby here but I sortta can’t move.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“What?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“I seriously can’t move!â€?
 
 But before Nail had a chance to think of something to do he received a tremendous blow to the back of his head. Another one would have knocked him out if Pauline didn’t jump on the sucker-punching Sabbat and pinned him to the floor making him lose his hold over Hives. The Lasombra used potence and started punching away at Pauline, who was forced to let go of him. Nail and Hives immediately joined in and surrounded their prey. After Pauline got back on her feet she picked up one of the chairs, charged at the Lasombra like a wild animal and practically knocked his head off of his shoulders. Nail and Hives then started throwing punches at him until he lost consciousness. However, Pauline didn’t let that stop her and kept on going.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Uh…..Pauline? You can stop now, he’s unconscious, we don’t want to go on and torpor him now do we?â€?
 
 Nail asked with a slight look of concern on his face.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Oh I’ll do more than fucking Torpor him!â€?
 
 Pauline replied as she took a lighter and a small container from her pocket. She emptied the container over the unconscious body of the Lasombra, judging from the smell of it the container was filled with gasoline. After drenching his face and clothing with the gasoline from the container she produced a small flame with the lighter which she started moving towards the Lasombra.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Oh shit! She’s gonna torch him!â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Now Pauline, think about what you’re doing!â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Oh I know what I’m doing! I’m gonna get back at this asshole for what he did to me and Doe!â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Pauline, we need him for information!â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Fuck that! I want him dead!â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Oh come on! You don’t honestly think we’re going to let him live do you?â€?
 
 Pauline paused for a moment.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“I promise you that as soon as we get the information we want out of him which will probably happen through excruciatingly painful torture you can kill him in the best way you see fit.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Hmmm I guess you’ve got a point, torturing this little bastard will be much more fun than just killing him while he isn’t even conscious. C’mon, let’s find some rope and tie him to one of the chairs. Then we can get some shut-eye. Oh and the bed is mine.â€?
 
 Nail and Hives let out a deep sigh of relief.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Hives man, I’m practically certain of it. Women are going to be the final death of me.â€?
                       

 

-----signature-----
           I'm so serious it's comical!    
                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Year_of_the_Scarab on November 20, 2005, 12:06:00 PM
                Hives snickered at the remark as both he and Nail looked around for something sturdy enough to tie the Sabbat with. After a minute or so Hives threw his hands up in exasperation
 
 "Eh, who are we kidding, there ain't shit in here. We can just as well sit on him and wait till tomorrow night, cuz there's nothing here to secure him, and I know I'm not tearing my stylish threads up to tie him up with. I mean..." he stopped mid-sentence "Err... Pauline? Didn't we all just agree we don't waste him just yet?" he said, seeing her standing above the unmoving Lasombra with fists clenched "Chill, we're..." before he finished Pauline had lashed out with a grunt, and an unpleasant impaling noise came from the lying body.
 
 "...fucked." Hives modified the end of that sentence to better fit the situation "Aw, shit! You do know that Hernandez is going to have us tarred and feathered for this one, right?" he added, expecting the Lasombra to turn to ash any second. Nail, who was standing on the other side of the room and saw what really happened, just rolled his eyes
 
 "Oh, calm down. You sound like a fifteen year old caught on smoking weed, man." he said
 
 "Consider him 'secured'." Pauline added, as she walked from the staked vampire and crashed on the bed. Hives looked at her, then Nail and then the broken-off chair leg, protruding from the Lasombra's chest. He scratched his chin.
 
 "I guess that works too."                        

 

                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Skinweaver on December 01, 2005, 06:58:00 AM
               
 Who was this man? Rebecka looked over her shoulder and saw the mysterious tail make a poor attempt to hide.
 A stalker, then. But why? Usually, these people were driven by one out of four things:
 Curiosity, greed, ambition to prove themselves or just the simple desire to mate.
 This one seemed determined to follow her without revealing himself and even though he was failing horribly, he kept trying. Hope. So simple.
 In the corner of her one functional eye she saw that the stalker certainly wasn’t from th upper columns of society.
 In an obvious attemtps to improve his typical vermin looks, the man had bleached his hair.
 Mortal vanity. Though, she was hardly in any position to judge him since her own hair was dyed white prior to her embrace.
 Aside from that, the stalker had placed numerous objects underneath and through his skin.
 A mark common among the vermin to prove themselves in initiationrites for their streetside tribes. Not surprisingly, these traits were common among the fresh Rabble and Fiends too.
 Could he possibly be a ghoul of some kindred master?
 Only one way to find out, really. He wouldn’t stop following her until she would reach the chantry and that couldn’t be tolerated.
 What to do? She turned around, facing the man who instantly tried to hide.
 His aura seemed human. Still, there was something odd about it.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Why are you following me?â€?
 
 Even in the gloom of the alleyway, Rebecka could see the the fear in his eyes.
 She took a moment to probe his mind to see his thoughts. Knowing this would be vital to avoid having him run away.
 Yes, obvious fear. He wanted to run for his life. Skittish like the animal he was.
 He took a step back, fingering something inside his jacket. Probably a weapon.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“What the Hell are you talking about? I’m just walking around, minding my own and... like, you know.â€?
 
 The vampire took a step towards the stalker, effectively closing the distance.
 She could almost smell his fear. There had to be a reason. Soon...
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“No I don’t. Tell me.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Mind your own business, bitch! I got nothing to say to you.â€?
 
 So his lips would remain sealed? Well, just like that run down store at the end of the street his mind would always be open.
 Again, the same blur the ratking had offered. Thousands of images all flickering around.
 Focus! Current thoughts... hmm...
 She might as well confront him with this. It might prove risky but she could always make him forget afterwards.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“You wanted me to use this, right?â€?
 
 She picked out the bag of mortal poison from her pocket and waved it about.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“And then, when I would lie there gurgling my own juices you would use that little bottle in your pocket on me. Chloroform, right? Very clever. Orders from the big bossman, I assume?â€?
 
 The stalker’s fear seemed to multiply like a virus in his mind and his legs started to shake.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“How the fuck did you know? Oh, shit... stay back!â€?
 
 A weapon, yes. He pulled out a rather cheap pistol and aimed it at her head.
 Fear would cause him to shoot at any moment and he was too far away to strike at him.
 Only one choice, then. Hopefully she would have enough left in her to make him forget this whole ordeal later.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Drop that.â€?
 
 The weapon fell to the ground with a clatter and the stalker took yet another step back.
 He was now backed up against the wall with no way to escape.
 A delicate situation. Maybe after this little interrogation she could taste him a bit before making him forget? A little below her usual standard but would the starved deny a meal that is offered? Of course, he might defend himself. She kept her distance for now.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Who told you to do these things to me? Why? Tell me. Now...â€?
 
 The man looked around for a possible escape route but he was trapped.
 He was now a threat both to her and to himself but his fear could still be used against him.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“What the fuck are you?! Stay back! Oh, fuck... get away from me... I... uhh... ah, shit...â€?
                       

 

                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Year_of_the_Scarab on December 01, 2005, 06:29:00 PM
                "Tell me why." she said casually, taking care to stay out of his reach
 
 "Sh-shit. Didn't mean no harm lady, fuck, seriously, we always let 'em go afterwards and shit, we's only... only, uh..." Rebecka frowned. We? Who was 'we' then?
 
 "You and who else?"
 
 The would-be-stalker looked at his gun, out of his reach by now, briefly and bit his lip. His eyes darted from the gun to the street several times. Rebecka realized he was gathering his courage to leap for it and decided no to take any chances. She caught his glance and put her will into the command
 
 "Hold still. And answer me already." The first part hit home, as the man seemed to root to the spot in an instant, though his clenched jaw was not a sign of a testimony to come anytime soon, whether she didn't put the command properly or scared him too much was irrelevant. This was getting her nowhere, and dawn was too close to play cat and mouse with this lowlife. She looked into his eyes and focused.
 
 Sorting through the chaotic stream of thoughts in only a few seconds took effort, but she found what she was looking for, and even more than she was expecting to find. In the fraction of a second however, as she was hearing the man's current thoughts, she felt his relief and she instantly broke the connection to react. Before she could turn around though, a blow to the back of her head sent her vision swirling and vertigo claimed her.
 
 
 
 "I'm sorry miss Jackson (oooh) I am for real
 Ne-ver meant to make your daugh-ter cry
 I apologized a million times..."

 
 "Hello and good morning Pennsylvania! The clock just sang 7:00 AM and you're listening to WKYP radio at 93.3 FM. It's a freezing 25 degrees outside on this December Wednesday morning, so unless you need to get to work or are just realizing you've woken up in someone else's bedroom – we strongly advise you to stay home. At WKYP we've got everything you need to get the day started, outside of a cup of coffee. That you'll have to make yourself."
 
 "I'm sorry miss Jackson (oooh) I am for real"
 
 "As Outkast here is ending their song, it would be a good moment for those who missed it yesterday to look through the window. Whoa. Pretty white outside, isn't it? Yes, bring out the sleds and call Santa, cause it looks like Christmas will be real snowy this year, right Jen?"
 
 "No kidding, Rick. You wouldn't believe it yesterday, but today morning we've had several inches of fresh snow here on the East Coast. I barely found my own car earlier, heh, heh. If you're running late on your Xmas shopping, you might want to consider looking for that sweater you've got from grandma last year, folks. Winter is back with a vengeance."
 
 "Heh, heh. You probably weren't the only one having a car problem this morning, Jen. In fact, let's go directly to Steve for the traffic report right now. How's the situation on the roads, Steve?..." Tony clicked off the radio at that point and focused on the road. There was only so much cheery-radio-host conversation he could take. And he had no reasons to feel particularly cheery himself at that moment, first he got on Julian's bad side because of that deal gone bad, and now he was on his way to the Greek with information that could make that previous fuckup seem like a Sunday picnic. Not that any of this had been his fault, but delivering bad news had this habit on killing the messenger in the process.
 
 Lost in those thoughts, he almost missed his exit, resulting in a last second jerk or the steering wheel and a near-crash with another car. Luckily the driver of the gray pickup wasn't as preoccupied, and managed to dodge Tony's vehicle by a few inches. A trail of obscenities followed from his mouth, and although Tony couldn't hear any of them, he did catch the other man's reflection in his rear view mirror and snorted at the other's image.
 
 "Asshole." he muttered under his breath "You'd be speeding too if you were in my place. Go home to wifey and kids and be glad I haven't got time to turn around and make you eat those words." That took some of the anger out of him, but he didn't feel better for much longer. He was at the Greek's place. Making sure he wasn't followed, parking the car and talking his way past all the armed muscle around took about ten minutes, but it felt like hours. Still, eventually he was in Cyprus' "office", for lack of a better word, watching the heavily-built ghoul walk tracks into the way-too-expensive carpets. He was not a man easy to anger or unnerve but he definitely wasn't overjoyed with Tony's information either.
 
 "Julian has to know about this as soon as possible." Tony said wearily. He came here for advice, not to watch the Greek pace there and forth like a pendulum in slow-motion for half an hour, for God's sake. He glanced at the desk, where the pictures he brought were laying as the Greek had dropped them.
 
 "No." Cyprus answered distractedly. Tony raised his eyebrows an inch higher. What the hell?
 
 "What do ya mean "no"? How in the..."
 
 "No. No, no, no. If that info proves wrong and he finds out, he'll fuck you up so bad you're going to forget your own mother's name. This would be your last mistake." Not to mention the last mistake of anyone else who had their part in the investigation, the Greek thought to himself. He'd know, as he set Tony on that trail in the first place. "So no. I want this checked. I want this double checked, and triple checked, before anyone tells anyone anything. That clear?"
 
 
 
 "...I'm not going to be able to help you about the specifics of the information we have. I think we've indicated that there are a number of groups, terrorist groups, that we watch very closely in the world that are capable and have a disposition to undertake terrorist actions against the United States, against Americans, and we're vigilant in regard to all of them."
 
 "With that Mr. Foley thanked the press and ended the briefing. And so, the question of travel security in the holiday season remains a delicate subject, though several Embassies have already said that the Secretary's assessments will be taken into consideration."
 
 "In related news, the State Authorities have released a statement in response to the recent bombings in New York and Baltimore in which they assure that those occurrences, while obviously alarming, are in no way connected to any terrorist movements, though the evidence on which this is based, is yet to be brought forth. Further, the officials have said that both the bombings, and the violent devastation of several famous landmarks along the East Coast, the Atlanta High Museum of Arts among others, which of course should be considered acts of grand scale vandalism, have not claimed any lives, as unlikely as it may sound. Investigations are in progress, however, and to quote the statement: the party responsible for those acts of destruction will be prosecuted to the full extent of the law.
 
 Meanwhile, the party in question, has apparently moved it's operations south, as the Grand Plaza Theater as well as the PriceWellCo. building in Cawford have burned to the ground in mysterious circumstances no further than last week. While the official explanation is that of a malfunctioned power installation, already are there speculations of cover-up conspiracies. We will follow the story as it evolves..."
 
 "...This concludes the Channel9 News noon edition, stay tuned for the weather forecast, and we will see you tomorrow. Have a nice day."
 
 ...
 
 "Good afternoon, I'm Gina Hones, welcome to C9 Weather. This night's rapid snowfall has paralyzed much of the traffic in southern Pennsylvania. Officials told our correspondent that several highways and a total of 30 village roads have been closed to traffic. Highway teams are currently working to clear snow on the roads, but an improvement isn't to be expected during the next few hours. Snow will spread northeast across all areas. Further heavy snow, accompanied by gale or severe gale force winds, will spread across the southeast until the early evening hours."
 
 
 
 "Sure, I'll let him know." Rowdy said to the receiver "…Yes, you've said this was urgent twice before already, I heard you the first time. I'll be sure to tell him so." he added after a pause and ended the conversation soon after. Glancing at his watch, he emptied the whiskey glass into the sink and grabbed his coat. It was getting late and he hasn't slept in like sixty hours, he should head home. Should tell Mal about the phone call first though, that damned guy could go without sleep for days, even a week with some effort, let him relate it to Bitterman when he wakes later.
 
 When Rowdy left the backroom, Mal seemed to be occupied with one of the patrons. Rowdy leaned against the bar and helped himself to a bowl of peanuts, a couple more minutes weren't going to make much difference anyway. He looked at the other people in the bar to see if there was anyone he didn't know.
 
 "...been yet. You can wait here if you want." Mal said absentmindedly while setting up a line of shot-glasses on the bar  
 
 "Daym dog, we was 'sposta meet, like, an hour ago." Peppé replied sourly, to which Mal chuckled
 
 "I seriously doubt that."
 
 "Yeah, whatever gramps. I gots ta tell someone we 'gon be later, aight?" the younger man replied, reaching under his much too large jacket to fetch a (much to small, in turn) cell phone "Pour me a Loca inna meantime, dog. I half froze a fuckin' nut off driving here. My ride be all like we... Uh. Hello? Holla, holla. It's yo' boy, put me through to the man, eh?. Yo, this important. Yeah, really. Yeah, fuck, I'll hold."
 
 "You do that. I'll get back to you in a minute." Mal said, noticing Rowdy giving him an impatient look. He swiftly filled the glasses and made his way to the other side of the bar, where they could talk more freely.
 
 "...Yo, an' hold the juice on that motherfucker, esse. I drink 'em sour." Martinez called after him covering the phone receiver with his hand. Mal nodded at him over his shoulder, rolled his eyes and turned to the other ghoul.
 
 "What's up?"
 
 "I'm beat, heading home. I think Star bailed some time ago, said she had something to pick up from the shop. Don't know what's keeping her, but she should be back soon. But listen, that's not what I wanted to talk about. When the boss shows up, tell him one of Masscius' boys called earlier. Apparently they were trying to get in touch since last night. They want to talk." Rowdy said
 
 "Uhuh. About?"
 
 "Didn't say. Seems obvious enough if what we heard about their guns is true though. I dunno, either they want to set up a new deal or think something's foul on our end."
 
 "That'd be awfully quick." Mal said scratching his chin thoughtfully "If it went down like your guy said it did, they shouldn't be pointing fingers already. I think they shouldn't, at least. Fuck. Let the boss figure this one out. I'll tell him they called, you're free to go, I guess."
 
 "Kay. Should the ugly bastard from downtown know anything more tonight I'll send the word. I don't know how those sewer creeps got wind of that deal in the first place, but I'll call if he digs anything more up. He still owes both me and Bitter. By the way, who's Antonio Bandanas over there?" Rowdy asked, nodding at Martinez
 
 "Chief's appointment. That Peppé idiot. They've got a meeting somewhere."
 
 "That's Martinez? Heh, no shit. I thought he was supposed to be a serious gangster type or whatever. What's this guy, seventeen at best?"
 
 "Who cares." Mal shrugged "Been here for a while, waiting around. Apparently he's to take the boss to talk to someone." seeing Rowdy's expression, he added with a smirk "Yeah, he seems to think they'll be taking his car, that pimp-mobile just outside. That'll be a bag of laughs."
 
                         

 

                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Sodom40280831 on December 04, 2005, 11:35:00 AM
                Oooooooh
 This is a story `bout a guy named Al
 and he lived in a sewer with his hamster-pal

 
 Nail and Hives were merrily chanting while marching along through the Cawford sewer-system carrying the paralyzed Lasombra. Pauline went upfront and tried to ignore the sound of her companions attempt at singing. After a few minutes of wandering the team stopped in front of a brick wall, Pauline pulled out two loose bricks revealing a small keyboard, she punched in a few numbers, hit enter and the wall slid to the side revealing a passage.
 
 When they arrived at the warrens main entrance Nail and Hives handed Pauline the Lasombra stiff.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“So, one of you boys wanna come with me and see what we can get out of mr. tall, dark and soon-to-be-screaming-his-undead-lungs-out-in-agonizing-pain Sabbat here?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“I think I’ll pass, thank you very much.â€? Hives replied with a slight look of horror on his face brought on by the thought of what Pauline was going to do to her victim. Besides, if she got a little carried away she might frenzy and Hives didn’t want to be anywhere near her when that happened.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Yeah me too, besides I have some other things to do.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Your loss.â€? Pauline said as she grabbed the Lasombra by the throat with one hand and started dragging him to the interrogation room.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Well I’ve got some things to check up on myself. So I’ll be seein’ ya handsome.â€? Hives said to Nail as he turned around and disappeared into one of the corridors still humming the “weird Al show themeâ€?. With the events of last night still on his mind Nail decided to pay a visit to Don to get a little more info on the Malkavian he encountered.
 
 Nail opened the door to Don’s haven to find him sitting behind his computers as always. It took Don a moment to tear his eyes away from the monitor but eventually he noticed Nail standing in the doorway.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Well if it isn’t my fucking hero. We spend I-don’t-know-how-long looking for that Sabbat bastard and you just walk on the street and he crashes his goddamn car right in front of you!â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Well for your information, I was sitting on a bench when it happened.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Funnaaaay, so what can I do for you hero.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Well you can start by just calling me Nail. And after that you can help me get a little info on a Malkavian I ran into last night.â€?    
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Sure, just give me a name.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Don’t have one. Just a description.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Well there aren’t that many Malkavians in Cawford so I guess that will be fine too.â€?
 
 Don punched in a few letters and the words: “Cawford kindred database searchâ€? appeared on the main screen.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Allright Nail, shoot.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“He’s about six feet tall, muscular, bald, had kind of a military look about him.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Anything else?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Hmm.. he had a really flashy car, I think it was a mustang, from the seventies by the look of it.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Oh him! Why didn’t you say so man. There are only like two people in Cawford who own a car like that and one of them is human.â€?
 
 Don typed in the name Bitterman and a photograph of the Malkavian from last night appeared on the screen along with a list of everything the Nosferatu knew of him.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“This is the guy you’re looking for. Showed up in Cawford somewhere in the seventies, he owns an army surplus store in Redbrock and a bar in Venice called “Charlie’s tavernâ€?. His ghouls keep both places running. He was a big help to the Camarilla when we were still fighting the Sabbat.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“What do we know about his past?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“I did a background-check on him some time ago and came up with very little. We only know he was embraced in Vietnam somewhere in the sixties. He was probably in the U.S. military but seeing as we don’t know his birth-name that is all we can come up with.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“What about his……..condition?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Huh? Oh you mean: “how many bricks is his building missing?â€? Well you don’t run two businesses by jumping around with your underwear on your head and poking out your own eyes so I don’t think you have to worry about stuff like that. But still…..
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“What?â€?  
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Well we try to keep a close watch on the Malkavians in Cawford seeing as its only a matter of time before they start some sort of trouble and Bitterman….well…..it seems as though he’s all there but its like…… he doesn’t know that.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Huh?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Y’know sometimes he just kinda……… spaces out or something. He starts acting like he’s in a totally different place.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“I think I see……sort of. Anything recent I should know about?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Yeah, Bitterman had some big arms deal set up with Rocher’s kid Massicus but someone beat Massicus to the buy. And seeing as Bitterman was supposed to buy the guns from Massicus that makes our burly little kook a suspect.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Interesting. I think that’s all the info I need, thanks.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Anytime man. Oh before I forget. Some of our contacts on the street have been disappearing along with some hookers and low-life drug dealers. We don’t know what’s going on and we don’t like it. So keep your ears open for any information.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Will do, thanks again.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Sure man, now get the hell out! I have work to do.â€?
 
 When Nail opened the door to his Haven he felt extremely relieved. He dropped himself on his bed and used his right hand to open a small cage standing next to the bed containing five large rats while using his left hand to reach for the remote control to the television in front of his bed. As he took a rat out of the cage and brought it to his mouth he switched on the television. It had been a real bitch getting reception down in the warrens but with a little creative wiring and some help from Don Nail had eventually managed to get a few channels in black and white. The classic movie channel had a late night showing of “The Elephant Manâ€? and Nail switched on his tv right in time to hear John Hurt’s famous cry:
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“I AM NOT AN ANIMAL, I AM A HUMAN BEING!â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Pussy.â€? Nail muttered under his breath.
                       

 

-----signature-----
           I'm so serious it's comical!    
                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Grendel8101 on December 05, 2005, 01:46:00 AM
                God had been busy while I’d been sleeping.  The snow was everywhere, freakishly changing the landscape.  Trees were now frosted and you couldn’t see the lines on the streets.  The wind carried it in little phantoms across the roads and by my window.
 
 I was oiling my boots, working the tacky wad into the leather, rubbing it deep into the seams and cracks.  A good pair of boots are hard to find, when you get them you have to take care of ‘em.  Especially in this weather.  Snow will soak in, then dry out, ruining leather.
 
 Gives me something to do with my hands while I think, too.
 I take a pull from the bottle of blood by my hand.  It takes years of drinking blood to sort out the alcohol from the vitae.  I still haven’t figured it out, but it ain’t for lack of trying.
 
 I heard Peppe’ Martinez nearly the moment I woke up.  He was early.  On time would have been suspicious.  Late is a sign of disrespect, but it’s what I had been expecting.  I’d been planning on slapping the little shit around.  On the order of rank, I can be late to meet with him, but not vice versa.
 
 But Peppe’ was early, and that was a whole new breed of dog.  
 
 I finished lathering up the boots and put them on.  The leather was a little slimy, but it would dry up.  I tucked my pant leg over their tops and took another swig from the bottle, then put it back in the fridge.  I wanted to stay sharp.
 
 I picked up the phone and dialed down to the bar.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Send him up,â€? I told Mal.
 
 _____________________________________________________
 Martinez entered the apartment and felt around for the light switch.  He wouldn’t find it, I don‘t keep the switches by the doors, for pure paranoia’s sake.
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Bit-Mr. Bitterman?  You here?â€?
 
 Mr. Bitterman, I like that.  Kid was nervous though, and not so sure of his place on the food chain anymore.  I liked that better.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“C’mon in, kid.â€? I told him.
 
 I heard him moving around, feeling for a switch, a door, anything.  His eyes started to adjust and he peered around the room.  He wouldn’t have been able to see me if it was sunshine outside, though.  I stepped between him and the window, where some light from the streetlamp filtered in, and let him see my outline for a second out of the corner of his eye.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Mr.…Mr. Bitterman?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Over here, kid.â€?
 
 I flipped on the lamp by my chair, turning off my cloak right before the light came on.  Peppe’ blinked away the light, seeing me sitting where I hadn’t been a moment before.  I was wearing my usual Mask, that of me, twenty years older and with a healthy human glow.  People don't take a gun dealer seriously if he looks like he's right out of high school.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Sorry about the lights, kid, I was dozing off before you came in.  Have a beer.â€?  I tossed him a cold one, holding a beer for myself that would just get warm.
 
 He caught it.  Not bad reactions, he must have played baseball before going gangster.  He made a hesitant half-smile and sat down.  Still too young to turn down free beer.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“How old are you, kid?  Seventeen, twenty?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Twenny-two, man.â€? he lied.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Who do you run with?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“I used ta be wit Taylor and his boys, but I got too respectable fo’ that crowd.  I’m on my own, I got some boys under me.â€?  Like a lot of gangsta wannabe’s, he loved talking about himself.  Last I heard, the kid had two guys working with him, one was a cousin, the other was his retarded brother.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Listen, Bits-I mean Mr. Bitterman, we got ta' go pretty soon, these guys don' like to wait-"
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Take it easy, bud, I've been doing these deals for a long time now.  We'll go, but I got to show you something on the way.  We'll grab some road beers from downstairs.â€?
 
 We were joking with each other by the time we came down into the bar.  I told him to wait as I went to the fridge behind the bar.  Mal was at the till.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Where's Rowdy?â€? I asked
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Sleeping.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Call and wake his ass up, make sure he knows what's going on.  I don't like the way this is playing out, so get prepared.â€?  Mal nodded.
 
 I grabbed some Corona from the fridge and made my way back to Peppe’.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“My dawg,â€? he said when he saw the beer, and we exchanged that new high-five, hand grip thing the kids do these days.  As my clientele had gotten younger, I’d had to learn little details like this.  We went out.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“I’ll drive, man, check out my ride.â€?  He walked up to a butchered Impala and positioned his hands like a game show girl displaying a prize.  The car was…horrifying.  It took every ounce of myself to not slap the punk down where he stood.  I bit my tongue, inhaled deeply and let it out.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Nice.  You should see  mine.â€?  I turned around and headed toward the garage.  I saw Mal’s outline in the window, probably grinning.  He’d been waiting for this.  I made a few hand signals Peppe’ couldn’t see.  The car would be gone by the time we got back.  Nobody paints an Impala purple and yellow in my neighborhood and gets away with it.  My next nightmare was going to incorporate those spinning rims, I could feel it.
 
 Peppe’ was calling me “Bitsâ€? again by the time we made it around back, and I was letting him.  He chattered constantly, I punctuated the stream with an appropriate comment at the right times.
 
 I opened the garage and unveiled my beauty.  
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“That’s a bad-ass car, man.  You should pimp this motherfucker, though.  Give it some gangsta‘ styleâ€?  I winced and nodded.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“All in good time, kid.  Let’s go.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“I don’t know man, I think I should drive, I know the way an all that-â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Listen, Peppe’, I know every street in this town, you point the way and I’ll tell you how to get there.  Besides, I still got to show you that thing I mentioned.â€?
 
 Martinez looked a little uncomfortable, but relented.  I suppose I could have Dominated him, but the less you use your disciplines, the more competent you are, as my Sire used to tell me.  In that respect, the events of last night probably make me pretty damned useless.  In my defense, Claude is a psychotic bastard.
 
 We drove, Peppe’ talked about how tight we’d be after the deal went down, about future deals, about his boys and how tough they were.  He bitched about the cold, my car’s radio, Mal, a bunch of other shit.
 
 We were past the edge of town and into the country by the time he started paying attention.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Where we goin’, Bits?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“You’ll see.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Man, this gotta be important, these guys, they expecting us hours back.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“If this deal is this important, they’ll wait.  Don’t you worry, kid.â€?  I gave him a wide grin.
 
 He started to get silent.
 
 I watched the little snow devils dance across the road, jumping one ditch and joining another.  It was damn near mesmerizing.
 
 I was on a gravel road, and I pulled off onto an abandoned road that wound and twisted into some woods.  Grass grew up between tire marks.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Get out,â€? I told him.
 
 He looked out into the woods, watching his breath steam out like smoke.  I grabbed a shotgun from behind my seat, keeping it in my left hand, hiding it from Martinez.  It was an old, ugly bitch, the stock and the barrel cut off.  The handle was wrapped with duct tape.  She was an old friend.
 
 I tossed him the last Corona.  He was fairly nervous.  His shiver wasn’t just from the cold.  We started walking.  I increased my senses and kept my eyes on the woods.  I’d never seen a werewolf, and wasn’t completely sure they could do everything they were supposed to be capable of, but I wasn’t going to argue the point if one showed up.
 
 Peppe’ started talking again, probably to fill the silence.  I didn’t respond to any of his questions.  He got more nervous.  Then he stopped talking.  He just glanced at me every now and again, quick.  I kept my eyes in front of me.
 
 We went around a curve and were hidden from the road.  I stopped.  Peppe’ walked ahead a ways before he noticed I’d stopped.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“So what were you gonna-â€? he doubled over as I drove my fist into his stomach.  I hooked my leg around his and pushed him to the ground.  The kid started fumbling for his gun, but I’d already taken it.  Desert Eagle.  I hate Desert Eagle’s, they’re big and loud and stupid-looking.  Give me a good 1911 or a .357 revolver any day.  
 
 Or a shotgun.  I didn’t bother pumping it, I knew one was in the chamber.  I stuck the barrel in his face.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“What are you doing, man?â€?  his voice quivered.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Killing you.â€?  I kept my voice low, quiet, just loud enough for him to hear.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Why?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“That’s the million dollar question, jackass.  You want to know?â€? he nodded.  Ã¢â‚¬Å“Tell you the truth, kid, I don’t know.â€?  
 
 His eyes got all confused.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“It could be that this deal is bad.  Could be that I don’t like you.  Could be that you spilled beer on my leather seats.  Could be ‘cause you parked that ugly piece of shit in front of my bar.  I don’t need a reason, bitchcakes, all I need to do is pull the trigger.â€?
 
 Tears started spilling down the sides of his face.  I knelt down and got closer to his ear.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“You got this one chance to save your ass.  Tell me what you know about these guys we’re meeting.â€?
 
 Peppe’, so sure he was about to die, grabbed this lifeline like a starving man reaches for bread.  Ã¢â‚¬Å“I don’t know shit about them.  They called me, I went and saw what they had.â€?
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Why’d they call you?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“I’d been telling everybody I‘s connected.  I told ‘em I knew you.  They didn’t say their names.  Don’t shoot me, man, dat’s all I know!â€?  He sobbed.
 
 He was telling the truth.  He was too scared to lie, and I could hear his heart beat.  It stayed beating pretty fast.
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Get up.â€? I said.  I started walking back towards the car.
 _____________________________________________________
 I glance behind me and sneer.  The fucking new guy is falling behind again.  It’s my turn to babysit him.  
 
 Wallace is ahead of me, Houston is ahead of Wallace.  Thompkins is on point again.  That cocksucker’s just trying to get shot, with how many times he takes point.
 
 I sigh and turn back to the new guy.  His name ain’t important, he’s gonna be dead by tonight with all the noise he’s making.  Too much gear.  A nice guy would carry some of it for him, but I ain’t nice.
 
 I stop and wait for him to catch up.  He’s some baby-faced bastard, straight outta high school and right into the Nam.  Probably signed up.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Keep up and shut the fuck up you little shit.  Charlie’s gonna get a piece of your ass and I’m gonna let him, fuck, I’ll use you like a shield if you let them know where we are, fuckhead.  Ã¢â‚¬ËœBout all your good for out here.â€?
 
 Seems like I have to give him the same damn speech every hundred yards.  He’ll get quiet for awhile, then he’ll get slower as he’s trying to keep quiet, so he‘ll try and speed up and start making noise.  It’s a damn pattern.
 
 I get back to my place in line, nod at Wallace and we move on.  Wallace and I change places, It’s his turn to watch the new fucker.  
 
 The trail turns and I find the rest of the guys stopped, crouched down, looking around, so I get down too.
 
 I look back and watch the trail, waiting for Wallace.  I wait too long.  He must be ragging on the FNG.
 
 I hear a clank and boots clopping along.  I look at the trail and the new guy comes around the bend.  He looks at me and I look at him.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Where’s Wallace?â€?
 
 The new guy looks lost, doesn’t know what I’m talking about.  I push past him and go back around the bend and look back, into the jungle.  The trail’s empty.  Wallace ain’t anywhere.
 ____________________________________________________________
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Who’s Wallace?â€?  asked Martinez, a little nervously.  He was real wide-eyed.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Wallace ain’t anybody, kid.  Wallace is dead and gone.â€?
 
  We were already at the car.  I got in and put the car in reverse, Peppe’ had to open the door and stumble in while the ‘Stang was moving.  
 
 I wanted out of there.  It took a lot of effort to keep my hands from shaking in front of the kid.  That was no ordinary flashback.  I shuddered, then glanced at Martinez to see if he noticed.  He was too busy looking straight forward.  It seemed like hours ago I’d stuck a shotgun in his face, but it’d been only a minute or two.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“So where we going, kid?â€?
 
 He lead me to a club near Venice.  It was a long ways.  I was gonna have to fill up with gas before I got back.
 
 I noticed a Lincoln in the parking lot.  Two apes were in it, and they seemed real interested in me.  Must be my cologne.
 
 We entered.
                       

 

                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Bloodreaper33413943 on December 05, 2005, 02:13:00 AM
                Darkness.  It was all the existed, all that mattered.  At least that's what Marie wished.  Mabey tonight would be different.  Mabey she wouldn't have to wake up and deal with the world tonight.  Mabey she could forget... just for awhile.  But it seemed that tonight was not that night.  The darkness around her was broken by beam of light.
 
 "Hey!  You can't sleep here.  You're going to have to leave," said the officer.
 
 Marie grumbled and lifted herself from her spot beneath the bleachers.  She had thought that the abandoned school wouldn't have police checking up on it for at least another week.  Apparently, she was mistaken.
 
 Officer Dawson had expected the trespasser to be one the typical homeless types who tried using these buildings as a place to sleep.  He hadn't expected a teenage girl.  "God," he thought, "she looks about as old as my daughter."  She was only wearing a pair of jeans, a t-shirt with some rock band on it, and a jacket that looked like it had seen better days.  Not at all fit for the weather outside.  Mabey she was one of those runaways that sometimes turned up.  "Miss?  Are you alright?  Do you need any help?"
 
 For a brief, wonderful moment, Marie almost said yes, almost thought that her problems might be at an end.  But then the horrible truth hit her.  This man couldn't help.  No one could help her with the problems that had come into her life.  This man couldn't make her heart beat again, or relive her of her foul new cravings.  She shook her head rapidly and made to walk by him.  But he grabbed her arm.
 
 "Please miss," he said, despite her stuggles, "I can take you down to the station, get you some warm clothes.  Is there anyone looking for you?"
 
 With a sudden stregth that he hadn't thought possible from her little body, she wrenched her arm from his grasp.
 "Partir de moi!"  She screamed at him.  And she took off running at a pace that Dawson could have sworn was impossible.  He took off after her, but she was gone.  After checking the other rooms in the building, he was forced to give up and head back.  "Pretty girl," he thought, "hope shes okay.  Thats no way for someone to live near Christmas.  What the hell did she yell at me?"
 
 Out on the streets of Crawford, Marie stopped running.  She had put enough distance between herself and the cop.  She took the time to look around at where she was.  It was a typical back alley in the big city.  Forgotten and ignored by the city at large.  Much like those who called alleys like these home.  Outside the alleys mouth, she could see various business advertisinf Christmas sales.  One of the only places that didn't have some catchy slogan on its door was a place called "Charlie's Tavern".  Marie liked this area.  Some of the people who had frequented Charlie's had given her spare change.  men in Santa suits were ringing bells.  The more she tried not to think the more her mind defied her.  She tought of how she would have been back in France by this times.  How she would have been decorating the tree with her mother and little sister.  How she would have complained about having Christmas break only lasting two and a half weeks.  She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to stop to flow of crimson.  She wiped her face and looked at what passed for tears these nights.  She wiped her hands in the snow.  The skin of her fingers went numb from the cold.  Then again, her hands were always cold these nights.
 
 She opened the pockets of her jacket to see what she had for music.  She browsed through the CDs she had stolen from parked cars.  She picked a particular mix disc that she indetified with these nights.  She noted with displeasure that her player's batteries were low.  Hopefully, she would have enough change to buy more when these died out.  As the player started up, she heard the familer lyrics that she had come to think of as hers.
 
 I walk a lonely road
 The only road that I have ever known
 Don't know where it goes
 But it's only me and I walk alone
 
 As she lost herself in self-pity, she noticed a stray cat about four feet from her.  She crept towards it slowly, making sure not to startle it.  That was difficult.  Animals seemed to sense her predatory intent.  However, this cat looked like it had a limp and was occupied prey of its own.  She reached out and snatched the pitiful creature from its hunt.  It yowled and tried to escape, but Marie's grip was tight.  "Shhh... Bon minet... Bon minet..."  She cooed, trying to calm the creature.  When it quit struggling, she felt the fangs descend for her gums as she bent her head down to it's neck...                        

 

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           When the game is over, the king and the pawn go back in the same box    
                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] munchies.Trooper on December 05, 2005, 05:16:00 PM
                As an old 1985 ford bronco drove passed an old building in the Mornington business section of Cawford, as the driver of the vehicle  looked to his right he mumbles something to him self and then continues to drive passed the building for another mile or two. As the driver of the bronco moved off into an empty field about two miles away from the building he had chosen just a few minutes ago, the driver stopped the bronco in the field and got out of the car. The driver reaches over into the passenger side of the car and grabbed a semi large brief case with the word Jenny written across the top of the case. The driver then sits the case down to his right side and then reaches into his pockets pulling out a pair of black leather gloves and proceeds to slip them onto his hands, after the driver slips the gloves on he reaches into his other pocket and pulls out a white cloth and starts to wipe down the inside of the bronco. After about 2 minutes the driver had finished wiping down the inside of the vehicle and then grabbed a stick and some rope from behind his seat. The driver then ties the rope to the steering wheel and places the stick so it is wedged up against the driver’s seat and the gas pedal. The driver then reaches underneath the dash board and flips a switch on a carefully placed pack of explosives, as the driver does this  a brief reflection of the timer can be seen on the floor mat because of the melted snow inside the vehicle, the reflection shows that five minutes are left until the explosives goes off. After the driver flipped the switch he places the vehicle in drive and turns away from the bronco as it slowly drives away from him.
 
 As the man leaves the empty field he picks up his brief case and says under his breath “Time to go to work Jenny.â€?
 
 As the man is walking along the street he just traveled a few minutes early the street light can be seen reflecting the light off the snow that has been falling during the day light hours. As the man passes under a street light he can be seen somewhat but he is careful to hide his face. He is dressed in a black trench coat with a blue three peace suit and a pair of black dress shoes with a nice shine on them making it look like he is a business man just leaving the office.   
 
 After 5 minutes of walking the man hears the explosion go off and is unaffected by the noise, he continues walking like nothing had happen. A few minutes later the mysterious man approaches the alley way behind the building he had chosen only a while before. The man looks to his right to see if anyone was looking and quickly sidles down the alley. The man hastens to find a shadowy place to hide and wait. Within about two minutes time a man walks out from the back door dressed in a janitor’s uniform, the janitor pulls a cigarette out from his pocket and lights it. Just as the janitor lit his cigarette the man hiding in the shadows pulls a tranquiller gun from out of his coat and aims it at the janitor, with a quick pull of the guns trigger the dart flies into the janitor’s neck and he falls into the snow. The man comes out from his dark hiding place and sets his stop watch for thirty minutes. The man quickly drags the janitor body to his hiding spot and removes the janitor’s cloths and places his trench coat over the janitor’s body and puts the janitor’s cloths over his suit. The man steps out from the shadows and walks over to the door and slides the janitor’s ID badge into the magnetic reader.
 
 The man grabs the trash barrel and places his brief case inside the barrel and starts to walk towards the front of the building. As the man gets to the front his takes a quick look at the woman who is sitting behind the desk to see what her name was, just then the lady spoke.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Gee Bob that was a fast cigarette.â€? She said with a smile.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“I know Cindy but it is just to fucking cold outside to finish one. By the way are the big wigs out of that meeting they where having on the eighth floor?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Yeah they left about 2 hours ago. You are going to get the trash from up their now?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Yes, could you be a dear and buzz me up.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Sure I will see you in a little bit.â€?
 
 As Cindy had said this she pressed the button under the desk to allow the man access to the eighth floor. The man shoves the trash barrel into the elevator with him and then turns around and presses the button for the door to close. After the doors on the elevator had closed the man quickly unscrews the lights in the elevator so it was pitch black, as the doors opened on the eighth floor the man places the trash barrel in the middle of the doors so the doors would not close shut on him. The man then reaches into the trash barrel and grabs his brief case out from inside the barrel, then walks over to a corner office, opens the doors and sets the brief case onto the desk. The man enters his secret combo onto the case to unlock the seals that where keeping Jenny inside the case, the man then lifts the top open to reveal a disassembled 95m .50 caliber sniper rifle inside the foam lined case. He quickly assembles the weapon , goes over to the window and opens the lower part of it, the man flips down the arms on the rifles barrel to prop the weapon up, looks though the scope and mumbles to him self “fifteen hundred meters to target, switching to thermal view.â€? With a flip of a switch on the scope the scope displays the target rooms of people in glowing orange and yellow colors. The man then looks at the read out of the room’s heat index, he mumbles something to him self again. The man gets up really quick and grabs a bullet from the case and then lies back down and slides the bolt back on the gun and places the .50 cal shell into the chamber then closes the bolt. The man lines up his shot to where the cross hairs are focused on the man sitting in the chair. As the man had his shot lined up he says to him self “Ok Jenny time to earn our pay.â€? Just as he said this he pulled the trigger on the gun the only sound that could be heard was the firing pin hitting the back of the shell.
 
 Just then in the building fifteen hundred meters away the man that was sitting in the chair was about to say something to his co-workers when his brain matter and parts of his upper body were splattered all over his desk and people standing in front of  it. The man quickly got up from where he was laying and disassembled his rifle and placed it back inside the case, he looked down at his watch and saw that he had only twelve minutes left before the drugs wear off on the real janitor, he grabbed the shell, placed it in his pocket, closed the windows and put the case back in the barrel and headed down the elevator. As he passed Cindy, she says.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“That was fast?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“I have to get something someone spilled a drink up there again.â€?
 
 The man heads back out the door from which he came with case in hand and then goes over to the janitor and switches back out the clothing and quickly walks away towards the main street. As the man gets to the man street he pulls out a cheap prepaid cellular phone and hits the speed dial, when the person on the other end answer the man says.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“The person who slept with your wife is no more, deposit the money into the account I told you about or you will be next.â€?
 
 Before the person on the other end could get a word out the man had hung up the phone, as he was pulling it away from his head he crushed it in his hand. As the man was walking down the street he passed a homeless man warming his hands on burning barrel which was common during the winter months in the East coast. As the man passed by he tossed the shell and the crushed phone into the fire and continued on his way. After a few minutes he stopped at a corner and yelled for a taxi, as the taxi pulled up the man got inside and told the driver to take him the Redbrock. The taxi driver looked at the well dress man and wondered why someone dressed like that would want to go there, but the driver had not had many fairs that night and happily drove the man there.
 
 After about twenty to thirty minute drive the taxi pulls into Redbrock, the taxi driver pulls over and leans over and says to man.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“That will be Twenty-five fifty sir.â€?
 
 The man pulled out thirty dollars, handed it to the driver, got out of the car and started walking to a old beat up apartment complex. As the man enters the complex he heads down to the basement and places the case down on the table that was set up in the middle of the room. By the look of the basement you would think that it was a storage area with the windows all blacked out and there being a tent set up in the darkest corner of the room, but it had to do for now thought the man. Just as the man was slipping on a black t-shirt and a pair of blue jeans on, his main cellular phone began to ring. The man picked up the phone off the table next to the case and answered
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Yes.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Good evening or should I say Good morning being that it is morning for our kind Mr. Davis.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Evening will do Ms. Reynolds, What can I do for you?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“I just wanted to say I got your package with the late Mr. Beaumont’s ashes and necklace in the mail today.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Is my payment in the account Ms. Reynolds?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Yes but of course Mr. Davis or can I call you Mike?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Mr. Davis will due. I know this is not a social call so what is it you need me to do and how much is the pay?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Straight to the point Mr. Davis I like that. Well it appears that Mr. Beaumont had a few childer of his own and I wish to have them you know killed. I will pay you 3 pints of blood for each of his childer that you kill.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Do you have any information on them?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Why yes Mr. Davis I sent all the information to your laptop via the encrypted network that the local Dallas nosferatu. Will you accept this contract for me?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Yes I will send you the remains like last time Ms. Reynolds.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Good just so you know the Mr. Beaumont childer names are Abimelech and Abram Beaumont. I guess the late Mr. Beaumont like rename his childer after him. But the intel will have more information tell next time Mr. Davis.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Indeed.â€?
 
 After the prince of Dallas, Texas had hung up with Mike, he walked over to his laptop and turned it on to see what the scoop was on these two childer of the late Ashton Beaumont was. Mike figured that part of the reason why the prince wanted them dead was for what there sire did to the prince childe. Mike looked over the information that was sent to him and then logged on to his dummy bank account and transferred the money that was just deposited around to different bank accounts and then made sure he had enough money left in the local Cawford bank to complete his task. As Mike finished doing all the things on the laptop he turned it off and picked up the dress suit and walked over to the furnace and placed the clothes inside so the next time the furnace lit up the clothes would be destroyed. Mike walked back to the tent and went to lay in his make shift bed under the tent and pulled out a picture of a man dressed in a Naval officer class A uniform and a woman dressed in a white wedding dress and on the back of the picture it said, Mike and Jennifer Davis married December 31, 1989. Mike put the picture down next to him and said “Some day maybe we can be together again Jenny.â€? With that Mike just laid their thinking of how he can find Ashton childer.
                       

 

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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    
                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Year_of_the_Scarab on December 05, 2005, 09:40:00 PM
                Even though the sun went down not so long ago, the Tremere was already at work for hours. As the chantry head of security, Giles had undergone rituals which enabled him to stay awake during early day hours and allowed him to rise long before dusk, or even to forsake rest on those occasions when his duties demanded his attention during the day. Lately, it seemed, that wasn't enough. With the Sabbat running loose in several states, causing who knows what mayhem, there was very little rest to go between those with responsibilities. Admittedly, the majority of the struggle passed by Cawford, so Giles supposed there was that to be thankful for. Still, he had enough problems for this evening.
 
 The most recent of which being a novicia failing to report back to the chantry last night. Normally that wouldn't have causes any suspicion, as some apprentices maintained secondary havens in the city or were charged with tasks requiring longer periods of absence, however this wasn't the time to go AWOL, nor was the novicia in question one to just disappear without a trace. There were reports of Kindred vanishing in the city for a number of weeks now, and while the missing were mostly drifters and immigrants from the fallen Camarilla cities along the East Coast, there was this incident with two of the chantry's apprentices falling to Lupines not long ago, which had "liquidation" written all over it and until the investigation was concluded, the security level was raised.
 
 Still though, the novicia in question was no neonate. If she still failed to report by midnight though, measures would be taken. And she would explain herself to Giles regardless.
 
 Elsewhere.
 
 Skull pulled his jacket tighter around himself. The vamp blood coursing in his veins was making the cold quite bearable, but he'd still rather be sitting at a bar with a brewsky in his hand than skulk through the dark corners of the city. Then again, skulking was a thrill ever since Nail told him how to use the shadows to his advantage. He couldn't just fucking vanish from plain sight like Nail could (which still blew his mind), but if he was real careful like, he could hide in a doorway, behind a bush, trashcan or something and be just like fucking invisible. And that was real useful in situations like this one.
 
 He'd been following the girl for some time now, not that she had moved around that much, but he wanted to be sure before he ran to Nail with this. Truth be told, until recently, he didn't know much about the vampires and their habits and laws, only what he's been told. Then he slowly started picking some information up here and there, sometimes confirming it with Nail. He knew it was only the tip of the iceberg, but what he learned thus far sufficed to notice this one was not quite right. So he followed her.
 
 Now, he was well aware some vamp... uh, "Kindred", were like all feral and stuff, hunting deer and sleeping in garages like some hobo's, but those were either those form Nail's line, which were all ugly as shit to the last one, or the Gang-something group, who in turn talked to dogs, howled at the moon and grew claws. This kid, although even dirtier than Skull himself, was actually real good looking, and either lost or crazy. He remembered something about insane vampires from back when, but they sounded creepy and scary, which she wasn't. If anything, she seemed scared herself. Skull watched her walk around aimlessly, avoiding chances of running into humans, (uh, "Kine" that is) whenever possible. There was a chance he was way off, but he believed her to be a real fresh one, just turned and confused. From what he'd been told, such vamps ("Kindred"!) were a danger to the whole secret society-thingy, and were hunted down by the bigshots sometimes.
 
 So this one could be looking at a very short vamp life here. It must've been pretty fucked up to be in that place. He briefly wondered what that'd be like, watching her stalk a stray cat, then he smirked and decided this info had to be worth something to Nail's people. If he only knew where Nail was at the moment. If he'd reach him with this, it'd earn him his next fix for sure.
 
 Elsewhere.
 
 Rebecka woke to unfamiliar surroundings and the sound of tiny feet scurrying near her ear. She opened her eyes, disoriented, which didn't improve the situation by a great deal. It took a moment to shake off the remaining daytime drowsiness and gather her bearings. A bit of focus allowed her to pierce the darkness surrounding her, bringing a bit of comfort. She was laying on the floor in a basement or warehouse of some sort, filled with crates, boxes, bottles and the occasional rat, observing her warily. Dusty air lazily crawled out of a large ventilation shaft, water dripped from a water pipe. Some faint light was coming in from a narrow, dirty window a few inches below the ceiling. And for the first time in years, she had no idea where she had awoken.
 
 Well. This was bad. Throwing down the sheet she'd been mostly covered with, she rose to her feet. She wasn't sure about the rest of her belongings, but she certainly could still feel her blade strapped under her coat. Whoever had left her here didn't bother to search her. How stupid was that. Then suddenly her still augmented senses allowed her to make out a voice somewhere above. She focused on it's sound and another joined it. A conversation one floor above her...
 
 "...telling you, like the bitch knew everything!" the first voice came in, ending in a trembling, nervous tone. It sounded familiar. Bleached hair, torn denim and a number of earrings came to her mind. So, her last night's acquaintance hasn't walked out on her. He coughed several times and continued "Fuck, man, I dunno. I dropped my gun... No! Fuck you, not like that, dude. She told me... Hey! ...don't fuckin' look at me like that!"
 
 "Stop the fucking yelling, you dickhead!" the other voice reprimanded in exact same volume "But Jimmy clobbered her, right? So what, not like she going to run to the cops, right? I mean, what is she gonna tell them? 'I was getting my fix and then this guy started following me'? Get real, man, I dunno what you're so freaked out about. That punk last month made a scene too, and nothing happened, right? We leave her where Jimmy knocked her out, and she'll think she passed out on her own fucking stuff. She'll go home a bit more fucking pale than fucking usual and change the fucking locks on her fucking doors maybe. End of fucking story!"
 
 "End of story my ass! You're not listening!" the familiar voice barked back and instantly broke into another fit of coughing "Look, she went down like a log, man, I'm telling you, like a fuckin' rag doll. I was like 'Uh-oh. We killed the bitch' right? So I check her pulse and she's cold, nothing, zing. And Jimmy, Jimmy just froze like fuckin'... Hey, you weren't there, dude. That's not funny, kay?"
 
 "Yeah, yeah, yeah. Don't be such a pussy. So she's dead, why the hell did you bring her junkie ass in her then anyway? No use of her now, remember the Latin chick? Can't pump them up on the shit if their heart doesn't beat. Should've just drained the bitch and le..."
 
 "Oh, ho ho, fuck that, okay? I fuckin' know we can't, what do you think we was going to do then? Sure I wanted to drain her, but Jimmy started stuttering something and jumping and shit, so I ask what the fuck his problem is, right?" several wet coughs followed "Uh. Then he points at her, and she's got teeth man! I mean our kind of teeth! Long fuckin' pointy teeth. So we grab her and bring her here, right? I mean..."
 
 "You did what?!" the other voice was incredulous "What are you, fucking stupid?! You bring a vampire to our place?"
 
 "Don't be fuckin' calling me stupid! What the hell were we supposed to do? You said there was this whole big-ass organization of vampires in the city, right? Right?! They'd come for our asses if they'd found out we killed one of their people. Think!" There was a pause
 
 "No... No, man. I told you, vampires are dead already. She was dead when you got her." said the second voice, sounding a bit thrown off
 
 "I know, Jimmy whacked her with that lead pipe, I told you you're not listening." said bleached-hair confidently
 
 "No, dude. You've got it all wrong. Look, like I've explained it to you a dozen times already, when a vampire makes another vampire he goes..." then the apparent expert in all-things-vampire remembered they had no time for a lecture at the moment "Err... Never-fucking-mind that! Dude, she's just asleep, like we be when the sun goes down! She could be up any moment! Where's your fucking gun, man, we've got to waste her now!"
 
 "...uh..." bleach-hair suddenly got very reluctant to face 'the scary bitch' again.
 
 Rebecka looked around the room as she heard two sets of booted feet descend a flight of stairs in a hurry. For a fraction of a second she could've sworn the rats snickered as they disappeared into the shadows.                        

 

                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Bloodreaper33413943 on December 06, 2005, 04:16:00 AM
                Marie was just finishing with her "meal", when she heard a noise.  Very faint.  That was what caught her attention.  She had found that in the city, it wasn't the big noises you paid attention to.  It was the barely audible ones that held true importance.
 
 She looked into the shadows of the alleyway and saw nothing.  Since her "change" she had been able to see, hear and smell things at a level that she had never dreamed of before.  But she also had found that if she concentrated, she could raise these senses to unbelievable levels, to the point where she could almost see in pitch black, or hear a pin hit the floor.  The last time she had done this, she had nearly been deafened by a passing semi.  She wasn't in a hurry to relive that kind of experience.
 
 She focused herself, feeling the cat's stolen blood aiding her.  She stared intently at the portion of the alley that she had heard the noise from.  There, she could have sworn that she heard the faint rustle of flesh rubbing against denim jeans.  But no matter how she tried, she could not see the source of this mysterious noise.
 
 She stood and began to walk towards the source, but stopped.  She knew that there were others like her.  Like that one who had done this to her.  She shuddered and pushed that memory away.  The point remained that she did not want to risk threatning a being like herself, a being that might be more aged and powerful than she.  She decided to try diplomacy.
 
 "Bonjour?"  She said, and mentally cursed.  She had to stop falling back on her native language.  "Hello?"  She tried.  Nothing.  Despite her desire to forget "that night", she thought back to anything she remebered about things her attackers had said to each other.  Nothing stood out in her memory except three words.  She remembered the word "kindred" and the words "Toreador" and Brujah.  Kindred had been what they were calling each other, they called one of the males in the group a Brujah and a Toreador was Something that they called that pale American girl, just before she bit her.  Perhaps male kindred were Brujah and females were Toreador?  ugh... she would have to figure that out LATER.
 
 She decided to try the more normal sounding one.  "Hello... kindred?  I mean no harm," she said, holding up her empty hands for emphasis.                        

 

-----signature-----
           When the game is over, the king and the pawn go back in the same box    
                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Sodom40280831 on December 06, 2005, 04:54:00 PM
                “Oh shit!â€? Skull thought to himself as he looked at the vamp-girl who was staring in his direction. Two voices started going through Skull’s mind. The first voice was clear and simple. It said: “Run man! Bail! Just get the fuck out of there while you still can!â€? The second voice sounded a little more dangerous but made sense somehow: “Don’t be a fucking pussy! Finding this bitch was a stroke of pure luck. Don’t just throw it away now you fucking wimp! She’s feeding on cats for gods sake! How can she possibly be dangerous! You need this man!â€?
 
 Suddenly Skull remembered the phone-number Nail had given to him in case of an emergency. His eyes then turned to the payphone across the street. He figured that if he managed to win the girl’s trust he could give Nail a call and have him come over to deal with her in whatever way these types were supposed to be dealt with. Nail had given him a few “acting lessonsâ€? for use in dealing with situations that required a more “socialâ€? approach. With those in mind he put on his most trusting eyes and stepped from the shadows looking directly at the girl.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Evenin’ lovely night, isn’t it?â€?
 
 The girl stared at him with a look containing a curious mix of confusion, fear and amazement.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“My name is……..well you can call me Skull. And I’m…….â€?
 
 Skull was about to tell her he was a ghoul but he decided that would be a bad idea. If she thought he was a vamp who was he to tell her he was something less. Nail had always told him that when you’re negotiating its always best if the other sees you as better than him or at least as an equal.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Um…I couldn’t help but notice you wandering around here all alone. You’re new to town right? Or at least new to the whole………well you know………bloodsucking thing.â€?
 
 The girl nodded.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“I am Marie.â€?The girl said in a rather uncomfortable fashion. Skull cleared his throat before continuing. He never did have much of a touch with the ladies.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Okay this is good, we’re communicating. Well Marie, we can’t have you roaming around the streets leaving little cat corpses now can we. I know someone who should be able to help you out. Maybe find a nice place for you to stay here in our lovely city. Now I’m just going to go to that payphone over there and give my friend a call so you just be a good girl and stay here.â€?
 
 Skull walked over to the payphone while keeping an eye on Marie. He took a small piece of paper with a phone-number on it out of his left pocket. His hands were jittery, he didn’t know if it was from the cold or the anticipation of another fix. He dialled the number with a huge smile on his face.
 
 Elsewhere
 
 Nail was sitting at his laptop reviewing some info on Bitterman which he found using Schrecknet  while “magic carpet rideâ€? by “Steppenwolfâ€? was playing on the humble stereo-system he had installed in his haven a while back. He was planning on staying in for the night and preparing for tomorrow-night’s mission. He certainly thought he earned it after last night’s little “escapadeâ€?
 
 Well you don’t know what…we can find
 Why don’t you come with me little girl
 On a magic carpet ride
 
 Well you don’t know what…we can se…

 The song was suddenly interrupted by the sound of Nail’s phone ringing. Nail got out of his chair while letting out an annoyed groan. He wasn’t exactly in the mood for socializing tonight. He answered the phone accordingly.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Yeah its me.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Nail! It’s me! You won’t believe this!â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Skull? How did you get my……oh, right I gave it to you. This better be good.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Oh it is! You see there’s this girl and……â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Oh Christ we’ve been through this Skull. I’m not going to ghoul anyone just because you have a stupid crush.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“No it’s not like that, she’s like you. Y’know kindred. I found her roaming the streets feeding off of cats. I’ve been trailing her for an hour or so.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Go on.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Well you told me about those vampires who didn’t know anything about the whole vampire society and shit. And might pose a threat because of it.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“You’re saying this is one?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Yeah man! She’s as green as I don’t know what, she even thinks I’m a vampire! Well at least I think she does but that’s besides the point!â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Interesting, describe her to me.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Her name is Marie and even though she probably hasn’t had a bath for some time she looks…well….pretty hot.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“And you’re still following her?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Well uuuuuhh..â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“What?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“She kind of………saw me.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Oh great.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“It wasn’t my fault man, she pulled some sort of vamp-shit on me!â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Probably auspex. I suspect she’s halfway to Mexico now after getting a load of your ugly mug.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“No man. I talked to her, I was all like charming and shit like you said. I’m looking at her right now, I told her I knew someone who could help her out. We’re in Venice near Charlie’s tavern.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Well Skull even though I don’t believe that part about you being charming for a second I still have to say: good job. Keep her there, I’ll be over in a few minutes.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Thanks man. Uh you can like….. transform into another appearance right.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Yeah, why?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Well she seems pretty frightened as it is so I don’t think it would be a good idea if you suddenly show up behind her with the whole “phantom of the operaâ€? thing going on y’know.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“I’ll try to make myself look presentable for the lady. Now go check up on her before she decides to take off.â€?
 
 As Nail put on his jacket he looked at himself in the mirror and tried on a few of his favourite playboy-masks. He decided to go with a dark-blond twenty-three-year old with a slight goatee and a nice Armani suit. Should be enough to make any woman come running. Now Nail just hoped the girl hadn’t developed her auspex enough to be able to see through the mask. He checked his outfit one more time before dropping the mask and leaving his haven. He would figure out what to do with the Caitiff once he got there.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“No rest for the wicked.â€? Nail sighed    
                       

 

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           I'm so serious it's comical!    
                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] munchies.Trooper on December 06, 2005, 10:48:00 PM
                The wind seem to pick up outside as Mike lay down in his make shift bed under the tent he had set up. Mike was still staring at the picture of his wife that he had lost when he accepted that mission in Asia so many years ago. Mike sat up, placed his photo back in the protective film that he had removed when he was looking at it, then placed his hands over his eyes for a minute and then crawled out from under the tent and walked over to his duffle bag. Mike picked the bag up, walked over to the table, set the brief case and laptop on the ground then placed the duffle bag on top of the table. Mike unlatched the duffle bag and slid out a pair of black BDU paints and top, he removed a pair of combat boots that were neatly polished and a pair of black wool socks which were used to wear inside combat boots to help prevent blisters. Mike continues to empty the duffle bag which contained other various weapons and articles of clothing, As Mike gets down to the bottom of the of the bag he pulls out a black metal case and sets it off to the side. Mike stands their looking over the contents of the duffle bag and wonders what he should take with him on his recon mission.
    
 Mike changes out of the blue jeans and black t-shirt and into the BDU pants and top, Mike picks up one of the knifes that is laying in the pile of things on the tables and slices his hand with the blade Mike rubs a good amount of blood onto the blade just in case someone decides to get a little froggy. Mike places one knife in his left boot and the other in his right boot. Mike looks down at the black case and punches in a code on the keypad of the case, it slides open revealing two M-1911A1 .45 caliber pistols inside. The pistols where modified a little in a way that only special forces where allowed to use them. Mike pulled the guns out of the case and lifted up the foam revealing two silencers that could be attached to the guns. Mike picked up one silencer, screwed it on to the barrel of the gun, and then repeated this to the other pistol. Mike picked up one clip and slid it into the pistol and chambered the round then flipped the safety off the gun. Mike repeated this to the other pistol and then picked up the shoulder holster and slid it on, then slid both guns into the holster, added two extra clips to the empty clip pack that were on the holster. Mike grabbed his ski mask and slipped it into his trench coat pocket, then  slips his trench coat on and grabs his fake detective id which he had gotten from one of the nosferatu back in Dallas, Texas just in case he need to pose as a cop to get to his target. Mike picked up his dog tags with his fallen friends dog tags and clipped them on under his BDU top, grabbed his wallet which he normally kept a few hundred dollars in just in case he had to pay someone for information only if there were too many people around for him to get information out the other way. Taking a look around his place he decides to grab a drink before leaving just to prevent any unwanted frenzy while he’s on his recon.
 
 As Mike is leaving his place he picked up the photo’s he had printed out of the two childer that were his targets, as he makes his way out to the street he looks for a taxi or a car that he can borrow. He sees a taxi parked about two blocks down from where he was standing, and starts to walk towards the taxi. As he gets to the taxi he looks at the driver sitting there listening to his radio in the car. Mike looks the driver over and says.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Sorry to bother you sir but are you taking fares tonight night?â€?
    
 The driver looks Mike over and replies. “Yes, where are you heading tonight mister?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“I need to get to Venice; I hear there are some nice bars that are in that area. I figured since this crisp winter air is freezing I would go get some hair of the dog to warm my frozen ass up.â€? Mike said with out even a blink in his eye or any movement of his body to the driver.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Sure get in.â€?
 
 Mike gets in the taxi where the driver had the heater turned all the way up to keep the crisp winter air out of the cab. The driver flips the fare light on and slowly pulls away from the corner which he was parked and stared to head towards Venice. After what seemed like a thirty minute drive Mike arrived at Venice and looked to the driver and paid the man his fee. Stepping out of the cab he starts walking down the street looking for a place where the Beaumont childer might be hiding. As Mike walked down the street he noticed that this area was not flashy enough for the childer to hide and if they were, they were not like most Lasombra. Mike walked up and down the streets until he passed a place that made him chuckle a bit as he was looking at a sign that said “Charlie’s Tavernâ€? Mike thought to himself that someone was once in the armed forces to have thought of that name. Mike Walked up towards the door to Charlie's Tavern and procecced to enter the building in a hops that this place would give him a cahnce to thing of a plan to get the Beaumont childer.
 
 As Mike enters the bar, he walks over to the bar and asks the bartender for a bottle of Jack Daniels. The bentender looks at Mike for a minute an then says to Mike.
 
 "That well be twenty dollars and ninty-nine cents please."
 
 Mike lays twenty ones dollars on the bar counter top and grabs his bottle of Jack and makes his way to the very back of the bar to where no one could see him, MIke sits down at the table and opens the of Jack and pours himself a shot and just lets it sit their as Mike pulls out a notebook and starts to write inside of it.                        

 

-----signature-----
           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    
                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Bloodreaper33413943 on December 07, 2005, 01:44:00 AM
                Marie waited as... Skull (that was a funny name) made his phone call.  She hoped that this person he was calling could really help her.  Could teach her how to live like this.  After a few minutes, he came back.
 
 "Ok, he's on his way.  Just 45 minutes or so till he gets here.  So..."  he trailed off, not sure what to say.
 
 Marie dug through her jacket and pulled out her disc player and the only disc she hadn't stolen.  "Do you like Rammstein?"  She asked, offering him one of the ear pieces.
 
 35 minutes later
 
 As it turned out, Skull did like Rammstein.  After about 4 song though, the batteries finally died.  Marie decided to take the opportunity to find out more about what she was.  after a few questions, she discovered that Skull knew only a little more than she did.  She did find out a few important things though.  For one, it appeared that kindred did not have special gender term.  They were however, broken up into different bloodlines, or "clans".  She figured that since the girl who had bit her was called a Toreador, she must be one too.
 
 "How did it happen to you?"  She asked.  "How did you become like... like we are?"  She added, seeing his confusion.
 
 Skull's mouth dropped.  "Uh... well... I..."
 
 Marie realized that the memory was probably painful for him.  "I'm sorry.  It's hard for me to think of too.  Did you have family?"
 
 He told her about his parents and little sister, about how he had run away (leaving out the part about becoming a ghoul).  She told him about her family back in France, her own sister, and the school trip that brought her to America.  She decide that Skull was a sweet boy, even if he was a little funny looking.
 
 "Thank you Skull.  For helping me," she said, putting her hand on his shoulder.  Skull looked away, almost as if he was ashamed of something
 
 "Well, isn't this touching."  Said a voice from the mouth of the alley.  Skull jerked away from her.
 
 Marie turned and saw a handsome man in an Armani suit.  She gulped and stood.  "Bonjour.  I am Marie.  I am... Toreador?"                        

 

-----signature-----
           When the game is over, the king and the pawn go back in the same box    
                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Year_of_the_Scarab on December 08, 2005, 10:48:00 PM
                ____________________________________________________________________________________
 Rowdy cursed. He'd just gotten home and was about to shower and get some much needed sleep, but as he passed by his laptop, he felt he should check his mail first. And now he had to leave again, for his source, who had contacted him, wouldn't wait. He grabbed the jacket he'd tossed on the counter just a few minutes ago and threw the larger remaining part of his two day old sandwich in the trash. The phone rang just as he was closing the door behind him. Tough luck, somebody will have to leave a message.
 
 Fifteen minutes later (it would've been ten, were it not for the damned snow) he stood before the bowling alley he was supposed to meet his contact at. Given the hour the place was fairly empty, which was probably the whole point of meeting there. After a moment's consideration, he approached a lone figure standing in the doorway, making a show of sipping from a steaming coffee cup. A man in his late thirties perhaps, thick winter clothing, fitting the average customer's image in every miniscule, forgettable detail. Before Rowdy spoke, the  man nodded at him, and gestured to follow. Several dozen feet away from the brightly illuminated entrance he stopped and turned to Rowdy
 
 "You're late, kid. I was going to leave in a minute." Rowdy shrugged at him. He was still there, so what difference did that make. Besides, the voice and the face were not those that he remembered, hence he kept his guard up. As if sensing his uncertainty, the other man grinned, and his image blurred for a second. When Rowdy's vision focused again, the angular, clan-shaven face was gone, and a pair of wide set lizard-like eyes was looking at him from a unhealthily pale face, yellowed fangs showing in the grin. This face, even if repulsing, was familiar.
 
 "So what did you find out?" Rowdy asked, stuffing his hands into his pockets. Damn, was it cold.
 
 "Want me to tell or show you?" the Nosferatu grinned and produced a dirty manila envelope from his messenger bag. Rowdy took the envelope and cast a brief look at the content
 
 "What am I looking at here?" he asked, not looking up from the photos
 
 "Last night's 'transaction spot'. Twenty minutes before Massicus' boys arrived. Rowdy whistled shortly. He didn't ask who made the photos, or why, it was beside the point. The Nosferatu zipped up his bag, and hung it back over his shoulder
 
 "That should make us even, eh kid?" he chuckled and turned to leave "Be seeing you."
 
 "We are even." Rowdy replied distractedly, shoving the envelope under his jacket "You still owe Bitterman." The vampire paused. In truth, Rowdy didn't know exactly what kind of debt did the Nosferatu have with Bitter, but this was worth a shot. The vampire stood in silence for a moment and eventually reached into his pocket. Rowdy wondered if this was such a good idea after all, but before he could add anything, the Nosferatu turned around, taking a tattered notepad from his pocket. He flipped through a few pages, and after finding the one he was looking for, tore it out and handed to Rowdy. The ghoul took the offered piece of paper and looked at it questioningly.
 
 "That we do, I guess." said the vampire "This is worth a bit more, but I'm in a charitable mood so what the hell. A few other folks paid for those photos tonight, though you'll be the only ones who know that little tidbit. For a secret operation there's an awful lot of third parties interested, wouldn't you say? Heh, have fun with it. Marry goddamned Christmas." with that the Nosferatu faded into the night. Rowdy looked at the page for a long moment, trying to make out the implications of what he read. By sheer chance, he knew one of the names written down.
 
 "Looks like it's back to "Charlie's" for me." he sighed
 
 Elsewhere.
 
 "Detective Roberts? There's someone here to see you, sir."
 
 "'Someone'? I'm busy, Brooke, tell them to leave a number." Jack said to the speaker and meant to hang up. There was a ridiculous amount of people at the station tonight, even for this city, and he didn't feel like dealing with more than he absolutely had to. People had gone missing up north, a new drug-ring appeared in the city, the old drug-rings took it upon themselves to butcher eachother, the press was on the lieutenant's ass about patrols in Thompson's, the lieutenant in turn was on his ass about pretty much anything AND he'd just been assigned to the nun-killing case. Managing all of this while keeping track of this precinct's "X-files" cases, so that no more than the acceptable amount of weird-vampire-stuff got out to the public... Busy? No, he wasn't busy. 'Busy' had been five hours and three double espresso's ago. He was beat.
 
 Before he did manage to hang up on the receptionist, she said the name of the person there to see him. He was silent for a second, thinking if he should be worried, if he had let something major slip that would warrant this visit, but couldn't think of nothing. He told the receptionist to send them in.
 
 "Jack. I'm not interrupting anything, am I." Sorana made the question a statement
 
 "No, no. Of course not. Come in." the detective got up from his chair instantly, made his way around the paper-laden desk, closed the doors behind the Ventrue and shut the blinds "I've… we've got the Plaza thing under control. There's still the spec-report to be changed, but I've got someone working on it, in a week's time there will be no trace of any..." he said in a hushed tone, but she raised a hand to stop him before he could finish
 
 "Commendable, Jack, but that's not what I'm here for. I'm sure this will be handled with the usual efficiency." the tone of confidence, even if calculated, served to calm the Kine. He was of little use flustered, she needed him sober "What brings me here is something else entirely. A more recent occurrence, in Mornington." the detective's eyebrows rose. How in hell did she, did they, know about that one already? He decided he didn't want to ask.
 
 "I'm told there isn't much evidence to be had, but I'm going to need every piece of it, and any copies thereof destroyed" she said casually, looking briefly through the reports strewn-about the desk. There was no need of putting any hypnotic suggestions behind the request, Roberts was not a drone. He was an employee. And right now her employee was shrugging apologetically
 
 "Uh... I don't think there's anything I can do, sorry." seeing her questioningly raised eyebrow he quickly added "The guy was a fuc… a damned ghost. No prints, no witnesses, no nothing. The ballistics haven't even found the bullet yet. If not for the body, I would have to say there was no crime..."
 
 "Very well..." she said, absentmindedly playing with a letter weight "Still, there is an investigation going on, is there not?" There was "Is there an initial report?" she asked again, looking up at him. There was. "An evaluation?" There was. Detective Roberts cursed inwardly, he was hoping he would finish a few of the really urgent things and go home a bit earlier tonight. But the chances of that just got halves, he knew what she would say next.
 
 "Tell me what you do know then. Every detail, step by step."
 
 Elsewhere.
 
 "Rise and shine, sweetheart. Someone wants to have a chat with you." Pauline said in a sing-songy voice, dropping the bloodied stake she'd pulled from the battered Lasombra's chest. It took a moment for the vampire to register, which was as good a reason as she needed to slap him around a couple of times. He hissed sharply and lunged forward, only to discover the water pipe he'd been chained to was more than sturdy enough to restrain him. The veins on his arms seemed to bulge for a second and a light glow appeared in his eyes, but a short punch to the solar plexus cut him short.
 
 "Now, now. That's no tone to take while an elder is present." Pauline said to his ear, leaning against him firmly. Stepping back, she nodded to the other figure in the room, which's presence the Lasombra hadn't registered before "The haven was clean, as far as interesting stuff goes, but Don sent someone over to torch the place."
 
 "Good. Tell him to keep it small though." the other replied, coming into the light, and taking place on the edge of a crate standing against the near wall. The Kindred's hunched back did nothing to make him less imposing, and the Sabbat didn't need to be told about 'an elder' to know this one was ancient "And this here?"
 
 "No point in mangling, other than for the fun only, or trying to mindfuck him. There's some blood rite in work here, Priest says, so it's either calling in a favor from the warlocks, or the normal means." Pauline answered, moving out of the way
 
 "A tough cookie, hmm?" Hernandez smirked. He took a dirty plastic cup from the table and jabbed a talon into a plasma bag laying next to it. He then held it over the cup and let several drops of blood fall in "I haven't got time to ask twice, so I'll let you think about your answers first. This here may not be the freshest, but in two or three nights, it'll smell like ambrosia, believe me. From my experience, in a week or so you'll be more than delighted to answer any questions for the content of this." he said to the chained Kindred, putting the cup on the edge of the table in front of him. Then he added "You'll come around to see our point in this eventually, I'm sure. And some fasting will clean your head of any dumb ideas of making shit up. But you look positively exhausted all of a sudden. We'll leave your to your thoughts for now."
 
 Elsewhere.
 
 Sorana left the police station content. Not that the detective's information had been particularly insightful, quite the opposite in fact, however in this case that was the way she wanted to have it. Were it not for the Malkavian, neither she, nor anyone would have probably learned of the assassin's presence in the city. Being as it were however, the Kindred, no matter how clean he operated or to how lengths he went not to be noticed, there were always means of knowing. That is why she had taken up the services of the lunatic. He wasn't right with his information (or he didn't convey it in an understandable fashion anyway, sometimes what she discarded as rubbish proved correct, she admitted that honestly) or even most of the time, but those occurrences when he did seek her out with worthwhile information were (mostly) worth sorting through the gibberish.
 
 Now, combining the information she gathered so far, the only conclusion was that this hitman was Kindred, and a competent one at that. In fact, he proved a bit to good for her comfort, as without any clues to his identity or whereabouts, she would have to resort to the oldest method of finding anyone.
 
 Namely looking.
 
 This was a bit inconvenient, as the delay could prove costly, but still, the harder it was to find the assassin, the higher it spoke of him. Or so had someone said. She didn't have experience in anything as base as physical violence or assassinations herself, and why would she. Those were things best assigned to those of lesser standings. Regardless, she needed to act.
 
 The driver had started the car as soon as she entered, and having now received an address he drove off. Sorana meanwhile picked up the secure phone installed in the passenger compartment and dialed a number. The glass separating the front seats from her guaranteed privacy, even if she hadn't been certain of the driver (then again, you could never be quite absolutely certain of anyone's loyalty, especially servants), though she still preferred her private cars to the chauffeured one. Well, she would endure. A voice meanwhile appeared on the other end of the line.
 
 "Justine, someone needs to be found. No. No Nosferatu, no Kindred whatsoever. I need him found through normal means. Yes, Baines will do. Have him contact me, I'll give him the details."
 
 Elsewhere.
 
 An 'interesting' mixture of jazz and industrial music filled the club's interior. The décor left much to be desired in the way of taste, but Bitterman had seen worse. There were a few Kine couples on the dancefloor and a few more at the bar, though the lightening would make it impossible for any of them to recognize the faces of the two men entering, even if anyone had looked up. Clearly this was a place to be not seen together. Making their way through the sparse crowd Bitterman and his guide reached the private lounge area. The bouncer moved silently out of the way when Peppé gestured at the occupant of a nearby table, saying "We're with him.".
 
 "He" proved to be a middle aged man with short graying hair and beard, silver rimmed spectacles perched studiously on the edge of his nose. The clothing and first glance demeanor seemed a bit outdated, perhaps better placed a few decades ago. He appeared to be lost in the observation of the dimly illuminated large water tank occupying the far wall, but he rose from his seat as soon as Bitterman and Martinez were several paces from his table.
 
 "Mr. Bitterman, good evening." he spoke when they reached him. Bitterman picked out a faint trace of European accent "Glad you decided to accept our invitation. Please be seated" he continued and turned to Peppé "That will be all, Pablo, thank you." Martinez looked as if he meant to say something, but after shooting a quick sideways glance to Bitterman he seemed to decide against it, and left after nodding briefly.
 
 "My apologies for that..." the gray haired man spoke, gesturing at Peppé's back "I did not believe Mr. Martinez's claim of being your associate, of course, but messengers of... low station, if you will, have the advantage of being difficult to trace, and the matter at hand is a delicate one."
 
 "You know me. I don't know you." Bitterman said flatly
 
 "Indeed, pardon my manners. Corwin. Eugene Corwin." Right. "However I'm afraid it's not a name you have come across before, as discretion is imperative in our line of… work."
 
 "If you say so." Bitterman replied, raising his eyebrow slightly at 'our line of work' "Well then 'Eugene', why am I here?" he added and paused as a waiter came up to the table and handed him a chart
 
 "Mr. Bitterman," the other picked up when the waiter was safely out of hearing distance "I won't insult your intelligence by explaining of which line of business we are speaking. Without wasting your time with an overlong explanation, my partners and I are currently in the process of branching out our business to this very city, which's market we've found somewhat limited at the moment. I firmly believe in healthy competition, Mr. Bitterman."
 
 "You're looking to set up influence in Cawford, yes. Challenge for you, but I still don't see what this has to do with me." Bitterman interjected, although he actually had a very good idea of what this had to do with him
 
 "Oh, I'm sure you do. As mentioned, while… analyzing the market, we've learned of certain opportunities, some of which we have acted upon, among those a shipment you reportedly have interest in."
 
 "Care to explain what 'acted upon' means exactly?"
 
 "Completed the transaction through legitimate means, of course. We are looking to establish relationships, Mr. Bitterman, not hostilities. If third parties fail to conclude deals and feel slighted by us being more... assertive, let's say, it is out of our hands. The matter at hand is a simple question of supply and demand, after all." 'Eugene' said, shrugging quasi-apologetically at the last part of the sentence.  
 
 "Now, as for the aforementioned shipment" he continued a moment after a couple of Kine passed by their table "your previous supplier not only doesn't currently have the merchandise, but what's more important, he will most likely encounter severe difficulties in acquiring further wares from his source. Seeing as the business relationship to his suppliers has been marred by a recent event, details of which I would hate to bore you with, suffice it to say that some 'tools' lack the proper restraint.
 So what I'm offering is to conclude the transaction you were promised, on more... preferable terms."                        

 

                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Killer39787726 on December 11, 2005, 09:13:00 PM
                Welcome to Cawford, underneath the flashy façade, its home to a menagerie of killers, overpriced hookers, losers, and dreamers, all waiting for their next big score to get by.
 
 I am stuck, back to the wall while an army of mobsters tries to take me down. They approach uncertain, watching me calmly finish my smoke. With all the snow falling, it was hard to lit, and I am not going to waste it.
 
 I get my guns and blaze a way out. They fall to the ground before they can even point their guns at me.
 
 I holster the guns back and struggle to light another smoke. When I finally succeed, something hits me by the side and makes me fall to my knees. The cigarette falls from my mouth and dies out on the snow. Dammit.
 I stand up and snarl.
 
 Looking up I see the shooter on the firescape stairs above me. He flees to the roof, scared at the sight of my fangs. I race up the stairs with unnatural speed, just in time to see him leaping to the next roof. Hell, I have no patience for this!
 
 I follow him over the next two roofs when he finally trips and fall. He turns and sees me approaching. He is now on his knees and begging for his life.
 
 I take the silver beretta pistol, an old friend of mine, hold it close to his head and pull the trigger. All that comes out of it is a hollow sounding click.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Maybe it’s your luck day…â€? I say to him with a half smile.
 
 He smiles so relieved that almost doesn’t see when I take out the black beretta, another old friend, and blow his brains out.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“…maybe it’s not your luck day after allâ€?
 
 The weather starts to clear. I take the cigarette pack from my jacket and light another one. The whole thing will pass as a drug deal gone bad. Bad guys killing each other. No one will care.
 Something catches my eye. I reach his wallet. A badge. The fucker was a cop, dirty cop. Those guys make me sick. No matter. Get the cell and hit fast dial.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Yes?â€? I hear her sexy voice on the other end.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“It’s doneâ€? I mumble back and pocket the phone. The brujah doesn’t care shit about me as long as I get the job done.
 
 The man in a Santa’s costume rings a bell and I donate the cop wallet without stopping. Merry Christmas.
 
 Get your ass into the car. It’s badly smashed, has several scratches, burn marks and a few bullet holes, but still is my most prized possession.
 
 Back at the hotel I check my mail box. The payment is there as usual. Nothing big, should last for a week.
 The hotel room is depressingly cheap. Sorry excuse for a haven. It’s all I can afford with the crappy pay. No one will bother me here, not in Redbrock at least.
 
 My stomach is growling. I have to learn to feed on assignments. They all die anyway.
 
 I leave the room and go into this crappy bar near the hotel. I ask the bartender for a whiskey.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“What brand?â€? he asks me.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“The cheap brandâ€?. Doesn’t matter, I won’t drink anyway. Can’t stomach it anymore, not like this. I just like the smell, remember how it tasted going down my throat.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Care for some company?â€?
 
 I look to the woman at my side, a hot little thing. She is a nice girl, not like the low-lives around here. She is waiting for the prince in white horse to save her, think I might be it. Stupid girl.
 We went back to her room a few times. I feed on her and she doesn’t remember a thing. Think she has the time of her life.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Get the hell out of my faceâ€? I tell her in a low, angry voice. I don’t even bother to look at her face.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“What the hell is your problem?â€?
   
  “My problem? I made a deal with the devil, and when we shook hands, no one told me it would be a forever kind of dealâ€?
 
 That does the trick. She leaves me. In my line of work, attachments are a bad thing. Complications. If we spend too much time together I might start having feelings, and it can turn out messy if she ends up in the wrong side of a contract.
 
 I had a friend once, he was a priest. He used to say that if you do bad things, you will pay for it, not by the hand of man, but by the hand of God.
 I must have done something real bad. I was a cop, arresting the bad guys. Had a wife and a little dotter.  Now I am a bloodsucker killing people for change. I am in hell.
 
 I probably deserve it. Never was a saint. They must be all waiting fro me in hell, the people I killed. It will be a hell of welcoming part when I get there.
 
 Finally the drunk on the other end of the bar leaves. A few more hours and I would actually start felling sorry for myself. Probably not. Can’t drink anymore. Only way to do it now is to get it directly from another blood. My stomach is growling.
 
                       

 

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           Cant we all just get along?...No? Ok...then i will just rip your head off.    
                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Grendel8101 on December 12, 2005, 02:11:00 PM
                After a few minutes contemplation, I decided the situation was fucked.  
 
 On the one hand, I have Julian Massicus.  Not a bad guy to deal with, he’s always a pro, but right now it looks like he’s out of the picture with this shipment.  If I cut him out, not just on this deal, but permanently, it’ll look like a slight.  Massicus’ sire is Rocher, and the smart money says Rocher is gunning for Prince.  Even if he doesn’t turn out to be the Prince’s childe in the near future, Julian still has more resources than I do.  If he starts playing Jyhad against me it’ll get ugly.
 
 On the other hand, I have people back East I made promises to.  They want guns, one big fucking shipment of them, and they want them soon.  Julian was the only one I knew who could get me the shipment when I needed it, and now he doesn’t have it.  And if Eugene over here is correct, Julian won’t be in the business for awhile.  I need to make that shipment soon.
 
 And I don’t like this guy.  The Black Market is all middlemen.  If Julian knew my contacts, he wouldn’t need me, and vice versa.  Eugene and whoever he was working for might just try to cut me out when the time came.
 
 The other part of this whole clusterfuck is my own sense of greed.  I had my eyes on a vintage Hemicuda in Wisconsin.  The owner needs a few extra dollar signs before he’ll make the deal.  Eugene was offering less money for the package, that means more for me.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Mr. Bitterman, I realize this is a difficult decision, but there is a time factor to this equation.â€? Eugene said.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“I‘m thinking.â€?  I said.  Eugene closed his mouth a little sharply and took a sip of whatever it was he was drinking.
 
 These guys intercepted the guns knowing who they were for.  They could probably sell them to someone else if they got the chance, but in smaller amounts.  They wanted the whole shipment gone and the money in their pockets right away.  I was key.
 
 If you don’t like the situation, change the rules, as my daddy should have told me.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Alright, Mr. Corwin, maybe we can make a deal.  First thing is, I need to call my employees and tell them what’s going on.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Is that really necessary-â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Yes.â€?  I said.  Corwin nodded reluctantly.
 
 I walked toward the bathrooms and found a spot with just enough noise to drown out anybody trying to listen.  I found the cell phone my ghouls made me buy.  I don’t like the damn things, I’ve heard something about radiation.  Not sure what radiation does to vamps, but I never want to find out.
 
 I called Mal, told him what was going on.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“I can’t get a hold of Rowdy.â€? Mal said.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Dammit, keep trying.  Any word from Massicus?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“No.â€?  I hung up.
 
 Then I dialed a new number.  I looked at Eugene and signaled that it would take just a few more minutes.  Someone answered.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“This is Bitterman.  Tell Mr. Massicus that I would like to meet with him at a club over in Venice.  Right now.â€?                        

 

                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] munchies.Trooper on December 14, 2005, 12:02:00 AM
                As Mike sits in the back of the bar writing in his note book, he waits for the man that had contacted him about a job. After an hour of waiting mike looks up and notices a man walking in though the front door looking to be in his early to late forties. The man stands about five foot two inches with balding gray hair and a thick beard that has gray hairs running though it, the man is wearing a long winter style coat and is well dressed for being in a place like “Charlie’s Tavernâ€?. The man looks to be shaking from the cold or it could be he is shaking from what he must do and why he came here in the first place. Mike leans forward a bit to expose his face from the shadows in which he was sitting, the man sees Mike and walks toward him. The man sits down at the table and says
 
  “Are you the person I am to give this to?â€? sliding a brown envelope across the table.
 
 Mike picks up the envelope, opens it and looks at the papers inside the envelope. The man looks at the bottle of Jack Daniels on the table and the half full shot glass next to the bottle, he looks back over at Mike as he slips back into the shadows hiding his face again. The man says to Mike.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Do you mind if I have a drink of that whiskey?â€?
 
 Mike does not reply but simply waves his hands making a gesture to the man that he can have a drink. The man picks up the bottle of whiskey and starts to drink like a man that has not had anything to drink in weeks.  He sits the bottle of Jack Daniels back on the table leaving it almost empty. Mike then tears a page out of his note book and slides it across the table to the man. The man picks up the slip of paper and looks over it and says with a worried angry look on his face  
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Are you sure this… umm… Will not be traceable back to me and the other people? I have a wife and kids to think about. I don’t need those punks causing me and the other people in our neighborhood more problems.â€?
 
 Mike leaned forward again and said to the man. “Don’t worry. I will call you in a days time when the painting is finished on your home.â€?
 
 The man looked puzzled for a minute and then realized that Mike was speaking about getting rid of the gang members out of his neighborhood. The man said to Mike in a low tone of voice so they could not be over heard
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“I hope you are worth your cost mister, we are giving you a lot of money to paint our houses.â€?
 
 Mike looked at the man and let out a little chuckle. The man stood up turned from the table and left “Charlie’s Tavernâ€?. Mike sat back in the bar booth and looked over the contents of the envelope again. After a few minutes Mike slipped the envelope into his coat pocket and stood up. Making his way to the door he looks over at the bar tender who was busy making drinks for all the customers that are inside the bar and notices two men and woman who appeared to be in her late teens talking and walking at the same time, Mike walks past them and pays no attention to them as he pass by. The snow had stop falling but the streets still showed signs that the snow plows had not made it to this part of Cawford yet. After a sort walk Mike finds himself in front of a supermarket, he looks around for a few minutes and walks inside the twenty four hour store. As he entered the place there was holiday music playing over the store radio, Mike walks over to the automotive section of the store first and picks up a five gallon gas can. He then walks a few aisles down to the hardware section and picks up five boxes of hundred watt light bulbs. Mike looks down at what he is carrying and thinks to him self “I think I am going to need a cart.â€? He walks back up to the front of the store and gets a shopping cart then heads to the house wares aisle and picks up a five quart pot, ten bottles of dish soap. Mike heads to the front of the store pays for the items he had just bought, walks outside to look for a taxi to take him back at his haven.
 
 After a long but sort taxi trip Mike arrives back his haven, he gets out of the taxi, pays the driver and walks over to his place. He sits the bags down on the ground; takes out the gas can walks toward the local shell gas station in Redbrock and fills the gas can up. Mike walks back to his haven and gets to work on his surprise for the dealers. He empties all the bottles of dish soap into the pot first then adds the gas to the dish soap, carefully stirring the mixtures together. After about ten minutes of stirring Mike takes the boxes of light bulbs out and removes the metal base and filament from the glass. Slowly he starts to fill the glass part of the light bulbs with his mixture, stopping when light bulb is quarter of the way full. Mike continues this until all five boxes are filled; Mike places the metal base and filament back onto the glass part of the light bulb. He slips his gloves on and wipes everything down to make sure that no fingerprints are left on any of the light bulbs, pot, and gas can then carefully packs all the stuff into his empty duffle bag.
 
 As Mike is walking towards the target house which was about two miles away from his haven he sees that one guy is standing in front of the house and it appears the rest are out doing what they normally do, gang turf wars. As the house gets closer in sight Mike changes his mind and goes around the back of the house. As he gets closer he makes the area go silent so he can sneak up behind the guard who was standing by the front door. Mike pulls out one of his knifes and grabs the guard covering his mouth and thrusts the knife into the guards Adams apple snapping the blade off inside so the guard could not dig the blade out. Mike drags the guard inside of the house and places the still bleeding body into the closest and tosses the broken knife handle on top of the body. Mike looks around the small house and quickly turns off all the lights, replaces the bulbs with the “specialâ€? ones he had just made, Mike places the pot next to the homemade meth lab stuff so the gang members would not think anything of it. Mike takes a quick look around to make sure he did not touch anything with out his gloves on, leaves the house and makes his way to a safe spot to watch the house.
 
 After about thirty minutes of waiting the dealers make their way home to count the profits from tonight’s selling and turf wars, Mike watches as the light semi goes on in the house and is followed by an explosion. The people in the house start to run and roll around on the ground but the napalm mixture did not want to come off that easy, the dealers screams could be heard though the nights dead air. Mike quietly takes out another prepaid cell phone that was registered to a Ruben Perez, presses the speed dial and says to the man he just had spoken with a few hours ago.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“The painting has been completed; deposit the money in the account I gave you, or you and your family will be next.â€? Mike ends the call, crushes the cell phone and heads back to his haven to get his coat so he can look for his Lasombra targets.
 
 As Mike enters his haven he tosses the crushed cell phone into the furnace to destroy it so the local police could not find any trace of the phone or who the last call was made to. As he puts his coat on he notices that he still has that envelope with the dealer’s house on it, he tosses it into the furnace, grabs the photos of the two Lasombra that he is trying to find and heads back out to find a taxi.
 
 After another sort trip Mike finds himself back in Venice wandering the streets looking for a place that would stand out for Lasombra to try and hide or to just blend in with the locals. As the cars slowly pass by on the street and the kine seem to be in a rush Mike makes his way down the street looking at different buildings. He comes to a little café that seems to have an upper class of people sitting inside; Mike walks inside and makes his way to the counter. When he arrives at the counter he pulls the pictures of the Beaumont childer and says to the cashier.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Have you seen any of these people?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“No I can not say that I have sir.â€? The cashier replied.
 
 Mike turns around and makes his way out of the café, continues walking down the street and start to think to him self. “I wonder if they are in a different part of the town. I did find their late sir in Annsbridge. I wonder if they could be there looking for their sir…â€? with that though in his mind Mike signals for a taxi to head towards Annsbrigde.
 
 After a long taxi ride Mike gets out of the taxi, pays the driver and looks around for possible places that the childer might blend into the kine’s world. As Mike is walking down the street he notices a restaurant that proved a little promising, so Mike crosses the street, enters the building and walks up too the greeter that is behind the podium. The greeter looks how Mike is dressed and says.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“I am sorry sir but we ca not have you dressed like that in this place of business.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“I am just here to ask if you seen these two man in here before. “ Mike holds the pictures up to the greeter.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“I am sorry but I can not remember if I have or have not we get over two hundred people in here a night. Now could you please leave?â€?
 
 Mike turns around and heads back out the door and continues his walk down the street looking for possible hiding spots for the Beaumont childer.
                       

 

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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    
                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Sodom40280831 on December 14, 2005, 07:42:00 AM
                “Toreador huh?â€? Nail figured as much from the description Skull gave over the phone. Fortunately she didn’t seem to be able to see through the mask. He took his time to look at Marie from top to bottom while contemplating what he should do with her. On the way over he had given some thought to just killing her, not like anyone would notice. But after he got over the bad mood he was in he started realizing the opportunities this situation brought with it. However his thinking was rudely interrupted by Skull.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Uh y’know Nail, because of the excellent service I was wondering if I could get a little early fi…â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Leave.â€? Nail said in a tone that made it very clear he was giving an order instead of making a request. Skull immediately took the hint.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Right, leaving is also good, guess I’ll be leaving then.â€?  
 
 Skull took one last look at Marie before taking off. Nail now turned his attention to Marie.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Alone at last.â€? He said as he approached Marie.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Look at you, a little lost Toreador all puppy-dog-eyed and covered in filth. But where are my manners, I haven’t even introduced myself. My name is Nnn…..eil, Neil, at your service. Now Skull tells me you’re new to the ole’ top of the food-chain and the one who embraced you forgot to give you a little info about how things work with us….. well you know.â€?
 
 Marie nodded.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Well beautiful, I’d love to give you a little tutoring if you need it but I don’t feel like doing it out here in a dark freezing alley. So if you would kindly accompany me to the lovely little bar that is just down the way here we can begin our lesson.â€?
   
 Nail lead Marie out of the alley and into the bar with the sign “Charlie’s tavernâ€? above it. Nail was hoping Bitterman would be there so he could study him up close for a little while. When they entered the bar the two took a seat at a small round table in a darkened corner lit up only by the small candle standing in the middle of the table. There were hardly any customers save for a few shady figures at the bar and a few fratboys sitting in one of the booths who were already too drunk off their asses to move. Charlie's wasn't the best place for the upcoming conversation but it would have to do. Marie told Nail everything she knew about kindred so far and everything Skull had told her. Nail was quite surprised at how much Skull had figured out on his own. There was definitely more to that kid than met the eye.
 
 While he was listening to Marie Nail was thinking about what he should do with her. There was definitely no point in killing her, she was completely harmless. However A much more attractive notion suddenly came to mind. It was no secret that Nail and the other Nosferatu didn’t exactly think too highly of the local Toreador, in fact he couldn’t really think of any city on the planet where things were different. But to this point it had been too much of a bother to boot them out of Cawford. But an actual Toreador neonate working as an informant for the Nosferatu…..that could be just crazy enough to work. This could definitely be worth putting a little effort into, however she would need to learn about kindred society, get a haven and get cleaned up a bit. Nail realized he would have to supply her with these things but it was definitely worth it if it meant having his own little pet Toreador.
 
 When Marie was done talking Nail started his “kindred crash-courseâ€? with a long, tired moan.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Uuuuhhhhhh, Jesus H Christ where to begin. Well I suppose we should start our little lesson with the one big rule you should always live by. It goes like this: “You are now one of the damned, the fallen, a demon, a being which humans (or kine as we call them) would classify as “supernaturalâ€? or “non-existentâ€? Now, do you know why kine view us as non-existent? Because we don’t want them to know!â€? That’s why you didn’t know anything about all of this when you were still kine. Vampires keep their vampirism to themselves! And if you do otherwise it you’re gonna piss off a whole bunch of other vampires who will hunt you down like a dog and make sure you meet with a swift and horrible ending. That’s what you get if you break the law. And we refer to this law as “the masqueradeâ€?
 
 Nail remembered the time his own sire “Artemisâ€? gave him this speech. He was trying to remember how it all went. One of the reasons he didn’t plan on having childer anytime soon was having to educate them in the endless amount of kindred bullshit. Yet here he was with a Toreador fledgeling hanging on his every word.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Now the masquerade gets enforced by an organisation of vampires known as the Camarilla which mainly consists of the Ventrue, Brujah, Toreador, Tremere, Nosferatu and Malkavian clans. I’m not going to lie to you and claim we’re the goodguys or anything but it beats the alternatives by a long shot. “What alternatives?â€? You ask. Well you told me your sire and her companions were fleeing from someone, right? Well I bet they were running from the Sabbat, a sect composed of the Lasombra, Tzimisce and a whole bunch of the most vicious asshole vampires you’re ever going to meet. Now the Camarilla is all about law and order while the Sabbat wants nothing more than to make the world a living hell for everyone. They believe in letting go of all humanity and giving in to the beast completely. Be thankful you ended up here, we recently drove the Sabbat out of Cawford. Well there are a few stragglers here and there but nothing to really worry about. Other than the Camarilla and the Sabbat you have a few independent clans here and there, they obey the masquerade but don’t serve the Camarilla and then you have the Anarchs, pay no attention to them they have no idea what they’re talking about, thankfully there’s no Anarch movement in Cawford.â€?  
 
 Nail looked over at Marie to see her staring at him with a look that can only be described as “amazementâ€? to which he laughingly replied:
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Completely blows your mind away doesn’t it! Well that concludes our little lesson in politics, of course there’s a whole lot more to it but we’ll be here all night if I start explaining all of that. Right now we need to worry about getting you fixed up and looking like a proper undead predator of the night.â€?
 
 Nail reached into his left pocket and pulled out four one-hundred dollar bills and a small set of keys.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“I never leave home without a little pocket change, you can keep the money, finances aren’t exactly a big problem when you’re kindred. Now I would be delighted to let you stay at my place for a while but certain circumstances prevent this so you can feel free to make use of my back-up haven until you find a place of your own.â€? Nail said as he handed her the keys.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“It’s a humble little place over at “Wonder Wall apartmentsâ€? just a few blocks from here. I got it a while ago in case of emergencies but I hardly ever use it. There aren’t a lot of other tenants and the owner will let you have your privacy during the day. It has everything you need, a bed, television with DVD-player, a fridge with a few bloodpacks in it and most importantly a bathroom. Feel free to dig into my personal DVD collection, its mostly old black and white horror-movies but someone from your clan should be able to appreciate that. Once you get settled in you can contact me at this number. But I should tell you that tomorrow-night I will be leaving for a small business trip so you won’t be able to reach me.â€?
 
 Nail took a small piece of paper with a phone-number out of his other pocket and handed it to Marie who looked at him and said:
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Thank you very much, I am curious. What clan are you?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“My clan is……of no importance right now.â€?  
                       

 

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           I'm so serious it's comical!    
                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Bloodreaper33413943 on December 17, 2005, 06:04:00 AM
                Outside the Tavern, Marie could not believe her good fortune.  Only moments ago, she had been contemplating breaking into another car for money.  But now, she had keys to an apartment and four hundred dollars in her hands!  Most valuble of all though, was that she finally had someone to teach her how to live this way.  Mabey she could make something of this life afterall...
 
 The first thing she did was make her way the the nearest shopping center.  With four hundred, she was tempted to start buying everything in sight, but restrained herself.  Her first stop was to buy new clothing.  She ended up buying a few new t-shirts, pants, shoes, and a couple dresses (in case these Kindred of hers had social occasions).  On the way out, she noticed her pale face in a mirrior and grabbed some makeup too.  After that, she made a few "non-essential" purchases, such as new CDs, one or two vampire films and of course, new batteries.  She also bought a little gift for the next time she saw Skull, a baseball cap with a skull and crossbones on the front.  It was the least she could do for him after he had virtually saved her from life in the alleys.
 The cashiers at each store had looked skeptical that such a disheveled looking girl could afford these items, and she had smirked each time as she had presented the payment.
 
 She stepped outdoors again and hailed a cab.  "Wonder Wall apartments s'il vous plaît."  She saw the side glance that the cab driver gave her as he pulled out, but didn't care.  For once, things were looking up.
 
 When she reached the apartments, she found the room that was hers and let herself in.  The place wasn't the best, but it was home for now.  She noticed how the window was covered by a large tarp, duct taped over it.  Sun Protection.  She laid down her purchases and explored the apartment further.  When she was finished, she decided to get out of these dirty clothes and run a bath to wash off.  It was the first time in weeks that she felt clean.  While getting out, she noticed that her skin actually felt warm and alive after being in the hot water.  The feeling was replaced soon by the cold flesh that she had gotten used to.
 
 She took a moment to examine herself the the mirror.  This was the first time she had really studied herself since her death (for she had come to realized that she had in fact, died).  Her face was unchanged, yet... different in a way.  For one, it held no flush of life.  She imagined that this would have been the face staring out of her casket, if she had remained dead.  She pulled her upper lip back to get a better look at her other new features.  Her fangs were currently pulled back into her gums, looking completly normal.  She wondered how to get them to extend.  She tried mentally commanding them to, tried concentrating on extending them.  Nothing.  Then, she closed her eyes and mentally visualized red... the blood of the many cats she had drained... the blood that had been aroung her mouth when she first awoke to this life, her own blood being taken from her...
 She opened her eyes and saw a reflection of herself with two inch extented fangs looking back at her.  she gingerly prodded the tip of one of them, then yelped and pulled her punctured finger away.  She openep her mouth and looked at herself from verious angles.  She imitated the vampires from movies and hissed menacingly at the mirror.  This was all still so alien...
 
 She went back into the bedroom area and laid naked upon the bed.  One benefit of this condition was that she didn't notice cold that much at all anymore.  Her eye fell upon the phone next to the bed.  Before she could stop herself, she grabbed it and dialed a number.  While it rang, she suddenly hoped that Neil wouldn't wonder about a long-distance call.  Then, it picked up on the other end.
 
 "Bonjour?"  Said a girl's voice on the other end.  Marie said nothing.  Her mouth was open, but frozen between speaking and silence.  
 
 "Bonjour??"  Said the girl again, more insistant this time.  Marie wondered what she could say.  She wanted to say that she was okay and not to worry about her, but didn't.  When she spoke, it was barely audible.
 
 "Au revoir."  She said softly.
 
 "Bonjour!?!  Bonjour??  Mar..."  The other voice started to say fantically, but Marie hung up.  She cursed herself for her foolishness.  There was nothing that she could say to make everything okay.  The was no possible way to explain what had become of her life.  She could never go back to that world.  This was her world now.  Eternal night.
 
 Without even bothing to pull the covers over herself, she laid on her back and waited for the sun to put her to sleep.                        

 

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           When the game is over, the king and the pawn go back in the same box    
                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Killer39787726 on December 19, 2005, 11:21:00 PM
                Back at the hotel, the guy in the front desk gives me a weird look. Must be the cheap bourbon on the blood. That’s probably it.
 
 I climb the stairs to my room. Funny. Don’t remember leaving the lights on.
 Something hits me, making me fall to the ground. Someone takes a shot at my back. No, not a bullet. A needle. Then there is only darkness.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“…you killed him, Gino is going to be pissed.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“No I didn’t! Look, he is movingâ€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Shut up you two! Wait outside, I am going to have a little talk with our guest.â€?
 
 Taste of blood in my mouth, my blood. I can’t move. I force my eyes open. It takes a while for them to adjust. What they gave me?
 
 I recognize the place. It’s an abandoned bakery near Thompson Field. Perfect place for an interrogation. You can scream all you want, no one will care. Not in this neighborhood. I used this place a few times before. Now the position is reversed. I usually am in his shoes, the guy in the gray suit and holding the baseball bat. Right now I am the guy strapped into the chair.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Who are you?â€? he asks.
 
 I give him a half smile, “I am Santa’s helper. He wanted me to tell you that you’ve been a real bad boy. You wont get any presents this yearâ€?
 
 He had a baseball bat, and I was tied to a chair. Pissing him off was the smart thing to do. He swings it and hit me in the head a couple times. The room starts to spin.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Stupid! Stupid move killing himâ€? he says
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“You got to work with me Mack. I killed a lot of people. You will need to be more specificâ€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Sammy, Gino’s little brotherâ€?
 
 Sammy, doesn’t ring a bell. Like always, the dead had all the answers I was missing.
 It wasn't that they weren't eager to talk, quite the contrary, when they started they never gave up.
 Gino however, it’s a completely different story. He is supposed to be some big time mobster. I believe he has some deals with the Giovanni. Not the kind of guy you want to be in the bad side of.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Gino wanted me to show you how he feels. And don’t call me Mack, I hate that name!â€?
 
 Suddenly he is Babe Ruth and my head is the ball. He keeps at it for a good half-hour before slowing down.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“My arm is getting sore. I will get me a drink and will be right back to continue our little chatâ€?
 
 He leaves me alone. I flex my muscles and rip the chair apart. I fall to the ground, gasping and coughing blood for several minutes. My brain feels like its two sizes too big for my head.
 
 The drugs started to wear off.  Breaking the lock on the door is easy enough.
 
 The two goons are in the other room playing cards. Full house, aces over eights. The dead man’s hand. Irony, the universe is full off this shit.
 
 I reach for the one closest to me and break the table with his head. The goon on the right draws his pistol, but I move behind him and break his neck. He falls dead and he doesn’t even know it.
 The other one is on the floor, trying to crawl away. I lift him up and drink deep. Until there isn’t a drop left in him. That’s better, my strength is returning. I reach for the table and collect my guns and cell.
 
 The man in the gray suit is in the bathroom. He doesn’t see me until I am pressing the beretta to the back of his head.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“It’s a great mistakeâ€? he says
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“You already did a big mistake yourself. You didn’t flushâ€?
 
 I hold him by his feet and drown the bastard.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“You always got to remember to flushâ€?
 
 There is someone at the door. When I gaze upon her, it’s like being hit by a speeding truck, head on. She is all any man could want. Any man’s fantasy.
 
 I am not a pretty sight to behold. Holding a gun, covered in blood, bruised. Enough to get a grown man to weep. She don’t show any sign of fear. Tough lady.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“You aren’t one of Gino’s men, are you?â€?
 
 I catch myself staring at her.  She was worth a stare. She was trouble.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“You are the one who killed Sammy aren’t you? You are the answer to my prayers. I need your helpâ€? she tells me. She has the voice of an angel. Or at least that’s how I imagine one should sound.
 
 Her name is Marissa. She tells me all about her sad story. Gino is blackmailing her. There are only three ways to deal with a blackmailer. You can pay him and pay him and pay him until you’re penniless. Or you can call the police yourself and let your secret be known to the world. Or you can kill him.
 
 He was getting very possessive about her, jealous, violent. Treating her like she was her personal doll.
 
 She doesn’t let me in what her dark secret is, but I don’t care. We all have our secrets, things no one is willing to share. Things we are not proud off.
 
 She offers me enough money to make it impossible to resist, and more. Plus Gino isn’t the forgiving kind of guy, he won’t forget about me.
 
 Investigating Gino would have unearthed criminal plans, drug dealings, weapons contraband, spy helicopter reports, illegal wire tap recordings, internet porn, strategies for world domination, all of the above. Take your pick, I really didn't care anymore — I had seen too much of it already.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“I don’t do charity workâ€?
 
 Nothing compares to the blood. But I am not dead so long to be immune to her charms. She still can make the blood boil inside my veins, and she knows it. She is that type of woman that can make a man, maybe even kindred, do anything. She is the kind of woman that makes a man sell his soul to the devil, gladly.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“What do you want?â€? she asks me.
 
 The things that I want, by Jake Kraven. A smoke. A whiskey. For the snow to stop. I want to sleep, to forget. To change the past. My wife and baby girl back. Unlimited ammo and a license to kill. But right then, more than anything, I wanted her.
 
 She finds me willing to fulfill her every desire. We spend the next nights together.  
 
 --
 
 After a while she reveals me Gino’s organization from inside out. The part she knows of it.
 He is not easy to find. The man has too much enemies, not to mention the cops. The honest ones.
 I'm dishonest, and a dishonest man you can always trust to be dishonest. Honestly. It's the honest ones you want to watch out for, because you can never predict when they're going to do something incredibly... stupid.
 
 The only way is to find him is through Magnotta, his right arm guy.
 Marissa knows all about his business partners.
 
 Follow the leader, right? Well, don’t get too close or he will figure out he is being tailed. When he speeds up, you speed up. When he brakes, you brake. Get it? Good.
 
 I trail them all the way to North Valley until I find Magnotta’s ´office´.
 
 He gives me layouts, names, locations. Things that just someone at the top would know. It’s amazing the kind of information you can get when you know how to make questions. And I can be very persuasive when I want.
 
 It's not always this easy. This guy happens to be a moron.
 
 Before I finished with Magnotta, he led me to an old mansion in Annsbridge. Only way to get in is if you have a small army. Or if you are nut. I happen to fit in the last category. Fortunately I have enough strength and speed to back up my lack of good sense.
 
 Gino is alone in his room. I could finish him before he knew I was there. But along the way things got personal.
 
 I let him see me.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“You! I sent my man after youâ€? the old man says “Paolo, William, remove this trash!â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Don’t bother calling for your goons. They can’t hear you, they are all deadâ€?
 
 "I don't like your manners"
 
 "And I'm not crazy about yours... but I don't mind if you don't like my manners I don't like 'em myself."
 
 His eyes change with hate “Bastard. You killed Sammy. You are no cop. Who do you work for?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“The devilâ€?. Ironies again, cop, not a cop. Not anymore.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Why Sammy? WHY?â€? he asks
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“You know what that is. The stuff you never have enough of. Little green things with George Washington’s picture that men slave for, commit crimes for, die for. It’s the stuff that has caused more trouble in the world than anything else ever invented, simply because there’s too little of itâ€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“It’s over father! You are finishedâ€?
 
 Father. Marissa. The pieces start falling into place like a jigsaw puzzle. She feed me the lies and I took it all in. I wanted to believe her line. I was the hero of the story, saving the girl from the crook.
 
 Personally, I’m convinced that alligators have the right idea. They eat their young.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“What this bitch promised you?â€? he says. “Do you really believe she will pay you? You seem intelligent for a hit-manâ€?
 
 "Well, I'm not".
 
 I unceremoniously put a bullet through his brains.
 Firing a gun is a binary choice. Either you pull the trigger or you don't.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Its over!â€? she says with a smile, “I know account numbers, contacts, names. We can control the entire organization ourselvesâ€?
 
 Leave the brujah, betray them. Can’t say the thought hadn’t crossed my mind, about a thousand times.
 
 I walk up to her and hold her in my arms while she whispers hushed promises in my ears. All the right words. All that I want to hear.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Stay with me. I will make you richer than you ever dreamed off. No one will be able to touch us. Stay with me. I love you…â€?
 
 I can feel her skin getting hotter as she kisses me. She is that kind of woman that makes a man sell his soul to the devil, gladly. I already sold my soul years ago.
 
 She places her left arm around me and I follow her right arm until the knife she is holding behind her back.
 
 I twist her hand to make she drop it and pull her hair backwards, craving my fangs on her exposed neck. I feel her entire body shiver. I loved her. Loved and killed her.
 
 There was never a hero to this story. Just the killer, the crook and the devil in the dress.
 
 She was Gino’s daughter, wanted control over the old man’s criminal empire. No one in his right mind would help her. I was the one who killed Sammy, when no one would touch his family. I was the ´answer to her prayers´. She played me for a fool.
 
 Can’t say I was surprised. Deep down I always knew there was something off, just didn’t wanted to see it.
 
 An urban legend come true. You complete the jigsaw puzzle to discover it is a picture of yourself, finishing that same puzzle. A mad, green-eyed killer behind you. Me. I light a smoke.
 
 I’ll never think of our moments together without nausea.
                       

 

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           Cant we all just get along?...No? Ok...then i will just rip your head off.    
                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Year_of_the_Scarab on December 21, 2005, 10:10:00 AM
                "You have? Good. I'll take a look at it and call you back." she said to the receiver and hung up the phone. Her people had found the assassin. It took a while, but staying hidden indefinitely was pretty much impossible in this city, especially if you were on the hunt, as the killer appeared to be. This was a stroke of luck also, as the..."competition" apparently meant to contact him too. Pretty popular for an assassin, isn't he now.
 
 She sat behind her desk with her bloodwine glass in hand, browsing through the report sent to her PC by her contact.
 
 So, those were the two that the Assamite was looking for, hmm? She didn't recognize the faces, though according to her information they were both Kindred, presumably of one sire. Well, if they were indeed in Cawford and she had no details on them, it made them either unaligned or Sabbat, since there were records on every resident Camarilla Kindred.  
 
 Very well then. She picked up the phone again and hit a number on the speed-dial
 
 "He'll do." she said "Make the contact as planned."
 
 Elsewhere.
 
 "Eugene" leaned back in his chair and raised his eyebrow, giving Bitterman a "well…?" look when he joined him at the table again. He had apparently ordered another glass of whatever he had been drinking for himself while Bitterman was gone, which he was now turning in his hand absentmindedly.
 
 "I'll need a while yet." the Malkavian replied to the unvoiced question. The other man took a drink from his glass and nodded slowly. Having set his glass down, he picked up a napkin from the stack on the table and took out a pen. He began writing
 
 "I understand. We are all working on tight schedules though, I imagine. In the meantime however..." he said, turning the napkin face down and sliding it across the table to Bitterman "The above, as you can see, is the price your previous supplier named. The latter is ours."
 
 Their information was good, but not the most recent, Bitterman noticed. He'd negotiated the price with Massicus' people on the previous night, not by a great amount, but there was couple grand worth of difference. The writing on the bottom was somewhere around 85 percent of Julian's, perhaps a bit more. Corwin set his elbows on the table, intertwining his fingers in front of his face, and regarded Bitterman expectantly.
 
 Elsewhere.
 
 Mike had been cruising the streets for a couple of hours. Over the course of his "career" he learned that the most straightforward means were often the most efficient ones, but in this case, it seemed, finding his targets wouldn't be quite as simple as asking around the city. It had been worth a shot. Knowing their sire's customs and standards, had they frequented any Kine establishments it would've been the finer places around, but he had yet to learn anything from this tonight.
 
 He had already given up on the approach and decided to hail a cab back to the haven, when he noticed a car driving slowly along the curb pulling up to him. He continued walking casually, not paying it any apparent attention. The vehicle had meanwhile slowed to match his pace and the tinted window on the passenger's side slid down.
 
 "Excuse me," came the voice from within "I'm looking for a street, maybe you could help me?"
 
 "Not from here, sorry." Mike replied, not looking at the diver
 
 "Falahat street. Have you heard of it?" the driver continued unperturbed. Mike walked in silence for a moment. He had heard of Falahat, the Street of Facades, naturally. He had also walked it, almost every time he visited Jordan and paid his respects to the Caliph of Turkey. So either the driver was way lost, or, more likely, he wasn't asking for directions at all. Still, Mike thought he'd better make sure
 
 "I'm afraid that's a really long way from here."
 
 "Oh, it is?" the driver said in artificial confusion "I see. Perhaps you could spare a minute to direct me then?" with that the car came to a slowed down significantly and the door on the passenger's side opened. Mike wasted no time getting in, and as soon as he was seated the driver pulled from the curb and the car picked up speed.
 
 "Good evening, Mr...?"
 
 "Smith." Mike lied without one muscle on his face twitching
 
 "...Mr. Smith." the driver, obviously Kine, picked up with a knowing nod and a ghost of a smile briefly crossing his lips "My employer is in need of someone with your abilities. Are your services currently available?"
 
 "I suppose that depends on what sort of 'services' your employer requires exactly."
 
 "Professional ones, Mr. Smith." the Kine replied shortly "I'm afraid I can give no details while not knowing whether you take up the task."                        

 

                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Skinweaver on December 21, 2005, 05:58:00 PM
                The dull ache of hunger crept over the Tremere and she held her head in some small effort to fight the urge to bite into one of the nearby rodents.
 Who were these guys? The situation was too dangerous to rush into without knowing enough about the captors.
 The wisest course of action would be to observe until the proper moment to escape would present itself.
 Rebecka closed her eyes and concentrated. The whispers from the room above grew into comprehensive words, tapping turned to footsetps.
 
 "Come on. Focus..."
 
 The voices returned.
 They seemed agitated and it was obvious that the kidnappers were less than experienced.
 Her thoughts were still dim from the blow to her head but it was easy enough to bring back the basics of the stalker's memories.
 Hmm... not exactly an angel but that was to be expected. Typical vermin.
 Only, there was one detail that stood out like a lighthouse in a desert. Shock. Fear.
 Something very traumatic had happened to him.
 Rebecka focused on this event and tried to bring it to the surface again and after a few seconds it was there clear as day.
 
 "What is this?"
 
 Complete and utter dread. A world shattered in a moment.
 What next? Sharp pain? A taste of salt and copper? Blackness.
 More pain? A blow to the head?
 She couldn't help but smile. Even though it was in the past she took some pleasure in knowing that at least someone had managed to beat that freak.
 
 More blackness.
 A feeling of dampness. The musty smell of earth? Panic!
 Foul instincts... like an animal. So unclean...
 Finally free. Cool night air all around. Fear and joy all at the same time.
 Just great. Rebecka knew enough about the Sabbat to know how they were made but this seemed wrong somehow.
 These... things were hardly Sabbat. Too disorganised even for Them.
 Meeting two others. His so called friends.
 Feeding on drug addicts? Old habits die hard...
 And then the coughing. These vermin were the source!
 Further investigation was needed but right now the top priority was to get out.
 The nervous footsteps were close enough now. Some quick thinking was needed.
 She crawled back under the sheet and waited.
 
 As the door opened, Rebecka reached into her coat slowly and wrapped her fingers around her trusted assistant.
 The visitor made a few nervous noises and she knew them well enough to recognise the blonde one.
 Listening carefully she waited for the right time to strike.
 Just a little closer...
 The sound of metal? A gun! She could hear the voice of the stalker.
 
 "Bye, bitch!"
 
 Before he could react, the Tremere jerked forward and pulled his ankle inwards.
 He gasped in fear and he fell on his back and fired the weapon out of reflex.
 While he was still struggling to escape, Rebecka crawled over him and held the knife less than an inch from his right eye.
 
 "Oh, fuck... please don't do it!"
 
 He was obviously stronger than her physically but fear was a weapon more powerful than any strength.
 She had to use this situation to her advantage rather then ending this pathetic creature right there.
 A voice could be heared from upstairs.
 
 "What's with all the fucking noise?! Did you waste the bitch or not?"
 
 Aside from making the stalker easier to deal with, his fear made influencing his mind even easier than it was before.
 He was easy enough to scare and throwing another gallon of gasoline of that flame wouldn't hurt.
 Rebecka leaned in close to her captive, bared her fangs and growled.
 
 "Uhh... yeah I shot her. Dead as a f... fucking doornail."
 
 The voice from above. The leader was obviously agitated.
 
 "Get back here, you pussy! We still have shit to do!"
 
 It would seem that this leader had a tight grip on his little gang.
 If she was to handle these creatures Rebecka had to determine what she was acturally facing.
 They obviously knew enough to be Kindred and all clues so far pointed in that direction.
 The blonde stalker looked even more frightened.
 
 "Wh... why are you looking at me like that?"
 
 Something was definitly wrong with this being. Not human. That was obvious now.
 If it wasn't for the strong discolorations in the aura he would almost pass for a ghoul but this was stronger.
 Not quite Kindred either. She grabbed the stalker by the throat and hissed into his ear.
 
 "Whisper. No screaming. If they hear you I will slit your throat! My possessions. Where are they?"
 
 "You mean your shit? We stashed it upstairs. F... footlocker. The Hammer said that we could sell that junk on the street."
 
 "And the nearest exit is?"
 
 "Up the stairs to the left... you just have to..."
 
 Rebecka brought the knife closer to the stalker's face and he squealed in fear.
 Interesting enough, just like the vermin he was.
 
 "Ah, shit! Right! Up the stairs to the right! Let me go. For the love of god, let me go!"
 
 "You know that I could never do that. You will alert your friends. Sleep."
 
 The stalker went limp in her grasp and as he curled up on the concrete floor she searched his pockets for something useful.
 A key. Hopefully it was meant for the footlocker upstairs.
 The gun may have lost a round earlier but it would seem unlikely for such a nervous waste of life to arm himself with only one bullet.
 Just as she expected, the clip was nearly full.
 Discretion was still the better part of valor. Even though holding a firearm made her feel confident she was by no means an actionhero.
 Suddenly, the silence was broken by the sound of the leader's voice again.
 
 "What's the fucking hold up? Get back here!"
 
 Another voice could be heared.
 At this point it was a mere mumble but it was obvious that this was the other infected one.
 They all needed to be terminated for the sake of the Masquerade but as she knew from before, slow and steady wins the race.
 
 "That's it! I'm going down there to teach that fucking pussy a lesson."
 
 Rebecka had to act quickly.
 Conveniently enough, there was some shadow at the side of the stairs and with enough careful movement she might be able to ambush the next one of them.
 To no surprise, this "Hammer" sent his lower packdog to investigate.
 Upon reaching the bottom of the stairs the goon spotted his comatose associate.
 
 "Tha' Hell!?"
 
 He pulled out a weapon of his own.
 A cheap revolver. Typical black market fare. Their leader obviously had connections.
 He walked slowly toaward the Stalker, carefully checking his surroundings before kneeling and checking for whatever lifesigns a Thinblood could express.
 There was no one around so what could have done that? Upon noticing that "the bitch" was gone from under that sheet he turned around, pointing the weapon toward all possible threats and hising places.
 In his semi panic he pointed the gun at prety much anything. She couldn't hide forever in that dimly lit room.
 
 "Awright, come out of there ya scrawny pale-ass junkie bitch... I'll pop ya so fulla holes that..."
 
 The squeak of a nearby rodent made the thinblood turn around, nearly shooting the source of the noise.
 He lowered the gun for a moment and spat in the animal's direction.
 
 "Fuckin' rat!"
 
 He didn't say much more.
 While he dad been busy with his skittish search, Rebecka had picked up a board from her hiding place and when her target lowered his weapon she took the opportunity to plant the former tree in the back of his head.
 He fell over his buddy with a guttural groan. Unconcious.
 Rebecka quickly pocketed the weapon just in case and walked carefully up the stairs wit the stalkers's gun ready.
 All the noise from earlier must have alerted their leader. That "Hammer". By any logic he was prepared.
 Since she knew nothing of what lay behind the basement door she had to focus on the things thta lay beyong her normal vision.
 Closing her eyes, Rebecka focused on the area around her and after a short while, an image started to form in her mind.
 She couldmn't see the room behind the door but The Hammer was there, his spiritual ennence glowing like the halo of a saint.
 He was definitly not human. Obviously a stray like the others. Almost Kindred.
 Very much stronger than the others and more powerful.
 If the aura of the others had been a dim glow, this one was an exposed lightbulb.
 Was it really worth it? It would be easy to run now.
 To leave and avoid taking chances but there were worse things than this.
 She had been gone from the Chantry for too long. Neglected duties. Unfulfilled responsibilities toward the Clan.
 The fear came over her and the thoughts almost made her tremble.
 She had to do this. She had to end these weaklings in the name of the Tremere and get the samples so that she had something to present to the Regentina.
 If she had an excuse without proof... who knew what might happen?
 This had to be done at any cost.
 The Hammer waited just behind the wall next to the door. She could open the door, lean out, fire blindly and hope for the best.
 Not much of an option since he was too close to ambush or decieve. She couldn't wait him out since she had no idea of the time and for all she know, she might run straight into the dawn after killing him.
 Now or never.
 
 Sharp pain. That filthy mutt had hit her!
 The side of Rebecka's face was throbbing with pain and she realised with growing horror that he must have been armed.
 The Hammer's footsteps could be heared around her and she turned over, looking up.
 This thing, whatever he was stood over her, grinning with a fireaxe in hand.
 His looks were hard o describe what with his mixture of vermin subcultures in a bizarre dresscode.
 The closest guess she could conjure was "demented biker".
 
 "Should have hit you with the sharp end instead of the flat side..."
 
 Rebecka felt around the floor and checked her pockets for her weapons.
 Strange enough, The Hammer didn't seem to mind.
 
 "That blow took you out for a minute. Your things ain't there anymore.
 You think you can hurt my guys and fucking get away with it, bitch?"
 
 She kept looking to her sides. An idea had started to form but she had to find the right moment.
 To soon and he would be able to avert it and too late, she would die. Again.
 
 "Don't you fucking move. I've dealt with your kind before.
 You think you're so superior just because you're in some big club but you aren't any better than me and my guys.
 And now, I'm going to take your fucking head off so you won't bother us anymore."
 
 So cliché! Revealing his plan like that.
 Typical. Too many movies and vermin culture. Lovely.
 While he raised his weapon, Rebecka rolled to her side and grabbed The Hammer's ankle like she has the stalker.
 He fell on his back and exhumed a good amount of profanites and while he forced himself to stand, Rebecka grabbed the axe.
 Before she could strike at his head, The Hammer pulled out a gun and fired.
 The bullet struck her like a flaming arrow in the shoulder and she almost fell over from the sudden shock.
 The hunger within was bad enough already and the pain brought her closer and closer to that vile, primitive nature.
 That nature was close to taking over not and as much as she wanted to let go she had to fight it.
 Before The Hammer could fire his weapon again, Rebecka grabbed his wrist and he felt a warm rush through his entire body.
 His entire system was thrown into disorder and an uncomfortable warmth started to spread in his system.
 He watched in horror as his blood started to escape through his skin in a heavy sweat before his vision was clouded in red as a steady stream was forced through his tear canals.
 
 "AAH! What the fuck did you do to me?! Ah, for fuck's sake get it off me! My eyes! Raahg!"
 
 He dropped the gun and rubbed is eyes to get rid of the blinding mess.
 While he was incapacitated, Rebecka took the liberty to make use of the sharp end of her newfound archaic weapon.
 The Hammer fell to the floor screaming.
 
 "My leg! My fucking leg! You fucking bi..."
 
 Those were his last words.
 As the headless Hammer slowly disintegrated on the wooden floor Rebecka headed back downstairs.
 Later, she would have to search this dump for the elusive footlocker with her valuables but right now, there were two people in the basement that needed some special attention.                        

 

                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Killer39787726 on December 21, 2005, 08:45:00 PM
                “Come on already, moron! Don’t you see the green light already?â€?
 
 Got myself thinking about her. Funny. Hadn’t thought about this over a month, since that night. Marissa, the expressionless look on her face, her skin colder than the devil's heart. Dead. Like everyone else.
 
 I got tired of the company of the roaches I share the hotel room with. Listening they walk inside the walls, a tiny army of them.
 
 There are no choices. Nothing but a straight line. The illusion comes afterwards, when you ask 'Why me?' and 'What if?'. When you look back and see the branches like a forked lightning. If you had done something differently, it wouldn't be you, it would be someone else looking back, asking a different set of questions.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Oh go on Ya stubborn sod!â€?
 
 I get out of the car and walk towards the screaming driver behind me. I smash his head against the steering wheel a few times just to get him to shut up. Couldn’t hear my own thoughts with all his screaming.
 
 Hypothetically, if the only choice you've got is to do the wrong thing, then it's not really the ´wrong´ thing, is it? It's more like fate.
 
 I climb back on the car and keep driving through the backstreets of Mornington. I can never sit still for long. Always need to have something to occupy my mind with or I get bored. People don’t seem to like when that happens, like no good thing ever came out of it.
 
 The shops are open, crowded with those buying presents. All that phony happiness on the attendants face. I hate shopping, especially christmas. I always seem to get the wrong caliber for the gift, they always complain before I deliver the bullet.    
 
 And to top that I am running out of cash; quick.
 
 That’s what I love about this car, no matter how badly I treat her, she keeps running. Giving all she got until the last once. That was about a mile ago. Got a major oil leak. Sorry baby.
 I manage to pull over just before she dies out on me. Looks like I will have to walk from here. Just my luck. I need a drink.
 
 A guy in a Santa outfit knocks on the window, they seem to be everywhere those days.
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Got something to spare for the less fortunate?â€?
 
 It's a tiny bit arrogant of people to go around worrying about those 'less fortunate' ...has it occurred to you that you are the less fortunate?
                       

 

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           Cant we all just get along?...No? Ok...then i will just rip your head off.    
                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Sodom40280831 on December 22, 2005, 05:50:00 PM
                After Marie had left Nail sat alone at the table reviewing the situation and the opportunities it presented for a few minutes before leaving himself. Nail left the Tavern, headed back towards the alley, checked if he was alone and dropped his mask. However, immediately after doing this a familiar voice came from the other end of the alley.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Man we have got to stop meeting like this!â€?
 
 It was Hives, dressed in a tight leather jacket and even tighter leather pants. His right hand was firmly tightened around the back of Skull’s neck who was trying to break free from the Nosferatu’s grasp.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“I believe this is yours.â€? Hives said as he raised Skull into the air and tossed him across the alley, landing directly at Nail’s feet.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Yeah that’s mine. What of it?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Well I ran into him a few minutes ago and asked him if he knew where you were. And I didn’t exactly like his answer man!â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“And what answer would that be?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“That you were in that bar with a goddamn Toreador!â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Yeah, what of it.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“WHAT OF I…….are you insane man! Since when do we socialize with Torries?!â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Don’t get so worked up. It just so happens that “Marieâ€? is a little project of mine.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“What the fuck are you talking about?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Skull found her on the street feeding on cats and completely oblivious to all things kindred. So he called me up to see if I could take care of her.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Riiiiight…..and when do we get to the part where you rip her head off and rid the world of one more of those pretty little poseur-fucks.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Don’t be so short-sighted, don’t you recognize an opportunity when its handed to you on a silver plate! Who better to act as an informant among the Toreador than an actual Toreador? All we have to do is get her cleaned up a bit, brush her up on kindred etiquette and arrange a convenient meeting between her and Caliori. And then it will only be a matter of time before we get enough dirt on the clan to kick them out of  Cawford with their tails between their legs.â€?
 
 Hives needed a moment to come to grips with the plan but when it finally got through to him he lit up like a Christmas tree.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“You is talkin’ loco and I like it! This is like…….kindred history in the making man! A Toreador working for the Nosferatu! I love it, its revolutionary! If this works they are going to be telling stories about us in the warrens for decades!â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Well even though I never said anything about “usâ€? I am going to need your help. And yours too Skull, the girl seems to have taken a shine to you, work with me on this and I guarantee you a fix every week and maybe even an early embrace.â€?
 
 Nail’s last words made Skull’s face light up with excitement. The promise of becoming kindred was the only thing that had kept him going in his years as Nail’s ghoul and the thought of that promise finally being fulfilled was enough to completely renew his loyalty to Nail. He immediately jumped on his feet and made like a soldier at bootcamp.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Don’t worry man, you can count on me, just name it and I’ll get it done!â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“That’s the spirit! Now, tomorrow-night I’ll be leaving on business, I don’t know when I’ll be back so you are going to be on your own for a little while. You’re going to have to keep an eye on her until I get back.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“And what do I do?â€? Said Hives, now determined to get his place in the Nosferatu history-books.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“You have to keep an eye on the local Torries, see if they have any Toreador-exclusive parties, those would be the perfect opportunity to test Marie. If you get wind of one, contact me at Schrecknet. Oh and………….keep an eye on him until I get back.â€? Nail said while pointing a threatening finger at Skull.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Now…….suppose she gets out of line….â€? Hives said with a wondering and eager expression on his face.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Then you snap her in half like a twig.â€?
 
 As the trio went over the plan they grew more and more eager to put it into practice. Nail didn’t exactly like sharing his newfound toy with Hives but he couldn’t expect Skull to handle things alone while he was gone. Hives was a pretty smart guy (if a bit unstable at times) yet Nail was a bit worried also. When he was still alive Hives was the lead-singer in a shock-rockband called “The Rockin’ Cuntsâ€? and now that he was a vampire and a Nosferatu on top of that he took even more delight in shocking other people. And his hatred for the Toreador and all other things that society saw as beautiful went a bit too far every once in a while.
 
 Skull was brimming with anticipation at the thought of escaping his miserable existence as a lowly ghoul and moving up in the ranks of the damned. Yet deep down he also felt an inkling of guilt.
 
                       

 

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           I'm so serious it's comical!    
                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Grendel8101 on December 22, 2005, 10:07:00 PM
                Massicus wasn't going to get here in time.  I hate it when I run out of options.  Eugene was getting impatient.  Well, damned if I do, damned if I don't.
 
 "Deal's on," I said.  "Bring 'em to this address tonight, let's say in two hours, and we'll finish this thing."  
 
 I wrote the address of a small warehouse I rent in Redbrock.  From there I would divide the shipment into several vehicles and start moving them westward.
 
 I sat back and pretended to sip my beer, contemplating what I'd just done.  I was going to have to wait here for Julian, and try to figure out what I was going to say to him.
 
 Eugene left money on the table for my drink, then left with a Cheshire-cat grin on his face.  I don't like him.  I flipped open the cell phone and dialed Rowdy.  He didn't answer.  I dialed Mal, told him to find Rowdy and get some of our employees together at the warehouse.
 
 I leaned back in my chair and kneaded the bridge of my nose.  This deal was going to come back and bite me in the ass.                        

 

                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Year_of_the_Scarab on December 23, 2005, 08:47:00 AM
                A group of several Kine walking in the opposite direction passed Jake, deep in conversation about some painting or something of the like. He had left the car where the engine's given up a while ago and continued on foot, subconsciously choosing emptier streets, away from all Santa's helpers that might've seen fit to bother him tonight. Thankfully, the mortals passing him now were too preoccupied to call a "Marry Christmas" after him. Luckily for them.
 
 He reached for another smoke. Two left, he noted with little enthusiasm. It seemed he would have to do some shopping after all. Most importantly, he'd have to find a good mechanic, he'd be damned if he was going to leave her in the first best car service he'd stumble across. Uh. Good, but cheap. he added mentally. Money hasn't been exactly flowing recently.
 
 His ears picked out a distant police siren from the staccato of sounds disturbing the night. How long has it been since he "left" the force? It seemed like ages at times, or merely weeks at others, it didn't really matter. He was still attuned to the sirens, could pick them almost before their sound actually reached him - years of practice will do that to you. Difference was, now, hearing them he often had to leave the crime scene, not reach it. He was now on the other side of that fine line between "right" and "wrong", whatever those terms meant anyway. Then, as quick as it came, the distant wailing disappeared, drowned under the city's heartbeat. Though he imagined he could still hear the squad car, it's tires screeching their protest as it came to an abrupt halt somewhere.
 
 No, wait. That tire sound was a lot closer… His reverie broken, he realized he wasn't imagining anything, the sound actually came no farther than from around the next corner. Someone was in a mighty hurry, coming to a very short stop, judging by it. Then, just before the screeching died down, a hollow, muffled impact joined it. Shots fell soon after.
 
 30 seconds earlier, nearby.
 
 Robinson St., 10th Ave., then Lombard... into Greenworth... That should get me to Charlie's in, what, fifteen-twenty minutes? Rowdy thought to himself, as he planned his route. He had to take a detour earlier, a truck plowed into a bus near his apartment, and the street had been closed. This wasn't an uncommon scenario tonight, the snow had made a mess of the traffic. Nevertheless, the streets in Mornington were manageable enough, and he was making good time.
 His cellular rang again. He had left it in the glove compartment before, and missed a few calls. He meant to get to Charlie's ASAP, and wait for the boss with the news there, seeing as he wasn't comfortable talking about it on the phone. But now the boss was calling him, so he could at least tell him to meet him in the bar when he was done with Martinez.
 
 He picked the phone up to accept the call, but his finger froze over the dial as he stared wide-eyed at the image before him. Rowdy liked to think of himself as being hard to shock or catch surprised, what with being a ghoul for several decades now. Knowing what he knew about werewolves, magic and all the other vampire shit, he believed himself to be more enlightened than the masses. Still, no matter how much you know, you're hardly ever prepared for people falling from the sky right in front of your car, right?
 
 He came to his senses in a second. "Sky" was taking it a bit far. The woman, or whatever she was, landed (on her feet, no less) in a spray of what he believed to be glass shards, which would suggest one of the windows of the building to the left. His first thought was to stop and see if she was alright, but then, seeing as she stood up from the crouch without visible strain, he'd rather not take chances with a probable bloodsucker he didn't know. She wasn't directly in his path, so he'd just keep on going, and be gone possibly fast.
 
 Then, all of a sudden, she wasn't alone on the street no more. Several figures appeared from somewhere, surrounding her. Rowdy managed to jerk the steering wheel to the side before hitting the closest one, but the tires found no purchase on the slippery street, and he braced himself for impact. He could've sworn that as he connected, a faint cloud of dust erupted from the haggard figure, but then the airbag obstructed his view.
 
 3 minutes earlier, 5 floors up.
 
 The last Kine had filed out several minutes ago, and shortly after Isabel's assistant had informed her that all the entryways, save for her private elevator, had been shut off and she was now alone in the gallery. Her gallery. The place took up the three of the topmost floors, connected by several open staircases, in the six-story building which, contrary to the belief of some, Caliori didn't actually own. While the Toreador Primogen did own a number of properties in the city, most of which being theaters or houses to promising artists she had her eye on, she made a point of keeping a relatively low profile on Gallery Roma, located here above the business centers downstairs. Unlike the other properties, this one had personal value – she put her own works on display here. Not under her own name, of course, as renown in the mortal world was a Kindred's invitation to quick destruction.
 
 She would come by once or twice a month to gauge the mortals' reactions to her works, and look at them herself, after having distanced herself from the more recent pieces. The gallery had already reached an alternative cult status, partially thanks to the note of mystery concerning the author of most works being displayed. Tonight a rather large number of the Kine had been making long stops by one particular piece, and she decided she wanted some time alone to appreciate it, hence all the mortals have soon been politely ushered out. As she regarded the painting before her a short chuckle came from the doorway behind
 
 "Isn't this a bit vain even for your standards, Isa?" Caliori turned around startled, angry words for her assistant ready on her lips, and froze in place for a second, her expression turning to utter astonishment at the sight of whom she was facing. She recovered quickly though
 
 "You’re the one to speak, considering this supposedly dramatic entrance." she said resting her hands on her hips "This isn't even B-movie material, you know?" she added then, forcing herself to sound as nonchalant as possible, and paying no apparent attention to the gun muzzle directed at her
 
 "Oh? Well. You would know, I suppose. Now, before you try anything stupid, I should let you know that the security in the building is bleeding to their deaths as we speak. And, oh, so sorry about your ghoul."
 
 "Well now you just sound like a clichéd Hollywood villain." The Toreador responded sourly, relaxing her stance. "What next? You'll say how ingenious your plan is and laugh maniacally?" She felt her situation improve slightly when she heard the ending of that last sentence: "sorry about your ghoul"... not "ghouls". Chris was still alive then, at least probably. She called out once with her thoughts, and then concentrated her mental effort for a strike at the first opportunity. The attempt to buy some time with another meaningless quip, however, was cut short
 
 "Can it, Isa. That's about enough. Although seeing your expression was worth taking the time to walk in here openly instead of just knocking you the fuck out from behind, this is already becoming old. And don't think I don't know you've been trying to lobotomize me ever since you first spoke. Nice try... but no dice." that made Caliori's eyebrows rise in surprise
 
 "You're... not..." she choked out
 
 "Didn't see that coming did you? Hah! You should see the look on your face, I tell you. No brain-fucking tonight, that's what matters right now. Any..."
 
 Chris was proficient with a gun in life, and in the decades of service as a ghoul his ability had only increased. What little power, by Kindred standards, the blood had additionally granted him, made him a competent fighter and a superior marksman among the Kine. As such, his aim was dead-on even though he was shooting at a poorly illuminated target while jumping down the staircase. And to his credit, he did hit the target twice before he landed.
 The ghoul knew he was most likely going to die, but the nature of the Bond didn't leave him any choice. Caliori noticed the movement behind him a fraction of a second before he screamed out in pain and tumbled to the floor with his arm bent at an unnatural angle.
 
 "Not the most presentable minions, but efficient as..." came the voice behind her, but she was already moving, only a blurred shape to the average onlooker. In between two heartbeats, had she still had any, she gauged the distance to the door, then to the window. The security door would still be locked, and there was no time to punch in the code. And the window was closer.
 
 Fifth floor.
 
 This was going to hurt. The silenced rifle flared to life behind her, accompanying the crescendo of breaking glass and bullets connecting painfully.
 
 Robinson Street, southwest Mornington, now.
 
 Jake leaned from behind the corner wearily, ready to duck behind the wall at any second. He didn't remember pulling the gun from under his jacket; he only acknowledged his friend's reassuring presence, the familiar weight in his hand. He was maybe 50 ft from where the car had stopped. The driver's door was opened, but movement in front of the car occupied Jake's attention.
 
 Five or six figures were surrounding another, who he couldn't get a good look at, one of them had apparently just made close contact with the grill of the Ford, though the car had suffered more of the two. There was a blur of movement in the middle of the circle, but the probable attackers proved to be far quicker than any human had the right to be, as they cornered their prey and kept her surrounded. From the angle they were standing right now, Jake could make out a woman in the middle of the circle, apparently herself surprised by the other figure's speed. He thought he heard her call something, and then four thunderclaps echoed in the street. The diver of the car had fired.
 
 Rowdy cursed. Of all the streets in the city. Of all the people. Of all the nights. Just his fucking luck. He took aim and fired at the closest S.O.B.'s head. The force of the blow took his target to his knees, though he didn't collapse altogether. What in the hell? he aimed again, but before he pulled the trigger pain exploded in his shoulder, throwing him back into the car, his head connecting with the frame painfully. Darkness enfolded him before he hit the seat.
 
 Jake's eyes went up to where the shot that took the driver down came. A broken window, like a gaping maw in the face of the building, flashed twice in a mockery of a grin. The sniper's bullets didn't seem to reach the woman though, as in a flash of movement she evaded her surrounders through the opening made by the driver's gun. They were back on her in the split of a second, leaving waves of disturbed snow in their wake. She spun around in mid run and let out a high pitched scream almost right in the face of the closest of the attackers. His step faltered then, as something seemed to erupt in his chest, and fell to the ground in a cloud of dust. Before the woman could make good of her attack though, an improbably fast punch sent her crashing into the building. And in the moment of surreal stop-action, Jake remembered where he recognized her from. It was a long time ago that he was officially presented to the Prince of the city, but he remembered the Torrie Primogen from that evening.
 
 The sniper couldn't hit her from that angle, but she wouldn't get up in time, so much was obvious, and it didn't look as if she could outrun the attackers.                        

 

                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] munchies.Trooper on December 29, 2005, 02:03:00 AM
                In Reply To #46
 
 As Mike sat in the car looking forward as the streets seemed to blend into one big blur, Mike entertained the thought that it would be easy just to pull one of the .45’s out and shoot the kine in his head and get out of the car as if nothing happened but, as he opened his mouth to speak a small smirk came across his lips.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Professional services, this does sound interesting?â€? Mike said
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“I see Mr. Smith, so are you going to take the offer?â€?  The driver of the car said.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Well, I am not sure yet, how do I even know that your employer can afford me?â€? Mike said as he continued to stare off into the blur of streets.
 
 The driver thought for a moment then replied with curiosity
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“What are the going rates for your services?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Well that is for me and your employer to discuss now isn’t? But seeing how I don’t know any of the details about the job or services we’re at a disadvantage.â€? Mike said.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“That is quite true Mr. Smith as you know I can’t brief you about what it is you need to do or tell you anything unless I know if your services are available.â€? The driver said with slight sarcasm in his voice.
 
  Mike was still looking ahead into a vast of sea nothingness, as the street lights became dimly visual though the tint of the cars windows. Mike’s thoughts once again came back to just shooting the kine and being done with all of this, but parts of him still wondered how he knew about Falahat Street. Perhaps his employer could help him with his search for the Beaumont childer or maybe his employer was just another person looking for an easy way to get promoted. The kine was a ghoul and his employer just wanted to get rid of some elder with out getting their own hands dirty, Mike’s mind raced as he pondered all these thoughts. He was about to answer when his mind raced back to a time he tried so hard to block out.
 __________________________________________________________
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Sir your orders?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“We move in on the camp at night fall Rick.â€? Mike said to the young Chief Petty Officer Rick Smith.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Roger sir I will inform the men.â€? Rick said.
 
 Mike turned to Rick and said “Tell them to pack light we should not need that much gear to take out this encampment three clips of ammo and four grenades also their knifes for stealth kills.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Aye sir.â€? Rick said.
 
 The images raced though Mikes mind when the clearest image in his head appeared was his sire Izanami in front of him about to embrace him. Even in his memories she was still as beautiful as she was in person and just as deadly. He remember hearing the words she spoke to him right before she bit down into his neck “Remember this my pet you are now and always will be a killer.â€?
 ___________________________________________________________
 
 As Mike came out of the memories he looked down at his right arm where the Marine Corps tattoo was, then turned to face the drive and said
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Yes my services are available!â€?
                       

 

-----signature-----
           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    
                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Killer39787726 on December 29, 2005, 10:05:00 PM
                The universe must hate me. I wouldn’t say God, since it feels like he turned a blind eye to me a long time ago. I left my room because I was bored, wanted some fresh air, maybe a drink, and I stumble in this mess. I was better off with the roaches.
 
 I light a smoke while I watch the scene before me. The girl taking a beating is the torrie primogen Caliori. That little voice inside my head tells me to turn around and walk away, that’s not my problem. I don’t need this shit.
 
 My empty pockets sing a whole different song. And that torrie seems like a big fat piggy bank. But if someone is taking her, it must be someone with resources. Otherwise those guys would never get so near to someone big like her.
 
 I make sure to stay clear of the sniper view. I take the beretta’s out and shot one of the attackers. He falls to the ground in pain. Doesn’t matter if you are a mortal or not, a shot between your legs still got to hurt. The others notice me, uncertain.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Don’t move, don’t even blinkâ€?, I say pointing the pistols to them, together like this they seem like an easy mark.
 
 I have a very bad feeling about this.  Several thoughts race through my head. They all say that I am an idiot. Can’t discuss with that. Should just kept walking, it’s not the smartest thing to mess with someone else’s work.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Now, before I start rearranging anyone else’s body parts, how about someone telling me what the fuck is going on in here?â€?  
 
 I am waiting for a job offer. Times like this, time seems to slow down. Once lit the fuse, no one is going to stop it before the whole shit blows up. A wise man would run as far as he can before the big bang, I am not that smart.
 
 When there is an entire field of possibilities in front of you, a choice can narrow it down to a single path, one that possibly there is no return point.
 
 The genius of the hole: no matter how much time you spend climbing out, you can still fall back down in an instant.
 The world breaks everyone and afterward many are strong in the broken places. But those that will not break it kills. It kills the very good and the very gentle and the very brave impartially. If you are none of these you can be sure it will kill you too but there will be no special hurry.
                       

 

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           Cant we all just get along?...No? Ok...then i will just rip your head off.    
                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Bloodreaper33413943 on January 01, 2006, 07:50:00 AM
                Marie awoke for the first time in weeks with a bed underneath her.  After stretching and drawling in an unnecessary breath, she sat up and looked around.  This was good fortune indeed.  She could not believe that only last night, she had been lived in condemned buildings and caught stray animals for food.  She sat up and turned on the TV.  After watching a short report on the weather, reporting a cold front coming from Canada, she turned on the DVD player and slipped in a disc she had bought the previous night.
 
 The movie was Bram Stoker’s Dracula, a film that she had seen years ago with her friends in France.  Back then, it had just been something to get a cheap scare out of.  She had been eleven then.  Her friends and she had stared in rapt fascination during the scenes of bloodshed and giggled during the Dracula /Mina love scenes.  Now, she watched it from a different point of view.  The film did bring up several questions, mainly about her abilities.  Could she transform into a hellish beast, or mist?  Could she command mortals with her eyes?  More disturbing were the questions of a spiritual nature.  Was her soul damned?  Was she the spawn of the devil?  These were questions for Neil.  She turned her attention back to the screen.  In the current scene, Keanu Reeves was lying on a large bed, while the three brides of Dracula circled him like predators moving in for the kill.
 
 The thing that struck her was the music.  She was hearing it in a way that she never heard it before.  The violins and other instruments blended together in a way that was seductive and ethereal simultaneously.  She closed her eyes and let the music wash over her.  It was as if the outside world no longer existed…
 
 During her reverie, she suddenly had the sensation of her heart giving a single, feeble beat.  Her eyes snapped open and her hands flew to her chest, frantically feeling for another spark of life.  But when she felt at her chest, her heart was as silent and cold as it had been since her death.  Why had the music so entranced her?  Another question for Neil.  Currently however, she became aware of the dull aching hunger in her gut.  It was time to go out for the night.
 ________________________________________________________________________
 After dressing herself with a pair of black jeans, a Godsmack t-shirt and a leather jacket, Marie set out to find a Cab.  Upon successfully hailing one, she had it take her to the closest Goth club in the area.
 
 The lights were dim and something by Rob Zombie was playing loudly.  In the past, Marie had been too shy and timid to enter a place like this.  Now that she was undead though, she figured she should try some new things.  The club goers were mostly college students, either standing near the bar or writhing in the middle of the dance floor.  Marie grinned to herself and joined the dancers.  It was like releasing all of her inhibitions and petty fears; she never would have done this while she was alive.  She moved around the entire dance floor, grinding against anyone who came near.  During to course of her she came to notice that some people of either seemed unnaturally eager to dance with her, sometimes ignoring the partners they had been with currently.  It was almost as if she had been subconsciously influencing the people around her.  Hmm…. This was something to investigate.  But first, she needed something to eat.  The blonde boy she was dancing with would do.  She stepped away from him and tried to pull him towards the bathrooms.  When he hesitated, she turned and kissed him full on the lips, and whispered promises of more to come if he followed her.  He didn’t need much more encouragement.
 
 Upon entering the bathroom Marie guided him to the nearest stall.  He seemed to think that now was time to go all out.  He roughly shoved her against the stall wall and began groping all over, one hand going to her jeans and trying to unbutton them.  This was going in a direction that Marie had never intended it to go, so she took control.  She returned the boy’s rough kisses and moved her way down his neck.  She took a moment innocently nuzzling him before she felt her fangs extend.  Right before she bit in, she wondered if perhaps she should really be doing this, if this was a taste best left undiscovered.  But all of those doubts were drowned out in the flow of his blood.  Marie nearly gasped at the shock.  This was a thousand times better than animal blood.  She held him tight, making sure not to miss a drop as she drank deep.  Her ecstasy was interrupted by the sound of someone else entering the bathroom.  She probably could have continued unhindered, but the threat of someone discovering her was enough to ruin the mood.  She pulled her fangs from his throat and slipped them back into her gums.  She was getting good at that.  Besides, she needed to test out the influence thing, and now was as good a time as any.  As she made to exit the stall, the boy suddenly clamped a shaky hand on her arm.  Ã¢â‚¬Å“Hey,â€? he said, “we’re not done.  You were just getting me started.â€?  His hand moved up to the twin punctures in his neck and he grinned like a dope.  Ã¢â‚¬Å“I think you gave me a hickey.â€?  Marie noticed that he seemed vary light-headed after the blood she had borrowed.  She easily pulled her arm from his grasp and pushed him onto the toilet in the stall.  After flashing him a parting smile, she exited the bathrooms and moved to the bar.
 
 Once she was there she tried to block out the pounding music and focus her mind on the test at hand.  She attempted to imagine her aura flowing from her and washing over the crowd around her, drawing them to her.  During this, she noticed in the back of her mind that the hunger was not satisfied by her snack in the bathroom.  It demanded more after getting a taste of human blood.  Ã¢â‚¬Å“The first person to approach me is coming back to the apartment with me.â€?  Marie promised herself.  At the apartment, she could feed in peace.  She was more than a little surprised by her results.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Hey.â€?  Said a voice behind her.  Marie turned to find a black haired woman standing there.  The woman looked to be at least three years older than Marie herself, she wore the black lipstick and eyeliner typical of the Goth culture and completed the image with a black halter-top and leather pants.  
 
 Marie considered sending the woman along and trying again, but decided against it.  She had made a promise to herself, and she always kept her promises.  Besides, blood was blood, whether it came from a man or a woman.  Marie returned the smile.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Hello.  I am Marie.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“I’m Arinna.  You have a lovely accent.  French?â€?
 
 Marie was impressed.  Ã¢â‚¬Å“Oui.  I’m from Bordeaux, France.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Oh!  I’ve always wanted to go to France.  Have you been in the States long?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Just a couple months.  You have a fascinating country.â€?  Marie felt the hunger gnaw at her insides and decided to move this along.  She focused on Arinna and felt her charisma wash over the woman.  Ã¢â‚¬Å“Would you like to come to my apartment for a drink?â€?
 
 Arinna’s eyes glazed over slightly before she said, “sure, lets go.â€?
 __________________________________________________________
 
 When they arrived at Marie’s apartment, Arinna looked around before sitting on the bed.  Her eyes fell on the TV.  Ã¢â‚¬Å“Dracula, huh?  You a fan a vampire flicks?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“You might say I’ve gained a certain affinity with them.â€?  She moved over to Arinna and began using the same move she had used on the boy in the bathroom, ending with the nuzzling of the neck.  As her fangs entered Arinna’s veins, she let herself go, forgoing caution and drinking deeply.  After a minute or two, She felt her hunger sated and withdrew her fangs.  Her satisfaction was short lived when she took a good look at Arinna.  The woman’s skin was much paler than it had been before and she was unconscious on the bed.
 _________________________________________________________
 
 Still nursing fantasies about receiving an early embrace, Skull grinned to himself as he climbed the stairs to Marie’s seconds floor apartment.  He knocked on her door and called, “Hey!  Marie, it’s me, Skull!  Can I come in?â€?  He was startled when the door flew open and Marie yanked him inside.  Skull blinked as he stumbled to a halt, when his eyes fell upon the body of a woman on the bed.  She didn’t look well.
 
 Marie frantically spoke to him.  Ã¢â‚¬Å“Skull, please help me!  I was feeding on her and when I stopped, she wouldn’t wake up!â€?
 
 Skull felt a little of Marie’s panic infect him.  This was not good.  If the woman was dead, this could violate the secretive vampiric rules.  And worse, if Hives found out, he would probably use it as an excuse to crush Marie.  And that would kill his chances of an embrace.  At least for a good long while.  He rushed over to the woman and checked her pulse.  She still had a heartbeat, but it was faint.  Well, at least she wasn’t dead.  But she would be if measures weren’t taken.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Okay, she’s still alive but she’s got a weak pulse.  She needs blood.â€?
 
 Marie moved towards the phone.  Ã¢â‚¬Å“I’ll call the hospital.â€?
 
 Skull grabbed her wrist.  Ã¢â‚¬Å“No!  They ask too many questions.  No outsiders.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“But what can we do then?â€?
 
 Skull thought for a moment and came to a solution.  It wasn’t the best one, but it would have to do.  Ã¢â‚¬Å“Do you have any sharp objects around?â€?  Marie went into the bathroom and returned with a pair of medical scissors.  Ã¢â‚¬Å“Okay, now cut your wrist and feed her some of your blood.â€?
 
 Marie gawked at him.  Ã¢â‚¬Å“But won’t that make her like us?â€?
 
 Skull shook his head.  Ã¢â‚¬Å“No.  That only happens when the mortal has no blood left.  This way, your blood will just heal her.  She’ll still be alive, just stronger.â€?
 
 Marie hesitated for a second, then stabbed the scissors into her wrist.  She yelped with pain as the thick blackish-red blood came sluggishly to the surface.  Skull felt his mouth watering at the sight of Marie’s blood.  He found himself wondering what Toreador blood would taste like.  Marie probably wouldn’t deny him.  He shook the thoughts away.  Nail would string him up by the balls if he started getting blood from other vampires.
 
 Marie lifted the woman’s head and pressed the bleeding wrist to her mouth.  At first, there was little reaction.  After a second though, Skull saw the woman’s throat gulp down a few drops of blood.  She slowly became more awake, suckling softly at the cursed blood.  Then, she sat full upright and became drinking Marie’s blood ravenously, losing two drops that spilled down her chin.  Skull moved forward and helped Marie detach the woman from her wrist.  Marie stared down as her flesh flowed over and knit the wound shut before her eyes.  Arinna sat up and wiped the blood from the chin, then stared, wide eyed at Marie and Skull.  Skull thought of the situation at hand.  It was a difficult one, but it could have been worse.  He would have to advise Nail about this new ghoul.
 
 Arinna finally seemed to find her voice.  Ã¢â‚¬Å“Who… what are you?â€?
 
 Marie sat on the edge of the bed and tried to look confident.  Ã¢â‚¬Å“Please Arinna, this world is new to me as well.  I need you to trust me.  There are some things you should know about…â€?
                       

 

-----signature-----
           When the game is over, the king and the pawn go back in the same box    
                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Sodom40280831 on January 06, 2006, 09:46:00 AM
                Hives and Nail were feeding on two passed-out bums in an alley when Hives cell-phone rang.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Hives here, talk to me.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Hives! Please tell me Nail is still with you.â€? Skull nervously said on the other end.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Shitbreak? What are you so upset about.? Something hasn’t gone wrong with our little project, has it?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Just let me talk to Nail for a second would ya?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Yeah, whatever.â€?
 
 Hives tossed his phone over to Nail.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Nail here.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Nail! Its me. Uh….we have a little development here I think you should know about.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Oh god, what now?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Well I went over here to check up on her just like you said and……wellâ€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“What?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“It turned out she had been hunting earlier, took one someone up to the apartment and got a bit……overzealous.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Oh crap. Please don’t tell me her victim is dead.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Well no, that’s kind of the good news. See, when I came up she asked me what she should do and I thought it wouldn’t be a good idea to call the hospital…â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Yeeeesâ€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“And letting her die would be a major nono with the whole vampire-secret-society-thingy.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Yeeeesâ€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“So I figured it would be best to let Marie feed some of her blood to her.â€?
 
 Nail’s end of the line suddenly became ominously silent. Skull knew Nail wouldn’t be too pleased about this. In all the years he had known his master he had figured out that one of Nail’s more human flaws was that he could be a bit of a control-freak from time to time. He prepared himself for the verbal beating of two life-times but what followed was even worse.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“So our little girl has gotten herself a little ghoul. Is that what you’re trying to tell me Skull?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Well……yeah.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Stay right there. I’m coming over.â€?
 
 As Nail hung up the phone he turned to Hives.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“There has been a slight complication in the plan. I’m going to have to borrow your cell-phone for a while.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Aww man you can keep it as far as I’m concerned, I never use it anyway and if I need a new one I’ll just rip it off somewhere. Now what’s all this about complications?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Our little girl made herself a ghoul.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“I fucking knew it man! Goddamn Torrie fucks! I knew this would happen!â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Calm down. Its not that big of a deal. I’m going over there to check it out myself.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“And I’m coming with you! We’re in this together and I wanna know exactly what the fuck is going on!â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Fine, suit yourself.â€?
 __________________________________________________
 
 Fifteen minutes later.
 
 Skull was nervously sitting on a chair while Marie was still talking to Arinna and trying to calm her down when there was a knock at the door. When Skull opened the door, Nail (disguised as Neil of course) walked in calmly ignoring Skul and heading straight for Arinna. He looked at Arinna, then Marie and finally Skull.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Skull could I see you in the hallway for a moment.â€?
 
 Skull didn’t even reply, he just walked towards the door followed by Nail. Before Nail shut the door he looked at the girls.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Sorry ladies but this is a guy-thing.â€?
 
 Nail gave them both a little wink before shutting the door and turning his attentions towards Skull who was already preparing his defense.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Look Nail, I know this situation is totally fucked but you gotta understand there was nothing else I could d……â€?
 
 Before Skull had a chance to finish his sentence, Hives appeared from out of nowhere and punched Skull in the face making him fall to the ground.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Hey there shitbreak! How ya doin’!â€?
 
 Skull knew there was little chance of reasoning with Hives so he continued pleading before Nail who was thinking of a way to make this situation profitable.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Nail I swear to god! That bitch was gonna die if I didn’t do something!â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Shut up Skull. I’m thinking.â€?
 
 With that, Hives picked up Skull and started bashing his head against the wall for no particular reason other than a few laughs. But after the third bash, Nail started to worry about the noise being produced.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Will you two keep it down! You don’t want Marie to hear us, do you?â€?
 
 After breaking up Hives and Skull Nail shut his eyes and started mumbling to himself as he always did when he was in deep thought. Both Skull and Hives knew this wasn’t the time to speak.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Now let’s see. Ghouls…..Toreador…..plan……ghouls…….Torries……caring……plan ghou……I’ve got it! That ghoul is now our back-up plan!â€?
 
 Skull and Hives looked at Nail, not knowing what to think.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“if Marie starts getting any bright ideas about leaving our happy little family or catches on to the plan we just take Arinna hostage and force her to do as we wish.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“What makes you so sure she will care about her ghoul so much.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Lets just say she doesn’t really strike me as the uncaring type.â€?
 
 _____________________________________________________
 
 Nail and Skull walked back into the apartment. Skull retreated to a poorly lit portion of the room where the few bumps from the beating Hives gave him weren’t noticeable. Nail walked over to Marie and placed his hand on her shoulder.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Marie. If you have anymore questions, please don’t hesitate to ask.â€?  
                       

 

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           I'm so serious it's comical!    
                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Skinweaver on January 07, 2006, 08:26:00 PM
                At some point in her life she had only considered the less fortunate to be vermin but as the years passed and the detachment of undeath grew on her, she had eventaully come to the point where she was disgusted by them all.
 The poor were the vermin of the streets, leeching society in all ways they could to carve out some measly, pathetic existance while the rich were the fat, bloated kings among the rats.
 If anything, they were even worse. They used people by driving hundreds if not thousands into ruin just to afford the latest substitute for their underdeveloped genitalia or the latest fashion by some crackhead in Paris! All that mattered to them was the blood soaked money they tore from the hands of the masses.
 In the middle there were the regular rats, either oblivious of their own insignificance or knowing but ignoring, balancing between low and high in an effort to aspire higher, to become one of the fat ones...
 It wouldn't be a lie if she told others that she truly hated mankind and all it stood for but in all this there was a factor that prevented her from abandoning her own and seeking the relative freedom outside the Clan among those who saw themselves superior to the vermin.
 She hated herself.
 
 If the humans were vermin she was something worse.
 Who eats the rat? The cat of course but she was no cat. She was one of the fleas in the rat's dirty, oily fur!
 She was the vermin of the vermin, feeding on the putrecent fluids of a dying breed in order to even cling to a weak imitation of vermin life!
 She was so disgusted by the reflection in he mirror that she would have vomited if her circulatory system had still been working.
 Every single night there was this pattern. Work for the Clan, drink from the vermin, sleep until dusk... revolting!
 Rebecka refused to scream. The bullet in her shoulder was still there and the little blood that had leaked out from her dead veins had colored the coat red.
 
 "Damn that lowborn waste of blood! If I had been given the time I would have torn out his ghaan tienkav lamatek..."
 
 The lack of blood in her body was playing with her senses and the sickness returned like a slow rot on her mind.
 All those writings... what had they been good for? At least the disadvantage had proven useful enough to the Clan to prevent a paid vacation to beautiful Vienna.
 The words came without intention but their meaning was clear as her last sunny afternoon all those years ago.
 Rebecka sighed. She had meant to say more mundane words but this nonsense came instead. It made perfect sense to her but who would be able to understand the incoherent ramblings of a fractured mind?
 
 "Too much work... they shouldn't have put me through so much work those first years... I did it for the Clan. I had to."
 
 Rebecka paused.
 Talking to herself again. Another sign of the growing madness. Just wonderful...
 Now she needed blood. That vile nature she had been so close to earlier had only grown stronger by the lack of blood and the constant pain in her now numb shoulder.
 The Tremere stepped out from the public restroom with as much dignity as she could muster. Another disgusting habit.
 She walked, talked and behaved just like them... if she was offered an alternative she would take it but for now, she would just have to stick with the state of things as they were and keep on living an unlife that brought her nothing but disgust for her own existance.
 
 Right now, Rebecka was too weak to dominate anyone into accepting the role of dinner and she was in no condition to overpower anyone.
 She had heared of some Kindred feeding on rats to survive but that thought was just too much. Feeding on the vermin of the vermin's vermin?
 That would never happen! Never! Right now she would have to rely on what little shred of empathy that might be left in one of these creatures.
 Rebecka put on the act of the victim. Something she had done many times before to get her fill.
 There were other ways too. Easier ways that could be easily exploited due to her looks but that was too low even for her.
 Seducing one of *them*? There was more wrong with that than she could bring herself to think of!
 Leave that to the Toreador!
 After spotting a promising subject, Rebecka hunched to pose as more wounded than she really was and limped over to the nearest bystander.
 A man in his thirties. By proccess of elimination he was the best bet. The other people in the area were either too busy with their cellphones or looking for empty cans to bother about some hurt lady but this one would be good enough.
 He just had the right look of someone who cares. Pathetic, really but she needed that care now. It didn't help the he seemed to be the lonely type and whatever hopes of intimacy she could plant in his mind by the display of weakness would only aid her own agenda.
 
 "Help mee..."
 
 The man turned around and looked at the bloody stranger with an equal measure of fear and concern.
 
 "Oh, my god! What happened to you? Just... let me get my cellphone. I'll call an ambulance. Things'll be alright, miss."
 
 "No. No ambulance. It isn't that bad. I'm... I'm a nurse and I can take care of this. Just..."
 
 Using the last of her power, the man grasped on to her thinking and nodded in understanding.
 
 "I'll take you to my apartment. It's just around the block. I have a first aid kit in the bathroom that you can use."
 
 "Thank you. Thank you so much..."
 
 "Don't worry, miss. Things'll be alright soon."
 
 Rebecka forced herself to smile.
 He had no idea how right he was.                        

 

                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Bloodreaper33413943 on January 11, 2006, 02:29:00 AM
                After the events of the previous hour, Marie decided that she needed to think about thing in her life... er... un-life.  Taking walks had always helped her clear her head in the past and she figured that it probably still would.  Arinna was still sleeping on the small couch in the corner, so Marie let herself out quietly.
 
 The streets were mildly lit and a new layer of snow was falling from the sky.  She walked along, seeing the various people move through the streets.  The cold seemed to be keeping most people inside, but a few die-hards were still at it.  A large man in a Santa costume rang a bell at people passing by.  As Marie passed by, she dropped a $10 in his collection tin.  "God bless you, young lady." he said.  She had trouble returning his smile.  She wondered if she still applied for God's blessings.  As she continued her walk, she wondered what to do next.  She knew no others of her kind, save Neil and Skull.  She considered calling home again, but violently dissmissed the notion.  She had already caused mother enough pain by calling the last time.  She could never go home. She just had to find her place in her new (un)life.  A mother and her small child passed her by.
 
 "Merry Christmas!"  The child shouted.
 
 "Joyeux Noël, little one."  Marie responded with a smile.
 
 The childs face contorted in confusion.  "Joy-ux... what?"
 
 "Come along son," said his mother, "Merry Christmas miss."
 
 Marie smiled and waved goodbye to the child as he left.  She was still smiling to herself when she passed by a dead end alley and a pair of gloved hands came out to grab her.  Before she knew it, the man had one arm raped around her torso, holding her arms in place and another covering her mouth.  "Shhh.... Hey sweet thing.  Nice night, huh?"  He breathed hotly on her neck and the smell almost made her gag.  "I was gonna grab that bitch with the kid, but he would've caused problems."  He inhaled her scent sharply.  "You smell nice babe.  Don't worry honey, it'll all be over soon, just give your money and..." he rubbed his pelvis against her thigh, "mabey something else too..."
 
 Marie perfectly understood this man's intent.  He intended to rob her, rape her, and probably kill her in this alley.  He would use her and discard her, like the girl in the hotel... a burning, intense hatred rose within her.  More than anything in the world right now, she wanted this man to suffer, to die, to bleed.
 
 He just getting ready to get down to it when he felt the sudden increase in the girls arms.  He clamped down and tried to restrain her, but it was like holding down a horse.  His arms burned with the effort and finally, he was thrown off her.  She spun around and snarled at him like an angry dog.  She stalked forward and lifted him off the ground and held him by the throat.
 
 "What gives you the right," she hissed, "to use others for your own purpose and abandon them when you're finished.  Leaving them dirty, changed... DEAD!"
 
 He squirmed in her grasp and tried to catch a breath.  "Hey babe, what are you talking abou.. hggg... please, let me go and I'll never do it again."
 
 She threw him angrily against the brick wall, knocking his breath out.  He scrambled to him feet and made a burst of speed towards the mouth of the alley.  He screeched to a halt she suddenly moved right in front of him.  She seemed to just shimmer from one place to another.  He backpedaled and tripped.  He crawled away from her until his back hit the alley's brick wall.  He looked up and saw her continuing towards him.  His eyes widened as she drew closer... as he saw a pair of three inch fangs coming from her upper jaw.  He whimpered and held up his hands in surrender.  "W..what are you??"  He stammered.  "Oh God... I'm sorry.  Please don't hurt me.  I'm sorry!  I'm SORRY!!!"  Tears rolled down his cheeks in his terror.
 
 Marie looked upon him and almost felt pity.  Seeing this grown man reduced to a sobbing heap made her falter in her approach.  But then, in her mind's eye, she saw him holding her, preparing to molest her.  She saw herself lying upon a hotel carpet as a blonde girl in a leather jacket held her down and brought a fanged mouth to her throat.  At once, the red mist settled in her vision again.  She would show this man the same mercy he would have shown her.  The man let out a short scream as she lunged forward, and was cut off as her jaws clamped around his throat.
 
 When Marie left the alley, the man's throat lay torn open, it's blood running to stain the snow underneath him.  It looked as if a wild dog had ripped into him.  His sightless eyes remained wide and fearful.
 ___________________________________________________________
 
 When Marie stalked into the apartment again, Arinna rushed up to greet her.  "Hi!  I woke up and wondered where you went.  Are you alrigh..."  She gasped as Marie turned to face her.  Underneath the hood of the sweater, her lower jaw and chin were covered in blood.  Her eyes glinted savagly and she growled at Arinna.
 
 Marie stalked towards her companion, making her back up.  "You liked the blood before?"  She rasped, "After all, the blood is the life.  So, if you want it so bad, DRINK IT!"  With that, Marie bit viciously into her wrist, tearing the flesh away.  She took the savaged limb and thrust it towards Arinna's face.  When the woman withdrew, she took Arinna's hair and forced her face towards the wrist, smearing blood all over her mouth.  Finally, Arinna relented and she drank the thick liquid in short gulps.  After 30 seconds of this, she shoved Arinna away and moved towards the bathroom.  She stopped and stared at her reflection in the mirror.  Her face, was not the face that she had grown up looking at.  Not the face of the girl she had been.  It was the face of the beast she had become.  Covered in blood, with fangs protruding from her gums.  She let out a scream that was laced with a deep roar within her chest.  The result was an eerie supernatural wail that chilled the blood of the neighbors who heard it.  Marie lashed out at the mirror and the glass splintered.  She then fell to her knees and regained control over herself.  She crawled into the bedroom and noticed Arinna in the corner, trying to clean the blood slopped around her mouth.  She would apologize to her later.  Right now, she needed to make a call.  She picked up the phone and called Neil's number.  She got the answering machine and breathed out a message.  She could have sworn that she still heard a deep growling noise come her chest with each Unneccessary breath.
 
 "Neil... I need help.  I need to know whats inside of me.  I need to know how to live like this.  I to meet others of our kind.  Please, I just need help."                        

 

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           When the game is over, the king and the pawn go back in the same box    
                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Skinweaver on January 11, 2006, 09:58:00 AM
                After leaving the man’s apartment, Rebecka stumbled over to the side and braced herself against the nearby wall, shaking in disgust over her previous actions.
 What could possibly be more revolting than to engage in the one activity that confirmed her place in this world as the parasite she hated so much.
 She could only force herself to say a few words that had been burned into her mind ever since that first feed all those years ago.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Unclean... unclean...â€?
 
 She struggled with the all too tempting reflex to get rid of the vile substance inside her and kneeled over, gagging and coughing.
 Just the taste of it! Why did she enjoy this despicable activity when the only real purpose of it was to prolong her parasitic existence?
 
 The man was probably sitting in his livingroom by now, watching Leno or whatever.
 He wouldn’t even remember meeting the pale, wounded woman in the first place.
 Lucky him, really considering his reaction when he had noticed the fangs of his guest.
 He had panicked, of course. Attempted to escape the apartment.
 Like any good citizen he had been keeping a gun in his drawer as while he had been searching for it, Rebecka had been given the best opportunity to grab him.
 They get so clumsy when they panic...
 
 All she could see was the snow on the ground, glittering in the glow from the nearby streetlights.
 A few droplets had escaped her system and lay there in front of her.
 Three of them. All taunting her with their crimson tone against the pure white snow.
 Harsh red against white. Defiled. Unclean...
                       

 

                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] dalver on January 19, 2006, 09:17:00 AM
                Julian bellowed out a guttural howl and beat his fist at the wall again. The red mist in front of his eyes settled and he gained some sort of control over himself then concentrated and used his blood to calm down. He fell down on his stomach and breathed heavily, panting until he gained as much sense of self to remember he didn't need to breathe and stopped altogether. He fed more blood to his body and sealed wounds on hands and ribs. He slowly got up. His entire body was hurting, his head was splitting. Like someone had wound barbed wire inside his skull and was now pulling it around in there. He looked down at himself. He was naked and covered in blood and pieces of... was that... flesh? ...not his own.
 
 "Well, nice to see you finally decided to calm down. All that screaming and beating the walls can only be entertaining for so long". Julian recognised Belle's voice. He turned around. She was sitting crosslegged on his sofa. Wearing high heeled boots and a dark pinstriped suit that looked obnoxiously expensive. "Jules... what the hell did you eat, yesternight?"
 
 Julian started to walk towards the sofa but the pain shot through his body and dropped him to the floor. "Aw fu... I shi... I... had some girls... on smack, at the Greeks place... I guess they had taken more than they should have... hell, I don't even know if they were alive... so out of it, they were..." he raised his hands to his head and left bloody smears in his hair "... how long was I out of it?"
 
 "Too long... you clawed at yourself..." she looked at him cautiously, worry in her eyes "Well, let's get this over with then" she leaned forward and zipped down her boots, removing them, got to her feet, removed her jacket, unbuttoned her shirt, putting it atop the jacket and finally slid out of her pants. As she went over to Julian she removed the two pins that held her hair in a tight bun and let the hair fall free. She bent down toward him, he caught her eyes.
 
 "3000 years ago you would have rivaled Helen, you know..."
 
 "You're so full of shit Massicus" she slid an arm around his waist, lifted him to his feet and carried him to the shower where she dumped him against a wall and turned on the water.
 
 "I'm serious. You really are beautiful and your body is... a piece of art in itself"
 
 "Look Julian I really appreciate your attempts at stroking my Toreador ego, but it would be more usefull if you did it when you weren't high as a kite. Because right now you just sound ridiculous" she poured soap from a bottle onto a rough sponge and started scrubbing away the coagulated blood from him.
 
 She is thorough, Julian thought and as she slowly inched her way across his body with the sponge his mind returned to him and slowly he understood how close they were and what trust there must be between them. She could have staked him, she could have fed him her blood, waking him up and making him a thrall. Yet she hadn't. She had stayed with him in his berserker rage, watching over him and now washing him. Why? Why put herself in such a danger, why degrade herself? Why did she do these things? Was it for honor, for friendship, for money, perhaps for love? Did she even know?
 
 "I do it because I choose to" she answered him and stared into his eyes. He hadn't realised he had spoken aloud. "Amusing you thought I did it for love Julian. Do you even know what love is? Were you ever in love while alive? Even once?"
 
 Julian stared at her. He saw pain, honest pain in her pale green eyes. He realised her question had exploded out of her. Meaning it was a question that she had been meaning to ask him for a long time but never followed through. Crazy Toreador, busying herself with the vestiges of her long lost human feelings. But something was wrong, the drugs in his blood, even though he was burning them away with his unnatural abilities were still affecting him and maybe she was too, he was too weak to determine it right now. Some long lost memories came back to him, he remembered... a warm spring day, a warm girl in his arms, a girl whom he had thought was way over his head, he had felt exaltation, fulfillment, he had felt he had achieved everything and to hell with his job, his career, he didn't need that crap, not as long as she was there with him. Then he remembered the midnight when Eric had waited for them at home, he remembered how Eric had smiled when he had cut Julians throat, he remembered how he saw him cut her throat too, he remembered them both dying on the blood soaked carpet, he remembered Eric slashing open his wrist and offering it to the first one who could crawl across the room to him... then Julian didn't remember anything else, but he didn't need to.
 
 Tears of blood streaked down Belle's face. Had she seen his memories? Had he spoken them out aloud? Was she crying because he wouldn't tell her? Did it even matter?
 
 So he stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel "Those are all tears from the past. Today is tonight and I want to set my business straight and get some clean blood in my veins, time's already been wasted...".
 
 Belle turned and faced the water-jet and washed away her tears, she stepped out after him and took his towel when he was finished. She dried herself then went to work with the hair-dryer.
 
 Julian stepped into the room and went over to the bed "Who the hell was this guy? ...and what the hell did I do to him?" Julian asked as he looked down upon the mess of blood and ash by his bed. Kindred... damn, he hoped it wasn't anyone important.
 
 "You punched your fist right through him then ripped his chest open with your other hand" Belle screamed over the dryer "It was your chauffeur. The new guy who had come from down south running from the initial Sabbatt attacks"
 
 Julian made the Kindred equivalent of a sigh of relief. Then shrugged his shoulders. No one would miss the guy, he didn't even need to report it. He went over to the bathroom where Belle was still busy with her hair. "Sorry to mess up your hair"
 
 "No you're not. You're an asshole!"
 
 "Yeah... so... did you actually see me rip him apart?"
 
 She looked at him in the mirror "You overslept. I figured something was wrong and called him in to wake you. He woke you. You were grumpy. You ripped him apart"
 
 "And you just stayed? Weren't you worried I would hurt you?"
 
 "You wouldn't hurt me Julian" she said and turned around.
 
 He felt like punching her arrogant face so he went out of the bathroom and to his closet. He stood there thinking which suit to wear. Belle resumed her hair drying and retelling of the nights events "Seeing you weren't going to be reasonable, I locked you in and got on the phone with the boys around town. Set some things straight. You know, took care of business"
 
 So, she had taken care of business. Good, Sorana and her mindgames could go to hell, Belle was in charge and he would let her. She was capable enough and tonights events gave him a slight inclination towards her winning his complete trust. It was too late and he was too fucked up in the brain to do anything else. He chose a dark suit with a vest. One that fit his mood. He was in a dangerous mood, he would kill again before the sun rose, he was certain of that. Speaking of which "Has anyone of Bittermans people given us a call tonight?"
 
 "Actually Mr Bitterman himself called you not too long ago..." Belle was looking at herself in the big mirror in the bathroom "you know, I used to worry myself to death over the day these babies started sagging. I could even work myself into a panic attack... but then a sharp pain... I died... and now they'll be perfect... for all eterni..."
 
 "Hey, sleeping beauty, snap out of it. You're mumbling, I can't hear a word you're saying!"
 
 Belle quickly shook herself and left the bathroom "I... I said that it was a chemically induced beast and that you shouldn't worry. I always knew that greek was a crook" she put on her petticoat, pants and blouse.
 
 "A crook he is and a bastard, but a good one. He is a valuable source of information. Besides he already told me they were high on some new crazy shit"
 
 "And you drank from them anyway?"
 
 "Let's just drop this. Ok, good!" Julian mumbled as he buttoned up the vest. He went over to her. She was winding up her hair in a tight bun behind her head. "You look stunning"
 
 "I look a mess but we're not discussing me, we're discussing your business"
 
 "No we're not. I don't care anymore. It's in your hands now. You seem to be handling things well."
 
 "But I'm not... I... I didn't mean to..."
 
 "Oh stop it, just relax. I was going to leave it to you anyway. I am going to Munroe in a night or two for more business"
 
 "Wha... I don't understand..."
 
 "I'll explain it to you on the way. Now let's get out of this place, I'm sure it's started to stink"
 
 ***
 
 They drove to one of Julians money laundering firms, a non stop book store and café with a special cubicle reserved for Julian and his associates. Some of which were already hanging around. Waiting for a couple of minutes of Julians time. They jumped to as he entered.
 
 "Mr Massicus..."
 
 "I'm just here for a chat with my capo. Nothing else. Just relax. I'm going on vacation so from now on until I get back all business will be related through my capo, Bellera. This is nothing new, you've already been doing business with her. Now if you excuse us, we have some things to discuss then you can make an appointment with her"
 
 Belle's bodyguards planted themselves at a distance and held the few people away with evil stares.
 
 Julian and Belle sat down deep in the corner of the café at his cubicle. There was no one else in earshot.
 
 "This Bitterman business is the only thing I'm interested in so tell me what he said"
 
 "You should leave it to me. Yoour priority is to feed and get your brains straightened out"
 
 "I'll feed later this is important, besides I have to see to this personally. It might be connected with the Munroe deal Rocher is angsty about" he held up a hand "No I don't know for sure. We'll see. Just tell me what Bitterman said?"
 
 "He just said that you should meet him in some artsy-wannabe club down in Venice. He sounded rather firm on it, with something of an urgency in his voice"
 
 "Nothing else? He didn't say what it was about?"
 
 "Just what I told you"
 
 "Well, I know the place. Used to be a black dive, in my time... Hey, how does this Bitterman fuck look like? I can't seem to match a face to the name... some problems with my head tonight"
 
 "Like a Chippendale in cheap mainstream punk clothes. A complete wannabe if you ask me. You'll remember him when you see him"
 
 Julian caught her looking strangely at the nervous men waiting to talk to her "Hey, you've done this before. Don't give me reason to change my mind"
 
 "No, there's no problem. I'm ready... it's just... it came so sudden... nevermind. Get out of here! I'll call you with the details when I'm done"
 
 "Now we're talking! Get some cleaners over to the penthouse to deal with the mess I made, I think I'm going to sleep in the townhouse so send someone to clean that one up too before morning" Julian rose "Oh and watch out for Sorana, keep her under constant surveillance and cover your ass at all times... and try not to kill her..."
 
 "Listen to you... sounding like the older brother I never had and never wanted. Just get out of here and stop worrying!"
 
 "Famous last words"
 
 Belle shook her head and leaned back in the comfy corner chair. She raised a hand "Kiss the ring, bitch!"
 
 Julian smiled "A good effort, but your Corleone needs some work"
 
 ***
 
 "Back in the line asshole!" the bouncer growled and pushed Julian back. Julian had been lost in thoughts under his drive here so he had just gone out of his car and to the entrance ignoring the line. But now he was wrenched back to reality by the bad manners of the bouncer. The bouncer was twice as big as him and half a head taller. Julian considered a bribe or breaking his hand and throwing him across the parking lot, but that would only get him attention and a lot of trouble he didn't have the time or patience for, so instead he stared up into the eyes of the bouncer put his will behind the command and said "Cry". Within a few moments the bouncer staggered back against the door crying, pouring out his soul through his tears. Julian stepped past him and into the club.
 
 He needed to feed, he could feel it. He would get to it, eventually.
 
 The lights were dim and quite a few people inside. The music was a blend of classical jazz and modern noise. Julian looked around, he presumed Bitterman wasn't here for the dancefloor so he paced toward the lounges. The stroboscope lights annoyed Julian but in one of the flashes he saw the muscular "Chippendale in cheap punk mainstream clothes" and recognised the face. Belle had done a good job with the description. He walked over and sat down opposite him. "Hello Mr Bitterman. We don't meet as often as we should, considering our business dealings. It was a good initiative of you to meet tonight, although I suspect this is far from social, right?"                        

 

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           in vitae veritas    
                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Grendel8101 on January 19, 2006, 04:03:00 PM
                I’d been dumping the beers under the table and buying new ones so the waitress wouldn’t kick me out.  It was getting late, and if Massicus wasn’t here soon I was leaving.  
 
 I’d worked myself into a temper by the time the Ventrue showed up with his fake smile.  I didn’t return it.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“You got a problem.â€? I said.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Oh?â€? asked Julian.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“About an hour ago I called you down here to interrupt a deal going down between me and the guy who hijacked your shipment.â€?
 
 Julian’s face went neutral.  I could tell he knew where this was heading and didn’t like it.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“The deal went down.â€?  There was a slight twitch of his eyelid, nothing more.  I bet he plays a mean game of poker.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“And what does this mean between me and you?â€? he asked.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Good question.  Now that deal, that wasn’t personal unless you make it so.  My clients out west wanted that iron this week, because of the delays they won’t get it until next Tuesday.  These new guys offered me a substantial discount.â€?  Julian’s face stayed passive.  
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“They also say that you’re out for good, and they’re in.â€?  I let that one process.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“I can assure you that isn’t the case.â€?  Julian said.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Yeah, well, we’ll see.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“So why am I here?â€? he asked.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Because I think these guys are trying to take over both our businesses.  I think that after this deal they’re gonna try to hook up with my contacts and cut me out.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“So here’s the deal, Massicus.  If they got the guns, I got to deal with them.  If you have them, I prefer to deal with you.  So I’m gonna give you what I know about them, the rest is up to you.â€?
 
 Julien nodded and signaled me to go on.  
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“The guy called himself Eugene.  Probably a fake name.  There were two goons outside, I think they were with him.  Drove a Lincoln with Ohio plates.  The license number was 813 44J.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“That’s all?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“That’s everything I know.  That’s everything I’m going to tell you.  You will get no more information out of me, because after tonight I’m in business with them.  You cut them out, fine, we’re back in business.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Now, remember that I’m doing you a favor.  The plates on the car should lead you to Eugene, Eugene should lead you to whoever’s behind this.  And you heard none of this from me.  Unless there’s anything else, I have places to be.â€?  
 I put my jacket on and stood up.  Anything he had to say to me he better say now.                        

 

                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Year_of_the_Scarab on January 20, 2006, 09:55:00 AM
                The information supplied earlier that day proved to be correct, much to Cyprus' chagrin. Massicus wasn't going to like this, that much was certain. As to make matters worse, Cyprus was fairly sure that another party was gathering information about this simultaneously, which meant that even if they hadn't yet connected all the pieces, it could be only a question of time. Whether that someone was actually looking to undermine Massicus' position or merely trying to dig up dirt for the hell of it, Julian would have to know, though again – he wouldn't be all too happy about this. He'd tried reaching him previously, but only got her on the line and hung up.  
 
 "Good evening, sir" the ghoul spoke to the phone receiver hearing Massicus' voice on the other end "The investigation has finally yielded results. No, sir, only me and the brothers... Yes... We may not yet have all the pieces, but the picture is already... I see... Very well, sir. Goodbye."
 
 Massicus was pissed, that much was obvious. Cyprus could've sworn the temperature in the room went down by several degrees, and that was only over the phone. He shuddered involuntarily - when Massicus got pissed, which was rare mind you, people had the tendency to get hurt badly even over inconsequential shit, and what he'd found out wasn't "inconsequential". He considered if he should really lay out all the information just yet. Maybe he should double-check whet he had checked already. And then triple-check that. Regardless, the Lick was also apparently in the middle of something, Cyprus guessed, judging by the casual BBC tone of the conversation he kept. Or maybe he wanted to avoid discussing any details on the phone, which was actually a good idea in this city. Either way he would pay Cyprus a visit soon.
 
 Elsewhere.
 
 "Excellent." the driver said, nodding with satisfaction "Now that we've established that, if you would be so kind as to open the glove compartment? The folder therein contains three photos." Mike browsed the folder dispassionately; the photos were taken with a low light night camera from some distance, but were clear enough to make out the features of all the individuals. Two of the three men marked with a red circle shared a resemblance; the third had a European appearance.
 
 "I see." Mike said without looking up "I'm still waiting for a sum however."
 
 "Of course, though I should mention this - the car's a rental, Mr. Smith, paid for this night only. That is also the timeframe you will be working in. After the task is completed, you will return the car to an address provided... with proof of the job being done." indeed there were some addresses printed out in the folder along the photos
 
 "Tonight?" Mike raised an eyebrow "Your employer does know that this is going to raise the fee by a substantial amount, yes? In fact, even if they do, I must say I don't feel particularly inclined to accept the assignment regardless. And whatever they have been told, we are not forced by code to accept every task." the driver was silent for a moment, as they crossed another intersection
 
 "I understand, Mr. Smith, however we are confident there is a way we can come to an agreement. You see, it has come to my employer's attention, that you have come to Cawford looking for a pair of individuals..." he let the sentence hover for a while; to the average listener there was certainty in the Kine's voice, but Mike could tell the man was taking a shot here; they knew he was looking for someone, but not necessarily for whom, or if it was his only reason for being in the city "Perhaps we could help you in your search, additionally to your usual fee." This did sound interesting, but something was left unsaid, Mike felt there was a catch somewhere between the lines.
 
 Elsewhere.
 
 The street fell eerily silent. Caliori was still down, and all of her pursuers had frozen in place. Literally frozen, Jake noticed with a strange gut feeling. People standing still were never completely motionless; there were always some miniscule movements, but these guys... well fine, he did say "don't move", but this was weird. He discarded that thought almost as soon as it came though; he had other worries at the moment. The silence stretched, giving Jake another chance to tell himself just how stupid getting into someone else's trouble was. They couldn't have gotten a good look at his face yet... would they recognize him if he ran now, he wondered. They were fast, so was he. He knew the city and the streets. Question was, did they?
 
 Swirling black spots filled Isabel's vision when she forced herself to open her eyes. She was still lying on the ground next to the wall she'd been hurled into, as far as she could tell, so she couldn't have passed out for long. Get up. easier said than done Get up, get up, get up. she repeated to herself. Then, just as she was about to scramble to her feet, she heard someone yell
 
 "Don’t move, don’t even blink" well that's that. So much for getting away, how did... but then she realized the voice came from the other side of the street – from behind her would-be-killers. Perhaps it wasn't meant for her then?
 
 "Now, before I start rearranging anyone else’s body parts, how about someone telling me what the fuck is going on in here?" the stranger added. She risked raising her head slowly to take in the situation. Well, whoever that was, he did seem to address them not her at the moment, which was good, though it meant he had no clue what he was dealing with. The corpses froze mere feet away from where she lay, maybe whatever command had driven them so far didn't foresee a third party interrupting, though it was just as likely they were to incapacitate her and wait for their master... either way, no point in staying here to find out. Then, suddenly, two of them moved. She caught the gunman's gaze for the friction of a second.
 
 None of the assholes had said anything, or as much as looked in Jake's direction for what seemed like a damned eternity, and they without a word of warning two of them came running at him at full speed. Talk about stupid. he thought as he squeezed the trigger. The shots echoed through the street. Several things seemed to happen at once then, faster that they could be taken in and processed normally, Jake reflected, and only thanks to his quick reflexes was he still on his feet.
 
 A voice called in his mind, telling him he couldn't kill them and to run. Caliori jumped to her feet and made a break for it. He shot the first of the oncoming two several times, but the bastard didn't seem to even falter. It was only the point-blank shot to the head that did stop him, but then his buddy was already swinging his fist at Jake. Plaster and stone exploded above the vampire's head as the blow he ducked under took a part of the wall with it. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed the a few of the assholes move after the Torrie, and two other move in his direction, but for now he still had his hands full with the one in front of him. A glancing blow caught him in the shoulder, and as he reflexively drew breath, the putrid stench of rot coming from that... thing? almost made him gag. He pivoted under another swipe and out of the other's reach.
 
 He could kick himself in the ass for getting into this, if he had the time for it.
 
 Elsewhere.
 
 The streets of St. Augustine seemed somehow darker, gloomier than usual, Rebecka noticed dully, as she made her way towards the William & Shaw building. Or maybe it was just her. Was that a sense of foreboding or just weariness? She pulled her coat tighter around herself as she stood before the chantry door. "Home, sweet home." Lord have mercy. She braced herself as she was making her way through the corridors of the research facility, which was the friendly face that Marinard showed to the outside world, while the demons dwelled within. This time of night there were only a few ghouls around the Center, most of the mortal servants were already gone. She quickly headed for the elevator and punched in her code. There. Now the chantry security systems would take her name off the "failed to report" list, her quarters would be unlocked and all would be back to the clockwork rhythm the chantry operated by.
 
 Upon reaching the lower floor a nearly unnoticeable gust of wind tugged at her clothing for a second, as the wards passed over her. The second, less forgiving line of chantry defense. At this point anyone of not Tremere blood, or without the appropriate talisman on them, would be "mildly" electrocuted in the enclosed space and held under lock until a response team would arrive. Whoever survived that was in for a very short existence afterwards. You could say the Tremere valued their privacy, or you could say they were paranoid, scheming and secretive, either way you wouldn't be far off.
 The elevator door slid open with a quiet sigh and she walked out into the main foyer, to be greeted by one of the Neonates whose name she didn't recall at the moment. He wore the customary robes, chevrons at the sleeves denoting his relatively low rank in the pyramid hierarchy. In practice it was the freshest Neonates or the highest dignitaries that made a point of wearing the robes all of the time. The remaining Tremere, those still (or yet) in touch with the outside world only donned those on very formal occasions.
 
 "Good evening, Novicia." he spoke somewhat hastily; he probably got rushed by someone over here when her code came in, forcing him to interrupt his work, she remembered the drill, though thankfully her station was a bit above running such errands anymore "Giles... I mean the Adeptus has asked that you stop by the conference room to speak with him. Err.. at your convenience." he added on an afterthought. Right. She thanked him courtly, cast a critical glance in one of the large mirrors occupying the foyer, which also had their part in the security grid by the way, and headed for the door.                        

 

                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Killer39787726 on January 20, 2006, 11:48:00 AM
                I can barely remember how my wife voice sounded. My dotter was still too young to speak.  It wasn't that the dead weren't eager to talk, quite the contrary, when they started they never gave up. Every time I close my eyes and I can see them, all of them, looking back at me. Waiting for me.
 
 Point-blank shot to the head.
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Won’t you people die already?â€?
 
 They already seem to be dead. Smell like rotting corpses. The dead walk, and they are after me. Not just in my head.
 Maybe I finally lost it, maybe this is just in my head. Maybe. And why should be difficult for an undead bloodsucker to believe in walking corpses? After all Munroe is just around the corner, a Giovanni city. I heard stories about them. Just choose not to believe until now.
 
 There's wrong, and then there's wrong, and then there's this.
 What happened to the classic movie zombies? The slow-moving ones, drooling ´braaaains... braaains...´?
 
 Stop thinking you idiot. Just act, do something for hell’s sake. Stop wasting bullets, as they aren’t doing much good here.
 
 I grab the closest one and smash his head against the wall behind me.
 A punch sends me flying directly into the street lamp. I feel a rib cracking.
 
 The torrie is trying to reach the car, but the corpses are all around her. She will never make to it without help.
 
 No reason at all to play it quiet. No reason to play it any way, but my way.
 I get the street lamp and swing it around. A few skulls crack before I am thrown to the floor again.
 
 A couple of seconds more and the sniper will have a clear shot of the primogem. I lift her up and toss her inside the car. I have no time to play nice.
 
 The keys are still in the ignition.
 I run over the fucking zombie in front of me. A look on the rear mirror, and its there, already up on his feet.
 
 The other one? I am sure there was another one!
 
 The window next to me shatter and I lost control over the car. We spin around a couple of times before I regain control somehow. His arm reaches out to me. Persistent bastard. I try to knock him over, but he just won’t give up. A shot in the head does the trick. The only thing that seems to get them to slow down.
 
 I drive for a good while without stopping. Want to make sure I let those guys behind me.
 
 It was colder than the devil's heart, raining ice pitchforks as if the heavens were ready to fall.
                       

 

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           Cant we all just get along?...No? Ok...then i will just rip your head off.    
                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Year_of_the_Scarab on January 20, 2006, 06:20:00 PM
                A couple blocks of casting wary glances behind, and Jake finally eased his death-grip on the gun. Freezing wind coming in through the shattered window ran its chilling hand along his collar, shattered glass rattled here and there; he guessed he'd been cut by some of the shards. The steering wheel was pulling to the left, something was broken, but Jake didn't care.
 
 The Primogen was leaning heavily against the dashboard, head and shoulder sagging. She had her own share of small cuts, if his guess was right, from the plunge through the window she'd apparently taken. The smell of vitae hung heavy in the car, and for a moment Jake wondered if it was he who was bleeding that bad, though it didn't seem to be the case. The Torrie? No, she was battered, but not that much. Who in…? He glanced in the rear-view mirror. Ah. The driver, who'd apparently come to Caliori's aid was laying on the back seat, looking pretty dead to Jake. The Primogen must've pushed him from the front seat when he was circling the car. Why bother? Arrgh, whatever. None of his business – in fact, all of this was Caliori's trouble. Just as he was about to remind her of that fact, and that he didn't do rescues just for the fun of it, she pushed herself back from the dashboard.
 
 "Let's try to not repeat that." she said to no one in particular, running a hand over her face and pushing back the stray locks of hair obscuring her view. She frowned, pulled a glass shard out of her palm and watched the wound seal itself. Only then did she turn to Jake "It appears I'm severely in your debt." she said somewhat more cheerily than it'd seem appropriate, given the circumstances. Then again, she had just evaded her Final Death, so perhaps all of this was sun-and-roses from her point of view, Jake supposed.
 
 "Damn right, you do." he spat out as the presumably broken rib ran a new jolt of pain through his side. He gritted his teeth and directed blood to that. Caliori chuckled ruefully
 
 "Charming. True enough though. Got a name to go with that attitude?" she said somewhat distractedly as she turned in her seat, and cast a look at the driver's prone form in the back seat. She reached out to his arm and withdrew a moment later with a sigh.                        

 

                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Sodom40280831 on January 21, 2006, 08:41:00 AM
                Nail was lying on his bed with a copy of Isabel Caliori’s file in his hands. It wasn’t exactly a good read, only fifteen pages or so. The Nosferatu didn’t have nearly as much information on her as they would like but all that would soon change. At least if everything went according to plan and after the events of the past hour Nail was beginning to think this wasn’t going to be as easy as he had first hoped. He didn’t even think he was suitable enough to raise a childe of his own clan so how was he supposed to educate one that belonged to the clan that was the exact opposite of his. But he quickly shook away his doubts, she was just a mindless little Torrie. Buy her a few nice dresses, pamper her a bit and she would be  putty in his hands. Nah, she won’t be any trouble, she wouldn’t hurt a fly, Nail thought to himself.
 
 And then he checked his answering machine…
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Neil….. I need help. I need to know what’s inside of me. I need to know how to live like this. I want to meet others of our kind, I just need helpâ€?
 
 Suddenly the phrase: â€?The shit has hit the fanâ€? came up in Nail’s mind. He didn’t really feel like it, but he had to call her back. He punched in the numbers as slowly as possible as if there was some hope of Marie calling back and telling him she was fine now and that the disturbing message on his answering machine was just overreaction to a broken nail or something. But when Marie answered, that hope quickly flew out of the window.  
 
 Marie was completely panicked, something had happened. He should have known. Every time Nail convinced himself there was no trouble, trouble came knocking. He was tempted to start screaming at her, purely for the enjoyment of hearing her cry. Nail didn’t see himself as a very sadistic person but he was starting to dislike Marie more and more. But for now he would have to deal with her so he donned his suave Neil-voice and started to comfort her.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Marie calm down, you sound like you just ran into the Spanish inquisition. Now just slow down and tell me what happened.â€?
 
 Marie told him all about the mugger. When she was done Nail was practically speechless for a moment. He had wanted to avoid the subject of “the beastâ€? for as long as possible, he figured these Toreador-fucks were all so goddamn good at keeping that thing at bay. Talk about overestimating. Well he had managed to avoid the subject until now but it seemed like it had to be dealt with sooner than expected. But telling someone they had a demon inside them just waiting to get out and turn them into a raged killing-machine wasn’t exactly a conversation suitable for having over the phone. He would just have to calm her down for now.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“It’s okay Marie, I understand. Now just listen to me. I want you to calm down and tidy yourself up, watch a movie, talk to Arinna, anything that relaxes you. This is very normal, we all go through this and I’m here to help you. I have been talking to a few people to see if I can get you a little more settled in, I should be hearing from them at any time now. I understand how you feel but I rather not have this conversation over the phone. If you want to meet somewhere I can be there within the hour.â€?
                       

 

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           I'm so serious it's comical!    
                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Killer39787726 on January 21, 2006, 04:06:00 PM
                She pulls her hair back revealing her face. A few years ago and I could fall for a woman like her. Sorry babe, I don’t date girls whose fangs are bigger than mine.
 
 "Charming. True enough though. Got a name to go with that attitude?"
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“What's the point of asking? Neither you nor I have graves waiting on which to carve our namesâ€?
 
 She gives me a stare, doesn’t seem very impressed with my attitude. I don’t give a shit. I am not sure I want to be involved any further in this mess, no matter the price.
 Blood starts dripping from my face. I look in the rear mirror. Some glass shards cut deep into my mug. I remove them and watch as the wounds seal leaving no trace they ever existed. Everyone has scars to remember what they been through, I don’t get any. Perhaps its better that way.
 
 To serve and to protect.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Let's start with the simple fact that I kill people for a living. I'm not here to help youâ€?
 
 It would seem that killing is something that I can do so easily. But why can't I feel sorrow for what I've done? I don't know why I know how to do things like this. How can I know this, how can I know when I know nothing else?
 The years continue to pass and the blood continues to flow. It's gone on for so long now that there's no way left to tell how it all had began.
 Feels like Cawford has just disappeared under the falling snow. Pitch black outside. Blacker than pitch, blacker than night. Blacker than the darkness itself.
 Takes me a couple of seconds to recognize where I am with all the damned snow.
 
 The broken window is letting the freezing wind in. Colder than a walk-in fridge...Cold as a gun.
 Maybe they got it all wrong. Maybe hell is not all hot and fiery. Its all about freezing snow, the ice is what burns your skin as you freeze, what gives you that sensation of eternity.
                       

 

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           Cant we all just get along?...No? Ok...then i will just rip your head off.    
                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Bloodreaper33413943 on January 21, 2006, 04:24:00 PM
                Marie listened to Neil on the other end and felt relieved.  "Yes, please, that would be perfect.  But could you meet me at a place called Indigo Park?  It's 30 minutes north of here.  Merci, goodbye."
 
 After she hung up, Marie walked back into the bathroom and looked at the mirror she had demaged.  She spent a lonf time staring at herself in it's glass.  Who was she?  What was she?  She reflected back on her old life, on the events that had brough her to this new life.  She looked back at the fractured reflection of herself and became sure of one thing.  She would not survive this new world as the girl she had been.  And she was not too sure that she wanted to be that girl anymore.  Sweet little Marie, the girl who would bend over backwards to please anyone.  That way of life had gotten her to where she was now.  If she hadn't been so eager to please, she would never have left her hotel room that night to get ice for her roommate.  She would never have been attacked, never have been killed and reborn.
 
 She never wanted to be that girl again.  Never wanted to be taken advantage of against her will.  This new lifestyle would not allow it.  She would remake herself, just as her body had been remade.  She would make herself stronger, harder.  No one would EVER use her again.
 
 She walked back into the bedroom with an aura of authority.  She saw Arinna trying to shrink into the corner, still petrified from her earlier display.  "Come here,"  She demanded.  Arinna hesitated for a moment, but then crept forward cautiously, as if expecting Marie to strike her.  Marie offered a patronizing smile.  "There... good.  I'm sorry for my outburt earlier.  I was at a crisis of character, but it's over now."  Arinna seemed relieved to hear this and moved closer.  Marie continued with slightly more steel to her voice.  "However, I have made some decisions.  If you are to live with me and enjoy the taste of my blood, then you must earn it.  Do as I say without question and you will reap your rewards.  Disobey me, and you will be denied the gift of my blood.  Are we clear?"
 
 Arinna seemed to hesitate a moment before nodding her head vigorously.  "Yes Mar... mistress."
 
 Marie smiled at that.  Mistress... she rather liked that.  "Good.  I'm so glad we understand each other.  Now, go make yourself more visually appealing.  I'm getting rather bored with your smeared makeup look.  And give me you clothes.  Neil will be meeting me in an hour and I thing your clothing look fine.  No bloodstains."  Arinna hastened to obey, but Marie stopped her with one more order.  "And learn to speak French.  It would to nice to speak in my native tongue every now and then.  Also, I feel it would be useful to be able to communicate with you in a language few Americans understand."
 
 Arinna nodded again.  "I'll begin learning it immediatly mistress."
 
 Marie grinned and lay on the bed, running her tongue over the length of her left fang.  Mistress... yes, she liked that indeed.  She watched Arinna strip her clothing off and began to replace her own with it.  Best not to keep Neil waiting.                        

 

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           When the game is over, the king and the pawn go back in the same box    
                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Year_of_the_Scarab on January 21, 2006, 06:29:00 PM
                Nail mumbled a goodbye and hung up. In an almost academic dispute with himself he weighted the pros and cons of banging his head against the wall repeatedly, until any remaining intricate plans involving clan Toreador he might still be harboring were hammered out of his brain, but in the end, he just settled for a resigned sigh. He regarded the phone he'd just hung up with disgust and got up, thinking about the shortest route to Indigo. As he turned away from the machine however, Caliori's photo assaulted his eyes from the stacked report. He always thought there were far too many Toreador for comfort in Cawford, but now it seemed there was simply no rest from them, even in the sanctity of his own haven.
 
 With conscious effort he concentrated on the route to the park. Indigo, Indigo… as far as he remembered it was a small-ass place near the Hudson rink, with no immediate sewer entrances. There was something about that area nagging at his mind, but whatever it was it had been buried deep. The late Prince had some sentiment about that park… or had established an Elysium there once… or a conclave… or fucking something or another, he'd be damned to hell if he was going to stand around there scratching his scalp. He stormed out of his haven a few minutes later.
 
 Indigo Park, later on
 
 Despite the cold and the dark of the sky, Marie wore a confident expression, one of peace. Well, relative peace, let's say. The sort of peace that someone who'd been abused, killed and then abused some more, but somehow survived and was beginning to find their place in the world could feel. For the first time in… a while was she seeing all of this as a beginning, not an end. As if something had, hmm, how do the Americans put it...? "Clicked into place", yes.
 
 She'd reached the park sooner than she'd estimated it would take. Neil probably wouldn't be here for a while yet, but she didn't mind the wait, there were some people around, the cold slowly ceased to register, and Arinna's clothes fit her reasonably well. Deep in thought, she made her way to a nearby bench and halfheartedly brushed away the thick layer of snow covering it. As she sat down, she noticed a couple occupying the opposite bench, engaged in a tight embrace. Well. There was one way to keep warm in winter nights. Something in the farthest recesses of her mind frowned at the thought of what she may never again share with another person, what she had apparently lost forever, but a far louder voice drowned that thought out.
 
 Cold needles of alarm lightly ran along her spine as she regarded them more intently. She'd felt that sensation before, but with all of the chaos of the last few weeks placing her finger on the exact moment when "she felt something strange" was just as likely as getting a natural tan in her current state. What was it about those two? They seemed oblivious to the world around, though Marie still felt she hadn't been unnoticed. After a moment's consideration she decided it was something about the man. Garbed in a loose fitting parka and baggy cargo pants, he dwarfed the smaller woman beside him, and somehow, he didn't… well… fit, for the lack of better description. Marie could've sworn she could smell his after shave from this distance. She had noticed her senses improving some time ago, and now, intrigued about the extent of her ability, she focused more on the individual.
 
 As if on cue however, the stranger turned his head away from his partner, and shot Marie a look over the fur collar of his parka. Startled, Marie averted her sight on impulse, but then she caught herself. What was that about "becoming stronger, harder" before? Well, she wouldn't get far if anyone could intimidate her with a look, would she now? And so, she resumed her scrutiny, just to pass time.
 
 She knew the man was going to get up even before he moved, she could feel the tension a moment before, but didn't turn away in time, didn't intend to anyway. Her eyebrows rose however as the woman he'd been holding collapsed on the bench like a rag doll with its support removed. The man set his collar upright as he stood, the vertebrae in his neck aligning with an audible click as he cocked his head to the side.
 
 "What're yer looking at, Lick?" he spat through his teeth in a low, irritated voice, tinted with Irish accent. Mon dieu, est-ce…? Marie thought to herself, as the glowing red eyes focused on her. Even as she suppressed a shriek, the stranger's menacing tone was answered by something just as feral waking deep inside her.  
 
 "Def, are ya? I've asked what're ya looking at." he said, walking towards Marie's bench, his eyes glowing ominously under the strands of long hair falling on his face. With sudden detachment, she noticed several small details like the smell of fresh earth (how did she come to recognize that, anyway?) mixed with the strong after shave, his tapering wolf-like ears and the fanged teeth, exposed in a snarl.                        

 

                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Bloodreaper33413943 on January 26, 2006, 03:51:00 AM
                Marie couldn't help but gulp at the sight of this figure.  She had thought the she had seen the ultimate visage of savage hunger on the face of her sire.  She had thought wrong.
 
 She fought back the instinctual reaction of fight or flight (besides, flight was winning) and grasped for the buoy of rational thought.  She composed her face and spoke in what she hoped was a non-threatening, conversational tone.
 
 "It appears that I am looking at a fellow kindred."  She said, trying and failing to cover her accent, "forgive me if I disturbed your feeding.  I am Marie Bedeau."
 
 The sight of his eyes made Marie think.  earlier, she had resolved to become stronger, to never allow herself to be taken advantage of again.  However, if she hardened herself enough, could she become like him?  A creature so close to beast that it became difficlut to distinguish between them?
 
 She made a new, smaller resolution that moment.  She would make herself stronger, but she would never become a beast like him.  She would harden herself to things that needed to be done, but never at the  cost of her humanity.                        

 

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           When the game is over, the king and the pawn go back in the same box    
                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Year_of_the_Scarab on January 26, 2006, 07:09:00 AM
                The stranger made a face at the sound of Marie's name "Do I look like I care? How green are ye anyway?" he spat menacingly, but the glow in his eyes faded and his advance stopped. For a moment he just stood there motionless watching, perhaps seizing up. There was something cat-like about him, and not in a metaphorical sense, something tangible, and Marie instinctively felt that although he was a fellow Kindred there was as much difference between him and her as between her and, well, the mortal woman laying on the opposite bench.
 
 Speaking of which, with the corner of her eye she noticed the Kine rise and look around uncertainly, then walk away shaking her head. If the stranger noticed, he gave no sign. Instead he sniffed at the air while still staring Marie down
 
 "I don't know yer..." he began in a low voice and before Marie could interject added "I've no patience for names. But yer new here, obviously, else ya wouldn't come stumblin' through our grounds. Every Cam-Lick knows these be our parts. Every Cam Lick." he finished, stressing the word meaningfully. He seemed to be delivering some point, but Marie found herself at a loss, was she supposed to know what this 'Cam' was? That even a... wait, what was that Neil had told her about organizations? 'Cam' could probably be short for this 'Camarilla' – among a thousand other things, to be sure. Was that what the stranger meant? So he was an... 'ally' so to speak? Well, great... and now what, was there some signal, password... secret handshake, for Christ's sake?! How was she supposed to know?
 
 Even as the thoughts raced through her head, a calmer, grimmer realization dawned upon her – if she had inadvertently committed some sort of faux-pas only by being here, he could possibly think her one of the… the… well the other group of vampires, who her sire had been fighting. The two groups seemed to have violent inclinations toward eachother, and people apparently got hurt when they crashed, as she had experienced first-hand...
 
 As all of this sped through her mind near-instant, the large man in front of her continued slowly "So by that rationale, I've to ask – whose git are ye, eh? And for yer sake, I had better heard of them."                        

 

                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Bloodreaper33413943 on January 26, 2006, 03:57:00 PM
                The calm aura she had been trying to construct faded away instantly.  Her next words tumbled out of her mouth in panic.  She might have even slipped into french at one point or another.  She couldn't tell.
 
 "I didn't know her name!  She just attacked me and was gone when I woke up!  She was Camarilla!  Um... Toreador!  Yes!  She was Toreador!  She wasn't S...Sabbat!"
 
 She grasped desperatly for anything else she could say that would save her skin.  "Neil!  Ask Neil about me!"
 The stranger's face was blank.  Was Neil not a known member of this community?
 
 "Please, if I have committed any offense, I didn't know.  Allow me to make up for it.  S'il vous plaît monsieur, ne pas me blesser!"
 
 Marie noticed that the stranger's companion was getting up.  Perhaps he would be grateful to know that.  "uh... sir, I think your companion is leaving..."
 
 I the back of her mind, Marie was thinking of ways to get out of this.  If diplomacy failed, she would have to run.  Back at the alley and other times, she found that she could move at unbelievable speeds when she concentrated.  She tensed the muscles in her legs, prepared to run as fast as possible if this stranger made any hostile moves.                        

 

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           When the game is over, the king and the pawn go back in the same box    
                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Sodom40280831 on January 29, 2006, 07:32:00 AM
                Nail was on his way to Indigo park when the cell-phone he got from Hives started ringing. Nail was a bit reluctant to answer out of fear that something had happened that would screw his night up even further. However he was going to have to answer in case it was something important. It was Hives.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Nail, dude I swear to god this night is getting more fucked up by the goddamn minute!â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“What the hell are you on about now?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Well like you told me too I tracked Caliori down with the help of some of my contacts, turned out she was at one of her art-galleries.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Yeah, so?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“So when I get there the place is a goddamn war-zone!â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“What!?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Yeah that’s right, cars crashing, dead bodies, bullets flying everywhere.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“What happened?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“I missed out on most of the action, all I saw was Caliori and some hotshot driving away from, get this, a bunch of walking corpses!â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Corpses? And they were after Caliori?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Definitely.â€?
 
 Nail paused for a second, this was very interesting indeed. Walking corpses could only be the work of the Giovanni. But why the hell would they be going after Caliori? What the hell did Isabel Caliori have to do with the Giovanni? His thinking was interrupted by Hives` voice.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Well that was my night. How is yours going?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“I’m heading over to Indigo park to have a talk with our little girl.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Indigo? You sure about that?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Yeah, why do you ask?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Well wasn’t that place declared a feeding ground for the local Gangrel?â€?
 
 There was suddenly an eerie silence on Nail’s side of the line.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Nail? Nail? You still there man?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Oh CRAAAAP!!!â€? Nail yelled while running as fast as he could towards Indigo, hoping Marie was still in one piece rather than ripped in two by a disgruntled Gangrel.
 
 A few minutes later, Nail had arrived at Indigo and was carefully sneaking around the park until he found  Marie and what looked like one very pissed off Gangrel. He hid behind the nearest tree and observed the scene. Marie was practically pleading for her un-life to that oversized Grizzly of a kindred standing across from her. Nail started cursing to himself. If the Gangrel didn’t leave he might have to intervene. Gangrel weren’t exactly known for being big fans of diplomacy so talking to him probably wasn’t an option. If things got violent there was no way Nail could beat him, not unless he was just a week-old fledgeling which he most definitely wasn’t. Nail could probably hold him off for like two minutes or so. Goddammit he did not get into this to fight pissed off Gangrel over some stupid little Torrie who wouldn’t know her fangs from her elbows. Something told him this situation was going to get worse before it got better.      
                       

 

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           I'm so serious it's comical!    
                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Skinweaver on January 29, 2006, 07:35:00 AM
                "At your convenience" he had said.
 Nice save, hotshot. New to the rules and forgetting his place but then escaping the burning building by tossing in those three words.
 Self preservation. The fact that something as basic as animal instinct acted as a cornerstone in the system she had come to accept disgusted her but the system was everything she had.
 In this world filled with revolting vermin at every turn the System provided balance. Structure.
 If anything, it allowed her to ascend beyond the unclean world of the vermin into something greater.
 The vermin did indeed have similar structure but this was her own.
 
 Rebecka was well aware that this idea opposed itself many times over but the balance brought on by the System gave her purpose.
 She was well aware that what the young one had said was a polite gesture brought on by the instinct of self preservation and she knew that Giles had no intention of waiting for her to finish her tasks or to give her any chance to collect herself after the earlier events.
 That he wanted to see her at her convenience meant not soon, not in five minutes, not even at this very moment.
 If anything, she should have been there five minutes before she was even told to go.
 Stressful, yes but it was a system she had been able to adapt to and a stress related heart attack or two was hardly any concern for her anymore.
 
 He would demand an explaination, of course.
 One couldn't just disappear from the Chantry and expect to come back without a reasonable explaination and proof.
 Proof, yes. What could she possibly show to prove to the that her absence had been justified?
 Her steps echoed in the hallway and she couldn't help but think about all those of her blood who sat there behind their doors, writing, researching, experimenting...
 For some reason it gave her a sense of inner peace. The whole reason why she liked it here in the Chantry. Balance.                        

 

                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Bloodreaper33413943 on January 29, 2006, 11:32:00 PM
                (Space holder)                        

 

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           When the game is over, the king and the pawn go back in the same box    
                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Year_of_the_Scarab on January 30, 2006, 11:34:00 PM
                "No?" Caliori chuckled "Given your recent activities I have to say I've a difficult time believing that."
 
 "Let's rephrase: I'm not here to help you just out of the damned kindness of my heart."
 
 "I see. How perfectly mercenary. Fine, whatever your reasons, I still owe you a debt." she replied in a more earnest tone, straightening her skirt "So do I just call you 'Stranger', or...?"
 
 "Jake." he heard himself saying
 
 "Isabel, Enchanté. I do seem to recall you from an Elysium some years back, Mr. Jake; your introduction to the late Prince, I believe...?" he offered no reply and she expected none, instead adding casually "I rarely forget a face. Take a left at the next intersection. Then again, you could say that very few Kindred change all that much over the years."
 
 Only after Jake had taken the turn did he wonder why he complied in the first place. He didn't think she'd forced him to by any vampire means, although being controlled would probably explain why he'd gotten into this mess, and came to the conclusion that he had no idea where to go himself. He'd taken off, intent on putting as much distance between them and the walking corpses as possible at the moment; with no real plan what to do afterwards.
 
 A shuffling sound from the back seat drew his attention. The driver. That he was still alive meant he was either a tough bastard or a ghoul, considering the shot that took him down. Regardless, Jake didn't think the man would make it much longer, and told Caliori so.
 
 "Ghoul, yes. Mine, no." she answered distractedly, having produced a paper-thin cellphone from her jacket. She proceeded to dial the first from many numbers. Several calls followed during the next minutes, between which she'd occasionally give him directions as to which turn or street to take. Navigating the streets of upper Mornington took perhaps all of twenty minutes, and now Jake was pulling the car to a stop in front of what he guessed to be some corporate building or another. Before the vehicle came to a halt, the large, glass double doors slid open and a pair of tall suit-clad men emerged. One of them walked up to the car and, without even batting an eyelash at the battered grill, crushed headlights or the smashed window, opened the passenger's side door for the Primogen.
 
 "An Elysium will be held at Bishop's Hill shortly, you know where Bishop's Hill is, right?" he did; as far as he knew the manor at Bishop's had usually been host to pretentious Toreador parties, but occasionally the Camarilla "ruling body" would grace it with its presence, or so someone had said. He didn't ask how an Elysium could be held when there was no Prince to call it, she'd probably know better than he would "I find myself... short of a few guards tonight, so I might have a proposition for you." she added
 
 He meant to tell her precisely what she can do with her 'propositions', but was cut off "You might want to reconsider that answer, Jake, and the tone while you're at it. I appreciate the help, but do not overstep your bounds. Whatever illusions you've carried over from your living days, you'll best get rid of soon. Here? You're as much worth as the sum of who you know, and friends is a hard thing to go without." she spoke with an air of authority he'd never suspect a Torrie of being capable of and, at least for the moment, he decided to take the advice and abandoned the remark.
 
 "Failing that, we will see what can be done about settling my debt. If you choose not to show up however, you absolve me from any obligation to you, just so we're clear. Now, if you excuse me." and with that she slipped back into persona, treated him to a million bucks smile and got out of the car.
 
 And then, for some inexplicable reason, he remembered the ghoul. He pointed his thumb at the back seat "And what about that?" Caliori halted and stood still for a moment.
 
 Having 'lived' this life for what seemed like millennia, Isabel had seen those of her kind and even those of her blood descend into the bestial nature so completely, there was nothing of the initial personality left within them. Many of those who had prided themselves in their supposed ascendance in unlife had fallen lower than the basest of mortals. What discerned her from all of them was that, in essence, she was what she liked to consider a 'good person'. That phrase might have had a different, more artificial meaning for an unloving parasite, but what remained of her morality, she guarded fiercely. And leaving someone who she had used for her own survival to die like that didn't fit into the definition of that morality, as much as it irritated her.
 
 She sighed and turned back to the car with measured patience. Opening the back door, she knelt on the seat next to the rigid form of the ghoul. After a moment's consideration she punctured the inside of her palm with a fingernail, and squeezed her fist. In a second blood started to swell at the edge of her palm. She held it over the man's mouth and allowed it to trickle down for a moment.
 
 "Can you hear me? Focus, can you hear me?" she said and slapped him unceremoniously. The ghoul grunted something in response, though Jake couldn't make out any words. The smell of the mortal's blood and the much stronger fragrance of the Primogen's vitae drew his attention and filled his ears with a low hum. He had burned blood during the fight, then to heal himself, and now the Beast growled deep inside at the smell of it, demanding its tribute. He should probably get out of the car; now, if not sooner. It took a moment to force the animal within back down; by the time he was back in complete control the Toreador was speaking calmly "Utilize the blood you've been given, ghoul. Burn it to heal the worst of the injury else you'll die in minutes. Burn it all, else you'll be bound to me, and your master will sense it."
 
 Jake turned in the seat to look back and rolled his eyes at her. If it really wasn't her ghoul, what was the point of this? People die all the time, tough luck, the world is a mean place and Cawford could hold its own as one of the meaner places on it. Why bother with this? Regardless, the vampire blood was clearly doing its work, as the bleeding from the ghoul's shoulder largely abated and his breath came steadier. He still looked like death to Jake, but he might've had a chance now.
 
 "Whose ghoul are you?" Caliori asked the man. Again, Jake didn't catch his reply, and he didn't care much either. He got out of the car and stretched his neck, inspecting whatever damage might've remained after the skirmish critically. Some glass shards fell to the ground in the process, clattering on the pavement; dried blood stained his collar and only now did he notice the bullet hole in his sleeve. A close miss, but a miss nonetheless, he noted with detachment. The muscle in suits stood their ground wordlessly like the well behaved drones they were.
 
 Caliori meanwhile got out of the car again, now holding another phone in her hand. She raised her eyebrow at it impatiently, pressed a button and held it to her ear "May I speak with... 'Bitterman'?" she asked after a brief pause, saying the name with some hesitance
 
 "Good evening, this is Isabel Caliori" she continued shortly, not leaving the person on the other end of the line much room for questions "I'm afraid one of your ghouls has been injured while rendering me a favor, Mr. Bitterman, and I'm at a loss as to what to do with him now. No, he's alive." she cut a question off "Is there somewhere you would like to have him delivered? I know the place; I'll have an... associate of mine bring him there. It's been a pleasure, I'm sure we will talk again soon, goodnight."  
 
 Jake was suppressing a smirk. He'd be surprised if whoever she'd been talking to managed to get three words out before the 'conversation' was over. At the mention of 'associates' however, his eyebrow rose, as she looked at him. He was just about to get the hell away from this place, not run a Torrie's errands "I don't do deliveries." he said as she clicked off the phone, though it came out a bit halfhearted. The Primogen treated him to a mildly exasperated look
 
 "Add an extra charge to my tab. Pretty, pretty please with sugar on top." she told him flatly and entered the building without looking back. Had he been the proverbial knight in shining armor, he'd be grossly disappointed by now. Some people just didn't know how to be rescued.
 
 Indigo.
 
 The large man didn't turn to check if what she had said about the mortal woman was true, only cocked his head slightly as if listening, and Marie was once again reminded of a cat stalking his prey. For a second she imagined him leaping after the woman and bringing her down with a feral hiss, and it took a conscious effort for her not to squint her eyes. The stranger however apparently decided to ignore the human and she walked away unmolested.
 
 "Oh yeah? If that's true, then that's already two Traditions by rights of which you should burn." the stranger said to Marie. She wasn't sure what the first part of that sentence meant, but the burning-part didn't seem very promising. She wanted to tell him she didn't know anything about that, and all she did know she knew from Neil, but she was interrupted
 
 "Neil who, kid?" he asked giving Marie a painfully patient look. And there was a good question, she realized. Save for the name and his phone number she had nothing to bring forward, and she couldn't imagine the savage looking man agreeing to a phone chat with Neil to clear up this confusion.
 
 "Neil", meanwhile, observed from his cover merely a dozen feet or so away. Leaning against the tree obscuring him from view, he searched his memory for anything useful on the Gangrel inhabiting the neighborhood. What Hives had said was true; York had hauled a party of Outlanders to town as her enforcers some time ago and they acclimated well, or at least as well as possible for Gangrel in a metropolis such as Cawford. He'd forgotten all about the fact because, frankly, the Nosferatu didn't care much in the first place – by and large, the two clans were rarely ad odds and neither the Sewer Rats nor the Outlanders were known for socializing much, so in practice both parties followed the unspoken code of "avoiding eachother 101". And Nail would be perfectly fine if it were to remain that way.
 As he was considering leaving, a rustling noise from overhead almost made him jump. Looking up he met a pair of feline eyes glowing dimly from a snow covered branch. Has it come so far that it takes a mere cat to startle him nowadays, he wondered sourly as he turned his attention to the Torrie and her new acquaintance. It was obvious she was this close to taking off at the Gangrel's first sudden movement, though Nail didn't make much of her chances; she could be fast by mortal standards, but he couldn't imagine she had time to develop her speed much beyond that. Still, running was clearly the better of her chances, so at least she wasn't stupid, he thought.
 
 As for him and the Gangrel, well, it was a tricky situation. The Nosferatu Nail had no problems with the Outlanders, and in turn, they would hardly have any grievances with him, since in addition to the general truce between the clans it was common knowledge that Sabbat-Nossies, whatever that meant, just didn't traffic in Cam cities (some argued there was no such thing as Sabbat-Nossies, Anarch-Nossies or Cam-Nossies for that matter, and that the Sewer Rats claimed only one allegiance, namely to themselves, but that was beside the point – number one, and those who claimed that wouldn't dare voicing such opinions in the presence of Hernandez and his people – number two). Regardless, Nail the Nosferatu would indeed have no problems with a Gangrel in Cawford.
 Neil, the Not-Nosferatu however, could have plenty, unless 'Tatanka' over there was going to take his word for being a Nos, which seemed about as probable as it sounded.
 
 The stranger's eyes suddenly flashed again, and Marie nearly took off, but then she realized his attention was devoted (probably) entirely to something else at that moment. On one hand, if there was a good point to start running, it was now. On the other, her tumbled speech did seem to calm him down, or at least convince him she wasn't a threat, and if she ran now... there was the possibility he could be just as fast. And then there would be no room for words anymore, she guessed. For now he appeared to believe her, at least to some extent and she felt she could work with that, in a way. She had noticed it before, and recently even stronger with the mugger thing, she could influence how others perceived her, or how they felt about her. Maybe if... But her thoughts were interrupted by his voice
 
 "Ya picked the wrong part of town for yer fucking ambush."
 
 He was standing in a half-crouch now and she could've sworn his fingernails were visibly growing in size. The first part of what he said, she didn't catch, but the next part was directed at her, and as she looked into the cat-like eyes, she thought she definitely should've ran when she had a chance.
 
 Nail cursed inwardly the moment he recognized the glow in the Gangrel's eyes, and sent several curses to the goddamned flea-bag cat spy sitting on the tree above him. He should've noticed, he should've suspected, he should've fucking cloaked his presence. Well, there no sense in cursing at himself now, the damage had been done, and the Outlander was alarmed
 
 "I know yer're there, Lick." he called out and added something turning to the Torrie. Uh-oh, Nail could see what the Gangrel's logic probably was and where this was going.                        

 

                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Bloodreaper33413943 on January 31, 2006, 03:45:00 AM
                &#65279;The man looked away for a fraction of a second, and that was all Marie needed to make her
 decision. All throughout her pleadings of innocence, his face displayed not one inkling of
 merciful thoughts.
 
 The minute his face left hers, she leapt from her seat and ran for all she was worth.  However,
 Her moment of inaction cost her.  As she lurched past him, she felt his animalistic talons slice
 through the flesh of her stomach.  She cried out in pain but forced herself to keep moving
 forward.
 
 She knew that the man was probably still pursuing her and she knew that she could expect no
 mercy from him, considering her flight of panic.  Despite her pain, she kept running at a
 desperate pace, driven by a frantic need to survive.  "It's funny," she thought, "A month ago, I
 might have welcomed final death. Now, I cling to this mockery of life."  She kept one hand on
 her stomach, trying to keep the ravaged flesh from tearing further.  
 
 She reached a clearing of grass where she saw something that raised her spirits: The highway.
 Now, if she could maintain her small lead... she heard a snarl, closer than before and she added a
 desperate burst of speed. A saw a line of cars approaching. She scanned the vehicles, looking for
 the right one... there, a station wagon with an empty luggage rack.
 
 She pushed herself, knowing that the timing had to be totally perfect. If she was off by one
 second, well, she would most likely die, one way or another. As she approached the road, she
 turned slightly to run parallel to it. Then, she pushed all of her blood to her legs and jumped. In
 the few airborne seconds, she was sure she would die. Then, her hand closed on the luggage rack
 and she felt herself yanked along with the car. She clenched her teeth against the pain she felt as
 she heard her shoulder pop loudly. But she managed to grab the rack with her other hand and pull
 herself up, until she was safely atop the car.
 
 She heard a savage roar and looked to see the animalistic man standing by the side of the road
 behind her. She allowed herself a small bit of foolish gloating and hissed back at him, displaying
 her teeth. As him figure became smaller and smaller, she laid her head back on the luggage rack
 and allowed a small sign. "I hate the park," she groaned.
 ___________________________________________________________
 
 After holding onto the rack for ten minutes of highway speed, she was slightly relieved to feel the
 car pulling into a rest area parking lot. She held tight as the car came to a stop and the driver's
 door opened. "I'm telling you," a woman's voice said, "I heard a thump up there, ten minutes ago."
 
 "It's probably nothing," a man, the driver, responded, "But I'll check to see if it came loose or something."
 
 Marie tensed her body and waited. The minute his head came into view, she lept off, kicking him
 hard in the head as she fell. She landed gracfully on her feet and stood, cocking her head
 playfully. The man took a little longer to regain his stance. His eyes squinted as he took in the
 sight of a young woman with what looked like an nasty gash in her gut. The blow to his head
 seemed to be impairing his judgment, as he chose to react by bellowing wordlessly and swinging
 at Marie.
 
 She rolled her eyes as she easily side stepped the awkward punch. He bellowed again and swung
 a second time. This time, she used her enhanced reflexes and caught his wrist in mid-swing. His
 face contorted with exhertion as he tried to break her grasp. Marie, after her desperate situation
 with the feral kindred back in the park, found this refreshing. Now, SHE was in control. she
 twisted his arm back and used her free hand to blow him a kiss. She pulled him closer. Now,
 there was no primal rage in his face. Only confusion and fear.
 
 "What are you?" The man grunted, still trying to defeat her superior strength.
 
 She smiled. "Just a poor helpless girl who had something very bad happen to her one night." She
 then slammed her forehead into the bridge of his nose. She heard bone crack and he moaned in
 pain as he crumpled into her arms.
 
 She checked his eyes. Yes, there was no doubt he was unconscious. She heard a scream from
 inside the car, The woman. Marie dropped his body and moved into the driver's seat. The
 woman, who looked to be no older than 30, was making no move of escaping. She just screamed,
 and swatted at Marie as she sat down. Marie caught one of the woman's wrists. "Be silent. I have
 not permanently damaged your man." As she spoke, she added the aura of awe she had used at
 the nightclub. Apparently, she was getting better, since the woman quieted down.
 
 The woman did say one thing however. Seeming to fight through the fog of Marie's influence,
 she said, "Please... don't hurt the girls. Take the car. Just don't take the girls."
 
 Marie looked in the backseat. Indeed, there were two twin girls, barely six years old. The children
 stared at her with a mixture of the awe she was forcing upon them, and childish fear. Marie
 remembered her mother had once told her that, "A child's eyes tell no lies." So, apparently she
 was a creature that inspired fear in children. So be it.
 
 "I have no intention of harming your children," she said, "but keep them safe. The night is full of
 dangerous things." She grabbed the woman’s hair and forced her head towards her. "Like me..."
 
 She bit harshly into the woman's throat, drinking greedily from the pulsing vein. She felt strength
 flow through her as she stole this woman's life. When she withdrew and looked at herself in the
 rear view mirror, she truly looked the part of a child's nightmare, Fangs extended, blood covering
 her lower lip. The woman had lost consciousness during the feeding. Marie dropped her and
 looked back at the children. One was crying and the other just kept staring at her.
 
 "I have not harmed your parents," she said, "But you must tell no one of this night. If you do, I
 will have to return and take your parents from you. Do you understand?"
 Both girls nodded.
 
 She exited the car and collected the father's body, then went around collected the mother's. Both
 of them would live. He would have a broken nose and she would just be short a few pints. Marie
 deposited them them in the trunk and went back to the driver's seat. She had little experience
 with cars but she had enough. She thanked God she had learned in France and not England. She
 started the engine and got back onto the highway into the city proper.
 
 "So," she said, "how old are you girls?" Neither answered. "Do you go to school in this city?"
 Again, no answer. "Alright, suit yourselves." She wiped their mother's blood from her lip and
 continued driving. Privately, she didn't blame them.
                       

 

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           When the game is over, the king and the pawn go back in the same box    
                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] munchies.Trooper on January 31, 2006, 08:40:00 PM
                In Reply To #61
 
 As the car continued to drive down the road Mike looked at the pictures, raising his right eye bow just a little at what the man proposed. There was also some distrust that he could feel coming from a gut instinct that had never left him from his time in the armed services. Mike looked up from the pictures and said. “I have a strange feeling you are leaving out some of the details so I am going to ask you a few questions about this before I agree to take this.â€?
 
  The driver shifted a little and spoke “Sure. “ He said with unsure voice.
 
 Mike picked up on his tone of voice and said “Now do you want all three of these people umm cleaned?â€? referring to killing the three people that were in the photo “Also what method of cleaning would you like? I also would need to know where to find the people so I can perform my cleaning duties.â€? Mike continued to look forward as he waited for the drive to answer his questions
                       

 

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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    
                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Killer39787726 on January 31, 2006, 09:53:00 PM
                The suits stand their ground wordlessly like the well behaved dogs they are.
 
 I just decided I don’t like torries. She should have been kissing my ass instead of bossing me around, some people just doesn’t know when to show gratitude. I punched people for much less, so why have I let her get away with it? Surely wasn’t just for those sexy looks of hers. She must have done some mojo to my head. I even gave her my first name. Shit, I don’t do that.
 
 I consider draining the juicebag, selling the car and calling it a night. I know some places that pay cash on the spot, no questions asked. Should get enough to pay for the repairs on my ride.
 I decide against it, considering the guy who owns the ghoul.
 
 I reach for the pack of smokes, shit, only one left. And I’m still broke.
 Get your ass back into the car and just drive. You got into it too far already to just leave empty handed.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬ËœYou're as much worth as the sum of who you know, and friends is a hard thing to go without´. Uhn. Where were those so important friends of hers when she was getting her ass kicked by those fucking corpses?
 Don’t talk to me about friends. The only thing that counts is that stuff you take to the bank – that filthy buck that everybody sneers at but slugs to get.
 
 That thing inside me starts battering the cage door again; the blood in the car is taunting my senses. I spot this guy out on the freezing snow lighting a smoke. He is one of those business suit types.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Got a light?â€?  I ask him over the broken window, getting the last smoke on my lips. He approaches me with his lighter and offers me the flickering flame.
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Say, that’s a fine suit you got thereâ€?
 
 ***
 
 Good. That nasty thing inside me is safe on the leash again.
 I check on the mirror. I look like a million bucks, stolen million bucks. 300 hundred dollar shirt, a nice, warm black overcoat, a new pack of smokes and a couple of hundreds in the pockets, silk tie. Fuck. I throw the tie out of the window. I never liked ties, and I sure won’t wear one for that torrie bitch.
 
 A couple more minutes and I can get rid of the juicebag. In my line of work, you pick up some things. People you should avoid to mess with is one of them. I never been personally introduced to this guy, but if this Bitterman is the same I heard about, I better avoid trouble. As hard as they get, and a malkavian on top of that.
                       

 

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           Cant we all just get along?...No? Ok...then i will just rip your head off.    
                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Year_of_the_Scarab on February 14, 2006, 11:22:00 PM
                The preparations for the Justicar's arrival were running smoothly, as expected, but Eric Rocher, Primogen to Clan Ventrue and soon-to-be Prince of Cawford couldn't shake a strange feeling which had haunted him for the past nights. He wasn't one to put much stock in dreams, premonitions and whatever else the average Malkavian may hold close to her dead heart, and he rarely, if ever, paid such forebodings any mind, but now so close to his goal... Bah, this was rubbish. He needed to concentrate on the current matters at hand.
 As he was passing instructions to one of his assistants, he simultaneously reviewed the most urgent business in his head.
 
 One, in particular, provided him with some comfort. The Lasombra kindred, the only known surviving Sabbat from the attack was now hunted by the Nosferatu, which meant he wasn't in for a very long or pleasant existence. Furthermore, were the Sewer Rats capture him... intact, at least relatively speaking, he could prove to be a source of crucial information on York's assassination. There was, of course, the question of how soon any such information from the Nosferatu would reach him, but in the end, the sewer dwellers were one of his most steadfast, if grudging, allies. And speaking of allies... Toreador. You can't live with them and you can't live... well, with them, period. He mused to himself as he watched the car which brought Caliori to his offices drive away. She'd called a few minutes ago, insisting on meeting. And while he had a plethora of matters to attend to at the moment - as usual - it sounded important, and at this delicate stage he wasn't in a position to ignore a Primogen, Degenerate or not. Best laid plans of vampires and men... or however that saying went.
 
 He ushered his secretary out of the room and closed the file on his desk. Not that those had anything to do with... anything of importance. Merely a few reports. Some business documents. A short message from Sorana. Now, admittedly, that last one was interesting and he decided he'd talk to Julian about it. Thing was, his younger Childe was nowhere to be found for the better part of the night, and only recently had he been informed that Julian had spent it holed up in his haven. Most uncharacteristic. It wasn't like him to waste time like that, even if he was deep in preparations for the trip to Munroe, Rocher mused.
 
 A short while after his assistant left he picked out the soft chime of the elevator and the door opening.
 
 "Eric." her voice came from behind him
 
 "Welcome, Isabel. To what do I owe this..." he replied turning around and paused seeing the bloodied clothes and disheveled hair "...pleasure?"
 
 "We need to talk."
 
 Elsewhere.
 
 The chantry security system was a maze of mechanical, electronic and mystical safeguards melded into one network, virtually unintelligible to anyone but a few selected Warlocks. The system, a quasi-sentient being in of itself, didn't require constant monitoring, overseeing and maintenance and therefore the security-control conference room was not a computer-laden cockpit stacked with monitors and panels you might expect, but a pretty much standard chantry chamber, on the first look at least. On the second, the cautious observer could notice the odd screen or glyph etched into the furnishings. On the third, a very perceptive observer, with mystic knowledge to boot, would pick out the larger diagrams encompassing the smaller ones and the layout of the room being a scaled replica of the chantry building, with arcane symbols marking various exit and entryways.
 
 At one of such points stood the current acting head of security, Adept Giles. He didn't have what you may call an academic look and neither did he try to obtain one by garment or by accessory. To the average, he would be a graying man in his fifties with a footballer's posture and a librarian's complexion. Rebecka however could virtually feel the energies coiling around him and knew that were she to focus her sight, she'd see the magician's halo.
 She would also catch a glimpse of the intricate workings of the arcane network in the room before the system "neutralized" such an attempt. Yes, any unsanctioned use of the supernatural was a foolish thing to do while in the chantry, whether the abuser was Tremere or not.
 
 All of this went through Rebecka's thoughts as she stood in the door, awaiting a permission to enter. Giles wasn't facing her, but she knew better than to presume she hadn't been noticed and waited patiently for the elder to speak first. Finally, she was addressed
 
 "The shadow of the Pyramid is long..." Giles extended the formal greeting
 
 "...So that one more may take shelter beneath it. Good evening, Adeptus." she replied, entering the room. The magician in her ached to wander around the room and inspect every single ward at a time, but extending her knowledge of warding diagrams wasn't the reason behind her presence here at the moment. She knew what was going to follow. Sure enough, soon she was reminded of the recent events in the city, the war with the Sabbat in general, and she almost expected a lecture on safe driving coming her way any minute.
 
 "You did not know about the novices who fell to lupines recently, Novicia?"
 
 She did.
 
 "You have not read the memo in the main hall?"
 
 She had.
 
 "You were not aware of the raised security level?"
 
 She was.
 
 "You have received a clearance for remaining outside of the chantry, then?"
 
 She had not.
 
 In a way, it was grade school all over again. She had been late for class and was being reprimanded by the teacher in front of the other children. And even if the witnesses were not visible to her, she felt their eyes on her back still while she stood rigidly, muttering an apology. Of course, here and now, downcast eyes or muttered replies were out of the question, but the analogy remained on point. Well, in all honesty, her transgression didn't seem all that severe to her, but she hardly was in a position to argue the point with an elder.
 
 "Now. I'm certain you have had good reason for your absence, Novicia. I would like to hear it now."
 
 Elsewhere.
 
 "And you're absolutely certain... no, Isabel, please let me finish." Rocher said, leaning back in his seat slowly "You are absolutely certain it was Farley himself, not someone posing as him? Knowing that..."
 
 "Oh, please. It takes more than an Obfuscated Lick to fool me, Eric, and you know it. I read his mind, his body language, I recognized his damn smell. It was him." Caliori replied with a patient look "Even were we to assume he hadn't been killed back when Lydia died, only captured, and had the information on my place pulled from his mind – because that's where you're leading me, right? – passing an imposter by me would require a powerful Kindred. Someone that powerful wouldn't let me escape that easily."
 
 "Unless they would anticipate this rationale and allowed it precisely to convince you, or us, it was a failed attempt at assassination rather than a clever ruse." he replied
 
 "You're playing devil's advocate now." she shot back, but a smile crept on her lips for a second "But alright. Let's say that's one option. Now, me? I haven't got much at stake here. Now that they've made their move I can disappear from the radar for as long as it takes for this mess to clear, or until I know enough to divert the attention from me. You, however..." she tapped her fingers on the mahogany table, as if she was thinking very hard right now. She could be really irritating when she wanted to. And she often did "You don't have that luxury, Eric. The mantle is in your hand, sure, but before the Justicars announce you, it's not really worth all that much. So it's in your interest to know. It's you who has to prove the city's every bit as tidy as the Inner Circle believes it to be while the entire East Coast is yet to rise to it's collective feet, and that it's so tidy only thanks to you."
 
 She was still talking, but Rocher was already several steps ahead. He still listened intently, of course, but in the back of his mind he analyzed the implications of what she'd told him. Christian Farley, the late Prince's Childe, missing since the assault which had led to York's demise and presumed dead until now, was in fact, quite well. Well enough to move unseen through the city and strike at one of its Primogen, actually. This raised several questions, but at the same time, provided answers to others. For one – if Caliori was right, and there was little real reason to doubt her at this point seeing as she was one of the most accomplished users of the Auspex discipline on this side of the continent, the matter of who sold York to the Sabbat was becoming very clear.
 Caliori and the Prince's Childe had been close associates for some time, hence his knowledge of her whereabouts, Eric supposed. Also, it made a certain amount of sense for Farley to try to eliminate the Toreador, as he would know about her aforementioned proficiency. Were he to make sure he remained undetected for as long as possible, Caliori would have to be taken care of.
 
 What wasn't quite as clear was why would the Giovanni, local or from other parts, have provided him with the means of disposing of her.
 
 "This doesn't make sense." he said under his breath and instantly backtracked "Pardon. That's not what I meant, Isabel. I was thinking out loud." the rebuke on her lips dead before uttered, Caliori raised an eyebrow and cocked her head slightly, motioning him to continue
 
 "The Giovanni have no business lashing out now. Covertly or not, anything undermining their position with the Camarilla... well, with Cawford actually, simply doesn't make sense." he said flatly. Whatever may be said about the Giovanni, they were businessmen first and foremost, and that Rocher understood. The toying with death, the incest and the unholy aura were only additions, armor of the golem. Unnerving to some and disgusting to others, they fulfilled their role of keeping irritants away.
 The underlying matter was of scheming, under-the-table deals, intrigue and often enough, deceit. In other words – that which Rocher had been intimately familiar with since his Embrace. He had told her so. "But it warrants cautiousness nonetheless." he finished.
 
 "As you say." she didn't sound really interested "What of the upcoming Elysium then? I trust you'll repeat this to Lucinde when their zombies will be tearing up the walls around you?" Now, that was the crux of the problem. Lucinde, the Ventrue Justicar, was on her way from NY as they were speaking. Di Zagreb would arrive sometime later this week and in the presence of both the Justicars Rocher would take up the mantle of Prince officially. He was planning on delivering the truce with the Giovanni as a final trump card to solidify his position. If the circumstances of the previous Prince's death were uncovered fully by then, it would only serve to strengthen him. He would become Prince officially, and be announced at the Elysium. The standard procedures of having Kindred new to the city present themselves and commendations for the participation in its defense would make the transition smooth and instantaneous. Were the Giovanni playing two fronts however...
 
 The Elysium hadn't been announced yet, it could still be postponed, the Justicars didn't have to know.
 
 No. He didn't come that far by backing out. In fact, being relatively young in Kindred terms, he accomplished everything by the exact opposite. The matter would be resolved, Giovanni schemes or no. He made a mental note to have Julian and Sorana contact him as soon as possible; it was contest that had made him who he was today, and he would see no different for his Childer. An idea formed in the back of his mind and he repressed a smile.
 
 "Farley is no threat but an annoyance, as you've clearly proven tonight, Isabel. And the Giovanni are... bridge we'll cross when we come to it, not before. Have the Elysium announced."
 
 Elsewhere.
 
 "What's the catch?" Mike asked casually. The driver fell silent for a moment as if searching for the right words, which usually meant there was a sonuvabitch written somewhere between the lines
 
 "The men in question are working for a Kindred, a... influential one. As such, they are resourceful individuals on their own, and one should expect them to be privy to the supernatural." that couldn't have been it, Mike knew; so they were lackeys to a get of Khayyin living in the city, maybe induced with vampiric blood – that was hardly all that unusual in his line of work "the reason my employer wants you to know this, is because the aforementioned Kindred is expected to make contact to at least the first two of the three. That Kindred, Mr. Smith, is not to be harmed under any circumstances."
 
 "This Kindred. That one?" Mike asked, picking out a figure present in the background on all of the photos
 
 "Yes." the driver confirmed, not asking how Mike had recognized the man to be a vampire in the first place "Him. In fact, it's of utmost importance that he doesn't learn what has happened with his people; you are to reach them before he does."
 
 "And how do I know he hasn't done so already?"
 
 "Because, like anyone else, he cannot be in four different places at once, Mr. Smith, and we know where he is at the moment. Now, as said, the addresses are in the printout and the proof of the task being completed should be stored in this vehicle, which we will pick up from this street at 7.00 AM today. Am I to understand you accept the job?" the Kine said, pulling to a halt by the curb. As soon as the engine fell silent a pair of bright front lights flared to life on the other end of the street.
 
 "Were this a simple job, you, or 'your employer' more precisely, wouldn't need me. As such, it appears to be more complicated than you're letting me to believe... Which is fair enough. But it is going to cost." Mike said. He named a price. The human made a show of thinking about it for a while, but it was obvious the decision wasn't up to him, and a moment later he expressed 'his employer's agreement'.
 
 "The modus operandi is yours to choose, as long as the deaths are not revealed to the mentioned Kindred. If everything is to my employer's satisfaction after the car has been picked up, a contact will be waiting for you here in precisely 24 hours with the payment and information you seek." before he left the car, the Kine shuffled uncomfortably, and Mike could tell he was supposed to tell him something he would not like "Now, my employer would like to stress the part about no harm coming to... this Kindred. Should you be faced with a choice of forfeiting one of the targets because of his presence – do so. I am to tell you that if something does happen to him... um, well, my employer has found you once, and can do so again."
 
 Mike raised an eyebrow at that, but didn't offer any other reaction. No Assamite took kindly to threats, but this man was merely a tool, and breaking a contractor's tools was not in good taste. Perhaps he would come back to this when he met the person whose toy he was talking with now however.
 
 A moment later the Kine was walking towards the car which's lights had been facing them since they stopped and Mike was alone in the vehicle. He regarded the photos again. "The first two", whom the Kindred was apparently supposed to contact soon, and whom he was to eliminate first and foremost were the two look-alikes. Brothers, according to the names listed on the backsides of the pictures. 'The Kindred' he smirked. He wasn't in Cawford for long, but he did know enough to recognize the local Primogen and their Childer. If his contractors hadn't seen fit to say outright they were sending him after the henchmen of Julian Massicus, he didn't feel inclined to let them know he knew.
 
 Elsewhere.
 
 "Very well, my car will bring you to your place and I'll have my secretary assign you an additional escort. No, no. I insist." Rocher added as a formality before she argued. Alliances and common goals were all fine and well, but she came here for protection, the smug expressions and nonchalant talk were for just show. He didn't have to do it, but she was a Primogen and still had her uses. But he could've refused. Of course he could. Even if she hadn't really asked.
 
 "By the way," he picked up as they were walking down the hall "does your new recruitment know what he may be up against while keeping you safe?" Caliori gave him a puzzled look, but caught up before he clarified
 
 "Ah, that." she chuckled "Why? Concerned or jealous?"
 
 "I believe it's called 'making small talk'."
 
 "Indeed. Well, I try to stay in touch with the streets, let's say." like hell she was "Though to be honest my tonight's hero is not one of my people, actually. Yet." she added on an afterthought, but something struck Rocher as odd. He gave the face of the driver some thought. No matter what was said about the Ventrue's interest being limited to obtaining power through money and vice versa the Primogen did actually know the Kindred in his city by face, name, age and sire. Dealing with the Nosferatu would do that to you.
 
 "You're that impressed then?" he continued
 
 "Quite." she chuckled "It really was close tonight, Eric." Mhm. The intelligence said Caliori was over two centuries old, could dodge bullets and break bulletproof glass with nothing more than her voice. The thought of a few zombies bringing her down seemed ridiculous, but then again, it was in her ghouls and her puppets where her power lay. This also was something he was intimately familiar with. But something else came to his mind
 
 "And if I'm not gravely mistaken your benefactor just happens to be of Clan Brujah." he said matter-of-factly
 
 "He does? My, would you look at that. Small world." Caliori replied with a perfect ten dumb-blonde expression. He chuckled briefly and shook his head. And people said it was the Ventrue who relished in having contingency plans in contingency plans in case the original contingency plan failed.
 
 "You don't honestly think Neillsen is in on this."
 
 "No, of course not." she agreed "But some of their people may be at least close enough to Farley to know something, if not to be working with him outright. Yes. It's a slim possibility; I give you that, but if..."
 
 "...then you'll have your pet Brujah to tell you about it?"
 
 "...then I'll have an associate in contact with those circles." she corrected sourly. Rocher was suppressing a sigh; he didn't have time for, well, all of this. Maybe she was onto something, but... He had real world adult problems to deal with. Luckily, they had reached the door and he bid her farewell as the guards readied the car for her.
 
 On his way back he instructed one of his assistants to contact both his Childer. He suddenly felt the urge to have a chat with them.                        

 

                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Killer39787726 on February 16, 2006, 09:39:00 PM
                Since boredom advances and boredom is the root of all evil, no wonder, then, that the world goes backwards, that evil spreads. This can be traced back to the very beginning of the world. The gods were bored; therefore they created human beings.  The belief in a supernatural source of evil is not necessary; men alone are quite capable of every wickedness.
 
 Your eyes allow you to look out to the world, but they also allow the world to look into you.
 It is unwritten law that a person's being either good or evil is simply based on the view of the majority of others. It makes no difference if you are in fact good. If most people believe you evil, then you are evil.
 
 I wasn't strong enough to resist corruption, but I was strong enough to fight for a piece of it. I realized either I was crazy or the world was crazy; and I picked on the world.  And of course I was right.
 
 The black wind howls again.
 I drive past the place. Charlie’s Tavern. The fratboys are already there, you really need to be a malkavian to put up with those types. Entering through the front door with a bleeding guy is an easy way to attract unwanted attention.
 
 I decide to park a couple of blocks later, within the emptier back streets. Ghouls. What a waste of good blood. I throw the juicebag over my shoulder and make my way to the tavern’s back door. I knock and wait.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Pet deliveryâ€?
 
 This asshole better not be bleeding on my coat.
                       

 

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           Cant we all just get along?...No? Ok...then i will just rip your head off.    
                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Sodom40280831 on February 19, 2006, 06:05:00 AM
                “Well at least the girl knew when the time had come to run like hell.â€? Nail thought to himself as he stood alone in the park, still having to grasp what the hell just happened. However his amazement was short-lasted as suddenly he realized he was standing uncloaked in an area swarming with Gangrel. He disappeared into the shadows and started heading for the nearest exit to the park, but not before giving the Gangrel’s little feline spy a good taste of his boot. He never really liked cats anyway.
 
 Later on Nail had left the park and decided the best option was to head towards Marie’s apartment as she would have to return there sooner or later. While he was walking he dialled Hives’ number on his cell-phone.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Hives here, what’s happenin’â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Its Nail, any news?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“You bet, in fact I was just about to call you.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“And why is that.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“I found the perfect occasion to put our girl to the test. You see this very week, Cawford is going to be visited by two justicars to crown a new prince.â€?
 
  “Rocher no doubt.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Bingo! And they’re gonna throw a big party to celebrate. Oh and also as an opportunity for kindred new to the city to present themselves.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“I see. You’re right, it is perfect.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“So how did your chat with Marie go? She all straightened out?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“We never really got to talking. I’m on my way to her apartment. I have to speak to her before the night is through. The girl is getting to be a little bit of a loose cannon but its nothing I can’t handle.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Are you alright man? You sound a little shook up.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“I SAID I CAN HANDLE IT HIVES!â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Alright, alright man. No need to shout.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“You just get back to gathering information on that party and let me worry about Marie.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Sure thing.â€?
 
 It was official, Nail was frustrated.                        

 

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           I'm so serious it's comical!    
                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Grendel8101 on February 21, 2006, 01:07:00 AM
                I left the club and headed for home, wondering what’d happened to Rowdy.  Little bastard better have a good excuse for being out of contact for so long.  And how the hell did he hook up with Isabel Caliori?  I don’t do much business with Torries.  Something about me dressing wrong.
 
 I watched the snow flurries dance across the highway. The meeting with the Giovanni was coming up.  That was going to be interesting.  We’d crossed paths a time or two, but I’d never actually established a relationship with any of the Giovanni.  This could be good for business.  Or I could get burned out, you could never tell with some of these Mafioso types.
 
 I listened to my baby’s engine purr, letting it all slip away for a moment…
 
 __________________________________________________
 The truck rumbles to a stop right at dawn.  The village is already awake, the little rice farmers out feeding their pigs and chickens, some of them heading toward the paddies.
 
 We had word that this little scrap of a town is hiding weapons for the VC.  We’d lost three guys in our last patrol.  Everybody was tense as a guitar string. Danielson had been shot in the head in mid-joke, spraying blood and brain all over everybody.  Danielson had been a good soldier, a good guy.  He used to make everybody laugh, even the El-Tee.
 
 I look at Thompkin‘s grim face.  He knows what’s going to happen, and that he can’t stop it.
 
 We all get out of the trucks, yell at the villagers, they all scatter and run inside.  My heart beats faster, waiting for an ambush that never comes.  The platoon spreads out to search.  Wallace and I go into one of the huts.  Empty.  The next one has a grandmother, a scarred up old man and a couple of kids.
 
 They stare at us, frozen.  The old man sends a look that would have killed me if telepathy existed..  The first shot comes from the other side of the village.  I don’t know who’s firing, but me and Wallace cover the people.  The woman dives for something under a table.  I put two rounds in her chest from my M-16.  The old man moves too, so I swing the barrel over to him and fire.  Turns out he was covering the kids.  The bullets zip right through him, killing him and one of the kids.  The other kid is coughing up blood and has a hole where his right lung should be.  He can’t last much longer.  I finish him off, feeling that sick stone in my gut.  Wallace just stares at me.
 
 Gunfire rattles off all over the village, everybody’s shooting.  People scream.  None of us will ever know who fired the first shot.  Doesn’t really matter anyway.  What happened was meant to happen, it was written in stone on the face of Thompkins and me and all the others when we pulled up here.
 
 A girl is being raped by three soldiers just behind a hut, a few hundred yards from me.  Thompkins runs over to them, yelling.  Not saying anything, just expressing his rage.  He swings, they hit back, holding him off.  I light a cigarette from the crumpled pack in my pocket.  My hands aren‘t even shaking.  That bothers me for some reason.  Ã¢â‚¬Å“What are you trying to pull, hero?â€? I ask Thompkins from where I stand.
 
 The El Tee yells out an order and they all stop.  Thompkins starts trying to tell him what happened.  The lieutenant cuts him off, takes out his pistol and shoots the girl in the head.
 
 I turn away, taking a drag from the cancer-stick.  I smell smoke as the village starts to burn…
 _____________________________________________________
 Ã¢â‚¬Â¦I’m setting fire to a desk when I roll out of it.  I turned away from the flame, wondering where the hell I was.  How the fuck did I get here?  The flashbacks were getting worse.  More detailed.  I left the room, walked down a hall and I found a living room.  Apparently I already started some of the furniture on fire, but they only smoldered so far.  I leave the room, wanting to get away from the rising flames.  I found the bodies in the kitchen.
 
   A middle-aged man, his wife and two kids.  There was still food on the dinner table.  No bullet holes.  Did you will them to die, Bitterman?  Did you point your finger at them and go <orange>Bang!</orange>?
 
 A little dog sat by the dead girl.  He set his paw on the corpse and whined, looking up at me with wide eyes.  A small yellow puddle rolled out from under him.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“How did I get here and what did I do?â€? I asked him.  He cowered down lower.
 
  The forgotten fire blazed up behind me, hitting the hanging drapes and smoke filled the air.  The Red Fear came over me and I ran for the front of this strange house, hitting a plate glass window.  I bounced off, only cracking it, and hit it again, clawing at its surface like a rat trying to get out of a cage.  It broke, slicing my hands and sending me tumbling out the hole into the pile of snow and broken glass underneath.  
 
 I saw my car and rushed to it.  I don’t remember entering, I was just suddenly in it and driving away.  
 
 My mind turned it over.  I‘d never killed like that.  I’ve never killed anybody that didn’t deserve it.  Or maybe I had, and I always left the scene before coming out of the haze?
 
 The flashbacks were getting worse.  More out of control.  Ã¢â‚¬Å“Gotta get right.â€? I muttered to myself.  A dog howled at the night.
 
 __________________________________________________________
 It took me a few minutes to get my bearings.  I’d killed that family on a different street than the one I’d been on before the…blackout, or whatever it was.  And apparently I’d stopped for gas somewhere along the way.
 
 The miles blurred by and I was at my destination.  The house looked like any other shitty house in Redbrock.  Except the door was reinforced steel.
 
 I knocked, and a slot opened.  Glazed-over eyes stared out at me.  Ã¢â‚¬Å“What you need?â€? said a blurry voice.
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“I need you to <orange>open</orange>.â€? I said.
 
 The door opened.  Ã¢â‚¬Å“<orange>Sleep</orange>.â€? I told him.  He crumpled to the floor.
 
 I found a scrawny girl in a back room with a dazed look on her face.  A small lump of black tar heroin was in her hand.  Junk, but it would do the trick.  I bit into her neck, a voice from somewhere in my head asked my if she had any diseases I could spread now.  I ignored it.  I had a Need.
 
 The opiate started working on my system.  I only needed a little, just to Get Right.  I chuckled to myself, low in my throat.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Y’know what the funniest thing about that story is?â€? I asked the girl.  Her eyes swiveled over to my face, slowly.  Blood trickled down her neck wound.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“There weren’t even any guns in that village.â€?  I chuckled again.
 
 ____________________________________________________________
 I backed clumsily into my garage, scraping the rear fender of the Mustang.  Didn’t matter.  I don’t know why I’d quit using, I was always so high-strung when I was off the junk.
 
 I wandered into the bar.  Mal saw me and his face almost made an expression, rare for him.  Ã¢â‚¬Å“What?â€? I asked him.  He turned away.
 
 Rowdy looked like shit and I told him so.  He nodded.  His clothes were torn up.  I turned on my senses and smelled vamp blood on him.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“That ain’t my blood.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Cal-Caliori.â€? was all he said.  I noticed the bottles of beer in front of him.  Drunk and getting over an injury.  Stupid, stupid ghoul.
 
 I took a chair by the delivery boy, a vamp I didn‘t recognize.  Ã¢â‚¬Å“Get this man a drink, Mal.  So how did you end up dropping off my ghoul, friend?â€? I said.  Mal took some of my special booze from the refrigerator under the bar and poured two glasses.                        

 

                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Skinweaver on February 23, 2006, 06:55:00 AM
                Rebecka took a deep breath even though she hardly needed it and looked at her superiour with her one good eye.
 
 "Honored Adeptus, I can assure you that my absence has been justified."
 
 She was pretty sure that he could hear the doubt in her voice. How could it be proven? The original intent of the experiment that lead to her untimely kidnapping had not exactly been sanctioned but she had been doing it for the best of her Clan. Who knows what risks those plaguebearers might have brought onto the fragile Masquerade?
 
 "During my nightly... hunt..."
 
 She hated the word. So predatorial. Primitive.
 She composed herself under the gaze of her judge and continued.
 
 "In recent nights, I have been conducting a few experiments in the interest of gaining fuller understanding of the art of Thaumathurgy. During one such experiment I found traces of disease. As the weeks passed and I found many similar samples I came to realise that this could not not be the work of some mundane epedemic.
 Something was spreading this among the homeless in the city."
 
 The plaguebrearers. She had to tell him about the plaguebearers. How to word this without warranting a swift execution?
 
 "So... I decided that it would serve the best interest of Clan and House Tremere to investigate this matter. My research lead me to the small time underworld. Drugs. The sick all had traces of the same drug in them so I traced the origin. Once I had a sample I decided to go back to the Chantry to test this on one of my own samples to see what would happen. I was working with a theory that the drug itself was infected somehow."
 
 Giles' eyes hardened and it was obvious that he was impatiently waiting for an answer and not feeble attempts to justify straggling by changing subject.
 Everything in his gaze gave the impression of a frustration hidden underneath the calm exterior. Had he been a Brujah, she would have expected him to scream at her, threatening her with physical violence if she wouldn't get to the point but externally, Giles still gave the impression of the patient listener even if his eyes said differently.
 Rebecka cleared her throat for some reason alien even to her and started to twist her hands in nervousity like a child who had done something naughty.
 
 "Unfortunatly..."
 
 She mumbled.
 
 "I... was ambushed by unidentified assailants on my way back. They hit me over the head and..."
 
 The memories of past events was coming back and anger over the violation of her person and dignity started to grow like a sponge in her chest, fuled by the black tar of hatred and contempt for these now dead vermin.
 With obvious but surpressed anger she told the Elder everything. In retrospect, it felt as if she had been part of some cheezy Saturday night movie but it was all too real.
 
 "So when that despicable waste of unlife finally dissolved on the floor I went down the stairs to finish off the other two. I remember that the first one, the blonde one had awakened. He kept begging me not to do it but I gave that vermin just what he deserved. They will not be spreading their filth in this city ever again, I can assure you of that. There is no need to worry about the bodies because as I explained earlier, they were anything but human."
 
 Something cold againt her leg.
 
 "Just look. I have evidence right here. I did not keep the axe but as I am sure you can imagine, beheading someone is not exactly a clean procedure."
 
 She removed her coat and hung it over a nearby chair.
 The lower part of her left leg as well as the side of the coat had been pretty much soaked in thin blood.
 
 "Feel free to test it. I am certain that you will find my explanation credible. ...Adeptus."
 
 She said, defiantly. Correcting her manners through the haze of hatred for her former attackers and doing anything to show some form of dignity and condifence. Maybe not the wisest thing to do but right now she needed every ounce of confidence she could muster. She wouldn't let her decades of hard work be wasted by a blade across her neck over something as mundane as a Masquerade violation.
 She corrected her now broken sunglasses over her punctured eye and sat down on the chair, looking at Giles.
 Just by looking at him gave her a feeling that he wasn't exactly pleased. So what now? A batting on the nose like a lowly dog? Grounded like an unruly 16 year-old? Something worse? If she has still had working circulatory system she would have been sweating.                        

 

                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Killer39787726 on February 24, 2006, 09:15:00 PM
                But I don’t want to go among mad people, Alice remarked.
 Oh, you can’t help that, said the Cat. We’re all mad here. I’m mad. You’re mad.
 How do you know I’m mad? said Alice.
 You must be, said the Cat. Or you wouldn’t have come here.
 
 They pour a glass before me. Lead me not into temptation; for I can find it myself.
 I am not one to turn down a free drink, but who is to say he isn’t trying to pull a blood bound on me? Never trust someone that you don’t know when they call you a friend. And while you’re at it, be sure to don’t trust the ones you know either, just to be on the safe side.
 I already have a crazy bitch to worry about; I don’t need this nutjob also.
 
 Hell, screw it! I just have to avoid further drinks from this guy, right? Bottom’s up.
 
 Strong stuff. Good, I needed that.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Found your pet in the middle of a scrap between the primo and a bunch of walking-dead. You don’t mind if I keep the car for a while longer, right?â€?
 
 No reason to stick around. I just understood how Alice felt.
 I rise from my chair, ready to leave. Somehow I don’t believe it’s going to be that easy.
                       

 

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           Cant we all just get along?...No? Ok...then i will just rip your head off.    
                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Bloodreaper33413943 on February 25, 2006, 04:29:00 AM
                Marie stumbled into her apartment in a bad mood.  The meeting with Neil had gone totally wrong, she had been forced to take advantage of an innocent family to help herself, and to top things off, the slashes in her stomach were not closing.  In the past, she had been able to close wounds by concentrating on the afflicted area, but this wound stubbornly stayed open.  Marie was never a top student of anatomy, but she was pretty sure that wounds such as these should have blood pouring out of them.  But the wounds only produced a slow oozing of dark blood.  "I suppose it could be worse," she thought.  At least her guts weren't falling out.  She had left the car and the family in a Wal-Mart parking lot a couple blocks away.  She had placed the unconsious parents in the front seats and bid farewell to the terrified girls in the back seat.  She wished there was something she could have done about the bite marks in the mother's neck.  She had dabbed up the blood and attempted the cover the punctures with the woman's hair, but still felt slightly concerned.  She felt fairly sure that the girls wouldn't say anything to their parents.  The threat she had left them with would insure their silence.  When she had been that young, she would have cooperated totally with anything a fanged creature told her to do.
 
 Arinna stepped from the bathroom and stopped at the site of her.  Her mouth hung open as she focused her eyes on the blood soaking through the shirt that she had given Marie to wear.  Her mouth worked to form words, "Oh... Oh my... are you...should I..."
 
 Marie cut her ramblings off, "Just get some bandages and help me with this."  Arinna hurried into the bathroom and returned a few minutes later with a handful of disinfectents and gauze bandages.  Marie gritted her teeth and peeled the shirt off.  Arinna's hands shook as she prepared a cotton swab with alchohol and brought it to Marie's stomach.  Unfortunatly, her nerves got the best of her and her fingers momentarily slipped into the wound as she pressed to hard.  Marie's fangs shot down two inches and she hissed in pain at the frightened woman, who fell backwards and scuttled away in a type of crab walk.
 
 Marie clenched her teeth and willed herself to calm down.  She could feel a presence in the back of her mind urging her to rip Arinna apart and feast on her blood.  She let out a deep breath and felt her shoulders slump.  She probed at her teeth with her tongue and found that her fangs were still extended.  "Never mind," she snapped at Arinna, "just go into the bathroom and leave me alone for awhile.  I'll deal with these wounds."  Arinna quickly complied, standing and moving into the bathroom with a quick glance back at Marie.
 
 When she was gone, Marie began to unwrap the gauze.  She had only just begun she heard the door creak open.  She whirled around and saw Neil entering the room, sharp looking as ever in his armani suit.  She felt slightly self concious, standing there with nothing covering her top except a flimsy bra.  And since she hadn't had time to apply any bandages, her stomach still openly displayed the ugly slashes.  "Neil," she managed, trying to appear completly as ease, "Its good to see you.  I apologize for my choice of the last meeting place."                        

 

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           When the game is over, the king and the pawn go back in the same box    
                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Killer39787726 on February 25, 2006, 12:41:00 PM
                "Slow down there, pilgrim. My ghoul is bleeding all over a table and you tell me it's all because of a little scrap? Let's clear up some of those fuzzier details."
 
 Madness takes its toll.  Please have exact change.
 
 Hell. I close my eyes for a second, clench my teeth and force myself back into the chair.
 I better keep this as simple as possible, but no simpler.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“I stumbled on this shit by accident. The torrie primogen and fucking zombies trying to kill each other. Your guy was already there, I believe he drove too close to one of the undead juicebags. Next thing I know is that he was firing on them; he got shot by a sniperâ€?
 
 Only two things are infinite, the universe and human stupidity, and I'm not sure about the former.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“I couldn’t get a clear look at the sniper’s face, but all I can say is that he didn’t look like a zombieâ€?
 
 I take a short pause. The bar is closed by that time. I arrived at last call. There is no one left to wander about pale guys and blood.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“I…sell my services for the right price, and the primogen looked like she needed my expertise. I got them out of there, him and the torrie. She asked me to deliver your pet back to you.
 I have places to be. Unless you got something against it, id appreciate if I could keep the car for a little longer. Mine needs a visit to the shopâ€?
                       

 

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           Cant we all just get along?...No? Ok...then i will just rip your head off.    
                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] munchies.Trooper on February 25, 2006, 06:31:00 PM
                While Mike was sitting in the passenger side of the car he reached for the door handle, opened the door and walked around to the driver’s side of the car. Mike opened he door and sat down, turned the car on and pulled away from the curve at a fast rate of speed not paying any attention to the man who had just left the car. After a nice drive in the borrowed car Mike arrived at his temporary place to change and get a few supplies.
 
 Mike dressed himself in a fine suite that had a black coat, dark blue silk shirt, and black slacks with nice dress shoes that had a high gloss shine on them. After a quick glance in the mirror to make sure the 45’s and the knives were hidden and could not be seen though the coat and slacks Mike left for the first target. As the car was driving away from Mike’s place he looked over at on of the photo’s to see which one had Julian Massicus picture in it. Mike had a thought that Julian’s would be the first stop of the night. Mike looked at the address on the back of the photo and noticed that it was one of the twin’s, he thought to himself wondering if it would be that easy to be able to take out two of the three people in just one swoop.
 
 Mike stopped the car a few blocks away from the address listed on the print out. After focusing what Julian looked like Mike had his mask of a thousand faces up with a pretty good disguise of Julian Massicus , but the down side is that if the ghouls could see past it then it was going to be a miss and hit as Mike thought to himself again. The car door opened and Mike walked towards the address at a fast but normal pace.
 
 The town house was an off white color with teal trim; the door was made of solid oak with a glass window in the center of it. Mike knocked on the door and waited for the person to answer the door. See Mike had a habit of not caring for his targets names for the fact that they where going to end up dead and it made the job a little easier. The person inside finally came to the door it was on of the twins.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Julian this is an unexpected surprise I was not expected to see you until  a little laterâ€? said the person at the door.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“I am sorry for this but I have some important business that came up at the time I was going to meet with you. I hope this does not ruin any plans you may have had at this time?â€? Mike said thankfully his disguise held up.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“No, No not at all. Please come in my home is your home sir.â€? The man said.
 
 Mike walked thought the door into what looked like a living room, scanning the area to make sure the coast was clear before he pulled out his gun. After a quick scan of the room, Mike pulled his gun out before the person could turn around and with a quick pull of the trigger the first target was laying on the ground in a pool was his own blood on the title floor with a small hole his back and bigger in the front thanks to the hollow point ammo loaded in the gun. Mike looked around the house for the bullet when he heard a noise coming from the house. Mike thought to himself, could the other be here? Or was it just some cheap trick that this person had picked up for some sexual pleasure? Mike moved the body out of site with a quickness to be on the safe side and hide behind one of the sofas with the gun at the ready. A voice called out “Hey bro did I hear you say Julian was here?â€? Mike did not know what too think at this point and time, was the other twin here or could it be just a friend that this person had wanted to introduce to Julian? Mike got up and sat on one of the sofas and tucked the gun away so he could have easy access to it. Mike spoke to the voice “Yes I am here you bro went off to get some refreshments.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Oh Julian where you at?â€? the voice said.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Sitting on down in the living room, would you care to come join me?â€? Mike said.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Yes just give me a minute.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“I will be waitingâ€? Mike said back to the unknown person in the other room.
 
 After a minute the light in the living room came on and a person came out from the back of the town house. A man appeared in the living room that looked dead on like the man that he had just shot though the chest.  Mike thought it would be good to ask in around about way if this was the twin of the other man. “So what are you doing here I thought I was going to meet with you later?â€? Mike said.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“You where but my brother thought it would be easier to meet with you at the same time.â€? The man said.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“I see thank you.â€? Mike said.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“For what?â€? the man said questionably.
 
 With a fast movement Mike had pulled his gun out and had pulled the trigger hitting the man dead on in the throat. The mans body fell down to the floor squirting blood though the small hole in he front and pouring out the exit hole. Mike hoped that was all the people in the house, he got up off he sofa and moved the two dead bodies out to the trunk of the borrowed car and grab a small bag and went back to the house to clean up. As he walked though the house Mike found the first bullet hole in the wall just to the left of one of the sofas. He sat the bag down on the ground and opened the bag up and pulled a pair of pliers, dug the bullet out of the wall and dropped it in the bag. Mike pulled out a patch kit to make the wall look like it had never been shot at. Repeating the same process to the other hole in the wall Mike moved on to the pools of blood that where on tile floor and started to clean the mess. Mike left the house smelling of bleach and soap and went to the car.
 
  Looking at the other brothers address on the print out Mike was thinking that he should check the other house just make sure and to be on the safe side of things. After driving for about twenty minutes to get to the address, Mike walked up still disguised as Julian to the place. He noticed that a car was parked in the drive way and one had been driven off. He walked to the house and with the dead person keys in his hand he put the key that looked like the house one in the key hole, the key turned and the dead bolt went unsecured. Mike pushed the door open and went in side the house and looked around to see if any one was home. After going though the house and messages on the answering machine he figured out the other person at the first house was the brother, his brother had left him a message stating that the should meet with Julian at the same time so they could go and get drunk afterwards. Mike left the place and went back to the car to find his final target. As he was driving to the place he thought of a nice creative way to give proof of the kills so, he would have to pick up some boxes and some clear plastic bags.
 
 As the car drove away from the second address it became clear to Mike that this seemed a little too easy. Could there be some hidden motive behind sending him after these ghouls of Julian’s? Mike wondered if the person was pulling those kine’s strings or was that the point of this contract or for this particular assignment. Had they found out about his life as kine, could his once safe wife Jenny be in danger or worse have suffered the same fate as him? Mike made himself a vow that if something had happen to his wife he would kill every last person that was involved. In this moment the car seemed to pick up speed towards the last target.
 
 The last address given on the print was for an old abandoned warehouse which looks to be where guns, drugs or lots of other black market items could be moved with out anyone knowing differently. Mike stepped out of the vehicle and looked around the area; he only noticed one car so far. Mike thought a quick parameter sweep was in order to make sure the real Julian was still held up so he had the time to get the job finished. The sweep showed Mike that the one car was the only one there, but real Julian could be inside talking with the person as he sat there. Being careful and using the stealth training mixed with some good old assassinate stealth. Mike opened a near by window with out a sound and slide in with no problem. Moving as quickly and as silently as possible Mike checked every place he could to see if there where any signs of Julian, all he had come up with was one person standing alone tapping his foot and looking at his watch.
 
 Mike stealthily moved up behind the man with his knife in one hand, with a quick motion grabbed the man standing there and snapped his neck then drove the knife through the back side and through the rib cage into the man’s heart. Looking around Mike noticed that not a drop of blood had hit the ground with out dropping the limp body mike picked it up and made his way back to the window in which had came though in the first place. Slipping back out the window and getting the body out with out getting the blood on the window or the window sill was a bit tougher. After about five minutes of moving the body around Mike had gotten the body out and placed in the trunk of the car, doing another quick sweep and making sure the place was clean Mike pulled away at a faster than normal pace. Mike happened to glance up into the rear view mirror to notice an expensive looking car pulling into the parking lot at the warehouse; Mike let out a chuckle and continued to drive to his last place.
 
 Mike pulled out the photos  that the kine had given to him and double checked the faces to the photos, all of them matched up to a letter. Moving the bodies to the meat grinder in the old IBP meat packing planet was a little tougher. Even though the plant was not in use they still had security guards patrolling the grounds. Mike moved the empty boxes with the plastic lining under the meat the grinder and placed the first body into the machine. Stopping before the head was grinded he placed the first head down and did the same to the other to bodies. After Mike was done grinding the bodies into hamburger meat he placed the heads in the right boxes facing upwards so when you opened the box up the eyes where looking at you. Mike sealed the boxes and placed the photos on top of each box and moved them to the trunk of the car. He drove the car to the spot where the kine had told him to park and left a note on stirring wheel stating the proof of the kills was in the trunk, he left he keys in the glove box and dropped the disguise of Julian before exiting the car. Mike walked away from the car and hailed a taxi to head home before the sun had awakened as Mike liked to put it.
 
 As the taxi pulled away from the curb the driver asked Mike where he was heading Mike gave the driver a address two blocks away from his place, Mike figured he’d walk back just to make sure he was not being followed. Leaning back in the seat the driver flipped though the radio stations until a song called “Through Struggleâ€? came on by a band called As I lying dying was filling the car Mike just chuckled.
                       

 

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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    
                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Sodom40280831 on February 25, 2006, 07:44:00 PM
                “Well what’s done is done, no need for apologies.â€?
 
 While looking at Marie, Nail was forcing a smile which became much easier when he looked at the slashes on Marie’s stomach.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Those will close up eventually, although you should feed to speed up the healing processâ€?
 
 Nail lowered himself into the comfortable armchair standing against the wall and gestured towards the chair opposite to it. Marie sat down as Nail started the speech he had prepared on the way over.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“I can see you’ve been enjoying undeath, you seem a lot more confident than when we first met (although that may just be on the count of the lack of dirt on your face). Now I’ve got pleasant news and not-so-pleasant news, which one do you want first?â€?
 
 Nail went on before Marie even had a chance answer.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“The pleasant news is that this very week our fair city will be visited by two justicars (high ranking individuals in the Camarilla) who are coming here to crown a new prince. A prince watches over a city to make sure all kindred play by the rules of the Camarilla. Our old prince was unfortunately brought to final death in the war against the Sabbat. The most likely candidate for the job is the Ventrue primogen “Eric Rocherâ€?. He’s a good man, more than suited for the job. This little party is also going to be an opportunity for kindred new to the city to present themselves before the new prince. I think you can figure out where you come in. However…and this is where the not-so-pleasant news comes in, you’ll be doing a little more than just socializing.â€?
 
 Nail reached into his pocket, pulled out a small photograph of the Toreador primogen and handed it to Marie.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Her name is Isabel Caliori, she’s the primogen of clan Toreador in Cawford, she’s a very old and very powerful kindred.  However lately, there have been…rumours revolving around her which has led certain other high-ranking kindred in this city to start questioning her loyalty to the Camarilla. Us kindred always have to be on our toes for traitors and dangerous elements and we can not afford to have this woman acting behind our back.â€?  
 
 At this point Nail got out of his chair, stepped forward towards Marie, looked her square in the eyes and started giving the performance of his life as his voice turned so sweet it could make honey taste bitter.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Now all I…we’re asking is a simple favor. Put on your finest dress, go to the party, get acquainted with Caliori, earn her trust and try to find out if she’s hiding some skeletons in her closet. If she is, you report it right back to me with proof so we can eliminate a potential threat to the Camarilla. If she isn’t you will have made a very influential contact here in Cawford and the Camarilla will rest easy knowing they have nothing to worry about. A genuine win-win situation, wouldn’t you say?â€?    
                       

 

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           I'm so serious it's comical!    
                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Bloodreaper33413943 on March 15, 2006, 02:10:00 AM
                Marie took this information in for a moment.  This was exactly what she had been looking for.  A chance to meet others of her kind, if only to feel like she wasn't the only undead freak around in the night.  And just mabey, she could find kinship with others of the "Toreador" bloodline.
 
 But... if she worked against this Isabel Calori, wouldn't she be ruining her best chance to join with others of her blood?  She quietly hoped that Ms. Calori was innocent of any wrong doing.  And if not... well she would cross that bridge when she came to it.  Right now, there were things she needed to know.
 
 "Alright, I'll do it.  but there are things I need to ask you about if you wouldn't mind."  She organized her thoughts before speaking again.  "First of all, is there a special procedure involved in this "presentation" to the prince?  Second, besides my own bloodline, what other bloodlines should I be aware of?  And finally, are there any social blunders I should be aware of avoiding?"
 
 She then sat on the bed and idly ran her index finger along the top gash on her stomach while awaiting Neil's answers.  She was pleased that she had purchsed that dress earlier.  It looked like it was going to come in handy.                        

 

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           When the game is over, the king and the pawn go back in the same box    
                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Sodom40280831 on March 18, 2006, 05:40:00 AM
                “Excellent!â€?
 
 Nail returned to his chair and sat down facing Marie. Despite a few early hick-ups, things were finally going according to plan.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Well there aren’t really any special procedures, just be polite, speak when you’re spoken to and suck up to the prince as much as possible. Now about the other bloodlines…first you have the Brujah clan, they’re mostly bikers, gangbangers, anarchists, y’know: “bitch, bitch, rebel, rebelâ€? that kind of thing. If you ask me they take themselves way too seriously, if one of them starts bitching about how “the manâ€? is keeping them down, just say how right he is and walk away. There’s also the Malkavians. Malkavians are… how do I put this nicely…they’re all insane, every last one of them no matter how normal they appear to be, thankfully there aren’t that many in Cawford. Then there’s the Ventrue, aristocrats, businessmen, basically the guys on top, they can be a bit stuck up but they get the job done so no complaints here. Now the guys you need to watch your back around are the Tremere. They call themselves a lot of things but I’ve got only one word to describe those guys: “cultâ€? and you’re not part of it so they won’t trust you and if you know what’s good for you, you won’t even think about trusting one of them. Last but not least is the Nosferatu. They’re…well you probably won’t be seeing much of them any way. As for social blunders…â€?
 
 Nail paused, he would have to be very careful about what he put in her head from now on. He thought carefully about what to say next before continuing.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“When you’re at the party it would be best if you didn’t mention my name to anyone. Caliori and me aren’t exactly friends you see. Other than that you just have to be your charming self and everything will work out fine. Trust me. Now just to remind you, tomorrow night I’m going to go out of town on Camarilla business so if you have anymore questions I urge you to ask them now.â€?    
                       

 

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           I'm so serious it's comical!    
                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Year_of_the_Scarab on March 28, 2006, 06:16:00 PM
                "I see. Very well, then. I expect a full report on my desk by the end of the week. Dismissed, Novicia." And that was it. All Giles had to offer before biding her goodnight with a smile and turning his attention back to whatever had occupied it before she came by. Well, that certainly was… odd. Not another question nor rebuke. Rebecka was standing in the hall with a mildly bewildered expression. What the hell?
 
 Elsewhere.
 
 The big picture. One should always keep the big picture in mind. Not even 24 hours ago she was furious about being omitted in the deal with the Giovanni, but now, returning from the meeting with her Sire which had unexpectedly led to her taking over Julian's responsibilities in Munroe, Sorana's mood was not much improved. She knew about the Justicars, which made her believe the task had been delegated to her not necessarily as a promotion. After all, she could be absent during almost the entirety of the elders' presence in Cawford. As she drove through the largely empty streets her thoughts trailed back to Rocher's office. She and Masscius were contacted by their Sire's people around 3 A.M. and none too happy about it. In fact, while Julian was the image of politeness on the surface, she had known him long enough to guess the call had come in a most unfortunate moment, which perversely cheered her up a bit. As soon as they were seated Rocher proceeded to lay out the happenings of the last few hours to them, the attempt on Isabel Caliori's unlife among the more interesting, in very a matter of fact way, as if he were explaining a problem of a purely academic nature. Indeed, having finished setting up the board, he took place in the large chair placed at half the length of the oak table at which's opposite ends she and Julian were seated and motioned for them to 'discuss' the problem.
 
 It didn't seem half as surreal as it may have, since Rocher reveled in testing them in such way. Confrontation and observation made a venture successful, or so he'd say, but Sorana long since came to the conclusion that he simply wanted a different perspective from time to time, and somehow, they would always take contrary positions even if the opinions they presented were often similar. At any rate they'd fallen into the familiar pattern very soon – Julian advised caution, as he would since it was his responsibility to bring the Munroe matter to a satisfactory outcome, while she was more for the direct approach and not jumping to conclusions about the Necromancers' involvement, which was the obvious position for her to take. After a few minutes of listening to them arguing in circles when most of the arguments were being countered, rephrased and repeated, Rocher thanked them both and after a brief exchange with Julian, details of which were unfamiliar to her but seemed to concern some local business, he'd "proposed" the switch of responsibilities. They were free to argue of course, but it seemed compliance was the best course to take at the moment and after Julian had readily, if a bit sourly, agreed, she could not back away.
 
 Then again, the big picture was nothing without the small pieces it consisted of. At times, only the immediate parts were relevant. She would see the larger frame in due time, for now there was a delegation to take care of. She solemnly refused herself a brief smile, just as she had refrained from giving Julian a triumphant look before leaving the building. Honestly.
 
 Elsewhere.
 
 "Say WHAT?!" Nail bellowed to the receiver. After ignoring the silly tune the machine was playing for a minute or two the ringing grew too irritating to bear. He was prepared to tear Hives a new one for calling him up every five minutes, however the voice on the other line was not Hives' but Don's. Apparently, the newest information on the upcoming Elysium came in and he'd been told to pass it to Nail when he got the chance, which he just did, three point five seconds ago to be exact.
 
 "I said, Mr. Yell Into My Ear And Get Me Deaf, that Rocher's moving the 'convention' to tomorrow night. Apparently the both the Justicars, uh, you knew Lucinde and Zagreb are coming, right? Well, they'll be in town by morning and things get sped up like that."
 
 Tomorrow. That left literally hours to prepare. He eyed the Toreador, who after his outburst still bore the wide-eyed expression of a deer caught in bright headlights, and decided there was no chance he'd explain everything to the girl. The whole vampire savoir-vivre was not exactly a thing you could fit in a pamphlet. They'd need to improvise and if she didn't go out of her way to act stupid, with some luck, no one would give her the third degree or outright flog her for being clueless… but wait, Don was still talking, what was that last part?
 
 "Huh?"
 
 "Yeah. You heard right, honcho. Bust out the tux, you got a personal invitation to 'tha party', hehehe. No, seriously now, I'm looking right at it. The Chief says this'll have something to do with the trip you're taking afterwards I believe, he'd been on the line with Rocher like twice an hour. Way I been told Rocher's girl is apparently getting all of you to meet with her at Bishop's Hill before most of the bigwigs arrive." Nail involuntarily let out a pained sigh, attending an Elysium, just what he needed. Don continued in a more serious tone "Something major's goin' down here, and between having Justicars in town and a Ventrue grabbing at the Big Seat that has to be some shit. Try to keep your head down. See ya."
 
 Elsewhere.
 
 Two floors beneath the very still at the late hour William & Shaw Research Center, preparations were long since done with. The "news" of the Justicar's early arrival was no news among the Tremere, though in fairness, none of the other clans were so tightly organized or maintained such extensive contact between individual cities and strongholds. As such, while all around the city moderate chaos was either about to, or already breaking loose, Regentia Johnston had plenty of time to kill by idly playing with an elaborate silver paperweight while listening to the current report.
 
 "…after, Halstrom's party will rendezvous with the Ambassador and his envoy at the Franklin Airport in forty minutes and, assuming there are no delays due to traffic, escort him back here within the hour." the Novice sent to report by Vielacados continued "The chambers are prepared, as are the wards, so that an unfamiliar presence will not accidentally set them of. As usual, additional guard will be posted during the period of lowered security systems alertness. Attuning the wards to the Ambassador's envoy's resonance should take approximately ten to fifteen minutes, after which the system will recognize her as an apprentice with an aleph-level clearance, despite her being of non Clan blood. The honored Ambassador…"
 
 "Will only be in town for two nights and should not occupy all of our attention, with so much happening at the same time." Johnston interjected absentmindedly. She knew the progress of the preparations back to back, and had neither the time nor the patience to hear about it yet again. Besides, making too big of a deal of the Justicar's visit only served to disrupt the order at the chantry and the apprentices' own work "Current matters."
 
 "Yes, Regentia." if the Novice was surprised at the change of course, he showed no sign of it, and with the turn of a page in the printout before him he proceeded to relay the reports of ongoing researches and investigations, which took several minutes before one particular report came up "Also, a possible outbreak of a blood plague has been averted by one of the Second Circle Novices. Full report to be approved by Adeptus Giles within the week." this picked the Regentia's interest, she didn't recall hearing about it up until now.
 
 "A Kindred-born plague in the city? Who is overseeing the research? Details."
 
 "Uh, no one, Regentia. There was no research of this. That is, no research as there hadn't been any reports of a possible plague breakout until now, Novicia Stein acted out of her own initiative in following the trail as well as in verifying the evidence. The presumable plaguebearers have been destroyed in the process." the Apprentice replied a tad hesitantly after briefly shuffling through the small stack of documents he was holding.
 
 "Oh?" Johnston thought about this for a moment "How… perceptive of the Novicia."
 
 Elsewhere.
 
 The mention of zombies made Bitterman pause. If what Caliori's guy said was true, though he said to be new to this himself, which lent him a bit more credibility (assuming this wasn't a lie in the first place) than the regular flunky would get, then that information shed a new light on the situation. Up until now he'd considered two possible outcome of the trip he had been enlisted for: a) make a few acquaintances among the Giovanni and gain a few contacts or b) make a few acquaintances among the Giovanni and lose a limb or two. Business was business though and there were always risks, so that was fine and well. But now it seemed he could be stepping into, what, an all out war? Cus a friendly pat on the shoulder this wasn't.
 
 The Malk had fallen silent and a voice in the back of Jake's head wondered if he was still in the room or traveling The Great Beyond or something, but he refrained from waving his hand in front of the other vampire's face, for now at least. He noticed a pretty Asian-looking girl enter through the back door silently and after a while she and the bartender lead ghoul he'd delivered earlier out. Actually "dragged" was more like it, since he was barely making progress on his own. That left him with the Malkavian in the now empty bar. The back door was closed, but not locked – he made a mental not of that as he put his glass down. Just in case.
 
 The sound of the glass on the table brought Bitterman to here and now. Rowdy would need attention and blood or perhaps an ambulance, as a ghoul couldn't heal as much as an all out Lick purely by burning the red stuff. Either way, Star and Mal could probably use a hand with him. After all, he still had some explaining to do, and by the looks of it, the hired muscle was anxious to leave.
 
 Elsewhere.
 
 "Novicia Stein, Rebecka." apparently was a bit of a loner, at least per Clan standards, and seemed to prefer it that way. She wasn't the most gifted magician among the chantry's practitioners, not yet having passed the second circle of novitiate, but was gifted with an inquisitive nature and talents complimenting it. So, uncharacteristically independent though loyal as the next Tremere. Most of all however, she seemed to make others slightly uneasy at times, not uncomfortable, but just enough on edge to make a mistake.
 The call from Rocher's Childe had been relayed to the Regentia earlier. She still hadn't decided on a 'representative' until now, but she had just had an idea.
 
 Not ten minutes later was Initiate of the Third circle Gruen heading to Rebecka's quarters, brandishing a small, sigil marked folder and scant instructions.                        

 

                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Skinweaver on March 30, 2006, 08:29:00 AM
                In Reply To #90
 
 No punishments? No condesending comments or negative treatment at all? This was all very confusing and Rebecka had no idea what to think about it. Some part of her was almost disappointed while the rest of her being sighed in relief. She looked at her reflection in the mirror in disbelief almost as if what she saw wasn't real. She had certainly slipped off the hook easily this time but that little voice inside her head kept telling her that she would be punished in due time in one way or another.
 
 The report, yes. She had started on it but the further she got into describing the earlier events the more it all felt like a bad movie. Still, a report was expected and should be completed as soon as possible. The exact accounts of the events were thrown together in a reasonably understandable paragraph while the rest was to be a more detailed account on exactly what she had been doing in the first place. Scientific mumbo-jumbo and after a few minuted she decided to simply copy her notes from the notebook to save time. She saved the halfway done report into a simple document and transfered it to a memory stick that she slipped into her pocket. Those slippery, fithy Nosferatu, vermin among vermin wouldn't get to her files! Not now, not ever!
 
 Despite the lack of reason behind it, Rebecka sighed and looked at the computer screen, leaning back in the office chair. No desktop image.  After a few minutes when the screensaver kicked in with it's scrolling image of the Code she reached down for her handbag and placed it on the table, pulling out a few tubes and the notebook.
 For a few week now, she had been working on a theory. The Ventrue seemed to be unusually selective in their feeding habits unlike most other Kindred. Except for the occational guilt stricken, self righteous Toreador who would feed excusively on rats, the Venture appeared to be the only Kinderd with forced feeding habits. She knew of at least two locals who fed only on the rich while another seemed to be disturbingly drawn to callgirls.
 There had to be a reason. The curse of vampirism had left many, many questions in Rebecka's mind but she still tried to find a reasonable, scientific explanation to most of the phenomena she encountered. Exept for Thaumathurgy, of course. She regarded that gift as a supernatural thing even though she did her best to rationalise even that.
 
 "Vial B12. Subject K-V2. Anderson."
 
 She said to herself. The code was relatively simple with B12 being a numeric mark to keep track of the vials in the shelf while V refered to the owner's lineage. Ventrue. Subject two with K being Kindred.
 The hows and wheres of such a sample was best left untold and at this point she could hardly remember where exactly she had gotten it. Still, it was there and she might as well conduct the experiment before the sample would become stale. Rebecka opened the vial and emptied most of it's contents into a beaker before starting to heat it with a simple lighter. When the first trace of steam started to rise from the beaker she reached for another vial.
 
 "Vial B13. Subject V-H1. Bearded male."
 
 Subject Vermin, Human-1. Simple. The remaining blood of one of the many homeless she had been testing in her investigation concerning those disgusting creatures that tried to kill her. Carefully, she pored the contents into the beaker, expecting the two kinds of blood to separate themselves from one another like oil and water.
 Nothing. Absolutely nothing. While she was frustrated at losing a valuable sample she remained calm.
 So it wasn't due to a chemical imbalance in the Ventrue blood. Then what was it? Genetical? It couldn't be predatory like a lion looking for a wounded gazelle to feed on because she had seen Venture feed on both lowborn and the more prominent vermin. That ruled out a psychological desire to live up to a predatory nature. Then again, such a trait would be more common among the Gangrel if anything...
 
 What of Diablerie? She knew of the practice since the Sabbat invasion where many had fallen to that very manner of execution. Filthy beasts. But what exactly would happen?
 Was it a biological process that aided the Kindred's individual evolution or something else? Only one way to find out. At this point she was getting tired as the strain of recent events caught up on her but she still felt that this had to be done. The slight discoloration of the heated sample made it obviuos that it was now useless and she disposed of it quickly. There was still some left of subject K-V2 in the old vial and she repeated the process, heating it up to the right temperature.
 In deep thought and concentration, she reached for a clean scalpel on the nearby shelf and let it glide across her index finger. One, two, three drops into the heated vial and stir.
 
 A few minutes later, she was checking the mixed sample under a microscope, trying to detect any anomilies.
 Of course, nothing had happened. Naturally, it had to be the fault of that disgusting human she had forced herself on earlier. His blood had been tainted and not processed correctly through her system. It had to be!
 Disgusting vermin... she should feed more selectively. Purer blood. The prominent vermin probably had better quality. She would have to test it in some coming night.                        

 

                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Year_of_the_Scarab on March 31, 2006, 12:34:00 PM
                Knock, knock.
 
 "Good Evening, Rebecka. How does the night find you?" a particularly cheerful Johan Gruen greeted her in the door to her chambers. As an apprentice of corresponding circle of novitiate he was allowed to use her actual name instead of her station without a breach of decorum, although she couldn't really recall them switching to first name basis, especially since they've barely even spoken twice during the last, oh, decade or so.
 
 "Busy as always, I see. I trust I am not interrupting anything too delicate?" he said after having invited himself, leaving her standing in the doorway uttering a greeting. She cast a helpless glance at her work, completely exposed on her workplace and suddenly she fought down the irrational urge to throw something over it to conceal it. Instead she mustered whatever self control she could spare and spoke flatly
 
 "No, not at all. Can I, ah, help you with anything?"
 
 "No social call, I'm afraid." he said while bringing the folder to eye level. That got her attention; correspondence marked with the Regentia's personal sigil had that effect. While the chantry had been in preparations for the Justicar's arrival she had hoped her last nights escapade wouldn't draw much notice, and after the brief conversation with the Adeptus barely an hour ago, it even seemed it may be completely forgotten, so a personal reprimand now was a bit surprising. But wait, what was Gruen saying?
 
 "I'm to go where?" she asked a bit incredously
 
 "Do try to pay attention," Gruen laughed "no wonder the younger novices fail every second rite. You have the attention span of an infant. Oh, I'm jesting. Let me start from the beginning." he said as he handed her the folder and made himself comfortable in one of the few chairs standing around "You are of course aware of the situation with the Giovanni. Last night the Primogen assembly decided, unanimously, that this must be resolved. Under the guidance of Eric Rocher's Childe, several Camarilla representatives are to negotiate the details of the arrangement with the Munroe branch of the family. House Tremere volunteered to see that there are no mystical influences, from a third party of course, jeopardizing the flow of the negotiations. Your recent success earned you the honor."
 
 A long pause followed. Gruen cleared his throat. Twice.
 
 "From what I know, the delegation is leaving tomorrow night, right after the official part of the Elysium has been concluded." Rebecka forced herself not to let the confusion show on her face. Elysium? Tomorrow? Since when? She'd probably have more knowledge of this if she hadn't spent the last day tied up in a goddamned cellar, but sure, what the hell "Now, you are to attend tomorrow's proceedings somewhat earlier, so that you and the other individuals can meet with the effective leader of this delegation." Rebecka's eyebrow rose involuntarily at the mention of 'others', but Gruen just shrugged
 
 "All in the briefing, I'm guessing."                        

 

                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Sodom40280831 on April 03, 2006, 11:34:00 AM
                Nail wasn’t expecting he would have to attend the party. After thinking it over he decided it would probably be for the best if he just went as himself rather than Neil. Being two people at the same time would be too much of a bother and he would still be able to keep an eye on Marie and maybe help out if anything went wrong. Besides, when a large portion of the guests consisted of auspex-users, obfuscate would be nigh useless. He turned to Marie who was still a little surprised from his sudden outburst at the phone.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Sorry about that. Last few nights have been a little rough. Y’know, no rest for the wicked and all tha…..â€?
 
 His frustration was starting to get to him. Right before he could finish his sentence he lost concentration and for a brief moment his voice went from a fake, smooth one to his usual Nosferatu voice. He barely managed to cover it up by pretending to clear his throat.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Huuugh, uuugh, hmmm…..sorry about that. Got a little…anyway the party has been scheduled for tomorrow night. Now I may not be able to attend but someone will be watching your back should anything happen so don’t you worry your pretty little head. I think I should go now. Its getting late and I still have a few more things to take care of. Ciao.â€?
 
 As he exited the building Nail looked around him. There wasn’t a soul on the street. It was far too cold and late for any kine to still be out. He stood for a moment muttering a few complaints to himself. He didn’t notice a hand coming from a manhole he was standing right next to and before he knew it Nail was violently grabbed by his ankle and dragged down into the sewer.
 
 When he got his orientation back, Nail saw Hives’ smirking face looking right at him.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“THAT was for yelling at me over the phone! You could show me a little more appreciation after I’ve been out all night gathering info for our little project.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Hives I’ve had a hell of a night so just tell me if you found out anything useful.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Apart from what I’ve already told you? Not really. I heard Rocher’s kid “Julianâ€? is tearing up the black market looking for some unfortunate asshole who scammed him out of some arms deal.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Yeah I heard about that from Don. And as if I don’t have enough to worry about I have to go to that party tomorrow. Marie will also be attending.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“You think our girl’s ready?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Well she had better be! I absolutely refuse to spend one more moment showing that girl where her fangs are. Besides, she’s not a complete simpleton. She’ll be just fine. I’ll make sure of it. Now lets get back to the warrens, I need some rest.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“I heard that man.â€?
                       

 

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           I'm so serious it's comical!    
                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Grendel8101 on April 03, 2006, 07:30:00 PM
                “Thanks for the delivery.  You ever need work, or maybe a favor, here’s my number.â€?  I gave the Lick a Charlie’s Tavern business card and a hundred dollar bill.
 
 I watched the vampire walk out, studying him.  Might be useful as hired muscle sometime.  Not much else going for the guy.  I’d been thinking about asking him to watch over the exchange tonight, beings as Rowdy was out of commission, but I wasn’t sure about the new blood yet.  He was working for Caliori, and he acted a little like a cop; you never can tell how much these fledglings are going to hold on to in their new life.  
 
 Like, you know, not going crazy and slaughtering a family.  I winced at that memory and massaged the bridge of my nose.  I always knew I was delusional, but being a psychotic murderer was a whole new breed of dog.  What was really bothering me was whether I was acting out an old memory by starting the house on fire, or if there was something else that recognized the need to get rid of evidence, some other consciousness that had been controlling me.  Jesus.  Which one should I prefer?
 
 And I’d fallen off the wagon.  Again.  Not as bad as before, but bad.  Shit, one step forward, and a fall down the stairs back.  And my clothes smelled like smoke.
 
 I opened my eyes.  Best way to handle everything was to get back to business.
 
 I emptied the glass and headed out back, through the garage, wincing at the scratch on my car.  It would buff out, I realized after running my hands over it.  Sorry, baby.  
 
 Mal and Star were loading Rowdy into a car.  He was really beat to shit.  I looked him over good.  He’d live.  I looked at my ghouls.  Ã¢â‚¬Å“Don’t take him anywhere, I don’t want anybody to see him and ask the right questions.â€?
 I grabbed Rowdy and slung him over my shoulder.  Star looked ready to protest, but thought better of it.  I glanced at Mal as I headed back to the bar.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“You take care of that thing?â€? I asked.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Yeah, there’s a load of new Impala parts down at Dusty’s salvage yard.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Good.  Call up the crew and get them to the warehouse, we got a business deal needs doing before dawn, and we’re running late.â€?  Mal nodded and went towards the phone.
 
 I headed up the stairs, set Rowdy down on the couch and went to change clothes while Star bandaged Rowdy up.  The smell of my clothes was bugging the shit out of me.
 
 I was a little less tense without the reek.  For the sake of business, I put on my gray gangster suit.  I don’t like dressing up, but some business meetings you have to act the part.  I grabbed my Kimber .45 and slipped the holster on my belt.  Star was twirling a little Glock I’d never seen before around her finger and practicing cowboy moves.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Knock it off,â€? I growled.  I have no tolerance for that Hollywood gunplay shit.  Star’s a decent shot, but she’s not smart enough to know that you don’t fuck around with a loaded gun.  She’d shot Rowdy once doing that, claiming it was an accident.  I didn’t know what the truth of the matter was, but I noticed he didn‘t slap her ass anymore.
 
 We trucked downstairs.  Ã¢â‚¬Å“Everything ready to go?â€? I asked Mal.  He nodded.  He had put on his hired thug suit, black with a black tie.  If he had a radio in his ear he would look like a Secret Service agent.  But the little details, the gold rings and the hint of a tattoo on his hand was the thing that separated gangster thugs from government thugs.
 
 Mal drove a black BMW that we used to ferry me on these occasions.  I like to drive my own car, but the first thing thugs see is status, and if I show up being chauffeured around by a big guy in a black suit with a hot little Asian thing on my arm, everyone sees that I’m high on the totem pole, even if I’m not really that high.  It’s all about appearances.
 
 _________________________________________________________________
 My guys and Eugene’s guys were waiting at the warehouse, everyone staring at each other from opposite sides, most casually smoking cigarettes, chatting each other up.  
 
 I let Mal open the door for me and I got out.  Star got out and leaned against the car, catching approving looks from basically everyone but me and Eugene.  I wondered if he batted for the other team.
 
 I strolled up to Eugene and took his hand.  He had a limp-handed clasp and baby-soft hands.  Yeah, he was gay.  He nodded towards Star.  Ã¢â‚¬Å“You bring your woman with you on business deals?â€? he snorted.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“She’s like a lucky rabbit’s-foot.â€? I replied.  Ã¢â‚¬Å“Except she rubs me, instead of the other way around.â€?  Eugene smiled thinly.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Let’s see what you got.â€?  I continued.  He made a hand signal and the backs of several vans opened up.  I looked everything over, the crates were full with all that I had ordered from Julian.  The Ventrue was probably choking someone to death right now.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Excellent.  Let’s say we get this wrapped up and get out of this weather, how about it?â€? I asked.  Eugene nodded.
 Star opened the trunk and carried over two briefcases filled with cash.  Eugene counted it briskly, looking for fake money or smaller bills.  Then he nodded to his people.
 
 My crew started packing the crates into a few vans and other, less conspicuous vehicles.
 
 I relaxed a little, letting some tension go.  Tonight I get the deal done, tomorrow I meet the Giovanni.  Busy couple of days.                        

 

                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Skinweaver on April 04, 2006, 06:30:00 AM
               
 (under reconstruction due to me being a dumbass)                        

 

                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] munchies.Trooper on April 04, 2006, 02:45:00 PM
                When the taxi pulls to a stop, Mike gets out of the taxi and pays the driver for his time with a twenty dollar tip and tell the man to have a good evening. As the nights sky to fade away Mike goes down into the basement of the building in which he is staying and prepares for the next night before he is dead to the world at dawn.                        

 

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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    
                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Year_of_the_Scarab on April 05, 2006, 06:42:00 PM
                Star was making a show of being insulted. Bitterman had unceremoniously told her to shut up a few blocks ago as he was trying to concentrate. Her act went unnoticed however, as the Malkavian was staring at the passing streetlights, deep in thought. Mal had waited with the news until after the deal had been made, which was probably a wise thing to do, but it still pissed Bitterman off a bit. Regardless, he had expected to hear something about an Elysium soon anyway, but not that soon, and certainly not to actually be officially invited. An Elysium was an open affair, every Kindred was expected to attend anyway, but an invitation meant he had to go now. Well, that, and the fact that this was directly connected to the Munroe thing. Some concrete details on that escapade would be a welcome change, and apparently it was Eric Rocher's Childe, of all people, who would provide them.
 
 Rocher's other Childe, that is.
 
 It was times like this that when the belief in coincidences was really hard to maintain. He just made a deal with the people who crossed Julian Massicus, progeny of Eric Rocher, soon-to-be Camarilla Prince of Cawford Eric Rocher, and already he had an appointment with Rocher's other kid, Sorana Patillo, scheduled for the very next night.
 
 By the time they got back to Charlie's, Rowdy had recovered enough to talk. The bullet he got shot with packed a punch, as it was obviously meant to take down Kindred, but he got lucky as it went right through before splintering. He still looked like shit though; head and chest bandaged after Star had tacked up the cut on his forehead, and Bitterman had again told him so, just so that they were clear. He meant to retire for the day, but there was still the question of how Rowdy got into that shit earlier. They were sitting in one of the rooms above the bar, as the ghoul was in no condition to get back to his place.
 
 "…I dunno, I though they were vamps first. Didn't get a good look, though, it's still fuzzy." he finished relating his version of the skirmish. He couldn't really explain his sudden chivalrous impulse to risk his neck for the Toreador but from what he'd said, Bitterman already had a good idea of what had happened to him, or at least why he got involved in any of it. The so called 'artistes' used people just as the average Kine could use a gun. Hell, he'd do it himself. But to someone of Caliori's aptitude this probably came as instinctive as blinking. Rowdy wasn't sure why he'd taken that street. It may have been coincidence. It may have been manipulation. But no one would know for sure, so Bitterman discarded that thought. There was something else
 
 "Yeah, anyway like I said, I went to see that lizard eyed bastard downtown, right?" Rowdy picked up "Their people had been following Massicus' case, and he wrote he had some new info. I got no clue how they got onto that, but… Eh, boss, this business is way messed up." he rubbed the side of his neck, presumably still sore after connecting with the door frame after the gunman took him down. Bitterman motioned for him to explain "So, you know that Massicus' pet girl got her club right down the street here. They get some weird customers from time to time, but usually they just get those goth kids achin' to hang around a bad-rep place. Some gangbangers, some junkies, some regular folks. A couple of ghouls get their kicks on the weekends mixed in between, pretty much it. So anyways, I know the girls who work there, and one of 'em is Massicus' girl's girl. Think she, uh, 'turned' her a few months back and now she's been her shadow ever since. Plaything never two steps away from mommy, always strapped. Well, the guy from downtown, I think they call him "snake eyes" or something like that, got pictures from where Massicus' deal was set up. Hush-hush stuff."
 
 Bitterman could already tell where this was going. The Toreador's name was Belle-something, and it was a known fact she was the Ventrue's pet. He'd never personally spoken with her, even though her club was just around the block. Her place's clientele had nothing to do with his place's clientele; the people he did business with did no business with her and vice versa. And now, apparently, her Childe had hijacked Julian's fucking guns. The probability of her working alone, without this Belle's knowledge and consent was so slim, it was ridiculous. It made perfect sense. How hard was it for the Torrie to get Julian's plans? She wouldn't even need to bribe his people, just crank up the Presence so they believe her, then feed them some bullshit story about new orders or whatever. This would be hilarious, if it wasn't so serious. She had her goddamned club on the same goddamned street. From Julian's perspective this would look like a likely scenario – his Torrie "companion" and his Malkavian "business partner" shoulder him out of a deal. Bitterman groaned.
 
 "You said it." Rowdy chuckled "Wait, though, there's more. I got a list from Ugly, of people who asked the same questions I did or asked about who asked. A long goddamned list for a deal that went down not 24 hours ago, I'll tell you that. If what the sewer freaks put together is true, there are two separate investigations from the Ventrue's circles. One is Massicus, this is a no-brainer. Way over my head here, but it looks as if someone high up in 'Rocher Family Inc.' is sabotaging Massicus' people in finding this shit out." Bitterman frowned. Rowdy knew much of this. Much. It was good that the ghoul had his sources, but if there was a lesson here, it was to keep an eye on your people. He had already been manipulated into doing another vampire's work not even four hours ago after all. But that was a headache for another time.                        

 

                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Killer39787726 on April 07, 2006, 12:32:00 AM
                I walk out of the back door, pocket the hundred bill and check the business card. Work for a malkavian, riiight! Not a chance in hell. It creeps me out when I am supposed to be the sane one.
 
 So why didn’t I threw the card away? I could say because cash was short. I didn’t know the answer.
 
 I get into the car and fire up a smoke. The cold wind follows me through the broken window. Need to find a mechanic for my ride, I know this isn’t going to be cheap. Inflation hasn't ruined everything.  A dime can still be used as a screwdriver.
 Sure I could just steal the cash, rob a bank. But when you are a murderer that’s supposed to be dead, getting yourself noted isn’t a smart thing to do. I take the time to check my beretta’s. Looks like I am a bit short on bullets. I make some quick shopping before the night is over.
 
 Back at the hotel when I close my eyes, they are all there, dead as always, waiting patiently for me. I don’t feel any sorrow, pain or judgment from them. They never say one word, just give me those blank stares.  I don’t really know if I am haunted, or if it’s just some creation of my twisted mind. Maybe it’s my destiny, my karma, whatever…
 
 The average guy will tell you that killing the criminals isn’t the way. Well, he is wrong, or lying. Each one dead, is one less on the streets. In truth the average guy won’t give a crap about what’s done as long as it is done. And as long as he can sleep at night with a clear conscience knowing that it wasn’t him that done such a terrible thing.
 
 I was a cop, one of the good guys. I’ve been on the force as far I can…could remember.
 It all started with this small-time drug bust, and ended blowing up into the biggest case anyone in the department had ever seem. It lead to people no one expected, people no one even knew that existed. The big-time mafioso’s.  Drug dealers, killers, sadists of the worst kind.
 
 One may believe I enjoy the killing and all those nasty things. I don’t. Just because I’m good at it, doesn’t mean I have to like it. It’s messy and dirty, ugly.
 I’ve seem a lot of shit happen to a lot of good and innocent people. A young officer died on that bust. I remember telling his fiancé that I would trade places with him if I could, but deep down I was thinking ‘better him than me’. Survival instinct. I don’t know if that makes me a bad person, but if surely didn’t make me any better.
 
 My partner wanted me to take it easy. Those weren’t our day-to-day bad guy variety.
 I didn’t listen, I wouldn’t stop. So close to the top of the food chain that I couldn’t turn back. When I couldn’t find any evidence, I planted it myself. Evil when we are in its power is not felt as evil but as a necessity, or even a duty.
 
 That night when I came back home, I was late as usual. My wife would scream at me as always. I hadn’t been the perfect husband lately.
 
 I found the front door open, someone had broke into my house. Back then I didn’t felt fear, I was untouchable. It was just some small-time mugger that would regret the day he broke into a cop’s house. I took out the old .45 and entered. I didn’t find any mugger, all I found was my wife. Dead. Execution style, one shot to the back of the head. Lying next to my baby girl. If I was on time, I could have saved them.
 
 It was my family. My wife…my baby. It was my fault, a descent into madness.
 
 I went back into the streets, pressuring the low-lives for information, anyone that I could get my hands on. And when they wouldn’t talk anymore, id kill.
 I didn’t want just to get even, I got mad. It wasn’t about justice anymore. It was revenge.
 
 No escape. No surrender. No mercy. I had to kill every last rat bastard of them. Every last of them. Not because they deserved it. Not because it would make the world a better place.
 Mine wasn't the most original approach to the problem: An eye for an eye, the oldest principle of revenge. Old as dirt, still going strong.
 
 I got close to the bastards. Some old, foreign mob family with a difficulty name. They were the ones I was after all along. But they had to wait. I was set on the killer. And them I discovered his name. Damned bastard. The corruption had reached him. When his wife left him, I welcomed the son of a bitch on my house, with open arms. When he pocketed money from the drug bust, I kept my mouth shut. After all he was my friend, my partner.
 
 I went for him.  Found the bastard on his new house. A two stores house, well beyond a cop’s pay.  He didn’t see me until he turned on the lights of the second floor. He told me that they had threatened his life. That he had no choice. That it was my family or his. Deep down I think he believed that, it didn’t matter. I put five bullets on that bastard’s chest.
 
 I crossed the line.
 
 Just when I thought I had reached the deepest depths of horror, it suddenly got worse. How to turn off that small voice inside my head that started to whisper that I should be glad... that now, if not before, my actions were justifiable on any conceivable moral scale. That small voice proved, beyond any doubt, that I was damned.
 
 It wasn’t until he fell dead on the floor; it wasn’t until I saw the smoking gun in his hand, that I felt the bullet on my chest.
 
 Einstein was right, time is relative to the observer. When you’re looking down the barrel of a gun, time slows down. Your whole life flashes by in front of you, heartbreak and scars. Stay with it, and you can live a lifetime in that split second. I was going to die, but I wasn’t ready yet. I hadn’t finished. The bastards would walk away. It couldn’t finish that way.
 
 That’s when she came, maybe she was already there, I don’t know. The she-bitch, that sexy devil. She offered me a chance. She would give me the means to finish my revenge, but once I was done, I would be hers. All she requested was my unquestioned loyalty. I thought I was delusional, mad. I sold my soul for revenge.
 
 There is not enough forgiveness in the world for all I've done.
 
 Nostalgia isn't what it used to be.
                       

 

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           Cant we all just get along?...No? Ok...then i will just rip your head off.    
                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Skinweaver on April 13, 2006, 09:09:00 PM
                Absolutely fantastic.
 The punishment had come sooner than expected. Observation? Some kind of eldritch reconnisence? Fine. But a gathering under Elysium? As much as she hoped that the higher ups were kidding she knew the contrary. This was rediculous!
 
 "Unusually talkative tonight, are we, Gruen?"
 
 Before he could answer she dismissed his reply with a hand gesture, making it obvious that whatever excuse he might have for this sudden display of social activity, she just couldn't care less.
 She skimmed over the document for a moment and while the lack of information was unsettling, the mention of other individuals brought nothing but confusion.
 
 So there was this meeting with Rocher’s Childe. This Sorana. Not having met the creature before, this might be interesting. After that, Elysium. Hated Elysium where she would surely have to face these other individuals whoever they might be. Surely no Tremere and the other clans were all equally abominable. Then of course the meeting with the Giovanni. This part of the “missionâ€? unnerved her but it had to be done. She had to stay on guard in case that vile necrophiliac would dare try something. They were supposed to be neutral toward the Camarilla but you never know.
 
 Elysium. Playing alive just as the abominable gothpeople played dead. Upholding some false vestige of life, pretending to be one of... them... to deliver forced lines like a nervous actor with too much coffee in their system in some desperate attempt to pass oneself off as something that died decades ago. Trying to ascend one's own nature as a leech to the level of a rat. Disgusting.
 Gruen cleared his throat again, clearly uncomfortable in the presence of his clanmate.
 
 "There are a few things to consider, though. The Giovanni can be unpredictable but as long as you stay sharp I'm sure this little... mission won't prove too difficult?"
 
 Giovanni, yes. They were unsettling to say the least with their communion with the dead and disturbingly close knit organisation. Like a twisted, inbred reflection of her own Clan.
 She would have to be on her guard. Giving one of *them* the slightest ounce of trust could be her last mistake.
 
 Gruen kept talking nonsense, pretending to be calm while jokingly giving hints to her own obvious incompetence.
 To her, he could just as well have been a mannequin with a tape recorder glued to the back of it's head. IF he hadn't spoken to her in a decade, why should she listen to him now? It was obvious that he had nothing of value left to say and was just going on, trying to save his dignity.
 The document had a small note attached to it, reminding her of the basic rules of Elysium to avoid endangering the mission. Of course, she was expected to know all this already but some thoughtful clanmate had appearantly seen it fit to help her out for some reason.
 
 "All Kindred are expected to keep the Traditions and the Prince's Laws in mind while in an Elysium."
 
 Not a problem.
 Well, at least not for her. Fresh fledglings and the like wouldn't be so lucky... it could acturally be amusing to watch them make their mistakes at times.
 
 "The use of violence is prohibited within Elysium."
 
 "The carrying of weapons is allowed within Elysium. However, the laws of the mortal populace apply within Elysium, so illegal weaponry is not permitted, as Kindred will most likely have to pass through the mortal world to enter Elysium."
 
 Legal and illegal? These days a toenail clipper was considered a weapon! What to do... she could of course hide the testing knife somewhere in her clothes but maybe there would be metal detectors present? She had to think about this later.
 
 "The use of Disciplines that endanger the Masquerade is forbidden within Elysium."
 
 Ah, lovely. She could easily listen to the minds of the mortals that would surely accompany her fellow Kindred. That might provide some entertainment or at least a diversion from the drudgery of the social gathering.
 Any ghoul might be receptive to some more supernatural negotiation as well. At least with effort.
 Not to mention any possessions of his. Also, aurawatching never gets old. Spot the Diablerist.
 Fun for the whole family...
 
 "The destruction of art within an Elysium shall be a violation of Hospitality and dealt with appropriately."
 
 Not to mention upset any nearby Toreador. Bah. Self indulgent ratspawns all of them! Clinging to their vermin nature like even greater parasites than they already are.
 Disgusting creatures...
 And then the usual rules regarding smoking, cellphones and the like. How one should be mindful of the inexperienced and asocial. The drudgery of hopitality rules.
 
 Gruen kept talking, having passed the informative topics long ago, trying to seem like something of a teacher, telling her to be mindful of her place in the Pyramid and so on and so forth. Later moving on to a feeble attempt to seem social, talking about recent events in the chantry. The document was more important than that taperecorder-puppet.
 
 "Ten years, Gruen. I don't care."
 
 She finished reading the document and put it down next to her now ruined experiment.
 Wonderful. A social gathering. Aside from her duties she would have to engage in the primitive pack mentality of humanity and face her own ties to her own vermin nature. With a working set of organs she would have felt sick at the thought. This was worse than feeding!
 What to wear...                        

 

                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Year_of_the_Scarab on April 14, 2006, 02:54:00 PM
                "Pawns are insignificant, dispensable. Mere tools to the proficient player.
 But then, without a pawn in hand, the game is lost."
- Japanese proverb
 
 Matt Wright, employee of Primogen Rocher.
 
 "No, no, no. This goes in the east hall, right next to the stairs. No, gentlemen, I'm telling you to go in the exact opposite direction, you're either going to disassemble it and reconstruct it inside or double back and use the back door, it's wider. I don't want to hear it, thank you." Preparations were in full progress. Wright didn't know what had brought the change in plans, moving the 'celebration' to this night, or why the venture would take place at such an ungodly hour in the first place, but the reasons behind his employer's decisions weren't his concern. His main concern at the moment was directing the delivery service morons so that they cause the least damage to the packages. Preparing the mansion for an event of this scale would normally require at least two whole days, but he would work with what he had been provided and succeed, as always.
 Unexpected, but most welcome, help arrived in the person of Mrs. Ross, an elderly but energetic woman in the services of the mansion's owner, a 'Ms. Caliori', who however had yet to appear herself. Actually, from what Wright had been told, this Ms. Caliori would not be overseeing the preparations at all, which may have seemed odd, but again, wasn't his concern. With the assistance of her employee things were running smoothly, even if in a 'creative chaos' sort of way. There were of course other odd, uncommon requests to be met within and around the mansion, but he was a professional, and had Heard. It. All. so little caught him speechless. The matter of security, for instance, would be puzzling to some, as to why would a private event such as this require several dozen armed guards, a complete reroute of the (extensive to begin with) monitoring system and even, the absurdity, the presence of four gentlemen who insisted on calling themselves, without batting an eyelash, 'mages' of some sort. Magic, of course, why thank you, this way please. To his credit though, Wright hadn't so much as frowned on the 'magicians' and their procedures, as they... uh, 'worked' around the building and lent whatever help was required of him. It didn't bother him in the least seeing his decorators run back and forth with crates, pendulums and… ah, eye of newt! he supposed, but it did stretch the resources. Still, he was where he was not because of questioning odd requests, but because of carrying them out wordlessly.
 Now, in more technical terms, the whole middle and east wing of the lower floor had been effectively turned into a large, interconnected ballroom, with large matte glass panels dividing it into several smaller sections allowing private conversation, though none completely shielded from the vantage points located around the main area, from which an interested observer (which Wright guessed to be some part of the numerous security force, though he silently hoped no body-armor clad mercenaries would actually stalk about the interior, that would be beyond bad taste) could see into any of even the more secluded sections. The statues, which would flank the pillars, had not yet all been delivered, but from what was already there, a largely oriental pattern could be picked out, accentuated by the ornaments on the glass panels themselves. Whoever had designed the interior, Wright mused to himself, had good taste and a great imagination, even if a little bent on the demonic side of things. Well, no matter. There was still much to oversee, and his thoughts returned to the more mundane matters, as yet another dense delivery team tried to unhinge the front door.
 
 
 
 Yes, there was still much work. He sighed.
 
 Shane McCullough, assistant to Primogen Caliori.
 
 The building was a dump. Mismatched lightbulbs, broken windows, empty bottles and old newspapers littering the staircase. Mud on the floor and dried… something on the front door, and it went downhill from there. The district as a whole had a reputation for dirt, both in the actual and the metaphorical sense, and this place seemed to try hard to fit right in with the ambiance. McCullough checked the number on the door. Evidently that was the place, an uncharacteristic low rent apartment in an uncharacteristic run down building on an uncharacteristic backstreet. Good place to stay away from the fan should the shit hit it, he supposed, but having wasted several hours on finding the paranoid bastard's crib, he wasn't very fond of the dead asshole's choice. Obviously, not every vampire in the city could afford Caliori's grade living quarters, but to stay in such a dump? The doors could be kicked in by a sixty year old, and the whole structure would burn to the ground in a matter of minutes would someone place fires in strategic places… the vampire was either real stupid or real good, if he willingly chose this place for a haven. Or he didn't care, McCullough mused as he stepped over an unmoving body smelling heavily of cheap spirits lying on the stairs, many of them seemed not to.
 There were those of Caliori's blood, who as a general rule were still "alive", for lack of better word, on the inside. Others were not always so lucky. Some drowned in cynicism, some became mere animals devoid of any higher needs, and word was that some still fell even farther down, spending centuries in some sort of hibernation, the concept of which he didn't quite grasp… but that wasn't his job anyway. His job was to run errands, meet with people his employer could not be seen with, occasionally strong-arm a stubborn contact, things along that line. Currently, he was to deliver a message to a vampire who apparently was sleeping somewhere behind this door. That must've been a bitch, to instantly fall asleep as soon as the first rays of sunlight hit the windows, he smirked, imagining the oh-so-powerful undead dozing off in the middle of some official meeting or, heh, better yet, a fight to the death with one of those unholy Sabbat things... It was a silly thought, but that sort of thinking kept him from losing his mind between the parasites…
 He shook his head to clear his thoughts and reached under his jacket. The envelope bore no markings, and by the feel of it, there couldn't be much more than a folded card inside, but that was none of his business. Finding no other openings, he crouched down and with little effort slid the envelope under the door. This was probably for the best anyway, he decided making his way back to the car, as lying in front of the door the note would catch the vampire's eye quickest.
 
 
 
 Hopefully.
 
 Skull, ghoul to Reginald "Nail" Crow.
 
 The sun was already high when Skull forced his eyes open. Ouch. That hurt. He squeezed them back shut. Hangover, bad. It took several more minutes before he succeeded at opening his eyes wide enough to take in the surroundings. He lay without thinking for a while after that, mindlessly staring at the ceiling, until a noise he had registered a while ago finally found its way to the (relatively) active part of his brain. Breathing. He turned his head to the side it was coming from and sighed with relief at the sight of a woman. Not that he had ever woken up next to a man, that is, but with that much alcohol, you just never knew.
 Vague memories of last night rung a bell somewhere deep beneath the headache shyly. He wagered he could even recall the hooker's name with some effort. Or not, who cared. Judging by her breath, she had a drink or two or several dozen as well. Stumblingly, he got up and made his way towards what hopefully was the bathroom. Was this even his place, or hers? Uh…
 Half an hour later he entered the room again, a little fresher and just a little less hungover. He spoke to the hooker. The woman mumbled something in response and covered her head with the sheet, effectively pulling it from her legs. Scratching his head, he made his way to the kitchen, where hopefully something edible was to be found. And a beer wouldn't hurt right about now. She wasn't bad looking, he thought catching a glimpse of the hooker's exposed appendages, so that was a plus. Beer in the fridge! Thank the Lord for the small mercies. Actually, the woman was quite pretty, but what attracted him to her in the first place, he recalled vaguely, was because she resembled, uh, wasshername. The dead chick. Yeah, the one Nail had been taking care of. There was something about her, which Skull couldn't quite name (mostly because of a rather limited vocabulary), and when he saw… err, wasshername lying in the bed over here, well, yeah, things started happening. Thinking about this, he decided Nail shouldn't probably know about this, uh, thing he had for the dead chick. Nail had a habit of getting angry about little things. Well, not really mad, but he'd give him that look you give retarded kids, or smack him on the head. That sucked, Nail packed a punch. Of course, Nail was his friend. Skull didn't have many friends, not real ones at least anyway. Drinking buddies, drive-by buddies or beat-the-shit-outta-someone buddies, sure. But Nail had his back, even if he'd smack him around sometimes. Normal thing among friends, right? Err, ok, so he'd never dare to smack Nail in turn, but that was just because Nail was such a stand up guy, you know? Yeah, that was it. Exactly. Skull nodded to himself, satisfied with the conclusion. Now, where in the fuck were his boots?
 
 Casey Donnelly, secretary of Sorana Patillo.
 
 With the final entry, Casey could finally close the file and send it to Ms. Patillo. The information forwarded from Julian Massicus' office had proven detailed, the entries on members of the Giovanni family connected to Cawford in particular, and with her cross-references to non-family staffers native to the city, she was confident the report was as detailed and comprehensive as it could be. There were still blanks in several places, most dating several decades ago, at which a lot of information apparently had been destroyed in the aftermath of the Munroe affair, but her task didn't involve filling those in. Either way, most business arrangements between Cawford Kindred and the Giovanni of Munroe seemed to have been severed after the said date, though by far not every single one. While all enduring partnerships were not known to virtually anyone on either side, piecing all the puzzles allowed to verify the information provided, and single out the most important connections. This, Casey believed, could prove an important trump card in the upcoming negotiations.
 The second part of the report was focused more locally, on three Cawford Kindred, which according to what she had been told, were to accompany Ms. Patillo to Munroe this very evening, or this very night rather. Strangely enough, a rather detailed file on one Mr. Crow, currently going by the moniker of "Nail", had been provided by his own clanmates. Now, "detailed" was a very loose term when dealing with the so called "Sewer Rats" of Clan Nosferatu, but nevertheless, the information provided checked out, and allowed Casey to pursue the loose ends further, coming up with a wide personality file among others. Tracing the Kindred back to his living days had proven impossible at this point, though Casey believed that a indepth research could yield some promising results. This, however, wasn't required of her, not at this moment anyway.
 The information on the second Kindred, a Malkavian, has proved to be just as elusive initially, though not as interesting in the long run, per vampire standards anyway. With two legitimate businesses running, the vampire seemed to stay largely out of Kindred politics, the recent arms supply to Camarilla forces being the only notable exception to the rule. And while by no means 'clean' in the legal aspect, both establishments seemed to occupy Mr. Bitterman's attention most of the time. The largest difficulty had been establishing the Kindred's real name and birthplace, and while Casey hadn't succeeded in coming up with a hundred percent match, she did narrow it down to several most likely possibilities. Again, something to look further into in the future perhaps.
 The information on the Tremere had arrived in the morning; the warlocks didn't seem very interested in the matter despite inviting themselves to it in the first place. A little arrogance went a long way, as Ms. Patillo used to say. At any rate, what had been provided was enough for identification, but not much else – name, rank and photo, the essentials. Still, where Kindred were terribly proficient at getting rid of damning evidence, every so often, it was the most miniscule details that eluded them. And so, over the course of a few hours, she managed to not only match a mortal family to Ms. Stein, but also the most likely sire, date of embrace as well as a decent estimate of abilities, both natural and supernatural. And while she was certain most of the information she and selected others had worked on gathering wouldn't be given much thought, she felt the sense of accomplishment that would always come after a finished task. Living or unliving, the directors, supervisors and CEO's were only as efficient as their staff, and Casey was very efficient. If she could say so herself.
 
 Arinna Ryan, ghoul to Marie Bedeau. …"Ghoul"?
 
 This wasn't happening. She was staring at her own reflection in the bathroom mirror, searching her own eyes for some sanity in all this. The water was running, it had been running for the last twenty minutes. Or maybe the last hour, she couldn't tell. As the sun had risen, something gnawing at her thoughts had made its way to the surface. Mar… the girl in the next room was sleeping. So they had told her, that it was sleep.
 The sway, the… the effect she had on her seemed to lessen slightly, for whatever reason. When she wasn't in her immediate vicinity, she almost, almost didn't feel drawn to her. Especially since… earlier. She walked up to the girl, lying on the bed as if asleep, but she looked, just… not asleep, just dead. Pale, drawn. A corpse for all intents and purposes. For just a second, she imagined none of this had happened, that the girl had fed her some drug, slipped something in her drink or whatever, and that she was regaining her bearings just now. Everything since entering here and this moment a dream. But she couldn't quite convince herself. The truth was absurd, but too real to ignore. The implications of all that had happened, of what she was looking at and what she had become herself had struck home at that point, brought her back to reality. And she ran.
 She didn't get very far, true, but she did at least try, she had to grant herself that. The first instinct, not even conscious thought, was to run. Get away, put as much distance between herself and… her as possible. She had a life, family, friends… this nonsense didn't fit anywhere in it. This was a big city, millions of people in it, she… they couldn't possibly find her again. Or perhaps she would leave Cawford; her aunt lived in Milwaukee, she knew she could stay with her for a while. Either way she should run. So she ran. All the way to the front door, before she lost her resolve. The girl was mere feet away. What if… she needed her? If something happened to her, how would she… how could she continue with her day to day life without her? She couldn't leave. All would fall into place eventually, as long as she was with her.
 She tried running twice more that day, by the third time she didn't even touch the door knob. There was no way she would leave her. The door at her back, she sat down on the floor hugging her knees and waited for the dead to rise.
 
 John Bell, ghoul.
 
 They had picked up the car on the early morning. All was there as requested, the Assamite was good, one had to admit. They've verified everything before informing the higher ups of course, but it all checked out. Mr. Massicus' associates had disappeared late last night, no witnesses, no hassle, no loose ends. He lit a cigarette, leaning against the hood of the car. The passers by, scarce as they were, all had the sense to choose the opposite side of the street. A three piece suit, sunglasses and a foreign car didn't bring images of an upright businessman in this part of town.
 Dusk was approaching fast, the Assassin would probably show up sooner rather than later, question was only if he'd approach him right away (Bell was certain the vampire would recognize him, even if he did not) or take his own time for observation. With any luck, the former. He had things to do, and while the Assamite's fast and clean work earned him some respect from the ghoul, he had seen Methuselah's work and spoken to Primogen. One more undead predator wasn't going to faze him, much less waste his time on Elysium night. If it were up to him, he'd just leave the information at the agreed spot and if the Assassin didn't make it to it, then it would be his tough luck. She had decided otherwise though, and her wish was his order, as always.
 Actually, the fact that they would hold up their end of the bargain was a testimony to how proficient assasins the Assamites were. With any other clan, chances were he wouldn't be waiting for the killer with both his money and the promised information, or if he were, it could just as likely be with a scoped rifle on the roof of the next building. What with no witnesses whatsoever. Alas, this was not the case. A bargain struck with the Assamites was a bargain you'd be wise to honor, else, well, you might find yourself being the next target of your former employee.
 Either way, he'd better show up soon, Bell thought. His own preferences aside, it was in the vampire's own interest to receive the information he had for him early, as it may as well be rendered useless by the end of the night. Not to mention standing around in this snow wasn't exactly productive.
 
 Star and Mal, ghouls to Bitterman.
 
 "How bad?" Mals asked to the receiver, leaning on the counter and rubbing his temple
 
 "Bad." came Star's reply from the other end of the line. Something fizzled and crashed in the background, to which she cursed under her breath duly.
 
 "Someone probably already dialed 911 and we do not want cops there just yet." Mal continued after a moment "I'll call in some favors, but it'll take a while. Think you can keep The Law away for a while?"
 
 "Dunno. I'll see what I can do. The fire's out by now, and the Fire Dept. boys were called somewhere luckily, so we're rid of them for the moment. Once the cops realize just what we were selling they'll probably get real curious, I'm not sure my shirt is see-through enough to stall them for long." Star replied trying to sound cheery
 
 "Uhuh. I bet. Listen, Bitter should be up and about within the hour. He'll handle it somehow, if you buy him enough time. If you're feeling particularly lucky, you could try…" Mal begun but was interrupted
 
 "NO. No, I've only did it like once with any result, and I'm not eve sure that was me back there, or if it was some freaky coincidence." Star cut him off. They had talked about this a while ago and then never again. The way she was telling it, she started developing some of Bitterman's 'persuasion' talents, if in a very limited way. This had the side effect of burning all the vamp blood in her system, and Mal half suspected that this was why she didn't want to try, but this was no time for a discussion.
 
 "Ok, fine. Then unbutton and be real absorbing for a while, Bitter will need some time getting there." he said finally
 
 "I'll try. But, y'know, reportedly there's a big gay scene around guns, and on the force in particular. They may not be interested, think you could get here and…?" Now she was being silly and Mal hung up soon after.
 
 Claire Ross, employee of Primogen Caliori.
 
 The sun was setting and Claire took a moment to appraise the final product. Some decorations were still covered with protective foil, there was still some cleaning up to be done, but all in all - the mansion was well prepared. That Wright person, while largely an imbecile, did his job well enough, given the short time. Now, of course, after the work crews left, the final stages would be finished. All the supernatural safety measures would be activated, fresh blood would be delivered, everything that could not have been done while all the cattle moved about, oblivious to what they were so close to. Claire smiled a small, dignified smile.
 
                         

 

                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Killer39787726 on April 22, 2006, 09:28:00 PM
                Choose life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family. Choose a fucking big television. Choose washing machines, cars, compact disc players and electrical tin openers...and wonder who the fuck you are on a Sunday morning. Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing, spirit crushing game shows, stuffing junk food into your mouth. Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pushing your last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, fucked up brats you spawned to replace yourself. Choose a future. Choose life... But why would I want to do a thing like that?
 
 Awaken.
 
 I hear her voice and I am sure I smell her perfume. I open my eyes and look frantically around the room hoping to find her, to hear the baby crying on the next room.
 
 But off course they aren’t there. They are dead because I was too dense to see what was happening behind my back. I know the darkness that consumes men’s heart. That makes them cheat, lie, kill and perform all kind of nasty acts. We all have it inside ourselves; some just lack the right nudge. Mine was dying.
 
 Never be afraid to look deep down into the darkest depths of yourself where the light never reaches. But people don't want you to drink blood. They want you to drink Nescafe, preferable decaf.
 
 I seat on the bed and reach for a smoke. It’s a lousy room in a lousy part of a lousy town.
 My eyes catch a glimpse of something unfamiliar. An unmarked envelope, a single card inside. It makes me cringe. An Elysium she said. Great, a party. I hate parties.
 
 Caliori. I’d love her if I didn’t hate her.
 
 She had been playing my strings since last night and she had yet to show any sign of retribution for me saving her sorry ass. But sure, she had guts in treating me like that. I respected that, but hated at the same time.
 
 There are two theories to arguing with women. Neither one works.
 
 I get this uneasy filling. Probably something to do with all the almighty and powerful bloodsuckers that will be around. Like a midget on the urinol, I will have to be on my toes. What the brujah will say when she knows I am babysitting a bloody torrie? They never cared much for my side-jobs, but this was the big league.
 
 I take a smoke onto my lips and light it with the stolen lighter. Its one of those old, heavy ornamented lighters. There is an inscription on the side, ‘Forever’. Irony. I would have laughed, if I could have remembered how.
 
 ***
 
 Leave the room and push the drunkards out of the way.
 
 I get a rotten feeling on my stomach. Something just doesn’t feel right about this Elysium thing. As far as I am concerned, the big baddies are supposed to have there the best protection money can buy. So why the hell she wants me there? I’m sure there is more than it meets the eye. The walking dead and the Elysium, surely it’s all connected somehow. I’m just too stupid to figure it out just yet. And if the torrie is hiring me, and outsider, I bet she is scared even if she isn’t letting it show.
 
 I can’t see the big picture yet. It’s time to get that detective training to good use. Questioning the street trash won’t help and I’m in a hurry.
 Vampire sources were scarce. Caliori wasn’t talking. The creep from last night? The thought of that nutjob running a fratboy’s bar seemed shady at best. Searching the place would probably reveal drugs, black-market contraband or God knows what. Collecting evidence got old several deaths ago. I didn’t care anymore. But certainly hadn’t the luxury of following dead end insane lies a malkavian mind might feed me.
 The sewer rats seem like the best bet. They are not pretty to look at, but they always seem to have answers…for the right price.  
 
 I ask around a bit. Get something about an old decrepit house in the heart of Redbrock, a small mansion. They call it the old "Oakes house", or something like that named after the last family that lived there. Supposed to be used by the local Nosferatu as hang-out above ground and as a contact-point between them and the other clans.
 
 No point in knocking, I just let myself in. Find myself in some sort of main hall. It looks deserted, but I know better, the sewage stench reveals I’m in the right place.
                       

 

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           Cant we all just get along?...No? Ok...then i will just rip your head off.    
                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Year_of_the_Scarab on April 23, 2006, 12:16:00 PM
                The howls were among the first sounds that greeted the Nosferatu in the warrens, and continued for a long, long while after. Snake Eyes giggled like a little girl, provided the girl in question happened to be a scaly angular monster with a pair of lizard eyes glowing slightly in the dark, as he passed the interrogation room. Actually, the room acquired the name just last night, after the Lasombra had been chained in there. The Chief had ordered him incapacitated and left to dry, which was obviously beginning to work. The Sabbat dick must've burned all but a few drops of his vitae when they captured him, so now staring at the blood left in the room just beyond his reach must be driving him mad. Snake let out a low, hissing laugh, this was going to be fun. When the Beast took over, all inhibitions went straight to hell, Fed-Ex style. It was most interesting when it happened to the so called echelons, the elite, the most stuck up. Only thing better than a Lasombra to see it happening to would be either a Shimmy or a Ventrue. But this would do.
 
 Turning a corner, Snake noticed Pauline standing in front of the door behind from which the ruckus came, eyes closed, head cocked to the side and back. Clearly, he wasn't the only one enjoying the music. He suppressed a laugh, as it wasn't a clever thing to do around her nowadays. The "Pale Hag" they'd call her, mostly when she was out of hearing range. There were far scarier monsters dwelling here, the Embrace hadn't twisted her as it did to most. Some hated her for that. The usual fangs and talons, yeah, but the pale, nigh translucent skin, yellowish eyes of a Strziga and waist long tattered hair reminded of a Banshee from some kid's tale, more than an… Then another howl came, startling him. She, in turn, cackled silently and stretched her back. My, my. Someone was enjoying herse...
 
 "You need something, Eyes?" the question caught him off-guard a bit
 
 "Uh… nah." he shrugged and wagged his thumb at the door "Bad boy cracking already?"
 
 "No. The roaches bug him." she replied, a red glow showing in her eyes "My babies." Oh. Animalism. Snake made a face
 
 "Aw, shit, yuck. Too much information, P. Too much information. Well, anyway. Try not to break your toy, eh? The Chief will be pissed..." he paused for a moment and added "...for a change."
 
 Snake was still grinning at this when he entered the central upper room of the warrens. The word "Comunications" had been scratched into the adjoining corridor, but around the warrens they called it the Cockpit. Under Don's supervision, virtually all possible networks and connections had been rerouted, forwarded and led into this place. Judging by the amount of wires and cables hanging from the shafts in the roof, half of the state's networking went through the warrens, and under Don's eyes. There were a few others, who could take monitor duty in his absence, but this web was his child and creation, and he was king of this castle. As far as the word went, Don's Embrace predated anything more advanced than a calculator, but if it indeed was the case, he adapted perfect. Hunched over the console set up several feet above the floor, with wires running upward from his intercom and the bluish glow of the screens, he looked like something of Phillip K. Dick's nightmare, at the time when he'd been most schizo'.
 
 At the moment, Priest and two others, whom Snake couldn't see from the door, were standing before Don's podium as he relayed something happening on the monitors. It seemed funny to Snake that Priest would be there listening, when this was so much like a sermon itself. He grinned as he passed into another corridor, leaving them behind – a cyborg preaching to the dead. He could bet there was a movie like that being made just now somewhere in Hollywood. Behind him, Don's voice faded away.
 
 "We got the heads-up 'bout twenty minutes ago, right after he sought our guy out. Seems to be one of the local boys, knew where to look and for whom. Ah, there he comes." Don was saying to the Kindred below as he scanned the monitors for a car described to him over the phone "I don't think the ride is his, I'll look it up in a minute. He's getting out, aaand..." he said in talk-show host tone "...he chooses door number one! We have a winner, ladies and gentlemen." he smirked "Ok then. He's there on purpose; body temperature way below room, no breathing to speak of and he's strapped. I'll have a name to that face in a moment. Should see what he wants... Anyone want to go get that?"                        

 

                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Sodom40280831 on April 24, 2006, 06:29:00 PM
                Nail had always been amazed at the technological advances of the last fifty years and nothing reminded him of that like Don’s control-room. He himself had never been a technological marvel but, being what he was, he made certain he at least knew the basics and then some.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“So any volunteers to greet our visitor?â€? Don repeated. Nail wasn’t interested until Hives who had been staring at one of the screens approached him and whispered.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“That’s him man.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“What are you on about?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Our visitor upstairs. It’s the Lick that saved Caliori from those walking corpses.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Are you sure?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Positive.â€?
 
 Nail raised an eyebrow in interest, even with all the weird shit he had seen he never believed in fate but this was almost too convenient. Priest was about to raise his hand but Nail beat him to the punch. After all he was going to have to get social tonight anyway, might as well start early.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“I think I’ll go see what our guest wants, not like I have anything better to do. C’mon Hives, I’ll need back-up in case he tries anything funny.â€? Nail said as he motioned Hives to follow.
 
 After exiting the control-room they came to a small elevator which went right to the Oakes house basement. Hives went straight to the nearest door upon arrival.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“This one here leads to the main hall. Lets go.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Hold on Hives. That one leads directly to the main hall. We go round the back to the second floor first.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“What? Why?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Basic rules of engagement my friend.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“……WHAT?â€?
 
 Nail wasn’t going to bother explaining it to Hives but one of the first rules of negotiations was to never meet your opponent on an equal level if higher was available. Like fencing, he who had the high ground had the advantage. Even though in this case it was more of a psychological advantage. The main hall of the house had a large staircase right in the middle of it and that was an advantage Nail wasn’t going to waste.
 
 Nail arrived with Hives at the top of the staircase, both obfuscated and looking down on their visitor. He told Hives to stay there and wait for him to give a signal if he needed him and started slowly descending the stairs. Nail stopped halfway down and partially de-activated the cloak of shadows, making him only barely visible to the visitor.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Well howdy stranger! Now what, if I may be so bold as to ask, brings a distinguished gentleman like yourself to a rough part of town like this?â€?  
                       

 

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           I'm so serious it's comical!    
                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Killer39787726 on April 24, 2006, 10:06:00 PM
                I can’t quite see his face. But since the sewer rats tend to be deformed bloodsucker monsters, I wasn’t complaining.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“I hope you don’t mind if I smokeâ€?
 Because I don’t care to wait for an answer. I light the cigarette hoping the smoke will cover the rotten smell of sewer.
 
 That’s rich. A nosferatu trying to sweet-talk me.
 
 He stops halfway down the stairs, uneasy. Doesn’t know what I am capable of. Good.
 The house itself wasn't much. It was smaller than Buckingham Palace and probably had fewer windows than the Chrysler building, but being famous for their use of obfuscation, it wouldn’t surprise me if he had a few friends spying from somewhere, making sure I didn’t try anything.
 
 High ground, leverage and all that classic shit, I heard it all in detective training. Two could play psychological babble, mind games.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“I need info. The Giovanni, the Elysium. And what’s the connection with the torrie primogen.â€?
 
 I pocket the lighter, feeling the reassuring weight of the beretta’s under the coat, letting him catch a glimpse of what I’m packing. People often underestimate the power of fear and uncertainty. You can get more with a kind word and a gun than you can with a kind word alone.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“I’m sure you types know about the attempt on Caliori alreadyâ€?
 I take a drag of the smoke; it covers the stench, faintly.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“I want to know who has the most to gain with it. I know how this works. You scratch my back and I scratch yoursâ€?  
 
 I hadn’t much to offer information-wise. Except for what I had already shared for free with the malkavian last night. But there was the hopeful wish he didn’t know that, and then even, that he cared enough.
 
 I doubt.
 
 I doubt, therefore I might be.
                       

 

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           Cant we all just get along?...No? Ok...then i will just rip your head off.    
                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] munchies.Trooper on April 25, 2006, 11:26:00 AM
                From the shadows Mike watched the man waiting at the agreed location for the drop. The person lit another smoke, about his seventh in a thirty minute time period. The man was a little too overdressed and was drawing more attention to himself than needed, but who was Mike to say how a person should dress. His promptness showed credit to the person or kindred that he served, and how they would honor the agreement that was made been Mike and his employer. Shifting his jacket to make a left hand draw for one of the .45 cal guns Mike had hidden under the jacket dual shoulder holster, he was almost ready. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a brass zippo style lighter and pulled the inside of the light out, and slipped a small electronic thing inside the lighter. Replacing the inside of the lighter, Mike slowly walked towards the man. The man was standing there trying to light another cigarette when he threw his lighter down and cursed softly under his breath.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Need a light?â€?  Mike said as he approached the man.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“That would be great.â€? The man said to Mike not knowing who he was.
 
 Handing the zippo lighter to him, Mike leaned against the car and said. “Maybe you can help me I am looking for these two…â€?
 
 The person moved uncomfortably and said. “I see.â€? He paused for a second then continued. “My employer was most pleased with the job you did.â€? He reached into his jacket and pulled out a folder and an envelope then continued. “The information we agreed is the best we can do, not sure how much it will help, and also the money is here as well.â€?
 
 Mike took the folder and envelope and started to walk away when the person said. “You want the lighter back?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Nah you keep it I don’t smoke.â€?, as Mike continued to walk away from the man.
 
 Walking down the street, Mike slipped the envelope into his jacket and held the folder under his arm, walking away from the meeting. The hunt was on once again, but Mike needed a place to review the information in peace and where no one would see. Continuing his walk he thought of places that he could go to review the information in peace.
                       

 

-----signature-----
           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    
                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Sodom40280831 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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           I'm so serious it's comical!    
                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Year_of_the_Scarab 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.                        

 

                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Grendel8101 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€?                        

 

                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Killer39787726 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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           Cant we all just get along?...No? Ok...then i will just rip your head off.    
                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Year_of_the_Scarab 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?"                        

 

                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Sodom40280831 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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           I'm so serious it's comical!    
                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Grendel8101 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.                        

 

                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Killer39787726 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.    
                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Skinweaver 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...                        

 

                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] munchies.Trooper 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.
                       

 

-----signature-----
           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    
                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Sodom40280831 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!    
                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Killer39787726 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.
                       

 

-----signature-----
           Cant we all just get along?...No? Ok...then i will just rip your head off.    
                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Year_of_the_Scarab 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.                        

 

                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Killer39787726 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.    
                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Bloodreaper33413943 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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           When the game is over, the king and the pawn go back in the same box    
                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Sodom40280831 on May 18, 2006, 07:36:00 AM
                “Seriously dude, you should get like, an Oscar or something for that shit back there man!â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Ah…t’ was nothing my dear boy.â€?
 
 Hives was still praising Nail on his performance at the Oakes house while they were walking through the sewers on their way to Bishop. The Brujah coming along had been an extraordinary stroke of luck and even Nail himself could hardly believe how easy it had been. In fact it had been so easy it was starting to worry Nail, not that he thought it was a set-up or anything, it was just that usually when everything went so well it would mean that something equally horrible would come along and…compensate if you will. But for now Nail decided to keep his spirits up.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“That trash deserved every bit of that. Thinks he can just walk in on us and demand whatever he wants like we’re some kind of freakin’ help-service.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Y’know Hives, that is sort of our job in the Camarilla.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Well…yeah…but still…some freakin’ respect every now and then isn’t that much to ask, is it?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Heh…I hear you man. Me…I am totally lovin’ this. Tops at the top, plebs at the bottom and us in the middle leeching off both of them. Wait a sec…I think this is it, Bishop’s hill 091. This is my stop.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Knock ‘em dead man…ugh….even deader I mean.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Will do.â€? Nail said as he lifted the manhole and crawled out of the sewers and into the mansion’s courtyard. From the cars and limousines parked everywhere it seemed like the party was already getting started. Now…how to enter? Using the mask of a thousand faces would seem rather useless as about a third of the people at the party would be auspex-users. But simply going in was no fun at all. Best to stick to the shadows. And as he slowly went for the entrance, Nail became an unseen presence. He may have not been able to hide from everyone at the party but there was always the chance of having a good laugh by standing right next to a fledgeling and momentarily revealing yourself, if only for a split-second.  
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Party on.â€? He mumbled to himself.
                       

 

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           I'm so serious it's comical!    
                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Year_of_the_Scarab on May 21, 2006, 07:41:00 AM
                Watching from the upper floor balcony she had an almost unobstructed view of the whole east ballroom, where most of the Kindred gathered so far. One unfamiliar face caught her eye, a young European looking thing, not even twenty by the looks... were looks to be believed when dealing with Kindred. For a second, a wicked thought crossed her mind… the Nosferatu had a peculiar sense of humor Could it...? No. There. The girl forgotten, Sorana focused on an empty space in the sparse crowd, that she must've not registered right away. It wasn't that there was anything drawing attention to it, the exact opposite in fact – the first instinct when looking up on it was to look away, that there was nothing to be seen. The compulsion was so strong that Kindred of a lesser will than hers would have overlooked it, never noticing. Vampire and servant alike moved out of its way seemingly of their own accord as it glided through the large room. Sorana may not have had some Kindred's augmented senses, but she was a Childe of Eric Rocher, and mind tricks she knew in and out. It wasn't that her eyes couldn't see the Nosferatu; it was that her mind was being told they couldn’t. After a brief exchange with one of Caliori's attendants, whom the place was literally crawling with, she made her way down to the ballroom. The Kine had been told to wait for the Tremere's arrival after which to politely ask her and the Malkavian to meet her upstairs. The Nosferatu, however, exceeded the capabilities of mortal servants.
 
 Casually, she walked towards one of the private sections and halted by a rather fierce looking Ryu, a Japanese Dragon, sculpture, one of several placed in the ballroom. As far as she knew, the Ryu were supposed to be known for having a fondness for treasure and secrets. How prophetic of Caliori to choose them. Was it mere coincidence that the Nosferatu chose this place as an observation point? Birds of a feather will flock together, after all. After a moment's consideration, not turning away from the sculpture, she spoke
 
 "Mr..." and stopped herself from using the creature's real name; the so called Keepers of Secrets valued their privacy, and she would extend the courtesy of playing by their rules; even if he probably knew that she knew his name, there was a sort of decorum here. By that logic, Sorana would've rather waited for the Nosferatu to seek her out, but they didn't have that sort of time at their disposal here. "...Nail?" she finished.                        

 

                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Sodom40280831 on May 21, 2006, 03:45:00 PM
                “Well now…â€? Nail said as he became more visible to the naked eye. Not much point in being hidden when you’re having a conversation.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“That’s a bloody good pair of eyes you’ve got on you, miss Sorana. Or am I just losing my touch?â€?
                       

 

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           I'm so serious it's comical!    
                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Killer39787726 on May 21, 2006, 03:59:00 PM
                I spend some time watching the guests before entering. The place was largely decorated along an oriental pattern. Large statues here and there with their hidden meanings unknown to me.
 
 Do I get an overpriced drink to go with the faggy atmosphere?
 
 The area reserved for the party consisted mostly of a large room, split in several mid-sections by large glass panels allowing more private meetings. Don’t underestimate the value of Doing Nothing, of just going along, listening to all the things you can’t hear, and not bothering. Man is the only animal that can remain on friendly terms with the victims he intends to eat until he eats them.
 
 It would be hard for someone to sneak around; it was a big plus and made me relax a bit. In an emergency, one probably could blast his way right through the glass panels. Even those obfuscating nossies wouldn’t go too far considering the vast discipline mix in the place.
 
 Security cams along with dozens of hired security guards were spread across the place in hand picked advantage points from where you could see almost the entire section. Caliori I had failed yet to locate.
 
 The sewer rat hadn’t given me a very through description of his Marie, but she wasn’t hard to find. Just look for those big rookie eyes, looking at anything around her with true amazement.
 
 If you think nothing can get to you, you’re lying to yourself. At best you’re dead. A lightning bolt can reanimate you without a warning. The innocent look on her eyes reminded me of my wife, maybe it was just the alcohol.
 
 Your past has a way of sneaking up on you. You'll hear broken echoes of it everywhere, like a bad replay. You'll get mad at everyone for reminding you about it, even if it's all in your head.
 
 Sometimes too much drink is not enough.
 
 Innocence with fangs and a predatory instinct.
 I walked up to her.  Standing just a few steps away, I played it as business as usual.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“You Marie?â€?
                       

 

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           Cant we all just get along?...No? Ok...then i will just rip your head off.    
                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Year_of_the_Scarab on May 21, 2006, 04:25:00 PM
                "Hardly." she laughed, steeling herself for facing the Nosferatu as she turned away from the sculpture. You could see a dozen of them and still be caught unprepared by the sight of the next one. She turned...
 
 Oh. Well. At least he wore a tie.
 
 "I've had the advantage of being prepared, let's say." Sorana said with a slight nod "Had you been really trying, I'm sure we wouldn't be speaking now." the Nosferatu grinned with a halfhearted shrug; he didn't seem interested in pleasantries, but made a point of playing along; Good, not a complete boor at least. "Now, we will be meeting Kindred who are to accompany us in just a little while, but I've taken the liberty of speaking to you privately first." she fell silent for a moment, apparently waiting for someone within earshot to move away.
 
 "The venture we're to undertake is a delicate one, but our time is limited so allow me to be blunt," she picked up "we know that there's an ulterior motive for your involvement in this, as well as that it may compromise the delegation." she lied without batting an eyelash; they, or more precisely Rocher and Julian, had guessed as much about the Nosferatu, but she was shooting in the dark here a little "And that is your business entirely. But I need to know, and I would ask you to be just as blunt, if we should be prepared for your sudden absence... or other unscheduled developments. I feel I can be frank here, since in the end our higher-ups do have the Camarilla's best interest in mind."
 
 Whatever could be said about the direct approach, it certainly was unpretentious.                        

 

                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Bloodreaper33413943 on May 22, 2006, 10:17:00 PM
                Marie hadn't expected to be adressed by name, especially since Neil and Skull were the only other vampires she had encountered since her sire.  She was torn between relief at not having to introduce herself and paranoia.  Neil certainly hadn't mentioned telling any of his friends about her.
 
 After a minute of contemplation, she held out her hand.  "Yes, I am Marie," she said, emphasising her accent, "Marie Bedau".                        

 

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           When the game is over, the king and the pawn go back in the same box    
                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Killer39787726 on May 22, 2006, 11:11:00 PM
                Right there I hated her. For remembering me of my wife. For the innocence on her eyes.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Put that hand down rookie. This isn’t first time introductions, apparently we go back a whileâ€?
 
 I glance around, checking if there isn’t anyone in hearing range, at least no one I could see.
 
 All of a sudden it read like a crackpot conspiracy theory. And here was I thinking conspiracy theories had gotten out of style. She probably didn’t even know who she was working for. As much as I hated myself, I felt sorry for the girl.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Neil sent me. Let’s get ours stories straight. I found you and taught you the rules, now I’m turning you over to Caliori. That ra…uh…Neil told you the rules I hope?â€?
                       

 

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           Cant we all just get along?...No? Ok...then i will just rip your head off.    
                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Bloodreaper33413943 on May 23, 2006, 12:30:00 AM
                Marie quickly put her hand down.  Wonderful, only two minutes and she had already managed to blunder up with the first kindred she spoke to.  She quickly tried to remember what Neil had told her about kindred gatherings.  "Um... be polite, speak when spoken to and suck up to the prince as much as possible."
 
 She then stepped closer and said softly, "Well, if we are supposed to be old friends, it would certainly help to know your name, and your.... clan.  Are you Toreador?  The only thing I know about my... sire, is that she was a Toreador."                        

 

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           When the game is over, the king and the pawn go back in the same box    
                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Killer39787726 on May 23, 2006, 02:30:00 AM
                “Did they actually teach you anything rookie? Torrie…No, I’m brujah. And the name is Kravenâ€?
 
 My art inclinations fall more into the abstract category.
 
 I raise an eyebrow while looking to her. I wasn’t expecting an inquiry, but it felt better to go straight to the point, no lies.
 
  “And if you’re going to say to Caliori that we are good pals, you must know what kind of guy I am. And I just happen to be the worst stone-cold killer this side of hell. Anything else?â€?
 
 I knew I was being blunt. But if she was to mention me to the primogen, she shouldn’t believe I was the nice, caring kind of guy.
                       

 

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           Cant we all just get along?...No? Ok...then i will just rip your head off.    
                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Sodom40280831 on May 23, 2006, 06:12:00 AM
                Well if it was blunt she wanted, then blunt was what she would get.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Look I’ll be honest with you. I’m not about to take a bullet for the Camarilla or anything but I do want the team I’m playing on to win, so I will help out as best as I can. I’m not the backstabbing type. I’ll try to go about my business without endangering our venture.â€?
 
 Nail paused for a moment and looked across the room to see if everyone who was supposed to be present was indeed present. And wouldn’t you know it, they were a little hard to make out in the distance but it was unmistakably them. Mr. Brujah hotshot had kept his end of the bargain. Nail couldn’t resist uttering a short triumphant “Yes!â€?, although it sounded more like a hissing sound. He quickly turned back to Sorana.
 
 Apparently everything was going according to plan, now he just hoped things would stay that way.
                       

 

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           I'm so serious it's comical!    
                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Skinweaver on May 23, 2006, 11:18:00 AM
                A practical wardrobe. Supposedly, Einstein had used the same pattern.
 The same simple outfit repeated again and again to avoid having to bother with the vanity of a varied dresscode.
 However, some events like this one required a certain class that just couldn’t be found in a simple coat.
 She hadn’t used it in some time now but it was there, stuffed in a box next to an assortment of beakers and old samples.
 She pulled it out of the box and shook it to get rid of the worst wrinkles. It was slightly out of date, being from the mid nineties but fashion was really more of a Toreador concern.
 A Toreador would have left less to the imagination as well...
 
 With some treatment, the dress became presentable enough and even though the cold outside was hardly a concern for a dead body, people wouldn’t really accept the sight of formal wear in subzero temperatures. Rebecka sighed again and pulled the thicker winter coat over the dress, looked at her watch and left the room.
 
 The hallway was silent as always with the faint rasping of the fellow clanmates working behind closed doors.
 Organised as always with that special feeling of tranquillity.
 She barely even heared the steps closing up behind her.
 A hand on her shoulder, causing her to turn around in surprise.
 
 A moment later she was headed toward the monitor room. Supposedly, she was needed there by request of her superiors. Wonderful... she would be even more late...
                       

 

                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Bloodreaper33413943 on May 24, 2006, 07:20:00 PM
                She thought back to the man in the alley, how she had ripped through the soft flesh of his throat like an animal even as he begged for his life.  And as she thought back on that night, a small presence at the back of her mind purred in satisfaction.  When she had time to ponder, she wondered if that presence had come with this condition, or mearly freed by it.
 
 "Stone cold killer," she murmurred, "isn't that what we all are in the end?"
 
 Realizing that this was a bad time for introspection, she shook the troubling thoughts away like a shawl.  "Well, shall we make introductions then?"                        

 

-----signature-----
           When the game is over, the king and the pawn go back in the same box    
                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Killer39787726 on May 25, 2006, 12:28:00 AM
                "Stone cold killer," she murmured, "isn't that what we all are in the end?"
 
 If you’re strong enough.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“I don’t know what the deal with Neil is, but don’t try anything stupid. I will be watching youâ€? My voice turns into hushed words while I turn away, it was a relief not having to answer any more questions to those big eyes.
 
 I had distinguished two familiar shapes across the glass in opposite directions. One was fairly distant, apparently looking at us with interest, there was the deformed bastard himself.
 I turned in the direction of the other blurred form. I forced my mind to focus on Caliori’s elegant form as she walked.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“I had a feeling you would be dying to meet herâ€?
 
 Time to play Bogart.
                       

 

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           Cant we all just get along?...No? Ok...then i will just rip your head off.    
                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Moonshadow70421598 on May 25, 2006, 09:54:00 PM
                Jackson sat in the dark corner of the strip joint he’d  been frequenting  with his arm around a passed out stripper he had fed on. The intimate setting made for easy pray and it sure beat feeding on bums, not to mention he hated feeding on men, it was just a little to gay for his taste. It was getting late, by mortal standards and he knew last call was coming soon, he shook the girl gently.
 
  “wake upâ€?
 
 She moaned as she woke, and began collecting herself as she realized she’d been sleeping on the job.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“I gotta get back to work hunâ€? kissing him on the cheek before slinking off into the smokey haze of the bar. His thoughts where on his money, his funds where running low, and he knew it was an issue he’d need to address soon. He gave the door man a nod as he headed out the exit, he was deathly afraid of Jackson, the wanna be biker didn’t even bother asking for the cover charge anymore. As he approached his car he began to dread the rest of the evening, more often than not he ended up just driving around, which he did enjoy but having decided to leave his bike back at the farm kind of spoiled it for him.                        

 

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Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Year_of_the_Scarab on May 28, 2006, 06:45:00 PM
                Marinard Chantry
 
 "Adeptus?" Rebecka stood in the door to the darkened room, her own shadow cast by the lights in the hallway stretching halfway across the floor, almost reaching the desk behind which two Kindred were staring at a large monitor motionlessly
 
 "Ah, there you are." Vielacados looked up at her distractedly from where he was leaning against the desk, and then at the ceiling "Lights." the room was immediately illuminated by a pale glow "Please come in."
 
 As she did so, she nodded a brief greeting to Cole, the other Kindred hunched over the monitor. The younger Tremere returned it and promptly excused himself, leaving her and Vielacados alone. The Adept waited until the door closed behind Cole, then turned the monitor to face Rebecka. The screen was showing what she guessed to be security footage from the chantry, currently the paused video was focused on one of the novices
 
 "James Albert, apprentice of second circle, in his seventh year of chantry service," Vielacados provided "dead as of 10:40 PM tonight."
 
 Rebecka's eyes drifted to the monitor for a moment then back to the Adept "How?"
 
 "By a collaborative effort of the security grid and myself." he replied. The brief alarm from before sprang to her mind and she mentioned it, pointing her thumb over her shoulder, presumably indicating 'before'
 
 "The unsanctioned rite, yes." Vielacados said, turning the monitor back to its original position. Well, Rebecka's eyebrows rose, the rules were clear about wayward magics, but an outright destruction seemed a harsh punishment for some overzealousness. What in hell did he do to deserve this anyway?
 
 "What he did," the Adept said with a slight scowl, she hadn't realized she said the question out loud "was severely compromise chantry security, or at least attempt such a thing. We have reasons to believe his intentions were to, for lack of a better term, temporarily 'blind' us to thaumaturgical proceedings within the city. And with the Justicar's presence, well, this could've had catastrophic repercussions."
 
 "We don't have all the details yet," he replied to her unvoiced question "Those will have to wait for the Regentia's return. In the meantime, we do believe a blood bond has been placed on him, and one potent enough to force this suicidal attempt. This is speculation though... At any rate, the wards intercepted it harmlessly, even if the backlash has reached some of the Blood residing in the building at the time." he gave her a meaningful look. Ah, so that's where the bleeding came from, she thought. Then another, slightly alarming thought crossed her mind. She hadn't told anyone about waking up hurt... Vielacados, meanwhile, continued "This is to be kept between us until the investigation is done with. The reason I'm telling you this, Novicia, is as you may have guessed, the 'expedition' you are taking part in tonight. Now, I'm not saying Clan Giovanni has had anything to do with this, of course..."
 
 "Of course." she confirmed the absolute and utter lack of accusation in the Adept's news solemnly
 
 "...But it warrants cautiousness. You will have contact with both the Giovanni and Kindred of Cawford. While we will be perusing other sources as well, it would make sense to keep your eyes open for details. Again, we aren't talking about spying on the Kindred accompanying you, of course..."
 
 "Of course." Rebecka suppressed a knowing smirk, and Vielacados picked up. During the Regentia's absence, he was the acting head of the chantry... by custom, rather than protocol. Would it come to questioning actual orders, suggestions made by the Adept could only be seen as precisely that – suggestions. Her actions, should they be questioned as well, would be her own. The responsibility likewise. This would prove to be an interesting evening, this much Rebecka could tell already.
 
 Half an hour and a new pair of shades later, she was standing in the mansion's courtyard, straightening her coat.
 
 Bishop's Hill 091
 
 Well, the Nosferatu were tightlipped as a clan, and this one was being no exception. Still, this was probably the most sincere answer she would get out of him, and she didn't actually expect to get any details on his task, so having confirmed that there actually was one, she didn't further press the issue. She asked a few inconsequential questions, he gave a few inconsequential answers and vice versa. A few minutes passed and she noticed one of the attendants motioning to get her attention.
 
 "Ah. It appears we can begin." the Ventrue said, nodding to someone over Nail's shoulder. Soon after, he followed her out of the ballroom and up the large open staircase. The music from downstairs became barely audible as they walked to what he guessed to be the west wing of the manor. A guard waited next to a heavy set of oak doors, leaning against the wall. Upon noticing the Kindred walking down the hall he straightened up and opened the door for them. The room was small by the building's standards, but there were whole apartments in Redbrock that didn't have half the space. A helicopter could probably fly through the large windows with little effort.
 
 "Cozy." Nail said ironically after following Sorana inside. Polished oak floors, a large oak table in the middle of the room, oak armchairs... he eyed the upholstery curiously, half expecting it to be made of some sort of oak cushion-tree...
 
 Downstairs
 
 Making their way to the Primogen had taken a while because of both the panels and the slowly growing crowd of Kindred and servant. When they finally reached her, she was talking to someone important, judging by the wide circle of private space everyone was giving them. Jake didn't know who the guy was, nor did he care to find out at the moment. He halted the Toreador in her tracks and shook his head, indicating for her to wait. Getting into someone's business was what got him into all of this, and he didn't even know yet if he wanted to remain a part of it
 
 "Um, what...?" the girl said in a hushed voice
 
 "We wait." Jake replied, leaning against a pillar next to him. For a moment he wondered if it would be considered bad taste to smoke in here, and came to the conclusion that it wasn't quite worth getting his hand chopped off in the end. The Lick talking to Caliori could've been his clanmate; he certainly looked the part at least. Tough-guy leather jackets and reinforced boots were largely long since out of mainstream style among the Kine, but most Kindred were always at least a few years behind, and few of them cared. Naturally, Toreador were a different breed. Caliori was sporting something oriental looking of course, as the theme of the evening was, hair pinned up with long, black and not exactly harmless-looking, pins. Theoretically, Kindred were above such mundane things as looks and charms. In practice, the Lick she was talking to didn't have a chance. You could tell with the really old ones, Jake knew, that they had centuries of unlife behind them. Still, as old and cunning as the Lick may have been, the Toreador was clearly out of his league. A smile here, a pat on the arm there... Jake half-expected him to start drooling any moment.
 Turning away, he caught another familiar face out of the corner of his eye. Hmm. Who was...? Oh, right. The Malk from last night. He didn't recognize him right away with the businessman look he was sporting tonight. One of the lackeys approached the Malkavian and after a brief exchange the vampire followed him out of the main room. Jake could've sworn the Malk looked somehow crazier tonight, despite the suit and tie shit. Or maybe because of it, he couldn't tell.
 From where they were standing, most of the room could be seen, and he took a good, if discreet, look at the crowd. God only knew all the unholy shit that was being talked about and planned here tonight...
 
 By the time he turned away from the view, Caliori's companion had left (or perhaps turned to putty and melted away in her hands) and the Primogen was walking toward them. He remained leaned against the cold stone, catching Caliori's inquisitive look at the Torrie.
 
 "My hero arrived. The evening is saved." she said upon reaching them with a small smile "But, you didn't come alone, I see. Should I feel slighted?" she continued, cocking her head slightly to the side. He would have to avoid holding her gaze for too long periods at a time. If what the Nosferatu had told him was true, and there was little reason to doubt it at this point, she could indeed have ways of getting information. Means of the supernatural sort. This would have to be played cool.
 
 Elsewhere
 
 "Excuse me, Miss." Rebecka turned to face the speaker; it appeared to be one of the servants, Kine or possibly ghoul, carrying trays and otherwise attending the gathered Kindred tonight. Their clothing was mostly oriental-looking, matching the overall décor, from what she could judge during the minute she had to look around the large ballroom. He gave a courteous half-bow "Your presence is requested upstairs. May I show you the way?"
 
 By the time she had reached her destination, another individual was just disappearing in the large doorway and yet another Kine lackey was standing nearby, presumably after having led him here. Her guide bowed shortly again, extending his hand towards the door, as if she actually needed explaining how to walk through it. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes behind the shades. Mortals, really. The first thing she noticed inside was the tall, large Kindred who had entered just before her, making his way around the table, second the woman standing at the opposite end of it. Rebecka would've guessed her clan even if she hadn't already been told what it was. The brunette could've been taken straight from the cover of this month's "Rich & Beautiful", dressed in something straight from "Vogue Magazine", only more expensive. She most likely had a charming personality too. In other words one could probably grow to hate her in an instant. Unbeknownst to Rebecka, she had come to a conclusion very similar to the one another Kindred had in regards to tonight's hostess just a moment before downstairs. Scientists called that "correspondence".
 
 "Ms. Stein, Mr. Bitterman. Welcome." the Ventrue said in a friendly, though mostly business-like manner, looking up "A pleasure to meet you both. This is Mr. Nail; I don't believe you have met." she gestured towards one of the luxurious chairs standing around the table, from which a tall, lean creature shot a fanged grin at Rebecka "Please make yourselves comfortable."                        

 

                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Killer39787726 on May 29, 2006, 11:44:00 AM
                If she paid me enough, she might get my undivided attention.
 
 I look around, trying to look casual.
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Her name is Marie, one of you torriesâ€? I turned to Caliori, for a couple of seconds. I don’t exactly fix my gaze on her eyes, instead I let my eyes wander around her figure. It might make me look like the horny leech that was just talking to her. Then I turned to the girl. The trick was to avoid eye contact, not letting she know I was doing that.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“I just found her earlier tonight. She seemed lost, and I thought it would be best to deliver her to you. I told her the rules, but I don’t have vocation to play babysitterâ€?
 It felt better to stick closer to the truth, hoping it would diminish the chance of getting caught in a lie. To avoid tripping on my own tongue.
 
 If it's not found out, a lie becomes the truth.
                       

 

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           Cant we all just get along?...No? Ok...then i will just rip your head off.    
                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Year_of_the_Scarab on May 29, 2006, 04:13:00 PM
                "Oh?" Caliori gave him a puzzled, though amused look "And I was the first person that came to your mind, I see. You believe me to be too much of a philanthropist, Jake. Am I to expect you start hauling random fledglings off the streets and into my domain?" well... ok, it did sound a bit ludicrous when she put it like that, Jake thought and sent a few unvoiced obscenities in the general direction of the ugly bastard that put him up to this. He opened his mouth to respond, but Caliori bet him to it
 
 "Ah, do hush. This Kindred can speak for her herself, yes?" she stopped him, facing Marie now. Leaning slightly forward she picked up in a mockingly conspirational tone "Mr. Kraven seems to be full of surprises. And here I was thinking I've already figured him out. Brujah." she concluded, rolling her eyes at the word, as if it explained everything.
 
 Marie suddenly felt a few inches shorter. First this whole gethering of predators, walking around casually as if it was the most mundane thing in the world. Then Neil's friend, or whoever he was, spreading an almost tangible cold aura around him, making her wonder briefly whether there was a single "human" thing left about him. Now this woman, holding her gaze, who was just, absolutely...
 
 So, there seemed to be much for her to learn in this new... "life".
 
 "Well then, 'Marie', was it?" the 'Primogen' broke her out of her reverie "Bonsoir, et bienvenue à Cawford. What brings you to our..." she smirked "fair city?"                        

 

                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Skinweaver on May 31, 2006, 05:41:00 PM
                Rebecka cringed at the sight of the Nosferatu and his hideous claws. The grin didn't make things better.
 It was hard to tell if he had acturally made an effort to cover up the typical Nosferatu musk with cheap cologne or if he really smelled that way naturally. Though she had to admit that she had expected something much worse in terms of appearance. Now that she thought about it, the discomfort of being in the same room as this creature was overshadowed by the amusing fact that this vermin among vermin acturally lived with the city's rats.
 
 Scoping the room further with her one functional eye she gave the man who's name was supposedly "Bitterman" a quick glance.
 Unlike the other presence at the table, this one's Clan heritage was more difficult to pinpoint.
 Like most other Kindred he hid his nature well and fit the stereotype of the hidden predator. His clothing only further enforced the image into something just as obvious as spotting Dracula in a movie. Just look for the guy with the trashy accent.
 In addition to this, there was something in his eyes. Something unsettling.
 There wasn't much reason in focusing on such things at the moment.
 She would find out about the others eventually and there were more important games to play than "guess the clan".
 
 A moment after she turned to her host for yet another game.
 The age old, oh so popular game of being social.
 The whole building was a playground tonight.
 
 "And on behalf of House Tremere, it's a pleasure to meet you too."
 
 Rebecka forced a smile. The words left a bitter taste.                        

 

                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Bloodreaper33413943 on June 02, 2006, 03:03:00 AM
                "Merci pour votre salutation de genre," Marie replied.  "I was... sired in Baltimore and made my way here by chance."  She hoped that this would satisfy any curiosity Ms. Caliori had on the subject.  Although she would do so if required, she did not wish to have to relive that night right now.  She felt a strong desire to make a good impression with Caliori.  Not for Neil's sake, but for her own.  Only several seconds after meeting this woman, Marie found herself in total awe.  Caliori was everything she wanted to be and more, confident, commanding, seductive and... strong.  Not visibly of course, but her speech and stance spoke volumes of an iron will that would not be denied.  Marie knew in that moment, she would do anything and everything in her power to earn this woman... no, creature's favor.
 
 "As a member of your clan, I wish to submit myself to your superior judgment and experience, lady Caliori."                        

 

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           When the game is over, the king and the pawn go back in the same box    
                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Grendel8101 on June 04, 2006, 12:12:00 AM
                So they were sending a Nos, a Tremere and a Malk?  This was like a bad bar joke.  
 
   The Nosferatu looked like your typical Nos, but chances were he was pretty sharp.  The Nosferatu rarely do anything half-assed.  Pro's, through and through.  As long as you didn't try and fuck them over and didn't have anything they wanted, they were good for business.
 
   The Tremere were pro's at...whatever the hell the Tremere did, but they were also solitary, reclusive and just plain creepy.  The chick looked like she'd had a rough life before getting vamped.  One of her eyes was fucked up.
 
   I remember something about the blood-o-gram Pina's little prick showed me, where everyone else on the mission would have their own agenda and I'd have to make sure they all stayed in line.  Great.  Babysitting never works well with other vamps.  This would all end in tears.
 
   A mosquito lands on my folded hands.  I stare at it.  I resist the urge to slap it and slowly rub my hands to scare it off, hoping no one notices.  It keeps flying away, then returning.  It lands in my palm.
 
   I slap my hands together.  Everyone's eyes flick to me.
 
   "Shall we get down to business?"  I say, smiling.                        

 

                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Year_of_the_Scarab on June 04, 2006, 12:55:00 PM
                "Baltimore." Caliori said thoughtfully "I see."
 
 Jake had heard a bit about the shit that went down in Baltimore, but not much, seeing as there were few survivors left to tell the tale. Then again, there had been a full out war out there until mere weeks ago. Hell, in some places it was still going on. So stories of impromptu Embraces were so common it was almost mundane. Sire-less fledglings that had been left to fend for their own were a dime a dozen in every "surviving" Camarilla city; probably in others too. Tough luck to start a new existence right now, but life was hard like that.
 
 "But let us not speak of unpleasant matters tonight. This is supposed to be a celebration, after all." the Primogen continued, taking Marie's hand and hooking her arm under hers. As she led the younger Toreador alongside her, she turned to Jake "Walk with us for a moment."
 
 She led them through the maze of pillar, panel, Kindred and servant, stopping one of the latter on the way to pick up fresh bloodwine glasses. A few guests greeted them (well, her mostly) in passing respectfully, and Jake fought down a sly smirk that had threatened to appear on his face despite himself as they passed a few familiar faces. He wasn't much for pretense of station or rank, but a few bowed pompous heads did stroke his ego just a little bit. Meanwhile, Caliori was saying something about the dragon statues on display...
 
 "...supposedly keepers of great knowledge, which they guarded fiercely. Some claimed them to be noble creatures, 'benevolent', if you wish. Guarding wanderers and sages, holding less kind creatures at bay – that route. Other sources, meanwhile, said them to be egotistical, vain and jealous, engaging in petty squabbles, wars and paranoia. Base, treacherous creatures claiming to a pretense of honor and sophistication." smiling at Marie she concluded "Sound like anyone you know? There is a lesson here. An obvious one, perhaps, but one many seem to forget."
 
 Caliori kept the conversation up largely by herself, with Marie only giving a few "Yes ma'am, no ma'am" answers, until they reached a large open patio in the west wing. The area wasn't closed to guests, but for the moment they were alone; it was very slowly beginning to snow again. The Primogen let Marie's arm go and walked up to the balustrade. After a moment of taking in the surroundings, she took a sip from the glass and turned around to face the other Kindred
 
 "So, Mr. Kraven, have you given thought to my proposition?"
 
 "Lady, I don't even know what your proposition is." he replied flatly "You haven't given me any details."
 
 "And I'm not going to." she grinned "If you're unsure of your abilities, then frankly, pardon but I have no use of them. We will settle my debt and speak of this no more. The city is full of Kindred looking for assignments, Jake, I don't need simple manpower. I need Kindred who can handle themselves. Take Marie here," she extended her hand towards the Toreador "She has had a difficult start in this, but unlike others in that situation, she managed to survive. That's some determination, at least, even if she still has plenty of room to... 'refine her graces', let's say. You, on the other hand, are your own Kindred and know what you can or cannot do at this point. So it's a 'yes' or 'no' situation." she finished, shrugging somewhat apologetically. Jake frowned at the lecture a bit, though at least she was being frank, for whatever that was worth.
 
 "What kind of money are we talking about here?" he heard himself say. The question had been on his mind, so he wasn't much surprised with himself. Caliori shook her head a bit patronizingly, but then named a sum. Well. It wasn't what he expected. But before he could tell her so, she added
 
 "Monthly, half of which up front." well, this was much, much better "If you prove to be worth it, of course. But you will have to make your decision with the information you have gathered so far. You have been gathering it, haven't you?" she smiled, apparently to herself this time "I'll offer this though: as unlikely as it may seem, it's possible that working for me you'll be performing a large service for Clan Brujah as a whole. But you'll be forced to take my word for it, as the 'details' are not to be handed out freely."
 
 Jake made a sour face. Well, shit, if this doesn't explain everything. She enjoyed this cloak & dagger mysterious thing a lot, it seemed. Then her tone changed to neutral, as if the charade was tiring her too after all "Failing that, you take your payment for last night, and I bid you farewell. Your choice. There is a party for me to oversee, and I believe we're already beginning to bore Ms..." she turned to Marie
 
 "Bedeau..." Marie supplied
 
 "...Ms. Bedeau to death here." Caliori finished cheerily
 
 The mansion, inside a ventilation shaft
 
 Snake Eyes watched Nail disappear with the Ventrue and nodded to himself with satisfaction, very few Kindred had noticed Nail's presence in general and that's how Clan Nosferatu preferred it. The less the others saw of them, the more they would suspect, and paranoia was the Sewer Rat's friend. Let them think they are everywhere, watching. Actually, this wasn't far from the truth, Snake had been observing the 'festivities' for a while now. The beauty of it was that the shafts were such an obvious hiding spot that no one would actually think he'd choose them.
 
 Navigating the installation from outside was beyond the abilities of most Kindred anyway. Then again, most Kindred didn't have Snake's elastic joints, allowing them to crawl through near-180-degree turns in the shafts. Neither would most Kindred be shielded by Priest's rites, making them invisible to the mansion's enchantments laid by the Warlocks. This shielding was limited and wouldn't hold in a direct confrontation... but direct confrontations were not what Snake was here for. The telescopic zoom of his Canon S1 camera provided all the contact he needed with the Licks down in the ballroom. The outer filter Don had provided made the glass panels in the mansion translucent, or at least see-through enough to take photos. They didn't actually know if this technique was known to someone else. The Nosferatu hadn't been responsible for altering the delivered panels, so the major question was "who had been?". It was a good idea, and that it's source was unknown was unnerving, especially at this time. This would need to be looked into, and was one of two reasons for Snake's presence tonight. The other was obvious.
 
 "Say 'cheese', asshole." he muttered almost inaudibly under his breath as he adjusted the zoom on the next unknowing model
 
 Upstairs
 
 "Indeed, let's." the Ventrue said, taking place in her seat "The matter bringing us here tonight is tied to the recent Sabbat assault, both here in Cawford, and along the entire East Coast..." a brief history lesson followed, though she kept it focused "...As you all know, during those months many of our, that is Camarilla, cities were under siege, and quite a few of them fell to... other hands. However, we and the Sabbat are not the only ones who had taken losses. The Giovanni have tried to play both fronts, and eventually, exhausted the Sabbat's patience as we've witnessed during their confrontation in Munroe, but they have endured, this is common knowledge. What isn't is that due to the shifting influences, the Giovanni have lost much of their connections to their branch in Pittsburgh, effectively crippling their entire local infrastructure. And this leads us..." she let the pause stretch
 
 "To the point where the Camarilla becomes useful to them again?" Nail ventured an educated guess
 
 "That is where." Patillo picked up "And so, they've stepped forward with a proposition, details of which we'll have time to go over later, the important thing right now is that in exchange for the access to our resources, they are willing to side with the Camarilla against the Sabbat. Fact is, unfortunately, that the Camarilla is in no position to turn down alliances right now. The 'victory' we've achieved globally is a matter of perspective, as much as anything else, and should a Sabbat counteroffensive... unlikely as it may be, true, take place – Cawford will be both in its path and without outside help." this was what had been talked about in hushed tones during the last weeks – the city had endured, only to find itself in the proximity of not one but two new Sabbat strongholds. The closest Camarilla bastion of was NY, and to call that city a mess would be an understatement. The thing making the situation, pardon the expression, sunnier at the moment was that the Sabbat was in an even worse condition. If the sources were right, the alliances had crumbled and in the wake of the deaths of the leaders, war raged in its ranks.
 
 If the sources were right.
 
 "However, in the spirit of 'Too little, too late', we will be the ones dictating the terms of any such alliances. They are far more pressed than we are." the Ventrue continued "At this point, we have little reason to doubt the Giovanni sincerity. Naturally, we have even less reason to trust it, past dealings with them being what they were. This is why we are all gathered here, and why this matter requires more than a ghoul with a laptop." looking at Bitterman first, she continued, turning her gaze to Rebecka and finally to Nail "With the Giovanni there is always more than meets the eye, literally, hence the need of us being able to see beyond the obvious. They are also magicians after a fashion as much as they are entrepreneurs, dealing in both blood magic and knowledge, and perhaps most of all, subterfuge." she didn't explain her own role in the matter, for it needed no explanation.
 
 "And why us, exactly? It seems as if any other Kindred would do." was the main question
 
 "This, as far as I know, was a choice of our respective... peers." Sorana replied "They would know whom to entrust this to, I assume."
 
 "Now, our flight will be leaving at 2:00 AM, which gives us," she looked at her watch "Well. Over an hour before we will need to leave for the airport. Transportation is provided for, though, if you so choose, you can use your own of course. Until that time, I'm afraid I have a small matter to attend to and am forced to leave you. This part of the mansion is otherwise closed to guests, having been 'reserved' for our privacy, feel free to peruse it. The Primogen's upper gallery is a sight to behold, so I've been told. Ms. Caliori's staff will be positively delighted to show you around..." she said with a somewhat ironic conspiratorial smile and promptly excused herself, getting up to leave.                        

 

                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Moonshadow70421598 on June 04, 2006, 06:44:00 PM
                As Jackson cruised the dark streets of Redbrock in his beat up  67 convertible Ford Galaxy looking for just the right hooker he was reminded of his days back in L.A. He had really grown to despise that place. This was what he knew however and the hunger for blood was stronger than his desire to avoid the ghetto’s.  Ã¢â‚¬Å“That’s right vato, keep on drivingâ€?  he heard as he drove past a yard full of Mexicans working on a low rider “oh no, you didn’t just call me vatoâ€? he thought to himself as he pulled the car over to the curb, slipping the column shifter into first, shutting the engine off  and applying the parking brake. As he climbed out of the car he could see one of the other cholo’s giving the lippy one a shove “what the fucks the matter youâ€?  , they where putting their forties down and bowing up like a bunch of tough guys. Jackson walked to the rear of the car and leaned against the trunk, lighting up a smoke. “you best be gettin back in your ride homieâ€? one of the gang bangers spouted as he pointed what looked to be a forty five at him. Jackson just kept on smoking his cigarette, the one with the forty five started down the sidewalk towards him“ are you lookin to die babosoâ€?  the other three were not quite as quick to make their way down the sidewalk but they were still on their way. As the bald Mexican reached Jackson, pointing the gun directly in his face Jackson finally spoke “you call me stupid again and I’m gonna shove that forty five so far up your ass you’ll be shittin bullets for a weekâ€?  his “aweâ€?  worked like a charm, the Mexican lowered the weapon and began to back away as though he had seen the devil himself. Entranced by the vampire they were more than willing to abide by his suggestion “lets go take a look at that ride your workin onâ€? Jackson flicked what was left of his cigarette into the street.
 
 While examining the primered Monte Carlo he could hear rap music coming from inside the house, “anybody else in theirâ€? he nodded towards the house. “Just a couple a ho’s essayâ€? Jackson moved towards the porch“ don’t be callin me essayâ€? “sure thing man, you gotta name es…what you want us callin youâ€? Jackson didn’t answer. He watched the two girls from the window briefly before entering the house, they where easily entranced. “how you girls doin this eveningâ€? he sat between them on the couch and put an arm around each, they where speechless. “why don’t you guys go back to workâ€? he gave the Mexican that had followed him into the house the evil eye. He turned the stereo up to drowned out the dogs barking in the back yard â€?you, your comin with meâ€? he pointed at the skinny one, and led her back through the house till he found a bedroom, her fear of angering Jackson made her easy to work with. He directed her onto the bed and began necking with her, and smelling her like a man smells a woman, but it was the scent of her blood he was after. He sunk his fangs into her neck and retracted them as he began to feed, the girl moaned in ecstasy, he could feel her heart rate dropping and he stopped just shy of rendering her unconscious. He could tell she had been expecting to be taken advantage of and now she seemed more than willing to let it happen as she began to undress herself for him. You could almost see the rejection destroying her as he left the room and headed back into the living room where the fat one was waiting, she looked at him sheepishly as though it was her turn “lose some weight bitchâ€? and with that he headed back out into the front yard.
 
 You could see the angst in the four cholo’s as he walked past them, not sure whether to buddy up to him or run for their lives. He stopped and grabbed the lippy one with the small man syndrome by the jacket â€?do you know who I amâ€? he growled “noâ€? “that’s right, you don’t, so the next time you feel the need to act tough do it with one of your homeboys hereâ€? he shoved him away, he wanted to beat this kid down but he knew it would only bring him trouble. As he made his way back to his car he couldn’t help but snicker at the use of his powers over these poor mortals, he knew they’d be hating him once his affect wore off  but that only made it that much sweeter.                        

 

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Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Killer39787726 on June 06, 2006, 12:21:00 AM
                She was a torrie alright. Already massaging Caliori’s ego like a pro.
 
 What do a deformed bastard, a one-eyed witch and a malk have in common? I didn’t had the answer for that. Neither did I care to, but I just happen to catch a glimpse of them all dissapearing into the same direction.
 
 One thing you learn as a cop is to always be alert to your surroundings, just so you could catch that maniac playing hide-and-kill behind your back. I learned it all a bit too late.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Â¦
 
 Colder than a walk-in fridge...Cold as a gun.
 
 She talks like she had me all figured out. Maybe she had, maybe she didn’t. Maybe she was just throwing away educated guesses, feeding me a line, hoping I take it.
 
 My mind falls inexorably back to the night of my embrace. Back there I thought I was delusional, mad. No matter what I said or did, I was going to die, right?
 
 Wrong.
 
 Closing my eyes forces me to look at the darkness inside.
 
 This time I knew that I was never going to wake up, that the nightmare was very real. An ex-cop, a cold-blooded killer, chain smoker and alcoholic leech. There was no glory in this. The good and the just, they were like gold dust in this city. I had no illusions. I was not one of them. I was no hero. My options had decreased to a singular course.
 
 I already paid for my revenge tenfold, and I was always back where it started. I was already going to hell, this would be just be another devil’s contract.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Lady, you just keep the cash flowingâ€?
 
 It sounded better than my previous retirement plan. Put a bullet through my brain in the end of the road. If there wasn’t anyone left to do it.
 
 Turn around, walk away, blow town. That would have been the smart thing to do. I guess I wasn't that smart. Truth was I didn't think I deserved to walk away. There were no happy endings.
                       

 

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           Cant we all just get along?...No? Ok...then i will just rip your head off.    
                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Sodom40280831 on June 06, 2006, 10:37:00 AM
                After Sorana left, Nail got out of his chair and motioned one of the servants to come closer.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Can I help you, sir?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Yeah, I haven’t had a drink all night, so be a sport and go fetch the “wine-cartâ€?.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Right away, sirâ€?
 
 The servant left the room only to return a few minutes later with a cart bearing a few wine-bottles. He stopped the cart in front of the table, left it there for all to use, filled one of the glasses with thick, red liquid from one of the bottles and approached Nail with it.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“There you go, sir.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Well thank you, Jeevesâ€? Nail said as he took the glass and brought it to his mouth. Looking around, he noticed a few paintings on the walls. With the wine-glass in hand, he started casually strolling by each of the paintings, loudly voicing his opinion on each of them.
 
 A beautiful sunset.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Hate it.â€?
 
 Two barely clothed lovers, kissing passionately.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Hate it.â€?
 
 A bunch of naked people, burning in the flames of what was probably supposed to look like hell.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“This one…I kind of like.â€? Nail said as he moved on to the next painting which depicted a rather demonic looking creature, standing over the body of a bleeding woman. Nail paused for a moment.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Now I may not know art!â€?
 
 He took a sip from his glass
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“But I know what rings a few bells, heheh…â€?
 
 He turned to Bitterman and the Tremere.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Wouldn’t you say?â€?  
                       

 

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           I'm so serious it's comical!    
                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Skinweaver on June 19, 2006, 03:50:00 PM
                The sewer rat acturally wanted an opinion.
 Jokingly, of course but the absurd comedy of this creature's attitude toward his own all to obvious nature made it all the more tempting to give an answer.
 Art. Self promotion chanelled through imagined creativity onto a canvas. Leave it to the degenerates of this world to fawn over such things. To just imagine a Toreador in the same room brought an echo of Rebecka's latest encounter with one of them into her memory. A pretentious worm only interested in the inanimate objects around him, completely oblivious to the living, breathing, bleeding world around him. Just thinking about it made her feel sick.
 
 "Whatever the artist's intentions were, they clearly knew what they wanted to make. I can't say I approve with the depiction of the supposed antagonist, though... too stereotypical."
 
 There. Another attempt at acting social.
 It had to be done, considering the events that would undoubtedly follow.
 She gave the so called winecart a quick glance before turning away in disgust.                        

 

                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Year_of_the_Scarab on August 21, 2006, 05:22:00 PM
                On the balcony
 
 "Lady, you just keep the cash flowing" Marie's new 'friend' was saying. He and, ah, Primogen Caliori here, were apparently discussing some business, but the conversation itself made little to no sense at all to the young Toreador. A sign of things to come, as they said, she supposed. And anyway, she didn't feel even a bit curious about the exchange between the other two. None at all. Strange, that. She shrugged.
 
 "There's a fairly simple job for you to do tonight, though it does have a certain degree of immediacy, as it has to be concluded within the next few hours. Or in other words – before the Elysium ends. Judging on your results, we'll see just how well I'm spending my money." Caliori said in a businesslike manner
 
 "Hmph. Fair enough." Jake replied shortly, this was beginning to be more up his alley. Parties and Primogen aside, this would be just another job, only the pay would be better
 
 "Some information needs verifying. But neither I nor any of my more prominent employees can be connected to anything, so discretion is necessary. This is where you come in, obviously." she said, and some things became a bit clearer "I need you to go somewhere, have a look around, maybe ask a few questions, then bring me conclusions. Nothing too complicated." Jake was already thinking in working terms, but one thing still nagged at his thoughts
 
 "This sounds more like a nossie job." he voiced it "They're the ones with the answers... or so people say. Why do you need me, here?"
 
 "Perhaps I like you more. Perhaps I dislike them. Or I just enjoy being a nonconformist. Who can understand a woman?" Caliori replied laughingly, but then returned to a more serious tone "They know too much for their own good, and for all their definite... usefulness, have a habit of withholding details. Something I don't have the luxury of accepting or the inclination of tolerating. Good enough for your standards, Jake?"
 
 "Will do." he shrugged "So where do I go and what do I do when I'm there?"
 
 "29 Richfield blvd, Augustine. Closed apartment house next to a theatre. Cannot miss it. Has been out of business for the better part of last two years, but hasn't been touched by gangs, homeless or construction crews. One could wonder..." she paused theatrically "I know for a fact that the place has an off-limit area, reachable by the elevator... shaft."
 
 "A haven?" he asked the most probable
 
 "Nothing so mundane. Plus, those tend to be better guarded or disposed of, when no longer necessary. You'll see when you get there."
 
 "Then what?"
 
 "Oh, Jake." she tilted her head patronizingly "You used to be a detective, do what comes natural. Investigate. I want to know if the secret area is as 'secret' as advertised. There shouldn't have been any, and I mean any, activity around the place for the last three, three and a half month."
 
 "And by 'activity' you mean..."
 
 "Our kind of activity. Which could be anything, I suppose. Ominous men in suits and shades, scary noises in the middle of the night, gargoyles leaping from the rooftop..." Caliori said, looking down from the balcony. She was playing again, and Jake supposed he'd gotten all the details he would need. "In your left coat pocket you will find your advance payment," he checked How and when did she do that? while Caliori continued thoughtfully "We will have to get you an account and a credit card eventually, cash is impractical and traceable. But I trust you'll manage for the time being."
 
 Cash was 'impractical'? he must've been living in the wrong part of town
 
 "Now..." she turned back to him "The Elysium is scheduled to end around an hour and a half before dawn, but for our purposes it will effectively end somewhere before 3 AM. I believe you have somewhere to be, and soon?"
 
 Inside the mansion
 
 "Ultimately, it isn't our problem. You could take it to the Primogen, I suppose," the young black man told the Kindred that had been explaining something to him during the last few minutes gesticulating feverously "But I wouldn't want to give you false hopes. With all that's happening at the moment, the chances that you will get any of them to intervene here are pretty slim. I'm sorry, but that's just how it is. If you please excuse me." he finished, leaving the disgruntled man to himself. He left the panel section and grabbing a wine glass from a passing tray, he took a drink, then pressed the container to his chin lightly, thinking.   
 "And now. What was that all about?" he said to himself thoughtfully, looking in the direction of the door which Caliori and the other two had disappeared a moment ago. He looked around the room, searching for a particular person, but given her short stature, he wasn't much surprised when he didn't find her. Evelyn was a crafty Kindred and one of his most able clanmates, but having been Embraced in her early teens, she was easy to overlook in a crowd. He sighed and headed for the main door. Having left the building, he produced a cellphone from one of the pockets in his loosely fitting jacket and proceeded to scroll through the numbers until he reached the desired one. It took a moment to get a signal, the weather made phones act weird even without all the scrambling from the mansion's security. Finally he got through
 
 "Gary? 'Sup, Frost here. Hello? The connection's shitty man, turn that thing down, I can barely hear you... Yeah, better. Frost here. Listen, you know that guy Kraven, right?" he spoke to the machine and paused as the voice on the other end replied "...Yeah, that one. How good do you know him anyway? ...Uhuh. I see. Know of anyone who's got some solid contact with him? ...Heh, seriously? Damn, what a hermit. Uhuh... Kay, kay, whatever. Look, I think we need someone to keep an eye on him, so somebody who knows him better would be handy." there was a pause "Hmm? Quinn...  Quinn... Ah! Yeah, whassisname, Jackson, right? Ok, yeah, I know him. He'll do fine. Get in touch with the guy and send him here, tell him to find me. I'll be at Bishop's for the next two, three hours at least, so no rush, but I want him here tonight. ...Kay, peace." Frost finished and clicked off the phone
 
 "This thing isn't by invitation only, you know. No need to freeze out here the whole night." he said, nodding in the direction of the mansion, as he passed one of the parked vehicles
 
 "We're good, thanks." the burly ghoul answered, blowing cigarette smoke out through his nose. Frost thought he'd run into that one before, but couldn't place him. An Asian-looking girl – probably ghoul too, but he couldn't smell her so he wasn't sure – was sitting in the car Grizzly was leaning against, flipping through some records and shaking her head with exasperation. He thought he might recognize the ghoul by voice, but it was still pulling a blank, and it didn't really matter that much. Shrugging, he made his way back the mansion.
 
 ...
 
 "Quite the charmer, hmm?" the Primogen chuckled turning to Marie after the Brujah had left them to themselves. The snowing had abated for the moment and only a few muted sounds from within the mansion were audible on the balcony. The younger Toreador picked up her glass that she had set aside during the others' conversation, which she attempted at least not to appear to be eavesdropping on, thinking the Primogen will usher her inside now. Caliori however didn't seem in any hurry to return to the festivities. Still leaning against the balustrade she lightly spun her glass, appearing to contemplating its content for a while. Marie shuffled her feet uncomfortably but kept still. She didn't feel it was her place to remind the Primogen of her presence, even if being so utterly forgotten didn't do much for her ego. Before she could dwell longer on this thought however, Caliori did speak up
 
 "So, fledgling, what have you been told so far?" Marie blinked twice in mild confusion "About all of this. Being what we are." Caliori clarified, gesturing vaguely at the mansion and its current occupants. Well, there wasn't much, Marie realized, all she knew had come from Neil, and he'd given her more or less the 'bullet-points', as the Americans put it, not a great deal of detailed information. And truth be told, she couldn't even remember all of what he had said. She begun answering to the best of her ability, but the Primogen stopped her
 
 "No, no, 'we' as in those of our blood, our Clan." she said setting her glass aside.
 
 ...
 
 Snake Eyes wished the Chief had sent more people. Or at least that he had a couple more cameras, and an additional pair of eyes to go with them. He had been busy following selected conversations and noting the company important Kindred kept tonight, but even though he hadn't wasted a single minute this evening, he still felt that something was slipping past him. There was so much going on at the Elysium, he had to choose his targets carefully, despite 'professional interest' urging him to try and keep an eye on every single individual in the room below. From where he was crouching currently, he had easy access to another shaft on the adjoining wall, should he require better vantage. Despite being constantly busy however, Eyes was actually having a great time. He silently hoped Pina would still show up, the Malk really knew how to liven up the mood, though his errand boy was doing a passable job of freaking people out thus far. Miller's conversation with Charley Frost had been another merrier moment, and seeing him storm off after the Brujah had very politely told him to go fuck himself put a grin on Snake's face for a long while. You could say what you wanted about the Brujah, but they really had a low bullshit tolerance and rarely took it from anyone. Not the greatest disposition to have yourself, Snake mused, but fun to watch in others.
 
 The precise moment at which Nail and company had returned downstairs he wasn't sure, but it couldn't have been more than a couple of minutes ago. Snake Eyes' clanmate and the broad-shouldered Malkavian hung back by one of the more imposing sculptures, while the warlock chick made a beeline through the crowd towards someone, whom Snake believed to be of her own Clan. Noticeably absent from the picture – Patillo. This was to be expected however, as the Ventrue would probably be joining daddy 'backstage' before the rest of the gathered would have the privilege of being graced by the oh-so-charming Prince's presence. Whether Rocher had actually arrived yet, Snake couldn't tell, though some of the remaining Primogen had already made their, uncharacteristically silent, entrances. Some more silent than others, the Nosferatu grinned to himself.
 Turning his gaze towards the Tremere leader, who had brought a small entourage of her own along tonight, he found the Stein woman again. Standing further down the room by the warlock she had sought out before, she held her Primogen's gaze for a moment, then bowed shortly and walked away. The Nosferatu could read body language well enough to know that there had been some type of an exchange, but that was one sort of conversation neither technology nor espionage could tap into. With a mental shrug, he adjusted the lens of his camera on another target. His mood improved instantly Well, well, well.
 
 ...
 
 "The other clans... ask any for their view of the Toreador. You're bound to hear the word 'vain' a lot. 'Shallow' from others, 'frivolous' from the tactful, 'preoccupied' from... well, most of the Ventrue. And I'll spare you the profanities of a Brujah's opinion..." Caliori shook her head slightly in amusement, and then laughed out loud seeing Marie's fairly bewildered expression "Snobbism, dear. Amidst all things 'Kine' we lose when transformed into what we are, good old human bigotry endures. Clan loyalties, Clan pride – and most of all, Clan prejudices. Among all of Caine's children, we are considered the weakest. This is, of course, our greatest strength." Marie put down her glass, thinking. Was this why Neil and Skull had been so forthcoming? Then again, the Primogen virtually radiated... what, power? Strenght? Confidence? Was she an exception, or didn't the others notice? Meanwhile, Caliori was talking again, but Marie wasn't sure if she was talking to her now, or repeating something she herself had been told somewhere along the line "You need to understand – the powers the blood grants us, they do not make us who we are."
 
 "They do not?" that seemed like an odd thing to say, for it did appear the supernatural abilities of the blood set any given Kindred completely apart from pretty much any human
 
 "In the slightest. You could gain a proficiency at the preternatural prowess of a Gangrel, yet that wouldn't allow you to match them in savagery. The manipulations of a Setite come fairly easy to those of our blood, but that does not one their equal at their... ah, baseness? And likewise, the others can adapt our gifts – but that does not mean they understand us." now the Primogen did look at her, and she felt almost rooted to the spot  
 
 "Take your friend Jake here, for example." Caliori nodded in the direction of the door through which the aforementioned had left just a moment ago. Marie wasn't sure what exactly, but there was also something strange about how the Primogen intoned the word 'friend', and for a second she felt slightly unnerved, but then the other woman continued "He has what you'd have to call a fairly wide-spread opinion of our bloodline. There are some who think even less of us, to be sure, but Mr. Kraven definitely doesn't hold me or you in high regard. By and large, we are mild irritants to him, easy to impress, deceive or remove, who can sometimes be useful in a... select few situations. A Toreador can manipulate the Kine, though a Ventrue is far more proficient at it; a Toreador can instill emotion, though a Brujah will make better use of the talent; a Toreador can be perceptive, but not to the degree of a Childe of Malkav – and that is it, as far as Mr. Kraven or any of his peers, is likely to give thought to it." the Primogen rolled her eyes somewhat theatrically, and slowly Marie felt the dawn of realization.
 There had been a small voice in the back of her head, asking why she had been allowed to eavesdrop on the conversation between Caliori and Jake. It sounded not only important, but to a degree also dangerous. Up until now, subconsciously, she had assumed her ignorance of the city and its politics made her a small enough threat to be allowed to listen. This may have still been true, but she also realized there was a... demonstration of a sort, for her benefit. She asked Caliori about this.
 
 "Very good. Yes." the Toreador chuckled "Do you think your Brujah friend noticed as well?" she let this linger for a moment, but this was a rhetorical question, and Marie didn't offer a reply. She did wonder though, if the Primogen was implying that they've all been playing a game here
 
 "Now, you would do well not to apply the same standards and misconceptions to him, or any other Clan for that matter." Caliori was saying "Think him a fool, and you will be as shallow as he sees you. Believe him to be a simpleton, and you are indeed as naïve as he'd have you. Everything they think of us? We are. When we need to. Every flaw they notice? We have. When the right people are looking. Others work by strengths, we, more often than not, by weaknesses. Find a gullible Brujah, feed him slogans and nod along to his antics. Run into a lofty Ventrue, feign admiration and coerce favors quietly. Pretend ignorance to the Nosferatu, and filter information as if you didn't know its importance. Meet a labile Malkavian..." the Primogen stopped for a second, looking at Marie as if weighing her chances "...and run in the opposite direction." she decided finally "Either way. Stereotypes can be an efficient tool, as long as you don't fall for them yourself."
 
 The younger Toreador absorbed every word. She did feel that Caliori was entertaining herself here a bit, but nonetheless any of this could save her unlife later on. This evening was even more important than she could've anticipated; she knew she had become a part of something bigger – that much Neil had told her up front. But she didn't realize just how big that 'something' was, and how small a part she was right then. And even this, the mansion, the Kindred here, were just a part of a bigger whole in turn. Either that was fairly intimidating or the liquored blood was making her slightly nauseous. She searched her head for a slight change of subject, as to not let the Primogen notice her uneasiness
 
 "What about hum... ah, the 'Kine'?" she managed. Truth be told, there didn't seem to be a place for them in this 'Kindred world' Caliori was describing
 
 "Well, what of them?" she returned the question, and Marie found herself talking. The Primogen listened with a slightly raised eyebrow but otherwise expressionless, and remained that way even after Marie finished. The silence stretched for a brief moment, and then she smiled and asked "What do you do, fledgling?"
 
 "Pardon?" this time both of Marie's eyebrows rose in confusion as the sudden change of topic left her at a loss
 
 "Is there some ability, a talent, hidden or otherwise, that the Embrace has awakened in you, I wonder? Or is it too early to tell, hmm? Such a thing can after all take mere nights, decades, or entire lifetimes. Some Toreador, unfortunately, never live long enough to find out. Wasted opportunities, unrealized potential and all that. One of unlife's harsher lessons, I suppose. Perhaps you're not there yet, as they say. You should definitely search for your path though," the Primogen offered, tapping her index finger on her chin as if thinking "there is an elegance even to trying." then she took Marie by the arm, leading her back to the mansion
 
 "Perhaps you should visit one of my galleries here in Cawford. I'd definitely like to hear a fresh opinion on some of my own works..." and before Marie could respond, she picked up in a flatter tone "Then again, you may not have a chance to. This is a gathering of predators after all. And you do still have to introduce yourself to the Prince tonight, if I'm not mistaken, yes? This is a dangerous time to be in the city and in your position, especially tonight, and everyone is under some pressure, regardless of station..." she finished silently, and shook her head, looking around. There were a few more Kindred present in the ballroom than before, as far as Marie could tell, and slowly they begun gathering in front of the slightly elevated podium on the far side. She also noticed that more than a few heads turned to where she and the Primogen stood, not every of which had the friendliest expression towards Marie, a fact which wasn't lost upon Caliori either
 
 "Well, here's where the speech ends. I haven't even touched the tip of the proverbial iceberg here, but I suppose that some things you have to find out by yourself, fledgling. If you do make it through this night, and I would be severely disappointed if you didn't, seek me out. Now, for the sake of my vocal chords... and your safety, as I see that some here seem fairly displeased about me spending time with Kindred other than themselves... I bid you a good night, Ms. Bedeau." and with a Hollywood smile, the Primogen left her alone among the dead again.
 
 ...
 
 "Impressions?" Rocher asked, adjusting his tie in front of the mirror
 
 "Hard to say." Sorana replied with a shrug. She looked around the room idly, eying the guards by the large double doors for a second before turning back to her sire. He and the Justicars had arrived almost half an hour ago, but chose to meet with the remaining present Primogen in private before joining the assembled Kindred in the ballroom. Rocher's entourage had left by now, as have the Justicars – much to Sorana's relief. There was something highly unnerving about being in the presence of someone as powerful as Lucinde, even despite her being Sorana's clanmate. And not to even mention Di Zagreb. The Tremere were a suspicious and shady group to begin with, and one of them wielding the power and influence of a Justicar was something to make a Kindred's skin crawl. She shook her head briefly to get rid of the thought and continued "We've barely spoken for five minutes. Not exactly time enough to run detailed character profiles."
 
 "Oh, come now." Rocher chuckled, raising an eyebrow at her. He knew his Childe better than that
 
 "Ah. Very well, as far as first impressions go at least—" she relented, sighing sharply for dramatics' sake "Both the Malkavian and the Nosferatu seem to be fairly no-nonsense type of Kindred, should prove trustworthy enough, given the circumstances. I expect very little complication from their side, and the intel provided, spotty as it is, confirms that. Oh, and your speculation was correct about the sewer rat, by the way, there are more strings attached here, and didn't go to great lengths to deny it, but," she paused for a second "I don't think that will interfere with our business. If all goes as intended, anyway. The Malkavian, a Mr. 'Bitterman', has a history of business with Julian as you know, so there shouldn't be any problems on his part." And if there were, she made sure Julian would take at least partial responsibility.
 
 "I see." Rocher nodded, and made for the door. "Anna's woman...?" he asked after they had passed the guards and were walking down the corridor
 
 "Is just a file on my desk at this point. Very guarded and not necessarily very comfortable with being here, but I couldn't say for sure. It could be the last-minute delegation, the current pressure the warlocks are under, or the presence of the Justicar in the building. Lucinde unnerves me, and she is positively jovial when compared..." Rocher raised an eyebrow and she trailed off briefly "...at any rate, she fits the file. Beyond that, we'll see." Moments after, they were joined by the Justicars and Sorana fell several steps behind the elders as they entered the main room. Conversations were hushed and movement all but died down as the doors swung open
 
 "Announcing, Childe of Severus, conqueror of Genina, voice of the Conclave..." the 'chamberlain' laid on thick, though no one even as much as frowned as other titles of the elder followed, Lucinde's appearance may have been that of a diminutive girl, but she commanded respect beyond that of a Gangrel army "...Justicar and Alastor – Lucinde of Clan Ventrue." The announced smiled warmly, spoke her greeting and quickly walked down the stairs, apparently not wishing to remain in the center of attention, which promptly shifted to the next arrival
 
 "Announcing, Childe of Drescher, liberator of Montreal, victor of..." again, a list of titles and honors followed, though while filled with names of much renown, compared to the predecessor, the Tremere's introduction fell noticeably short. Those versed in politics knew the scandal surrounding the barely 150 years old Kindred's nomination for the title of Justicar, though Di Zagreb himself didn't seem to mind. Garbed in '30s style, including a cane and hat, the Justicar appeared to emanate power and confidence. Having greeted the gathered, the Tremere followed in Lucinde's footsteps to take his place by the city's Primogen, or rather the Primogen's representatives, seeing as neither Hernandez nor Pina have seen fit to make an appearance. Or at least to make themselves visible to the public, it would be hard to tell, when dealing with individuals so proficient at the power of Obfuscate. Still, if anyone gave that matter any thought, now was not the time for it. Something else had drawn all of the attention in the room.
 
 "And introducing," the chamberlain boomed. And this time, one title only was necessary "Prince Eric Rocher."
 
 Somewhere in Redbrock
 
 "So. What do you need?" Jackson asked, wiping the snowy mud from sole of his boot on the sidewalk
 
 "You know Elysium's been called tonight, right?" came Gary's voice from the receiver "Some of our people are down there right now, our mutual friend C-Frost among them. He needs a favor, and you're available."
 
 "Hmph. What kind of favor?"
 
 "What am I? Your goddamned secretary? Get your ass down there, let the man tell you himself." Gary sneered and actually let out an exasperated sigh. Jackson rolled his eyes. Gary. Gary "Numbskull" Schwartz, contact runner and one of the most in-the-know Brujah in Cawford, supposedly a green beret or a navy seal (most likely neither) in his breathing time, nowadays served the Clan via phone, fax, email and whatever. Most agreed he should've been Embraced by the Sewer Rat bastards rather than the Brujah, but he did come in handy. Even if he had the sense of humor of an ass and personality of a turd, he did know what he was doing.
 
 "Watch it." still, there was no reason to take shit from the guy
 
 "Whatever. He'll be waiting somewhere possibly in plain sight. You can't find him – you go to Evelyn, she'll point your blind ass in the right direction, if he's not in fact with her, in the first place. No rush on this, but don't take the whole goddamned night."
 
 "Yeah, yeah. 'Least tell me if I should bring any special hardware or something."
 
 "Oh, you're such a pain in the ass, you know that?" Gary said in a pained voice, but straightened up "Look, all I know this has something to do with this guy Kraven."
 
 "Eh?" Jackson thought for a moment "None of my personal friends. Why call me?"
 
 "J-may, gimmie a break here. Talk to Frost. You in or out?"
 
 Jackson scratched his chin. Elysium's weren't really up his alley, but he wasn't doing anything productive anyway. Plus, and this was a major 'plus' here, Charley Frost had a way of getting stuff done. Most of Clan matters were connected to him in one way or another. He had been the 'go-to' man before, but now that Neillsen had taken up the title of Primo', and his backup girl was busy filling in for him, Frost had become even more of a weight in the city. And it never hurt to have a crafty Kindred owe you one.
 
 Bishop's Hill 091
 
 Rocher was talking now. Whatever be said about the Ventrue, he had what you call a persona or gravitas, the thing that made people listen, and listen intently. Sorana allowed herself a quick survey of the room from where she was standing behind the Prince, Justicars and Primogen. Even in the face of such accumulated power around him, virtually all the eyes were centered on Eric Rocher, Prince of Cawford. It wasn't just what he was saying, all this about restoring the city, maintaining it's stability, all this could've come from a thousand senators, ambassadors or mayors, she had heard the gist of it all before. No, it was who was saying it, and how. Perhaps he was using the powers of the Blood, she supposed, perhaps not. She had seen Kine and Kindred alike humbled, trembling before him before, even though he hadn't raised his voice or voiced a threat to them. There were deadlier individuals out there, she didn't doubt. There were deadlier individuals in here, she reminded herself. Few of them could've summoned up the courage to raise their had now, however. Perhaps over the years, he'd become so adept at invoking his charisma, that it was a natural thing for him now. Either way, even his adversaries, declared or otherwise, agreed with every word now, saw the Prince talking, not an enemy. The effect wouldn't last, of course, Kindred thrived on enmity and bitterness. It was no smaller part of them than the blood in their veins. But still... for this moment, she couldn't feel anything but pride for being Eric Rocher's Childe.
 
 "...And ensuring that we are undisturbed in this effort," Rocher was concluding "will be Mr. Donovan, whom some of you may recall successfully leading the Camarilla offensive in Middletown, under Archon Bell's orders, several decades ago. Mr. Donovan, joining us at this moment, will be assuming the title of Cawford's Sheriff." he finished, turning his gaze to the far entrance from which in a background of murmurs and hushed exchanges the announced approached.
 
 Marie couldn't see what had caused the commotion, but apparently this 'Donovan' person was a known character among at least some of the gathered. Being too short to look over the crowd, she leaned slightly to the side, looking past the taller Kindred. Somewhere from her side the fragment of a hushed conversation reached her ears
 
 "...cannot believe he'd get York's people. What was that about them being apolitical?"
 
 "Heh, crap, obviously."
 
  "Yeah. Did any of them even lift a finger when there was real fighting going on? Shit, do..."
 
 "Shhh, keep it down..."
 
 The rest of what the Kindred behind her were saying escaped her, because as soon as the newly appointed 'Sheriff' (whatever that meant in this society) came into sight along with his entourage, her heart sank. The tall, ragged man leading the small group she did not recognize, but the one to his left very much so. Her hand went to her stomach, purely on its own accord, feeling the recent, still barely healed wound. Instinctively, she leaned back behind the taller crowd separating her from the group making its way towards Rocher, not wishing to find out if the savage one from the park remembered her as well. Seeing 'Donovan' and his companions gather behind and around the Prince, she silently cursed to herself. Presenting herself to the local ruling body would be stressful enough even without those... ah, animals, growling and snarling at her from behind Rocher's back.
 
 Bitterman suppressed a smirk. He wasn't perhaps the most up-to-date Kindred in Cawford as far as politics went, but he knew enough to understand when someone was making a point. And Rocher recruiting his predecessor's own bodyguards to work for him was a strong one. As the 'new' Prince, he'd have at least twice as many enemies as he had supporters, some of whom would have probably counted on the Gangrel being at least a thorn in Rocher's side, perhaps a tool against him later on. Being as it was however, the potential tool became Rocher's asset. 'Turn every weakness into a strength' – business 101.
 
 After that short intermission, the remaining part of Rocher's speech went fairly uneventful. Soon, the gathering returned to it's previous flow, with circles of influence shortly forming around the more prominent individuals and a whole group of Kindred just dying to have a talk with the Prince. Sorana smirked; she was off only by a minute. She had estimated the speech to take just over fifteen, he was done in fourteen. The 'fun' was just starting.                        

 

                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] munchies.Trooper on August 24, 2006, 06:25:00 PM
                The faint smell of gun oil filled the room, mixed with stale blood from the empty plastic bags that were once filled with life giving blood for humans and kindred alike. Dropping the oil stained rag on the ground Mike looked towards the clock that was propped up on the makeshift table, letting out a sigh. Mike stopped cleaning his rifle and went back to the table where a set of keys with an alarm remote lay in pieces. Grabbing the soldering iron that lay on its side, he began his work again with rewiring the remote. The laptop computer at the other end of the table beeped and flashed a message on the screen. Looking at the screen, Mike reads:
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Code sync ready please insert ROM chip in the reader and press enter to continue.â€?
 
 With a few last touches with the soldering iron, the ROM chip from the alarm remote is placed inside the Chip reader. Tapping the enter key on the laptop Mike gazes at the screen on more time.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“ROM Chip sync Started…. Copying ROM chips information…. Writing Arming codes for detonators to ROM chip…. Writing Disarming codes for detonators to ROM chip …. Writing manual detonation codes to ROM chip…. ROM chip sync completed…. Would you like to set a detonation time?â€?    
 
 Staring at the blinking cursor, Mike pondered the idea of just having the explosives go off on a timer, but changes his mind before a clear thought could form. With a few clicks of the keyboard Mike gazes at the screen once again.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Detonation will acquire if alarm goes off…. Syncing Old information with new information…. ROM Chip ready for use….â€?
 
 Grabbing the chip Mike places it back in the remote and reattaches it to the circuit board, and assembles the remote back to it former state. Pushing himself away from the table, Mike looks over his little would be home and sigh’s again. Slowly he starts to clean up the empty packs of blood and throws them in the trashcan which he also uses as a fire bin to destroy most of the things he does not like to leave around. Tossing a match into the trash bin the plastic begins to smoke and melt into nothing more than a bag ball of plastic. The smoldering embers of plastic which once filled the trash can died out, Filling the air with the smell of smoke, oil, and blood.
 
 Walking towards the washroom Mike grabs a small bag filled with some makeup to get ready for this big kindred function. Changing his appearance before was easy, now it took more work since his skin tone started darkening up from the Assamite blood which now ran though his veins. What seem like hour but which was only 30 minutes Mike had him self looking like a member of Clan Venture without the aid of kindred powers, grabbing the three piece Armani suit that hang from the back of the door Mike finished getting ready. Taking one last look in the mirror he was out the door with the car keys, and GPS transmitters to go play nice Kindred of this city, in hopes to get a better understanding of his two targets. As he leaves he locks his laptop and turns on some last minute security equipment and hides his small cache of weapons, and then leaves to where he parked the car he would be using. Making a few last minute checks on the trunk full of C4 explosives Mike gets into the 2006 BMW M5 that just happen to end up missing and drives to the Elysium.
 
 Walking towards the mansion Mike hits the remote to arm the car alarm along with the C4 that filled the trunk. Walking past the doormen, Mike enters the mansion and begins to search for his targets.
                       

 

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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    
                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Killer39787726 on August 24, 2006, 10:56:00 PM
                I grab one of the liquored blood glasses on the way out and drink it down. Caliori’s little game was starting to get tiresome, she did put a little show for me and the rookie. Torries. Maybe she wanted to be like Mary Astor, leading me into a hunt for the legendary maltese falcon. Either way, as long as she was paying me, who was I to complain?
 
 "Announcing, Childe of Severus, conqueror of Genina, voice of the Conclave..."
 
 I stand at the door for a minute and leave just as they’re about to introduce the new prince.
 
 Diplomacy is the art of saying 'nice doggie' until you can find a rock.
 
 ---
 
 The drive to St. Augustine takes me a short while. The place is easy enough to find.
                       

 

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           Cant we all just get along?...No? Ok...then i will just rip your head off.    
                                                  
Title: Re: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Grendel8101 on August 28, 2006, 01:29:00 AM
                The Tremere turned and walked away.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“The stick up her ass must have thorns,â€? I glanced at the painting.  Ã¢â‚¬Å“Nice use of iambic heptameter.â€?
 
 I turned my eyes to the Nos,  who was still grinning and sipping blood.  I downed my own glass in a swallow.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“So, any idea why the powers that be are sending members of the three of the most non-diplomatic clans as representatives in a diplomatic mission?â€?                        

 

                                                  
Title: Family Business
Post by: [archive] Sodom40280831 on September 11, 2006, 07:02:00 AM
                Nail turned to Bitterman and shrugged.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Beats me. If I had to guess, I’d say the other clans were under the impression they had better things to do. Leave it to the freakin’ Torries to turn away right when they have a chance to put those people-skills of theirs to good use for the Cam. Lazy fucks. I mean don’t get me wrong, this is no holiday for me either but at least I’m willing to do my bit for my cla…uh, the Camarilla.â€?  
                       

 

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           I'm so serious it's comical!