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Thursday, August 7th 

8:02 AM    Private Suite: Katarina Novokskyatin

Katarina concentrates on the memories of Tommy Hinds that Mr. Confetti inserted directly into her consciousness. All night, she molded the face, hair, and neck. They were perfect. The man once known as Andy now looked and sounded like Hinds. Yes, altering the shape of his neck, tongue, and vocal chords had the dramatic effect of changing his voice as well. But that was just the first part, not the only part.

 

Now she molds his shoulders and upper torso. Hinds was a fit man who cared for his body. Andy is a homeless alcoholic. Both are approximately the same height and weight, but the upper torso is very different, as is the width of the shoulders, the wingspan of the arms. After months in Prince Modius' not so gentle care, either Modius or his traitorous butler Strohdman, might notice a difference. If either truly noticed and suspected, the entire gambit would fail, and they might pay a heavy price if the Toreador clan in Chicago learns of it and is angered.

 

So she concentrates and uses her vampiric powers to re-craft the flesh and bone, and literally transform one man into another. She hopes the rest of the team is grateful for her work. Still, she is not the only one with a difficult task. Later, part of the team will have to exchange the real Hinds for this unfortunate man, who will surely die in his place.

 

But Katarina doesn't feel the slightest twinge of guilt over the sacrifice. This man had made himself worthless. Now he serves a true purpose. One that will help her gain an advantage in the territory. His death will be better served this way than simply dying one night from alcohol poisoning in a dark alleyway.

 

She examines the right shoulder, and concentrates on the memory. No, it is not right. She reaches in with both hands, kneading the flesh like a baker kneads dough. It is a macabre thing she is able to do. But for Katarina, it feels like a perfectly ordinary day. 

8:36 AM    Superior Construction

Site Supervisor Adam Reeves narrows his eyes as the concrete mixers roll. These trucks have not been used in over a year, and he doesn't like the sounds coming out of the mixers. Still, the first test batch of concrete was fine, just fine.

 

The team had received their marching orders and at first they seemed pretty peculiar. They are now building a large concrete wall in front of their own yard so tall that nobody will be able to see in from the outside. Then they'll add a nice firm gate in the center.

 

An odd thing to do, but Vice-President Bill Falding had told him that there's going to be all new equipment in the yard soon, and that everyone is concerned that gang members will steal them for money. So, time to build a huge concrete wall.

 

Reeves sips his coffee. Bitter. He'll have to put in a request that the next thing they fix is the coffee machine. He's heard wind that there's going to be a huge job coming in soon, one that will put Superior Construction back on the map and make the company a ton of money. Great news for everybody involved. That new business partner Pablo Acosto may be a little weird, but he's really delivering on all of his promises.

 

Reeves takes another sip of the coffee, grimaces, and tosses it into a nearby garbage bin. The workers begin brick construction. This will be an all day job, but a low stress one.

 

Adam Reeves thinks for a moment about the coffee he's going to have during breakfast. But that won't be for another ninety minutes. He scolds himself, sharpens his own focus, and then barks orders at crew members who are just standing around. They get to work.

 

He grins. They are getting used to taking orders from him. It's all good. 

 

OOC: Pablo has spent 5K from his bank and increased the Security Rating of his business Superior Construction to 2.

9:13 AM         Post Office, Gary Indiana

Jeeps, in a sports jacket and slacks, sits in the post master's office. "So you are saying that the address is active, that there are residents living there?"

 

"It's been approved with the local zoning board." Jeeps presents paperwork. The post master reviews it. "Everything seems to be in order. We'll put you on the route."

 

"I'd also like to open a post office box here." Jeeps hands him the filled out form. "We can get that processed for you, Mr. Jeeps."

 

"Thanks." Jeeps grins politely. 

9:24 AM        Solutions Services Realty

Brenda Guffinlaw yawns. Only five hours of sleep. Again. But this early morning is for a worthy cause. She lazily watches from her chair as workers install a rolling metal gate on the outside and, on the inside, large thick security blinds. Both can be opened and closed with the same remote control, and when the gate is down and the blinds are closed, the place will look closed and locked up tight even with all of the lights on.

 

For the first time in a long time, Brenda didn't feel so alone in the world. Even though her ally is a big dumb gang member pretending not to be a big dumb gang member, his suggestions have not been dumb at all. There's something about him, she can't really understand it. He's odd and different.

 

And his money, what little of it there has been so far, seems to be good. She just hopes he isn't running a con. Because then she'll have to make some phone calls of her own. 

11:09 AM     Gary Public Library

Samuel Lukos hasn't had a real book request challenge in many a year. Most folks these days just want the latest popular paperback or some Help for Dummies book. He remembers the old days when books were the source for research and information. Now everybody just jumps online and more information then you can find in a whole section of books is instantly available at your fingertips. It's all right. It's progress. But still.

 

His secret benefactor had a request for him, left a little note for him on the counter. "The Childless Unicorn." Reverend Thomas had warned him that this would be a rare find. He wouldn't be able to get it from any distributor. That if he could find a single copy anywhere on Earth, it would be very costly. A cost that the Reverend himself would gladly pay, if only Samuel would do the legwork.

 

Well, its certainly outside the normal procedures for a public library manager to shop for rare occult books like some independent book store owner. Samuel hadn't been this excited for years. As he sits down at the newly installed computers, he can't help but smirk at the irony. He doesn't actually expect to find the tome this way. But he might learn something about it, and also he'll be able to count out a large number of avenues that would waste time, and allow him to pursue those that remain.

 

Yeah, it might take some doing. But Samuel Lukos might just find this book. At the very least, he would give it the ol' college try. 

12:04 PM         Gleason Park  Petting Zoo 

Animal caretaker Judi Blocke feels helpless as the children cry all around her. GoodyTwos the goat is clearly in the worst mood he's ever been in and has refused to allow the children anywhere near him. From time to time he has let out pathetic "bah's" that indicate he might be ill.

 

Greenbeans the iguana has stayed in his little wood tree house the entire day as well. And the damn hamsters are just lying on their poor little sides. Is there some kind of multi-animal flu going on? Judi will have to call the veterinarian, but in the meantime the kids aren't getting their parents' money's worth. It's bad. Real bad.

 

Up above in the sky, Judi Blocke fails to notice the ominous form of Tron the Harpy Eagle. He flaps his wings menacingly. "Bahhhh!" GoodyTwos moans in pure fear.

 

Yeah, they'll play their parts in Mortimer T. Smith's drama all right. They'd better! 

12:36 PM  The Hotel Lobby 

Jeeps lets his eyes slide across the monitor banks. He is impressed by the clarity. He isn't going to let his guard down for a moment, and if he hadn't absolutely needed to set up the account at the post office, he'd never have left.

 

The Kindred, except for Katarina, are all sleeping. And Katarina is working too hard to notice anything outside of her own room. The Enemy, and Jeeps is quite certain that there is one, is out there. And just because they tried Mr. Confetti and the competitors with Kindred last night, doesn't mean that there aren't ghouls, mortals, or other daytime agents coming to attack at any moment. Mr. Confetti didn't think so and Mr. Confetti is rarely wrong. Rarely. But the addition of the security cameras and this monitor bank certainly makes Jeeps' job ten times easier. He would give Mortimer a big ol' hug if he wasn't so...uh...scary and un-personable. Well, whatever. The Nosferatu had definitely delivered.

 

"What's this, then?" Jeeps mutters as he sees someone approach the front door. "Oh hell. Oh no."

 

It's Jimbo M. Tarley, the ghoul of "Baron Wittger" whoever that is. All they know for sure is that Jimbo was kidnapped by Doctor Deathtrap as part of the deathtrap after Pablo had put a tracking device on him out of sheer vigilante's instincts. Somehow, Doctor Deathtrap didn't just know he'd do that, it was expected. Making the identity of Jimbo M. Tarley extremely suspect. Except that he did shoot very well against the Assamite in helping to save Salihah.

 

Jeeps takes the safety off his shotgun, just to be sure, and buzzes the front door open. Tarley walks in. "Good day to you Jeeps."

 

"Uh, yeah. You're very chipper considering-"

 

"Considering I'm still alive after being put in that bomb-ridden house? Yes! Precisely why I'm happy. I've been whistling all day. Close shave, that one was! Hah hah!"

 

"I am glad you are finding it so amusing."

 

"One can either laugh or cry at one's misfortunes, Jeep. As ghouls of powerful Kindred, you and me are always going to be in dangerous situations, what? And anyway, I didn't become a safari hunter years ago to end up curled up in fetal position over some maniac, what say? Get the jist of my rub?"

 

"I suppose I do. What can I do for you Mr. Tarley?'

 

"Do? Oh yes. How very silly of me. How very silly indeed." Tarley pats himself down and then locates a sealed letter from the inside of his jacket pocket. "Ah, here we are. For Mr. Confetti from Baron Wittger. Confidential and all the like."

 

"I will see that Mr. Confetti receives it unopened."

 

"Good show! Much appreciated." Tarley looks around the place, squinting at all of the grime and dirt. "Kindred." he laughs. "They don't mind a patch of grub do they? Still, all the same, might want to get a bowl of Mr. Clean, what? Just my suggestion."

 

"You have a very pleasant day Mr. Tarley."

 

"I will, at that!" Tarley grins and heads out the door. Jeeps frowns, seals the lock, and lifts the envelope. He opens it and reads. "Huh. Well, the plot thickens, eh?" 

2:02 PM         Private Suite: Salihah

Salihah hears soft footsteps approach and she snaps up in her bed to an upright position. But Mr. Confetti has only taken a single step through the archway. He is not close to her small, modest bed.

 

"Why are you intruding on my haven?"

 

Mr. Confetti nods at her. "And during the middle of the afternoon, as well. I know. But. How is your foot healing?"

 

Salihah checks out her left foot. Only half of it is present. "It is...not back yet."

 

"No, of course not. And to make it grow back you would have to use almost all of the blood left in your system. You would wake starving and not be able to participate in the mission."

 

"Mortimer hardly needs me to-"

 

"We don't know enough about Tony to trust him to watch Mortimer's back. He is a bit of a loose cannon. Unpredictable, I think."

 

"So send Marshall."

 

"On a stealth mission?" Mr. Confetti is incredulous. Salihah has to laugh. "That would be a disaster. What are you thinking to do with me?"

 

Mr. Confetti draws a thin knife which makes Salihah raise an eyebrow. Then he slashes his own arm. A slow stream of his elder blood oozes from the wound. Salihah licks her lips. "You...you wouldn't try to bind me would you Confetti?"

 

"No. I do not believe in the blood bond. I feel it is an evil method of control. I only offer this because of the importance of-"

 

"Yes. You said. A piece of the puzzle. But what puzzle are you referring to?"

 

Mr. Confetti shrugs apologetically. "It is all vague Salihah. I only know what I feel. But my instincts in such matters have rarely failed me."

 

"And that is the true reason that we were almost killed last night isn't it? You are on to something, and someone else wants to stop us."

 

"That is one potential answer." Mr. Confetti holds his arm out. "But I am not one to make assumptions as large as all that."

 

Salihah frowns. "Talking to you is like wandering through a maze shaped like a circle spiraling inwards upon itself." She leans forward, unable to resist the urge to drink.

 

Mr. Confetti grins. "I will take that as the huge compliment it was not meant to be."

 

 

4:34 PM         Spare Suite, 4th Floor, The Hotel

Katarina steps all the way back to the wall of the room. She rubs her chin, and gazes at the man across the room from her. She approaches him, and guides him towards spinning around so his back is now facing her. She backs away, away, away, to the wall.

 

"Who are you?" She asks him.

 

"I am...I am Hinds...at least, I think I am..."

 

Katarina nods her head. "Yes. I think you are too. At least, you will be soon. And for that, I am sorry for you."

 

Yes, the man once known as Andy now looks exactly like Tommy Hinds. Except of course, that he is still breathing. And that, Katarina knows, will never do.

 

Absolutely exhausted, she heads out of the room, and locks the door so he can't escape. Her job is done. And she knows, she will not be participating in any more of this or the contest of will this evening. Tonight she will simply replenish her strength, and consider her future in Gary, Indiana. 

7:03 PM        The Central Room

Tony, Mortimer, Salihah, Jeremiah, and Marshall sit around the large circular table, in anticipation of the moment. Mr. Confetti and Jeeps enter, escorting Andy, who is now a perfect look-a-like, and sound-a-like, for Tommy Hinds. Everyone gasps in amazement!

 

"That's...wow." Mortimer murmers.

 

"But of course, there is a huge problem." Mr. Confetti grins. "Tommy Hinds is, you know, a vampire. And this guy isn't."

 

"Right. It's time you share your Ventrue blood with him Tony." Mortimer says, gazing at the squat, muscular man nearby. Tony purses his lips, then he says simply. "Sure. Only one problem. I'm not a Ventrue."

 

Everyone explodes with frustrated noise. Mr. Confetti just smiles brightly. After all, he already knew this.

 

"What do you mean, you're not Ventrue! You told us you were."

 

"Yeah." Tony shrugs apologetically. "Sorry. I was just meeting you guys and I didn't know what was really going on. I just played along. I don't even know why we're doing this weird thing here, so..."

 

"Well, we're totally screwed now!" Salihah exclaims. "Wait, didn't you know this? You invited him to be here!"

 

Mr. Confetti smiles brightly "Of course I did. Frankly, it hardly matters at this point. Mortimer came up with his plan before Tony even arrived and we didn't have another Ventrue that we could safely deal with, so that was never really a part of the plan."

 

Mortimer nods his head. "That's true. But it seemed like we had a Ventrue, so.." He gives a sideways glance at Tony. "What clan are you anyway?"

 

"I'm part of the Family, you know?"

 

Jeremiah, who has been coldly silent, narrows his eyes fiercely at the man. "Family? What clan is-"

 

Salihah suddenly points and laughs brightly. "Oh wow! He's Giovanni! I'm right aren't I? You're totally a Giovanni."

 

Tony nods affirmatively at Salihah. She laughs her head off.

 

"I thought all those guys were Italian." Marshall blurts out undiplomatically. Tony gazes over at him. "I'm a Hidalgo. We're an off-shoot from Mexico and South America. Anyway, whatever. You want me to embrace the guy? I'll embrace him."

 

"We'll just have to hope that Modius doesn't decide to take a drink and figure out something is different." Mortimer gazes at Andy.

 

"We'd better get to it. Time is wasting." Jeremiah adds. Tony stands up and they approach Andy, who has been sitting silently not understanding a word of it for some time. "Wait. What, what are you going to do to me?" He looks at Confetti. "You said you weren't going to kill me."

 

Mr. Confetti looks down sadly at Andy. "I know. But, I lied."

 

"No!" Andy tries to rise quickly from his seat, but Tony easily pushes him back down. "Shut up." Tony says. Salihah licks her lips. "May I drink? I am still quite starving."

 

Tony shrugs. "Go ahead."

 

Salihah doesn't use her barbed tongue. She practically pounces on the man, and quickly drains him dry. Jeeps has to turn away at the sight of it.

Tony takes a small knife and slices his arm, then he lets some of his own blood gush into Andy's open mouth. He licks his arm to seal the wound. "There. It's done."

 

Mr. Confetti watches the procedure carefully. "It will be a few hours before the change occurs. Those of you involved in the transfer, stay close at hand. The rest of you are free to go about your business. Jeremiah, you have secured-

 

"I have a car coming to pick me up in-" he gazes at his watch. "Thirty minutes. I am taking Prince Modius and his childe Allicia to the opera house in Chicago. You will have approximately four hours to successfully make the transfer and leave without a trace."

 

Mortimer grins at that. "That should be a more than sufficient amount of time. Thanks."

 

Jeremiah stands. "I need to get appropriately dressed. Good luck to you all."

 

Mr. Confetti and Jeeps lay out Andy on a plastic sheet. "Marshall, would you be so kind as to help with this?" Marshall grabs one end, and the Bellboy Girl, who appears in an instant when Mr. Confetti snaps his fingers, apparently she had been waiting right outside, grabs the other end. "Take him to the designated suite on the fourth floor please."

 

"Which one is that?" Marshall asks. "I will escort you." Jeeps says simply. They follow him. Mortimer gazes at Tony. "So, you up to come with us? A little more muscle couldn't hurt if we get into trouble."
 

Tony shrugs. "I guess I'm in this thing now. Might as well help see it through." Mortimer starts for the door. "Come with me, I'll fill you in on what we'll be doing exactly." Tony nods and follows. With only Mr. Confetti and Salihah left in the room, she takes off her boot and gazes at her nearly fully formed foot.

 

"Your new Nickname is No Toes!" Mr. Confetti exclaims. She giggles. "That's not accurate. I clearly have five. They are just all on the other foot.

 

"I stand corrected."

 

"Still, there is more than enough of my foot for me to be able to sneak around or even run if I need to. Thank you for your delicious and powerful vitae. What generation are you anyway?"

 

"I was a baby boomer!" Mr. Confetti grins. Salihah can't help but laugh. "You don't fool me. I know you are old. Very old. An experienced Kindred can see it in the eyes of all other Kindred. When someone is still a baby there is a freshness to their pupils that changes after the first hundred years."

 

"Very observant. You should join Pablo on his investigations as his lovely sidekick."

 

"I am nobody's sidekick. Anyway, that little trick is part of how I decided on the hierarchy in my temple. Setites would come in with outrageous claims all the time, and want a prominent position. I would place them appropriately but never tell them how I knew. They all assumed I had contacts all over the world to check on them."

 

"You really are a special young lady." Mr. Confetti smirks. "We have much to do in this region Salihah. I will not be mad if you build a new temple here. I think I can keep you protected if you do."

 

Her own eyes get very large. "I wasn't sure if...but Modius will never allow it."

 

Mr. Confetti grins. "He will. After all, there is a genuine Assamite threat here now."

 

Salihah's eyes narrow. "Please tell me that you didn't manipulate Fahd. Is that why you are helping me heal my foot."

 

Mr. Confetti's smile immediately fades. "I would never play games with an Assamite. Especially one who genuinely wants you dead. No. We have enemies. And I consider Fahd to be just as much my enemy as yours, now. We'll figure it out. But one task at a time. Remember not to mention Fahd or any of the attacks to Mortimer. He must not be distracted during the transfer."

 

"We're well into his plan now. Shouldn't we-"

 

"He's an infiltrator, not a combat specialist. He must not be distracted. He'll learn all about this, even this very conversation, when he sleeps tomorrow afternoon. I will share all with him and our newcomer Tony."

 

"Very well. I am sorry that I can't bring myself to fully trust you and I accuse you all the time of things. I know I must have offended you at least three times already." Salihah suddenly looks sad. "I could never trust anyone in the temple once my Sire was murdered. I always looked for traitors rather than friends."

 

"Which is exactly why I convinced you to leave." Confetti puts his hand on her shoulder. "Trust comes very uneasily among the Kindred. It takes time. And I do not often explain myself or my motives. It is frustrating to all who I surround myself with. Even Jeeps has to make great leaps of faith some times. He does it, and I hope you will continue to also."

 

"Once this is done we need to deal with Fahd immediately. If we do that, you will have my trust, Mr. Confetti."

 

"Not just Fahd. While diablerizing you might be the payment and a reward unto itself for him, someone had to have collected him, that Doctor Deathtrap maniac, and whomever has sabotaged Jeremiah and Mortimer. We still don't know if that is one or two entities. But the important thing is finding the ringmaster of that circus. It will be a priority."

   

7:08 PM        The Workshop

Sweat drips off the brow of Russell Hampton. He is tired, but not as much as he was last night. Working for vampires means sleeping during the day and working at night. First off, just for the sake of communication, that's best. But second, working on weapons and armor is a loud business. Keeping cranky immortal bloodsuckers awake isn't a good idea.

 

Sometimes they lose control and then you're dead.

 

Hampton wouldn't work for them, so much more risk than working for mortals. But once he learned about them it became impossible to ignore them basically being everywhere. And not just the vampires. The other things too. They're everywhere, if only your eyes are open and you know how to look.


Russell Hampton does. Anyway, humans want weapons for renaissance festivals and Halloween costumes. Vampires want real weapons made by a genuine craftsman that will be used in a raging, bellowing, angry war that has gone on apparently since Caine murdered Abel and God didn't like it.

 

In terms of his craft being utilized properly, there's just no comparison.

 

He lets the little ball of sweat run from the top of his forehead, down against the side of his nose, and onto his lip where he tastes the salt of his labors. It feels good to sweat again, while pounding metal against metal. Shaping, re-shaping, trying, failing, starting over, trying again. Getting it right this time. This is what the man lives for.

 

Yeah, they're vampires. And the Priest is going to use this thing to cave in somebody's skull. He's not one of the good guys, no matter that he thinks he is. He's a vampire.

 

He's up to no good. All of them are. They're secretly taking over the town and the people living there have no idea. No idea!

 

Russell looks down at the weapon, and makes a promise to himself. When the vampire priest swings this at his enemy, and expects a perfect blow to send that person's brains oozing out of the new crevice next to his ear, that is exactly the result he's going to get.

 

Russell lifts his hammer high in the air. He brings it down. And again. And again. And again. And again. 

7:14 PM            4th Floor Private Suite 

Marshall Barry looks down at the convulsing figure writhing in agony on the plastic sheet. "Poor sap." he mutters. Jeeps sighs. "His name used to be Andrew Whitaker Kodanger. He had a wife and a son and a career, and it all went downhill, a story for another time, perhaps. He lost his house in the divorce settlement and never lived in another. He wandered from city to city for a time, making friends among the other society outcasts. For a short time he enjoyed it. The freedom. He'd never felt so free."

 

"What happened to change that?"

 

"Winter. It started to snow and he realized he was, at best, going to get frostbite and lose a hand or a foot. Then it got very real for him but it was too late to go back to his life. He became an urban survival expert, learned all kinds of unique ways to make small fires and to sanitize water and get a meal. He's actually never begged anyone for a single dollar in all his years as a homeless man. He just...adapted."

 

"And we snatched him right off the street. And now he's going to die in the place of a Ventrue who ran a sleeze joint and is probably half the man this guy could be."

 

"When you found Andy, he was hopelessly addicted to alcohol, and no matter his other skills, he'd be dead of liver poisoning long before his time. He was not going to help anyone with anything, including himself. It's just..."

 

Marshall raises an eyebrow. "Just what, Jeeps?"

 

"Mr. Confetti learned all of this when he removed Mr. Kodanger's memories and replaced them with an artificial facsimile of a broken Tommy Hinds. He didn't need to keep the memories or share them with me. But, he did it as a lesson for me."

 

"What lesson is that?"

 

"That everyone can be exceptional at something. And that being exceptional doesn't always save us, in the end, if we allow our personal demons to destroy us."

 

"Huh."

 

"Mr. Barry, I don't want to be impertinent. I know my place. I am a ghoul, and you are an Elder of Clan Gangrel. But I wonder, those police officers...does it bother you that-"

 

"No. I did it. It happened. Jeeps, I was never a saint, and maybe that's no excuse. But we Kindred have rules and some of them are strange. One of them is that it's better to slaughter forty-three people and then blame other people for the mess and let the FBI come in and kill those people, then it is to allow one person to escape to tell the tale. When I killed them, flawed plan and stupid as it was, I did it cause I thought I needed to. It ain't like the old days of yore when the mortals could only come at you with a sharp stick. They got exploding drones now that they can send into your sleeping place by remote control. There's ignorant Kindred all over the place that think we'd survive, even thrive and rule over the mortals if we came out of our hiding place and took over. Me? I think we'd all be dead in about three weeks. So..." He shrugs. "So it don't bother me."

 

Andy's body convulses. His eyes pop open and he lets out a blood curdling howl. His bowels empty suddenly and he pees and craps all over himself. Then he vomits everything that was in his stomach, including a large part of his actual stomach.

 

"Damn, hate this part." Marshall groans.

 

Jeeps purses his lips. "I...I've never actually seen it. I've heard it's horrible but..." Andy falls back down, and everything calms down again. "Oh. He's done. I guess he's over the worst of it."

​

Marshall frowns. "Jeeps, he ain't even gotten started yet. If there were secure locks on that door, I damn sure wouldn't be here to witness it. You surely got better things to do."

​

Jeeps tries not to vomit himself. "God, the stench! I...no, I need to stay. I need to get the education. I-"

​

Andy sits up again and vomits what appears to be a small part of an intestine. Jeeps forces himself to watch, and forces the food he had for lunch to stay down.

​

"He's...after all of this he's just going to die, isn't he Mr. Barry? Prince Modius is going to think Hinds' mind is finally shattered and he's going to put him out in the sun."

 

"You didn't realize that was part of Mortimer's plan?"

 

"I guess I hadn't thought of it, really. But it...it's really very crafty. Mr. Smith realizing that between Confetti and Katarina they could...create a doppleganger of Hinds. But it's cruel too. I thought somehow that..."

 

"That what?"

 

"That Mr. Smith was a nice person. But he's not. Clearly. No one nice would have come up with any of this."

 

"You thought a guy that was transformed into an undead bird-like monster so he could secure the Kremlin's secrets from the CIA would have a sweet outlook on life?"

 

"When you put it like that."

 

"Trust me, Mortimer's not so bad. He understands that to get things done, you gotta actually get things done. I respect that. So here we are, doing this thing."

 

Jeeps slowly nods his head. "Yes. I realize it's important. I just...wish there had been another way around it."

 

Andy's eyes grow wide and round as plates. Jeeps knows he will never be able to forget the man's high piercing scream. 

You really don't want to see a picture of Andy transforming into a vampire. Trust me!

7:24 PM            Modius' Mansion

The black limousine pulls up to the battered mansion of Prince Modius. Strohman the disloyal butler nods at it and walks inside. A few moments later Modius strides out of the mansion in an elegant suit that no modern man would ever consider wearing.

 

Behind him Allicia looks positively delightful in a beautiful gown that fits her like a glove. Jeremiah notes that she probably hasn't had occasion to wear it in decades, though it looks brand new. It was clearly custom designed. An order like that would take months to fill. She's had it in her wardrobe, for who knows how long? A woman who takes great care with her finer things, he notes.

 

The driver opens the door and Modius allows his childe to enter first in the manner of a gentleman. Allicia smiles nervously at Jeremiah.

 

The Tremere elder has chosen a subdued blue suit himself. It is unlike his normal priest or wizard vestments and in truth he feels slightly stifled by it. But it is the right choice. Both the Prince and Regent will certainly outdo him visually and he will be able to simply fade into the background once the true politicking between them begins. Of course, at this juncture the Prince has yet to understand what is about to happen. Time to enlighten him.

 

"It was kind of you to invite us to the opera this evening." Prince Modius says pleasantly. Allicia and I could both use some distraction. "I am sorry to say that this evening won't prove a distraction from your purpose whatsoever." Jeremiah says slowly, carefully.

 

Allicia suddenly looks fearful and Modius glares at the man. "What do you mean by-"

 

"We will be sitting in my Primogen's own box. As you know, the Opera House is still Elysium. All will be perfectly safe there, which is why it was chosen."

 

"Will...will the Primogen be there?" Modius' voice lowered to a fearful whisper.

 

"Certainly not. You are, I understand, familiar with Abraham DuSable."

 

"Yes. The Regent. We have been in the same location on several occasions and have exchanged respectful niceties. Beyond that we have really never spoken."

 

"That changes tonight Prince Modius."

 

"Is this some kind of threat. Because I assure you that-"

 

"A threat? Don't you see what I have done? We just spoke about how to secure the seat of Prince of Chicago one needs to secure four Primogen votes. You have one, you claim. The Toreador Primogen. Abraham DuSable is the Regent of Clan Tremere. He has the Tremere Primogen's ear. I spoke to Abraham at length and he is currently supporting no one for Prince. He was genuinely surprised by your candidacy, and is intrigued enough to meet with you to specifically speak to you about it."

 

"He...he is? He isn't trying to become Prince of Chicago himself?"

 

"Apparently he has no interest in it."

 

Modius becomes immediately suspicious. "And why is that?"

 

"Honestly I don't know. I only just arrived and don't know Abraham too well. But he's been in Chicago for many years and has never attempted to become Prince."

 

"That's true. Yes, that is true. Well, we'll just see." Modius rubs his chin, letting the wheels in his mind work. "You could have told me this beforehand Reverend. I would not have brought Allicia along. She is not interested in politics. Are you my dear?"

 

Allicia shakes her head no.

 

"Allicia has been asked along as an additional precaution because we know it will guarantee everyone's safety."

 

"What does that mean, exactly? She isn't my bodyguard, obviously. And Abraham-"

 

"This isn't about us. It is about Clan Ventrue. Allicia is quite beloved in Chicago. Everyone knows she is an elegant and beautiful representative of clan Toreador. If some harm were to befall her, the entire city would fall upon the perpetrators. Nobody would be so stupid as to attack you and Abraham with her there. It's that simple."

 

"Mmm. Yes. Yes, that's true, isn't it? The vengeance of my clan would be enormous. Elders would come from Europe in droves! The fools would be crushed if even a single hair were blemished on her head."

 

He reaches out and softly touches Allicia's hand. She blushes from the flattery of the conversation, hardly believing a word of it herself. Modius gently kisses her hand.

 

"But even the vengeance of the entire rest of the clan would pale compared to my own personal pursuit of justice for such a crime!"

 

Jeremiah stares at the drama playing out before his eyes and wonders if the opera singers will possibly come close to Prince Modius' tedious ability to create theatre where there should be none. He keeps his expression sullen, of course, for he too must play his part. The more distracted Modius is, the easier it will be to keep him in Chicago. He has promised Mortimer four hours. And he will keep that promise.   

 

7:28 PM        Rooftop, The Hotel

Magnussen guards both the rooftop entire and Mr. Confetti, who sits cross-legged in the center in a meditative position with his AK-47 assault rifle. Confetti's eyes pop open.

 

Magnussen is immediately alert to it. "Well?"

 

"Fahd is nowhere in the immediate region."

 

"Is there anyway that he can cloak-"

​

"Not by using obfuscate. This is a trick of Auspex, the very discipline one uses to break it. His mind is strong, but that would only help me find him, not the opposite. I have yet to meet any being that can hide from both my Auspex and my Dominate simultaneously. It does leave me terribly vulnerable but-"

 

"You were well protected, sir, I promise you."

 

"I appreciate it. I seem to be unharmed. Anyway, should be safe enough. At least for Salihah tonight, and that is my main concern."

 

"Perhaps this Assamite only strikes once per two decades, and has returned to the Middle East and his Nest."

 

Mr. Confetti grins. "Well, somebody is a rare kind of optimist, I see."

 

Magnussen chuckles. "Wishful thinking, I suppose. Do you need me on the roof then? If its all the same I'd like to stretch my legs and help Pablo with...whatever he's going to do tonight."

 

"Yes. What is he up to?" Confetti asks plainly. Magnussen simply smiles. "He'll be back playing your little game, I suppose." Mr. Confetti grins slyly. 

 

7:31 PM         The Central Room

Marshall Barry stalks into the room and finds Pablo using his laptop computer. "I really need to get me one of those." Marshall growls, and heads over. "Stayin' in to look at porn tonight Pablo?"

 

"Funny. No, I'm actually examining the Gary, Indiana website. Doing some research."

 

"Sounds really boring. Tell you what? My part in Mortimer's plan for Hinds is done. I challenge you!"

 

Pablo looks up, eyes narrowed. "Challenge me? I know I socked you in the face the other day but-"

 

Marshall laughs. "Hah! I've been hit harder by my own grandma. No, man, let's head out to Chicago, go to that Cabrini Green place, and tear it up until one of us finds the new flag Confetti hid there."

 

Pablo grins. "An intriguing prospect. One I would normally jump to. But...I'm so close."

 

"Close to what?"

 

"To being the first to finish round one's required task list. All I need to do now is get myself a municipal asset and then upgrade it. Should be simple."

 

"Yeah, I, uh, need to get one of those myself. Is that what's on your computer there?"

​

Pablo turns it so Marshall can see it. "There's plenty of them." Pablo shrugs. "I myself have decided to take over the department of health."

 

"Huh. What's so good about that?"

 

Pablo grins slyly. "I will control all of the health inspectors in the region. A few of the other towns nearby have completely shut down their own departments and in fact, Gary is considering doing the same. But I will prevent that, and then-"

 

"And then you can send agents into every damn building in this town and the surrounding ones to do whatever you want 'em to."

 

"Now you're seeing the big picture, big guy."

 

"That'll be real helpful to me once my gang gets here."

 

"What's the timetable on that?"

 

"Sooner than later, man. It's in the works."

 

"Good. Personally I would prefer that they arrive before the Bloods do and get entrenched here."

 

"Yeah. We'll fix the Bloods. Another reason to hit Cabrini Green."

 

"You could do it by yourself. I doubt you'd be in real harm's way."

 

"Ain't no fun if you ain't got someone else to compete against. Still, I like Hammond. I want a new weapon from him."

 

Pablo slides the computer to Marshall. "Well, I'm out of the running until I advance to Round 2. Oh damn it. I shouldn't have just blurted out my strategy like this."

 

"Don't matter. I'm nowhere close to catching you, so-"

 

"Yeah, but everyone's likely going to hear this conversation. I doubt Confetti will omit it."

 

"Oh yeah. I didn't think about that. Guess you gotta commit to that action now, or the others will rush to catch up to ya."

 

"Go ahead and borrow my laptop for an hour and check out what's available. I'll need it back for my meeting though. I have my notes prepared on it."

 

"Thanks Pablo. Sorry you can't see eye to eye with us on this whole Hinds thing. I know you're trying to be good to your clan, and I respect that."

 

"Well, there's that, sure. But it's really more about Andy. He doesn't deserve any of it. To just snatch a person off the street, embrace them, and then use them as a pawn when you know it will lead to his immediate death is-"

 

Marshall stares at Pablo. "Yeah, man, I hear you. But that's why the phrase we use for stuff like this is a necessary evil."

 

Pablo frowns and heads out of the room. He knows if he gets dragged into that discussion, he and Marshall will just end up coming to blows again. 

Private Suite: Salihah

Salihah checks out what little "stealth gear" she has. The catsuit again, she decides. Good thing vampires don't sweat or this outfit would be unwearable after her last adventure in it with Evelyn Stephens and Katarina. Not that it smells like bees and honey, but, it will serve. She's really going to have to do some shopping.

 

She--clutches her head. "Aaagh!"

 

She hears a large buzzing sound, then static like when surfing between radio stations. "And that, is what I mean about the blueberry peanuts. Do you all see now?"

 

The voice is completely unfamiliar to her. She looks all around, her eyes wide as she presses herself against a wall.

 

"What's that? Who's there?" She cries out.

 

"That depends. Who's you?" A voice cries back.

 

"Ignore her. She's someone else's guest. She's not a part of this."

 

"Right!" A third voice calls out. Salihah slides down to her knees, still clutches her head. "Aaagh! Aaaagh get out of my head! Get out of my head!"

 

"Get out of your own head, you silly nilly." The first voice yells back. "Hey, let's talk about this later when you know who isn't around anymore."

 

"But I want to hear more about the blueberry peanuts!"

 

"And so you shall, my pretty flower. And so you shall!"

 

Salihah hears a loud click again, and then that crackling sound. Then all goes quiet. Her eyes dart around the room in a paranoid fashion. But no one is there. 

7:52 PM        Civic Opera House 

Jeremiah allows the usher to lead him, Allicia, and Prince Modius directly towards the Tremere Primogen's private booth. It is obvious that the man, while not a ghoul, is in the know, and from the first he was ultra polite and respectful to the three Kindred.

 

"It has been some time since I have felt comfortable enough to walk through a building in Chicago. It has been too long." Modius says, suddenly filled with a rare kind of energy. Allicia, who has clearly never been here, marvels at the architecture. So does Jeremiah.

 

"I think my clan's primogen might have built this place." He says softly. "Did he? If so he must be commended on his taste." Modius comments pleasantly. His guard is down Jeremiah thinks. But, of course it is, we are safely in Elysium, a place where no Kindred may harm another.

 

It had been very tense in the parking garage. Modius had demanded his driver pull directly up to the curb, which is not how it's done here. You are supposed to park in the middle of the garage to leave the curb clear for those using the valet parking services.

 

Modius had refused to leave the limousine until it had practically gone up on the little sidewalk path to the front door. Jeremiah had only been slightly annoyed. Modius has very real enemies in this city, and it wouldn't be the first time that an Elder was ambushed only a few feet in front of the door to Elysium. Though attacking a Kindred such a short distance from safety is in bad taste, it is not actually breaking the rules.

 

Modius was not going to risk either himself or his childe's safety. A few feet, a single inch, could be the difference between life or death if this was, indeed, an ambush.

 

Once he and Allicia passed safely through the front entrance, he had relaxed immediately, had even become apologetic. "I am sorry for all of that Reverend Thomas. It was rather silly of me, wasn't it?"

 

"No, it wasn't. One cannot be too careful. We are here to make alliance. But that is because our mutual foes are a real threat."

 

"Our mutual foes. Yes. Who do you number among them?" Modius had gazed at Jeremiah meaningfully.

 

"The Anarch Movement for certain. They will never like or trust any member of my clan. You'll notice that even our younger members never join them. The ones that try are quickly murdered, even if their intentions had been pure to the Movement's intent."

 

"Barbarians. The Anarchs are all barbarians and I would sooner put them to the torch then break bread with them. Who else?"

 

"Who else indeed. I think we both know who else. But this discussion should be curbed until we are further away from the mortals and where Regent DuSable can participate."

 

And so they had stopped talking about politics and had instead begun marveling at the gorgeous Opera House itself. Once again Jeremiah was baffled how only thirty minutes short ride from here, you would think you were in a third world country. Kindred can make a place glow and shine with beauty, or they can ruin it to a shambles. The Opera House was that first kind of place. And all of Gary, the second.

 

Jeremiah turns his head and stares at an absolutely beautiful man who sits at a small table by the refreshment stand. He has a glass of soda and a plate of french fries in front of him. Jeremiah scans both immediately to see that they are indeed window dressing and completely untouched. Bret Stryker wears an absolutely morose expression as he sits alone, notices Jeremiah's stare, and returns it, but only for a moment.

 

"That man is-"

 

"Bret Stryker." Modius grins brazenly. "I informed my own Primogen that I would be here. She has sent her best man to guard me." Jeremiah realizes that Prince Modius was not expecting this. A nice surprise for him. Perhaps, Jeremiah realizes, he is not the complete fool everyone thinks. Perhaps he really does have his clan's support. That would change everything, wouldn't it?

 

They enter the booth to find Abraham DuSable already seated, and much to Jeremiah's surprise, Erichtho, looking absolutely stunning in a dark crimson dress and high heels, sits next to him. She smiles warmly as she rises. Introductions are quickly made.

 

Modius and DuSable take the center seats, and Jeremiah sits at the far end next to Prince Modius. Erichtho gestures for Allicia to sit on the other end next to her, away from the politics, and Jeremiah is surprised when Modius allows it.

 

The first part of the discussion are simple niceties. An easing in of things. Jeremiah had asked DuSable to initiate the conversation that way not only to put the Prince of Gary at ease, but to lengthen the discussion. There is no telling if Modius will stay for the entire opera. So he must be engaged and if the politics were to begin right away...four hours Jeremiah reminds himself. Four hours.

 

8:08 PM         Lobby, The Hotel

Jeeps eyes the Gangrel Elder's approach. He always knows when Marshall Barry is going to talk to him and when he's not. The man's level of subtlety is pretty much zero and when he is coming at you, he looks right at you as he approaches. If he's got nothing to say to you he just walks right past you. It's a bit disconcerting but all Kindred have their personality quirks. 

 

Sometimes when a man is as large and powerful as a bear it is good not to be noticed by him, Jeeps considers. Marshall pulls a large envelope out of his jacket pocket, pulls a wad of cash out of it and slams it down on the table. 

 

"Here!" 

 

"That is certainly the largest tip I have ever received for my menial services, sir." 

 

"Very funny Jeeps. Nah, I told you before, I want you to build us a laundry room. It's my addition to the Hotel for the contest." 

 

Jeeps takes the money. "Are you quite certain you don't want to fix the large holes in the ceiling, sir? Just as a-" 

 

"Let some other sucker do that. Maybe the new guy. Me? My damn clothes stink. And so does everybody else's around here. And I got heightened senses, and I'm tired of smelling everybody's filth. This whole damn place. Usually it don't bother me, but this is like, twenty five years of filth and decay. And I can smell it all Jeeps. I mean, we need to get this place checked out for mold and stuff. Won't affect me, but what about you and the mortals? Mold, Jeeps." 

 

Jeeps nods his head slowly. "Yes. I had considered that myself. But I have my orders. I could, of course, apply your five thousand towards the removal of the mold, or perhaps get a professional cleaning service in to-" 

 

"Laundry room. I'm serious." 

 

"It will be as you command, Mr. Barry." 

 

"Jeeps, what about my chopper? Any chance that-" 

 

"It was hit very hard sir. I have mechanics looking at it but their initial suggestion upon first look is to canabalize it with the parts that still-" 

 

"That bike is a part of me Jeeps. Fits me like a glove." 

 

"Sir, the newer models are more powerful and can-" 

 

"I ain't about no newer models Jeeps."

 

"I'll do whatever I can, sir. But, it was hit by a semi. I have to admit, you were hit by that semi too and you are in remarkable shape." 

 

"Yeah, well," Marshall pulls a cigar out of his vest and lights it up. "Being a tough guy is what I do." He strides out of the room and through the back hallway. His chopper is out of commission, so he'll have to borrow one of the other vehicles. Cabrini Green is out but he's got other ideas now. He hears Hampton's hammer banging away on the anvil and he heads in to take a look. 

 

"Hey, Hampton. How's it-" Marshall's sentence hangs in the air as he stares at the weapon laid out on the table. Russell smiles a bit. "She's a beaut, ain't she?" 

 

"What the hell is that?" 

 

"It's called a flail. Anybody who gets hit with it is going down. I don't care what the hell you are." 

 

"Yeah. I see that. How much for it?" 

 

"You'll have to buy it from the Reverend. He won the right to have me make a weapon when he-" 

 

"Sure, cause of the pirate flag. And he told you to make this? I have to reassess my view on good ol' Reverend Thomas." 

 

"He's an undead Wizard Priest. I assess him as insanely dangerous, man. And now he's gonna be even more so." 

 

Marshall grins broadly. "Looks like ol' Rev is gonna get medieval on somebody's ass. Hey, can I borrow your SUV?" 

 

Russell Hampton's face curls like he just drank a glass of sour milk. "I see what happens to your vehicles man." 

 

"Come on, that was a fluke. Anyway, if something happens I'll get you another." 

 

Russell pulls the keys out of his pocket and tosses them to Marshall. "I need it. Unlike you I can't run across town at eighty miles per hour or whatever." 

 

"Nothing ain't gonna happen to it." Marshall strides out of the workshop. 

 

"Damn. Didn't even say thanks or nothing." Russell puts his headphones on and listens to Bob Dylan as he gets back to work. 

8:14 PM            Lobby, The Hotel

Jeeps watches the security monitors intensely. So much so that Mr. Confetti is able to just about creep right up on him. "Boo." He says simply. Jeeps almost falls back off his chair and his shotgun bucks up towards Confetti's head.

 

Confetti hits the dirt, just in case Jeeps' usually reliable trigger finger is off for the moment. "Oh no!" Jeeps gasps. "Mr. Confetti, I am so sorry!" He leans over the front of the counter to look for Confetti, who is no longer there.

 

Mr. Confetti's index finger taps his shoulder from behind. "Boo." he whispers into Jeeps' ear. Jeeps sighs, and puts the safety on the shotgun, and puts it down on the counter.

 

"Perhaps I should quit this job. My boss doesn't seem to take the whole thing seriously."

 

"So, we're finally alone."

 

"Uh. Yes."

 

"So."

 

Jeeps frowns. "So...?"

 

"So you can give it to me."

 

"You are definitely creeping me out, Confetti."

 

Mr. Confetti howls with laughter. "I am talking about the letter delivered for me by Mr. Tarley. You do remember him from this afternoon, yes?"

 

Jeeps grimaces. "So you knew he was here, then."

 

"You weren't going to give this to me, were you."

 

"I was thinking about it."

 

"I don't even need to read it. I can just pull the contents of it from your mind."

 

"If you can find it. I've hidden it in there rather well." Jeeps taps his skull and smiles.

 

"Normally I would find such a challenge intriguing. But I don't even know if Baron Wittger is a real member of our Kindred society, let alone an actual candidate for Prince of Chicago. However, Tarley has indeed met him, traveled to far away lands with him. He has indeed hunted rare dangerous game with him. I read it all from his mind."

 

"So, then." Jeeps sighs. "I guess I have to give it to you then."

 

"I would highly advise you do."

 

"Your threat is meaningless. You'd have to do all the busy work yourself without me."

 

"Yes. But I will make you forget that Apple Jacks exist."

 

Jeeps is aghast. "No! No don't take away my Apple Jacks! You are a total bastard, Confetti!"

 

Mr. Confetti reaches out his hand. Jeeps reluctantly reaches into his inner coat jacket and retrieves the letter from Baron Wittger, and hands it to Mr. Confetti.

 

Mr. Confetti,

 

First, I want to thank you in great depth for saving my man from those heinous fiends. At some point, I am certain to return the favor by personally rescuing one of your servants.

 

I look forward to it with great relish!

 

Now to help us both out, I have some information for you. The Brujah Elder Maxwell will meet next Thursday with the Prince of Milwaukee to gain her support for his bid. This would be a disaster for all other contenders, including myself.

 

Please see to it that this meeting is sabotaged and does not take place. If you do this, I will be increasingly grateful to you and yours. For instance, I notice that the roof of your base of operations has many holes in it. How unfortunate.

 

I would be delighted to use a small modicum of the fortune I have amassed on my many adventures by covering the costs of your roof's repairs. There is much, I am certain, that we can do together. And at the end of our journey, I will be Prince of Chicago, and you will have the finest and most secure base of operations that any one could hope to have.

 

I am sure this arrangement suits you. I don't really mind if you help other candidates along their way as well. I will not take that as a slight. Simply fulfill my requests when I send them, and all will be well. And in the end, despite great odds to the contrary, I assure you, I will become the leader of the largest Camarilla controlled city in America.

 

Yours, Truly Yours,

 

Baron Wittger

 

Mr. Confetti reads the letter through, and fairly howls with laughter. "This fellow is an absolute hoot! We're definitely doing this."

 

"Really? Because she-"

 

"Yes. Yes, she will be very angry if I embarrass her, especially in regards to other influential elders. We'll have to work our way around it. Should be fun!"

 

"It will not be fun. You only survived her wrath the last time because the Sabbat assaulted Milwaukee and you ended up saving her from them. But she's crazy, you know. I mean, absolutely crazy!"

 

"Of course she's crazy." Mr. Confetti grins brightly. "She's a Malkavian!"

 

Jeeps sighs. "Well, we're going to need a really, really good plan. It would have been nice if he'd included some of the details regarding the meeting. Next Thursday night. Fine. But where? When exactly? What-"

 

Mr. Confetti smiles. "We don't need any of those details. We can simply send an agent to Milwaukee and then make sure she doesn't leave. Easy Peazy."

 

Jeeps sighs deeply. "Well, it's not going to be me. I'll tell you that."

 

Mr. Confetti pats his ghoul on the shoulder gently. "We have a whole week. We'll figure it out, old chum!"

 

Jeeps just shakes his head as Mr. Confetti howls with laughter, and hops away on one leg.  

 

It's her! Lady Anne Dyne, the Malkavian Prince of Milwaukee. She and Confetti have history. 

The Brujah Maxwell used to be the Prince of Chicago. Clearly, he and Lady Anne Dyne have history also. 

Who is Baron Wittger? 

8:27 PM        Solutions Services Inc. 

Marshall parks the SUV outside of Solutions Services Reality, and knocks on the door. He is pleased to see the new security measures in place. From the outside one can't tell if the business is open or not. He knows she's in there, because he called her.

 

But it would now be difficult for anyone else to figure that out. The security gate lifts and Marshall walks through the now unlocked front door. "Yeah, all this stuff is really great Brenda. I'm damn glad that-"

 

"Don't pat yourself too firmly on the back, there Mr. Howe." Marshall sits down. The pleased purr in Brenda's tone was not one he'd ever heard before. "So here's the scoop. I have secured an entire street for your people. Both sides of it."

 

"Holy shit."

 

"Ten houses, Mr. Howe. All, as you'll see, at extremely low, reasonable rates. And I had them all inspected. There's a specific report for each one of them."

 

"That's awesome. Really-"

 

"When are your people coming to pay me, Mr. Howe?"
 

Marshall flips open one of the reports, and quickly reads it. "Soon. Real soon. We had to get this done first, though. Ten houses. They all three floors like this?"

 

"Many of them can easily be converted into multi-family apartments if there's only one or two kids involved. You just take an entire floor and you build a few extra walls, maybe make an office into a bedroom. You build a small but serviceable bathroom. Not exactly palaces but-"

 

"We ain't looking for palaces. This is the kind of thing that'll really get the ball rolling. Next they're gonna need a garage for their choppers and bikes. That's really important Brenda. That's gotta be there for them."

 

"You think the lowlifes in this town are going to mess with the bikes of actual, real Hell's Angels?"

 

"You don't think so?" Marshall does think so. Punks are punks wherever you go.

 

"If they're stupid they'll do it." She pauses. "Yeah, they'll do it. There's a lot of stupid in Gary. Okay, a garage. But, I am really leveraging the farm Mr. Howe. The sooner I get re-paid for the houses-"

 

"You'll see every penny Brenda. Real soon. Meanwhile, speaking of money, there's this."

 

He pulls out another envelope, slams it on the table!

 

She withdraws five thousand dollars from it. "This isn't horse hay from what I'm-"

 

"I want you to hire an assistant Brenda. Use that to pay her for the first couple of months. I mean, when I first came in here, all these other desks, I thought you were just burning the midnight oil and the others were just day people. But there ain't nothing changed on any of those desks. Not a single picture hanging near 'em either. I don't know why I didn't notice that before."

 

"Yeah, when my husband died everybody abandoned ship real fast. I wasn't going to tell you, Mr. Howe. You came in here with a deal for me and I didn't want to blow it. I hope this doesn't change our arrangement."

 

Marshall holds up the folders. "Not one bit. Actually, I like this better. We can build up your agency with people of your choosing. Start with the assistant. Once you get paid for the houses, you can set up a whole staff. "

 

Brenda tries not to show how his words are affecting her. It is clear to Marshall, with his enhanced senses, that she is definitely working hard to hold back tears. "That sounds real good. I've been...you know, I just sleep when I can. A couple of hours here, a nap there. It's been...it's not healthy, really. An assistant sounds really like exactly what I need."

 

She opens the drawer of her desk and pushes the money into it. "I'll start interviews tomorrow or the day after. Maybe I'll just take tomorrow off now that we've got the housing situation sorted. I'll work on that garage, but I can't front it. I'm tapped out."

 

"Yeah, don't worry. From this point, you just find the sites for us. Mark 'em, let the current owners know we're interested, all that."

 

Brenda nods and smiles. A big weight just got lifted off her shoulders. "Okay, then."

 

Marshall reaches out and shakes her hand firmly. Then he walks out, folders in hand.

 

9:04 PM         4th Floor Suite

Andy wakes with a start! A fierce hunger burns in his belly. He's never been this hungry. It's as though he hasn't eaten for weeks! He smells something! It's so delicious. What is it? A steak? Lobster? A rack of lamb?

 

He crawls towards it, and finds a bowl filled to the rim with a thick red liquid. He can't identify it, it smells so good. He grabs the bowl and slurps it down. Delicious! So delicious! Andy has no concept that he is naked, covered in his own filth. That half of what was inside him is spread about the plastic sheet that protects the floor.

 

He finishes the bowl of blood. It isn't enough! Not nearly enough! He licks it clean. He wants more! So much more! He-

 

Jeeps aims his stake gun carefully from three feet away. The little wooden spear that flies out of it quickly and easily penetrates Andy's chest and punctures into his heart.

 

Andy falls down in a heap, completely paralyzed. "Nice shot Jeeps." Magnussen says in an appreciative tone. "It had to be done." Jeeps says sadly. "No doubt about that." Magnussen returns. "We know what the job is. Let's do it in a hurry. They need to make the transfer before Modius returns." He looks at his watch. "We've used up more than half of the allotted time."

 

The Bellboy Girl drags an empty bathtub into the room. Mortimer and Tony fill it with large water containers. Magnussen opens a package with soap and large sponges. "The real one's been in the dungeon there. Not sure washing him is-"

 

"He wouldn't smell like human filth." Jeeps replies. "And they'll change him into the real Hinds' clothing which will make him look and smell correctly for the cell."

 

"Ah." Magnussen nods as Tony empties the last container. Bellboy Girl lifts up a sponge and dips it into the bath. Magnussen does the same with one of his own.

 

"Good of you to help us, given your master's opinion of this." Jeeps says. "Master Acosta has a very high moral code. Where he leads, I follow." Magnussen returns. "This is wrong. Very wrong. But, at this point I don't want to see this man sacrificed in vain. Since you are going through with it, let's at least make sure it gets done correctly."

 

Jeeps nods his head as The Bellboy Girl and Magnussen proceed to wash the filth off of Andy's face and body. Jeeps carefully rolls up the plastic sheet and, once bunched up, places it in a larger trash container. "We really must be very jaded, the three of us." Jeeps says simply. "None of us are gagging up our own dinners despite-"

 

"A fact which could very well change if you go into further detail of exactly what we are resisting, Jeeps." Magnussen says dryly. The Bellboy Girl cracks a grin at that. Magnussen winks at her.

 

"We'll, uh, be on standby." Mortimer says simply, and walks out. Tony shrugs, and follows him.

 

 

 

9:00 PM            Civic Opera House

Modius stands promptly and claps vigorously as the first act comes to a close. Operas in Chicago are intentionally arranged into three acts with two intermissions. This is because Kindred politics happen as often in these private booths as corporate business deals occur on golf courses. Kindred Elders have found it palatable to begin with social niceties before the first act, then to watch it through, enjoying it thoroughly.

 

During intermissions, while mortals scramble for snacks or onto the lines at the bathrooms, things in the Kindred elders' booths start to get real.

 

Modius gazes towards the door of the booth, where Bret Stryker now stands guard. No one will get past the Toreador bodyguard. Modius nods at the man. Stryker bows slightly, in deference and respect. Modius smiles. 

 

"Ah, it has been too long. I have forgotten the simple pleasures." Modius returns to his seat, grinning ear to ear. "I am glad you having an excellent time." Abraham DuSable is not able to take the absolute coldness out of his voice, despite the fact that he is also obviously enjoying the opera as well.

 

As the lights rise in the house below and mortals shuffle up the aisles, Abraham turns his head to Modius. "It is clear we have mutual enemies. But that does not mean we are natural allies. Let us say that I agree that you have the most experience of any potential candidate. That as you are already recognized as Prince, you would be the easiest of any potential candidate to install."

 

"Not if the Ventrue have their way." Modius says carefully. Abraham merely shrugs. "There is no candidate that someone will not oppose. That you have powerful enemies actually speaks well of you. Those who are ignored by all of the elders are clearly irrelevant in the eyes of all."

 

Modius can't help but smile at the irony of being respected for having gone to war. "That is true. Before I answer your question about why we should be allies and why you should support my claim, I must inquire as to why you are not attempting to become Prince."

 

Abraham holds up his wounded arm. "I am in no position to fight anyone at present. But that is only part of the reason. In my clan, we are given tasks and roles from far above the city level. I am only allowed to compete for the position of Prince if I am allowed to by those above me. I will plainly admit that my name was submitted by my Primogen, and quickly rejected by the elders of our clan."

 

Modius is shocked. "Really? Why would they? It seems that you are a most respected-"

 

"Ah. It has nothing to do with respect, and everything to do with New York."

 

Modius blinks. "New York? That place is completely under control by the Sabbat."

 

"But unlike us, the Sabbat are uncivilized. Their own internal mechanics are savage and brutal. Reports are that they have grown complacent there, and that the elders now wage horrible wars against each other. Some of their most famous names that did grievous harm during their successful takeover assault are now dead, at each other's hands."

 

Modius smiles brightly at this news. "So, then-"

 

"My clan knows now after the Garou assault here that I am a most suitable candidate to protect a chantry and become regent anywhere. For now, I am to remain regent of Chicago. But once they feel that New York is once again ripe for the taking, there will be a position of some magnitude for me there."

 

"We will be most unhappy to lose you." Modius says. "But I am grateful to hear that you are going to be rewarded for your bravery and recognized for your skill. That is just and right. When do they think-"

 

"Oh, not for another decade. Perhaps two. They have informed me that they would not want to embarrass me by helping me become Prince of Chicago and then pulling me from that position to one that might at first seem more dangerous or lesser in status in New York. So, it was deemed agreeable for our clan to decline any candidate for the seat here."

 

"So no Tremere is interested?"

 

"I have no interest in politics." Erichtho says simply. "Just as Allicia here minds her business and studies her art, I am much the same. And Jeremiah only just arrived."

 

"One needs to know oneself best." Jeremiah states simply. "I am best when I serve in a complimentary role."


"Indeed?" Modius gazes intently at Jeremiah, who quickly allows his mouth to curl into a grin. It takes a bit of an effort but he manages it. "Or do you think all of the Elders here will be quick to allow a dedicated Catholic Priest to be their city's leader? They will not. I am here, Prince Modius, because I am a specialist at detecting and fighting The Sabbat."

 

Modius nods his head slowly, and leans back in his chair, completely satisfied. "So Clan Tremere is out of the running. But that does not mean you should not be heavily involved. I would have you as my staunch allies. As to what I can offer you, first and foremost, I fought against Lodin so fiercely because he was so damn violent. I am not weak in physical battle. But there are other ways to skin a cat, as they say. Once I am installed as Prince, I will be open to the desires of other Kindred. Indeed, ask the elders of Gary if I have stifled them. You will find Lucian, the Gangrel, Alexander Danov, the Nosferatu, as well as Mr. Confetti and his large and powerful group of Elders are all quite pleased with my rule there."

 

"This is good to hear." Abraham says simply. "The last thing the Elders want is another despot who thinks we are his servants. Because we are not." Abraham folds his hands together. "But you must admit that some elders might perceive your inability to restore Gary to its former glory as a weakness to your leadership capabilities."

 

"Only those who are impatient. It has barely been two decades. A sneeze in time." Modius gazes down at the stage, a hungry look in his eyes, perhaps for the first time in those two decades. "Yes, Lodin was lucky. We all know that he had nothing to do with the steel industry collapsing. It was Horatio Ballard whom I have actually been at war with these two decades. Ballard is most capable, I will grant you, but not prince material. Frankly, with Lodin dead and Ballard no longer under his sire's control, I am quite certain we can come to terms. He is a businessman more than anything else. He destroyed Gary because it was good business for him to do so. Had I defeated Lodin and taken over I would not have been kind to any of Lodin's brood either. So I can't really blame him for his actions. But what was destroyed will soon be rebuilt. You will see. Already, many active Kindred Elders work with my permission to begin Gary's restoration. Once Ballard realizes there is no longer a profit in keeping Gary down, he won't do so anymore."

 

"And if Ballard won't relent?" Abraham asks carefully.

 

"Then we'll encourage his rival to join with us. It is impossible for them to close the wagons against outsiders no matter how wise they both know it would be to do so. Their hatred for one another has already almost torn Chicago asunder twice. Now the flames of that rivalry heat up again. Everyone knows it. They check each other. Neither can become Prince. They must both know that, which makes them hate each other more."

 

Abraham DuSable considers Modius' words carefully. "You think they can be driven out of Chicago, then. Or at least one of them can. But which one?"

 

"That is a matter of wait and see, I think. Yes, we shall let them do to each other exactly what the Sabbat in New York are doing, you see? I will employ the same plan in regard to these Ventrue."

 

Abraham taps the tips of his fingers together slowly, and considers. "That is wise."

 

The lights flicker and the audience returns to their seats. The second act is about to begin.

 

 

You have learned that the Ventrue Elder Horatio Ballard was the key power behind the destruction of the US steel industry. He is also a candidate for Prince of Chicago 

9:04 PM       E. 14th St. Gary, Indiana

Mortimer drives his white van towards Modius' mansion. They knew it would take time for the transformation and hopefully, this will be a quick in-and-out operation. They already know the layout well, so it's just a matter of entering without being noticed by any ghouls, making the switch, and leaving in a fast hurry.

 

Mortimer believes he's been in much harder scenarios but never one where success is so critical. The pressure to succeed, especially since this is his plan, is immense.

 

Behind him in the van Tony Hildalgo checks his Glock automatic revolver. "Hopefully you won't need that." Salihah says, as she surveys the prone body of the man who used to be Andy, but is now Tommy Hinds' body double. The stake through his heart keeps him paralyzed. They dressed him in a simple sweat suit, which the real Hinds can easily change into in the cell. While Mortimer came up with the overall plan, it is the little details like this that Salihah realizes makes Jeeps such an invaluable ally. Little by little, she has come to understand why he alone is Mr. Confetti's primary servant. Though the interplay between them can hardly be called normal by Kindred-Ghoul standards.

 

They are more like good friends, but when a call needs to be made and a decision finalized, Jeeps does what Confetti decides. It is a quality working partnership. Nothing like what she created within her own temple. She is jealous, but perhaps she can learn from it, and should she decide to create a temple of Set here...

 

But that is jumping the gun. Right now, that goal is a million miles away. Play the game, she tells herself. Survive Fahd. Score points. Play the game. That's what you came here to do. She wonders how many points they will be awarded for this operation. Or is this part of a larger game. Again she remembers Mr. Confetti's insistence that the real Hinds is a piece of the puzzle. But what picture will the puzzle create when all the pieces are found?

 

"Too bad." Tony says quietly. "Too bad what?" She asks. He stares at her like she has three heads. "Too bad I won't have to use my gun."

 

Salihah face-palms.

 

"WOO HOO!" Salihah hears inside her own head as that crackling sound starts up without warning. Her mouth gapes open slightly. She tries to find the off switch. "No, noobie doobie, that's not how you hit the brakes." 

 

"Oh boy!" Mortimer yells as he slams on the brakes. Tony's gun almost goes off as he loses his balance and tumbles forward. Salihah would normally be able to easily stop her own tumble but she is still getting used to having no toes on her left foot.

 

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Tony comes up angry. Then he looks. "Oh boy." He says in agreement.

 

"That's how you hit the brakes!" The voice laughs inside Salihah's head. Ten other voices laugh as well. Salihah grits her teeth. Then she looks up to see what caused Mortimer to stop the van so abruptly. And she gasps again. 

 

There are at least twenty-five members of the Anarch Movement firing guns and throwing grenades at Prince Modius' mansion! They are in a complete frontal assault. From within the mansion, ghouls fire back from upstairs windows.

 

"Storm the place!" An Anarch yells. And they do! A large group of them swarm towards the big hole on the right side of the house, a hole that was made earlier in the week, before the competitors even arrived to compete in Mr. Confetti's Contest of Will.

 

"What do we do?" Salihah asks, perplexed. Mortimer parks the car. "We have no choice. We have to make the switch."

 

Tony grins brightly. "I can take 'em."

 

Mortimer is skeptical. "You won't need to. I can use obfuscate to keep all of us hidden from sight. This actually might work in our favor."

 

Five Anarchs open up on the front of the house with sub-machine guns. "Yeah, I can see how it will." Salihah says sarcastically. Mortimer frowns and gazes over at her. She giggles, and shrugs. "No time like the present. By the way, it might help your concentration to just use obfuscate on Tony and Hinds Two. I can keep myself hidden."

 

"Hinds Two? Really?" Mortimer opens the door to the van and hops out. Salihah giggles again, and turns invisible.

 

"You forgot the sack! Grab that sack!" A female voice yells in Salihah's head. "Grab that sack! Grab that sack!" Ten Malkavians yell in her head. She gazes back into the van. The sack that they had used when snatching Andy from off the streets lies lonely on the van floor. She reaches in and snatches it. 

 

"Who wants popcorn?" A voice yells inside her head. "We do!" A high pitched female voice yells back. "Not me. I scream for ice cream!" A third yells. "Go non-clan newbie go non-clan newbie go!" a third yells. They all repeat the chant. Salihah wants to scream. She doesn't understand what's going on. Is this some kind of post-traumatic stress she is suffering from Fahd's assault? She realizes that she can't allow it to matter until they are safely back at The Hotel, the switch successfully made. Then she can happily check herself into the nearest padded room. 

 

Tony carries Andy's paralyzed, staked body as the three of them weave a path around the Anarchs, desperately trying to not get hit by a stray bullet or ten. They make their way towards the hole in the building, reasoning that the front door will be heavily guarded.

 

As they reach the hole, a bullet rips through Tony's shoulder! 

9:09 PM        Gary Docks

The Gangrel Elder Lucian, ever alert, eyes the suspicious SUV as it approaches. As he suspected it would, it parks. His keen senses at full alert, he knows a human is not going to get out of it. But would this be simple business or not?

 

The gunfire and explosions had started at Modius' Mansion. Everyone could hear it and the ordinary people had left the streets. It would be assumed to be simple gang violence, but Lucian knew better. That the Prince had left the city for the night, a fact he had confided in both himself and Juggler in case something happened to him in Chicago, meant that he was safe from the new Anarch assault. But did they attack because he left?

 

And if so, who tipped them off that he would be gone?

 

It does not relax Lucian to see the large form of Marshall Barry exit the vehicle. Marshall immediately approaches. "Traded in your Harley Davidson for something safer?"

 

"Yer joking, right? The chopper's in the shop Lucian. I have a few things I want to discuss with ya."

 

"I'm listening. Make it good."

 

"Hey, first of all, I know I disrespected you when I first arrived here. Wasn't even in my coffin. But I thought you were a Ventrue. Not too many of us that control businesses. My bad. I'd never have disrespected a fellow Elder Gangrel that way. I should have looked into it and not assumed nothing."

 

Lucian nods his head slowly, and walks along the docks. He gestures and Marshall follows. "Your apology is accepted. Now, what else can I do for you?"

 

"Actually, I was wondering if there was something I could do for you, Lucian. I need more friends among the Kindred, thought I'd start with you."

 

Lucian stops abruptly in his tracks. The wheels in his head turn. "There is something. A dangerous task, I won't lie."

 

"My favorite kind."

 

"Don't be so quick." Lucian retorts. "These docks have been under my watch for fifty-three years. I have had business contracts with many Kindred in Chicago, the surrounding areas, even as far away as Milwaukee, to make sure everything they need smuggled into the area gets to them without issue. My contract with the Ventrue ended three months ago, and I have not seen another from them."

 

"Maybe an oversight with Lodin dying, but you don't think so, huh?"

 

"No I don't. The agreements, in recent decades, have always been with Kevin Jackson. He is the one with the most interests coming through here."

 

"Who's that?"
 

"You'll be keenly interested in him, I think. He was a leader in the Bloods gang in California, and was embraced, and much like yourself, he pretty much single-handedly built the Bloods into a national power. They are not international like the Hell's Angels. You have had a few more decades on him. But your stories are, I would guess, remarkably similar."

 

Marshall's eyes narrow. "You're telling me this cause you think he and I are going to be enemies, not friends, aren't you."
 

"The Bloods will want to move in, and take over my docks. It's very simple business for Kevin Jackson. He has kept his interests to this point contained to Cabrini Green, but I believe he only did that because Lodin ordered him to."

 

"And now Lodin's dead, he's ready to expand. And your docks are the natural place to start, huh? What do you need done?"

 

"It may be that other Ventrue will want to keep him in check. Or it may be that I am just being paranoid and he will happily sign a new agreement, and this is just an oversight. I have decided to find out now, before they show up one night and simply force me out."

 

"They try it you let me know. We'll teach them what's what."

 

Lucian nods his head slowly. "I am grateful for that suggestion. The Gangrel in this region are strong but distracted by the Garou peace treaty. They would help me protect what's mine but we don't have a tenth of the muscle the Ventrue do. We would be easy prey for them, I fear."

 

Marshall Barry lights up a cigar. "Won't be that way forever, I assure you of that."

 

"I need you to take the contract I have already had written up to Cabrini Green. Just deliver to Jackson there. I will then allow him to make the next move in this chess game I believe we are now about to play."

 

"Cabrini Green huh? I can do that, but not until tomorrow night. That all right?"

 

"That would be fine. A big relief. I would normally leave to do it myself but I fear to leave the docks open to assault by the Anarchs."

 

"Naw, I want to go. Assess the strength of the Bloods a little bit. I'll take that contract for you Lucian."

 

Lucian leads him towards a small building next to the docks where a little office resides. Small it may be, but very cozy, and Marshall realizes that Lucian likely spends a lot of time here. Like many Gangrel that Marshall has met, this is a man of simple pleasures.

 

Marshall makes a small vow to himself that the Ventrue aren't going to take any of them away from him. "I got something else I want to run by you, Lucian."

 

Lucian pulls a thick, sealed folder out of the bottom drawer of his desk. "Oh?"

 

"I'm thinking about taking over the Amtrack train in the area. Figure that'll really screw up everybody trying to get in that way, if I manage it correctly."

 

Lucian hands Marshall the folder. "Maria has always run the Amtrack, and she has done an excellent job of it since it was built. I think she highly encouraged it to be built, actually, though that is just speculation. I remember a meeting she called between myself and the Kindred who run the airports, and Balthazar who keeps watch on the highways. We all coordinated our efforts to protect against Sabbat and other unwanted infiltration."

 

Marshall's heart drops. "Oh. Well, glad I asked. Guess I'll find something else-"


"Maria disappeared during the Lupine assault Marshall. Nobody has heard from her, which means she is either extremely wounded and in torpor or she's gone. She was the leader of clan Toreador and was in plain sight among high Kindred society. So everyone has noticed her disappearance."

 

Marshall rubs his chin. "So the Amtrack is currently unprotected."

 

"Yes. And that is a terrible thing. I encourage you to move forward with your plan."

 

Marshall nods his head slowly. "So you got my back on it huh? All right then. Hey, this works out, you and me will basically run the major ways to get into this area together."

 

"I like the sound of that." Lucian says firmly. "I like the sound of it a lot."

 

 

 

 

Lucian worries that the docks he has run for 53 years are now in jeopardy from a Ventrue takeover threat. 

What happened to the leader of clan Toreador Maria? 

9:11 PM         Modius' Mansion

Mortimer rushes through the hole and into the first floor room, which turns out to be a dining area, clearly seldom used. Less so now that there is a big hole in the wall.

 

Tony and Salihah are right behind him, though Mortimer can only see Tony. Maybe having Salihah use her own obfuscate is a bad idea, he considers.

 

There are no Anarchs or guards in the room. He momentarily drops the obfuscate.

 

"You all right?" Mortimer asks Tony.

 

"Why wouldn't I be?" Tony responds angrily. Mortimer eyeballs the bleeding bullet wound in his right shoulder. Tony looks down at it, having not even noticed.

 

He scowls, drops Hinds Two on the floor, reaches in and pulls the bullet out of his shoulder. He tosses it away like the minor nuisance it is.

 

Salihah appears next to him. "What is the plan Mortimer? Clearly this assault changes things."

 

"Not really. We just have more obstacles to avoid then we thought. Let's let Modius' people and the Anarchs fight each other and we'll just continue to go around them. We can't get caught up in this."

 

"I wanna crack a few heads." Tony protests.

 

"And what happens if either Hinds or this guy get killed while you do?" Mortimer meets the Giovanni's intense stare with one of his own. Mortimer is an undead bird monster. He can stare with the best of them.

 

"I hadn't thought about that." Tony picks Hinds Two up off the floor.

 

"Right. Let's go." Salihah says. She opens the door for them. Mortimer turns his obfuscate back on himself, Tony, and Hinds Two.

 

They head into the hallway. They can hear fighting down in the nexus, the exact location they need to head to.

 

As they make their way down it, a guard opens a door and plows into the hallway, right into the legs of Hinds Two! "What the?" He asks. "Who's obfuscatin'!"

 

The obfuscation immediately drops as the guard realizes what's going on. Tony drops Hinds Two, and grabs the man by his throat! He stabs Tony repeatedly in the chest with a big knife!

 

Salihah's tongue bursts into the side of his head. Tony finishes the job by punching him in the nose. Lights out. Tony looks down at him, considers finishing him off. Salihah's tongue retreats, and she licks the wound.

 

"Let him live." Mortimer suggests. "The last thing we want is to start killing the Prince's people off."

 

"Last thing you want, for me it's like, whatever man." Tony responds, as he seals the holes in his own chest with a little concentration and blood.

 

Tony picks up Hinds Two and they all turn invisible again, and head down the hallway. As they approach the Nexus, they realize this is going to be harder than they thought.

 

Six of Modius' ghouls are penned up behind furniture and in a total shoot-off with Anarchs who have poured in through the front door, and others who also entered through the hole and have taken up positions behind other pieces of furniture.

 

Bullets fly everywhere.

 

"Sheesh." Mortimer says. The others don't respond, but are thinking the same thing.

 

The only way to get to the stairs leading down is to literally run through the middle of it. Through an endless hail of bullets.

 

 

9:15 PM            Gary City Hall 

Pablo straightens his tie in the bathroom mirror and then walks out, having dumped two thirds of a cup of coffee into the sink. He had never once thought about walking into a room with a mostly empty cup of coffee, but when he saw Mortimer do it when he infiltrated City Hall, he thought it was nothing but an act of sheer brilliance.

 

If you are drinking coffee, then you are not a vampire, as you need the caffeine to stay up late in the evening. What could possibly make someone look more human?

 

He smiles at the front desk at the two guards. "Name?" One of them asks. I know yours, Pablo thinks. These are the same two guys that Mortimer walked past a few days ago.

 

"Pablo Acosta."

 

"Sign in here, sir. You are expected."

 

He does, then he takes the elevator to the appropriate floor.

 

He is greeted by the Mayor's aide Wilson Knowles, a slimy politician with a used-car salesman's grin. They shake hands firmly. "Mr. Acosta, so nice to meet you. We're all ready for you, sir."

 

"Wonderful."

 

Pablo is led by Knowles into a small room. Knowles introduces him first to Mayor Karen Freeman-Wilson and then to Health Department Head Gordon Sayles, a tough-as-nails inspector who has seen his share of personal wars in this low income region.

 

Pablo shakes all of their hands and sits down, pulls out a pad with notes on it and his laptop computer from a briefcase.

 

"Mayor, gentlemen, thanks for seeing me at such an awkward time."

 

"We're quite happy to see the new primary shareholder of Superior Construction." Mayor Freeman-Wilson says. "We have already seen the amazing results at the Gary Transfer Plant and that large private building that's been an eyesore as long as I can remember!"

 

"Will there be office space available in that building?" Knowles inquires.

 

"That's been taken over by a private corporation. I don't know their plans for it, exactly, but I'm not sure they are opening it up to the public anytime soon." Pablo responds quickly. If need be, one of the others can pretend to own it.

 

"Too bad." Knowles seems genuinely disappointed. "I have to say I was surprised you wanted to see me." Sayles gazes directly into Pablo's eyes. Most people, Pablo realizes likely can't take the unyielding stare of this man. He's intimidating to most. A helpful trait for his line of work.

 

"I had heard a rumor that a plan is in the works for the health department of Gary to be closed down like they did in nearby Hammond."

 

"We're not happy about the City Council suggesting it, but our treasury department has informed us that certain sweeping changes need to be made for us to balance our books." Mayor Freeman-Wilson shrugs. "We gotta do what we gotta do."

 

"I understand that certain changes need to be made. Not that one. The health department stays." Pablo smiles brightly, and slowly turns on his power of Awe. His Presence discipline is his greatest tool in negotiations with ignorant mortals.

 

All three suddenly view him in a very different light. A very positive one.

 

"It stays because you need to upgrade Gary as a whole. I intend, as you've already seen, to continue to make a positive impact on the community. But I can't do that if I don't have local government cooperation. If the health department goes, the standards of every restaurant, every business, even the hospitals, will lower and the population of the city will suffer. And that, according to my studies, leads to all kinds of problems, especially when it comes to communicable diseases that affect the blood systems of the local population." Pablo intends to scare them with that information, but of course, the person most scared about it is himself.

 

Knowles is the first to step into the fray. "Well, there needs to be some sacrifices if-"

 

"That's completely true." Gordon Sayles cuts off the mayor's aide bluntly. "And I'm glad someone else can see reason in it. I've been saying the same thing. With the poverty level below the belt, we're already seeing bad things in this town that we never used to. I-"

 

"I'd be personally willing to invest my own money into the health department, if that will aide you in any way. Small donations of five thousand dollar increments from time to time."

 

"We're not the kind of people to take bribes." Knowles says quickly, being that he and the mayor are, in fact, exactly the kind of people who take bribes. It is only Sayles who slowly rubs his chin. "The health department can take donations, as long as they are publicized and the IRS informed. If we do it all on the books, then-"

 

"Well, I admit, any amount of money we can get from community leaders such as yourself will help this town." Mayor Freeman-Wilson says, showering Pablo with her widest smile. "There are plenty of aspects of the government that need help. Perhaps we can discuss-"

 

Pablo hits her with one of his own charming smiles. "I am the kind of man that feels that if you spread yourself too thin, you end up accomplishing nothing. I am specifically only interested in talking about the health department. I notice most of the grocery stores and restaurants have no ratings in them."

 

"Yeah. I go to inspect them as often as I can but I'm just one person. I need a bigger staff." He eyes the Mayor. She scowls. "I am sorry Gordon. You know we're hoping for funding from the state legislature but-"

 

"Damn the state legislature. Even if they do release funds it'll be for the police department, which I have no issue with all things considered. And after that, to the transportation department. I'm probably fifth or sixth down on both their list and your list. Don't treat me like a fool."

 

Knowles cuts in. "Gordon, every day the mayor's office is besieged from all sides by requests. You know that. We allocate as much as we can. But we have a teacher's union ready to strike and gang violence that's now out of control. What can we do?"

 

"We can make sure we don't add to it by keeping places sanitary." Gordon bangs his fist on the table. He's passionate, Pablo considers. The right man for the job.

 

"Well, we'll clear any donations that Mr. Acosta and any of his friends want to make right through. There won't be any red tape Mr. Acosta." The Mayor flashes her smile again. "We'll start with that."

 

"Mayor, my donations won't mean a thing if the department is shut down by city council." Pablo leans forward. "We have to make sure that vote, if it happens, leans in the favor of keeping it open."

 

"Of course we'll try." Knowles voice creeps in like molasses. "But we can't promise that-"

 

"There's a lot of new money looking at opportunities in Gary." Pablo cuts him off. "But not if there's no health department. People who work like to eat in restaurants. No health department? No millions of dollars flowing into your city's coffers. Consider that. In fact, I would be very pleased to talk to each member of the city council myself."

 

Pablo turns his Presence up to full notch now.

 

The Mayor looks at Knowles, and then back at Pablo. "I'll set it up."

 

Pablo grins.

 

 

Can the Mayor and her assistant be trusted? Probably not. 

9:17 PM         1st Floor,  Modius' Mansion

 

"Aaaaagh!" Modius' ghoul screams as he is cut to ribbons in a crossfire hail of bullets. "Yeah, bitch! Make some noise then die!" A black-clad woman with the Anarch symbol on her plain black t-shirt and ski mask yells. Other Anarchs around her laugh.

 

Seven of Modius' ghouls fight for their lives against twelve Anarchs. The odds? Not good. Mortimer turns to Tony, and whispers. "On three, we go. One-"

 

Tony takes off! Mortimer scowls and chases after him. If Tony gets too far ahead he'll run right out of the protective obfuscation cloak and likely get riddled with bullets from both sides. He might even survive that, Mortimer considers. But the staked homeless man on his back surely won't. And that would ruin everything.

 

Briefly, as he runs through a hail of bullets, hitting the dirt three times along the way, he wonders how Salihah is doing. He meant to tell her to turn her obfuscate off and to hide under his own cloak but she had impulsively disappeared and didn't answer when he called, meaning she had already run down the hall earlier. For all he knows, she's already in the basement. Or she got caught in a hail of bullets and is now a thick pile of ashes spread along the floor. There are two of those, likely Anarchs that fell in battle.

 

Two anarchs. Or one anarch and one Setite. Mortimer watches a large Anarch whirl from around a large thick chair and stick a fresh clip into his sub-machine gun, and decides the safest course is to crawl along the floor the rest of the way. He watches a ghoul get barreled over by an invisible Giovanni and go flying to his left.

 

Well, not subtle, but effective. There is no longer anything or anyone obstructing Tony Hidalgo's path to the basement. Mortimer crawls through successfully but can't seem to get through the doorway. Something is blocking his way. Something invisible.

 

"Hello Mortimer." Salihah purrs into his ear. She then literally crawls on top of him, over him, and down to the stairwell. After she is done intentionally abusing him, he pulls himself along the last patch of floor by grabbing the top stair, and crawls down a few stairs. Salihah appears at the top of the stairs behind Mortimer. She shuts the basement door and locks it. "Whew!" She says. "Where are you? I don't want to step on you."

 

He turns his obfuscate off and stands. "You okay?"

 

"Yeah." They creep down the stairs where Tony waits for them. "We're alone." he says simply. "Looks like all the guards went upstairs to fight the Anarchs."

 

"Perfect." Mortimer replies and heads in the direction of the cells.

 

"Wait." Salihah turns the other way. "There's something else I want to do first. Come with me." She runs off towards the west wing of the basement.

 

Tony and Mortimer both grimace and exchange a glance. But what can they do about it? They follow her.

 

She stands in front of the vault door, smiling brightly. "You know the combination to open it, don't you?" She purrs at Mortimer. Tony gazes at Mortimer inquiringly, a big grin forms on his face.

 

"Yes. Yes, I do." Mortimer goes to work, and within a minute, the giant vault door unlocks with a loud click. They open it. Salihah unfolds the sack she took from the van. "Well, boys, looks like a lot of cash in here. Let's take it all!"

 

She stuffs a large wad into the sack. Mortimer and Tony exchange a shocked look. Then they laugh their heads off. 

 

Mortimer dives right in, without hesitation. Tony is all in as well. "This is a good idea. Modius will just think the Anarchs took it." Mortimer grins, noticing that the Prince's special letter/threat from Maxwell the Brujah candidate is not here anymore. 

 

Tony's eyes narrow a moment. "Let me make sure he does." He concentrates and the Anarch symbol appears on the vault door, as if spray painted. "Woah. Cool!" Salihah says. "How'd you just do-"

 

"Its called Chimerstry." It clearly hurts Tony's head to use such a big word. That he remembered it at all is astonishing in and of itself. "Illusions and shit. Learned it from a Ravnos."

 

"How long will it last?" Mortimer asks. "Forever. It ain't never coming off. It's permanent." 

 

Mortimer and Salihah laugh their heads off. 
 

"I've heard of that discipline, but never seen it used." Salihah is delighted by Tony's special skill. She loads more money into the sack. "We'd better stop yakking and hurry. No telling when the Anarchs will finish killing off those ghouls."

 

Salihah gets his meaning. "Yeah. After they do that, they'll definitely come down here. If they are looking for Modius, they'll search everywhere for him."

 

"They've got balls, trying to off the Prince." Tony Hidalgo sounds like he admires the Anarchs for their "balls." He tosses the last wad of cash into the sack. "I better get an even share of that money later." His intense stare causes Salihah to frown. "We'll split it evenly amongst everyone who helped the cause."

 

"So, everybody except Pablo." Mortimer says matter-of-factly. Salihah grins. "We can wave it in his face." They finish cleaning out the safe.

 

"All right, let's go do what we came here for." Salihah says, as she carries the now full of money sack on her back like Santa Claus would with a sack of presents. Tony lifts the stiff body of Hinds Two and they hustle down the hallway towards the final stage of their mission.

 

 

9:30 PM       Civic Opera House

"What is the next phase of your plan?" Abraham DuSable inquires as the mortals scurry out for the second intermission. "I am hoping to bring the Gangrel into our alliance next." Modius confides, immediately wondering afterwards if he should have.

 

"I see. So you hope to achieve the seat of Prince of Chicago more through politics than through exertion of force?"

 

"We've seen enough of that tactic from Lodin. I think the Primogen want to see a more refined candidate who focuses on upholding the Traditions." Modius replies.

 

"Well stated." Abraham DuSable is cold as ice. "I have taken meetings with other candidates. But...none of them with such firm backing and a solid plan."

 

"Others? You mean the Brujah don't you?"

 

Abraham DuSable eyes Modius slyly. "Which one, exactly?"

 

Modius shows him Maxwell's letter. DuSable is genuinely surprised by it. "Well, this is interesting. No, Maxwell has not contacted me. Perhaps he doesn't see the Tremere as fit allies for his cause."

 

"His mistake." Modius leans back satisfied.

 

"It appears," DuSable says slowly, gazes intently at the letter, "That you are in clear violation of his request."

 

"Yes. His request that I remain in Gary, allow him to gain all of the power and prestige of Prince of Chicago, and then he will gladly feed me scraps from time to time. His letter is a personal declaration of war. Nothing short of it."

 

"Indeed. But, as a former Prince of Chicago, perhaps others will see him as having the better claim and back him rather than you."

 

"Why would they back someone who was such a weak Prince of Chicago that he was easily driven out by Lodin, who hadn't made half of his lieutenants at the time? No, while Maxwell fell, I rose. While he fled like a rabbit, I created the strongest threat ever made against Lodin's rule. The only reason I failed was Balthazar's betrayal. Who could have known he'd murder his own sire and give Lodin all of the key elements of my war strategy? I forced Lodin to create his lieutenants because if he hadn't, I'd have run over him like a truck runs over a squirrel. Everyone knows that. Everyone knows."

 

"I am certain Maxwell will present events in a different light. You should act with haste, working fast to gain the other clans' allegiance before he can. Gangrel, Malkavian, and Nosferatu. That is where you must seek additional allies." DuSable's tongue is sharp as he speaks. Nearby, Jeremiah could see what DuSable is doing. By telling him to move quickly instead of deliberately, the Prince of Gary will likely appear desperate and may catch more scorn than friendship in the process. A shrewd method to let Modius ruin his campaign with his own hands.

 

"I quite agree" Modius stands. "I thank you for this meeting Regent DuSable. Come, Allicia. We should seek additional allies this very evening!"

 

Jeremiah looks at his watch. Maybe it's been enough time. Maybe. But-

 

"I didn't mean that quickly Prince Modius." Abraham says slowly. "If you leave so abruptly people will talk. They will think that you stormed out on me and that there is no basis for considering our alliance to be genuine."

 

Modius gazes down at the Regent. "Perhaps that might be for the best. A little subterfuge would-"

 

Abraham cuts him off. "I think the vision of the two of us, sitting side by side, enjoying a night at the opera together will cause horror and panic amongst our enemies. Besides, the third act is the best one. I'd hate for Allicia to miss it. You are enjoying the opera, aren't you Allicia?"

 

Everyone looks to her. She grins brightly and nods enthusiastically. Next to her Erichtho grins brightly. "Prince Modius, we are very pleased to have you and Allicia as our honored guests. Please, do stay."

 

Prince Modius gazes from one face to the next, then resumes his seat. "Very well. This is an excellent show, after all."

 

"An excellent show indeed." Abraham DuSable says, his eyes slide over to Jeremiah's. Another joke, Jeremiah considers. Neither man laughs, naturally. At least, not externally. 

9:42 PM          Basement Level, Modius' Mansion

Tony Hidalgo places the staked body of Hinds Two on the floor and prepares himself for battle if there is a guard inside the prison block. Mortimer gently pushes the double doors open, but only the sounds of the real Tommy Hinds calling out can be heard.

 

"What's going on? Don't leave me in here! Don't leave me!"

 

Tony lifts up Hinds Two and Salihah turns visible near them. "No one. The coast is clear." She hustles towards the desk in the corner and miraculously finds the key for the cells in the lower drawer. "Somebody needs to be fired." She grins, holds them up.

 

Tony grunts at her little joke, and heads towards the cell. Tommy Hinds recoils at the sight of the three of them. "No! No, don't please I-"

 

"It's okay Tommy." Salihah says, using her presence to calm him down. "We're here to rescue you."

 

Tommy Hinds' mouth drops open. "I don't...please help me. Please..."

 

Salihah opens the door to the cell and Tony drops Hinds Two into it. Seeing a mirror image of himself staked freaks Tommy Hinds out, and he screams. Tony pulls the stake out of the body of the man who used to be Andy, and into Tommy's heart.

 

"That'll shut him up."

 

Meanwhile Andy sits up, half-mad and totally blood starved. His fangs extend and he tries to bite Mortimer's leg. "Woah." Mortimer backs away just in time. Tony pulls the stake out of Tommy Hinds and back into Andy. "We should have brought two stakes." Tony says definitively.

 

Salihah face-palms. Tommy pops up. "Look, Tommy." Mortimer says in as soothing a voice as he can. "Just be quiet and take off your clothes."

 

Tommy's eyes widen. "Uh. No!"

 

"Because we need to put those clothes on him so we can smuggle you out of here. Okay?" Tommy looks down at the mirror image of himself, his brain too deteriorated to understand what's going on.

 

Salihah gets in front of Tommy and stares into his eyes. "Just watch me now." Her eyes seem to twirl with hypnotic power and Tommy Hinds stares at her dumbly. Tony and Mortimer work to undress him to his boxers. They take off Andy's clothes and dress him in Hinds clothes. They help Tommy Hinds put the sweat pants on, and Mortimer tosses the rest of the clothes in the sack with the money. "Good enough." He says.

 

Salihah and Mortimer retreat from the cell with Tommy. Tony pulls the stake out of Andy, retreats as they slam the cell door shut. Tony then stakes Tommy Hinds again.

 

Tony lifts Tommy up over one shoulder, the way he'd been carrying Andy the entire time. As they walk away, Andy suddenly appears at the bars of the cell. He tries to get out, but he's trapped! Like a scared animal, he pulls at different bars, his face panicked.

 

"No! NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" he shrieks. His voice sounds like Tommy Hinds. But they all know that's a different man in there. A man they are leaving behind to die.

 

"Noooooooooooooooo!"

 

Mortimer stops in his tracks, the indecency of it all fraying at his very humanity. Salihah pats him on the shoulder gently. "We have to Mortimer. We have to leave now."

 

Mortimer turns on his obfuscate, never having wanted to hide from the world so badly. 

9:50 PM          Elbow Room Bar

Marshall pushes through the door and heads into the restaurant. The moment he sees that hot little brunette Juggler created on a whim, Evelyn Stephens, he knows he's in the right place. Hard stares come at him from all sides. Sin City Deciples.

 

"All this time, I've been spelling your damn name wrong!" Marshall barks at the closest one. "I thought it was disciples. Which is actually a word. Haha!"

 

A very large black man, easily Marshall's own size, stands up from a bar stool and heads on over, gets right in his face. "You're in the wrong bar. We respect the Hell's Angels. But if you're starting trouble-"

 

"You shouldn't have killed all those pigs, man." Marshall tries not to laugh as he says it. Eveleyn's eyes narrow at him. She knows what the deal is.

 

"That's just what they said on the news. Ain't your business anyway." the large Deciple replies. "Anyway, this is our bar. Our town. You better show respect or we'll bury you."  

 

"I came here to see Juggler. Not you. Get out of my face."

​

Ten Sin City Deciples stand up and surround Marshall, who looks bored. "You just make friends wherever you go don't you." Juggler's high pitched voice pierces the air. The gang members move aside for him. He approaches Marshall. "What can I do for you, friend?"

 

"You need to get your people out. All of the Sin City Decipels need to abandon Gary, and all of the surrounding areas. Fast."

 

There is a long silence that follows. None of the gang members are amused in the least.

 

"You do know they started here, in the 60's. And just like your gang, they ride Harley's, all over the place. Only difference is the color of their skin, for the most part." Juggler looks about. It's true, the Hell's Angels are a mostly white gang, and the Sin City Decipels are a mostly black gang, but otherwise, there is much the same about the two entities.

 

"You think you can drive us out, man?" The large Discipel is about ready to throw hands.

 

"It's not me or mine you need to worry about. It's the FBI. I got an inside man who told me they're about to come here in force and lay you out flat."

 

Even Juggler's eyes open wide at that news. "And you heard this from?"

 

"A reliable source. Very. Reliable." Marshall gives Juggler that knowing look that all Kindred know when speaking in Kindred code around mortals. Juggler spins around towards his gang. "We have a friend in this man!"

 

Juggler turns back to Marshall. "I suppose if the FBI are coming, your people can't. So there's no worry for us in laying low for a few months. Is there boys?"

 

They silently think it over. Marshall Barry stands grim and firm. He knows they'll talk it over, then there will be a vote amongst the leadership. But it's done. He's done it.

 

Without more violence.

 

They're gonna get on their bikes and ride on out of here. And by the time they come back, it'll be too late. The Hell's Angels will have already moved in.

 

Marshall Barry doesn't know what's going on with Mortimer and the plan. But he does know this. As far as the Competition of Will is concerned? He's catching up. Yes, indeed. 

9:52 PM    Basement Stairs, Modius' Mansion

Prince Modius' feeble defenses have been completely routed. The ghouls all lie dead and the Anarchs party. Where Strohman has got to, Mortimer doesn't know. But the lousy traitor deserves whatever the Anarchs give him if they find him.

 

Getting out the front door is now the object of their quest. Mortimer peeks through a small crack in the door between the main junction foyer and where he and the rest are, on the stairs leading down into the basement.

 

All they need to do is basically run through the center of the room, then bee-line it out the door. The hard part will be getting the Anarchs to not notice this door opening and then that one. Mortimer whispers his plan to the others, and they acknowledge it is the best plan. Mortimer concentrates on his obfuscation powers as never before.

 

Then he slowly draws the door open, and runs like hell. The Anarchs are too busy partying inside the Prince's mansion to notice, apparently. One in particular is taking an almost maniacal pleasure in breaking every single thing he can find that can be broken.

 

With that keeping them occupied and Mortimer's obfuscate being among the most powerful levels of that power that can be possibly found anywhere in the world, Mortimer reaches the front door with little issue. He waits a moment or two to allow the others to catch up.

 

Then he rips it open and tears across the lawn. There are more Anarchs than ever before! Apparently they've been calling their friends. And their friends have responded!

 

Mortimer watches in amazement as they plant a huge flag with the Anarchy symbol on it in the middle of the front lawn. Behind him, they ensure there isn't a single window that remains intact. Mostly they dance around the lawn to mosh pit music and enjoy what must be the greatest victory in the Anarch Movement's history in this region.

 

Mortimer wonders if Modius will blame Jeremiah and the Tremere clan for luring him out of town, or will he thank them, since he wasn't here to be killed by the Anarchs.

 

Anyway, none of that matters now. What does matter is getting to the van, and getting the hell out of here with Tommy Hinds.

 

Mortimer approaches the white van and sees it has been spray painted. A really large, sloppy Anarchy symbol now adorns both sides of the vehicle in thick red paint. Great.

 

Anarchs party on the roof of the vehicle. Great.

 

He creeps to the back of the van. He figures they can just wait until the Anarchs leave. He hopes that Tony Hidalgo's patience will last that long. He's about to find out.

 

Tony whispers next to him. "You want me to do something about these morons on your van?" There is glee and the anticipation of mass violence in his question. Mortimer surveys the field and realizes they are outnumbered about 61-3 and whispers "No, we'll just wait them out."

 

"Wimp." Tony whispers back.

 

Mortimer doesn't want to provoke the Giovanni further with a suitably witty response. If he drops his obfuscate so they can fight their way out of here, at least a few of the Anarchs will see Tommy Hinds, and them. That can come back on them in the worst way later. Mortimer isn't going to risk it.

 

Nearby Salihah took a slower, more circular route, once again using her own obfuscate to shield herself. She didn't want to chance bumping into Tony and losing her concentration with her big bag of money or creating a thick wall of people where an Anarch could accidentally run into them.

 

She arrives at the van and sees the trouble. She realizes Mortimer and Tony must be laying low. She decides to do the same.

 

"Are you just going to sit there? DooooOOOOO something!" A Malkavian yells at her through the network. "Yeah, this is getting boring."

 

"Boooooring!" They yell at her. "Boooorrrrriiiiing! Booooriiing! Booooring!"

 

"Shut up!" Salihah yells at the top of her lungs. Her eyes squeeze shut in aggravation from the pain in her brain. When she opens her eyes, all of the Anarchs surrounding and on top of the van stare right at her.

 

She smiles at them. "Shut up! This party is the most awesomest, like rad man!" She tries to cover. The Anarchs, who are all dressed like Anarchs, examine her tight little body suit and decide immediately that while it may look hot, it is not what an Anarch would wear.

 

"Who the fuck are you!" One of them yells, as he jumps down from the roof of the van.

 

Salihah doesn't hesitate. She blasts them with a higher level of Presence then she herself has ever really had to use. The power, she knows, is called Majesty. And later on, they'll know she used it on them and be pretty pissed off. But what else can she do?

 

"I'm the owner of this van, man. I was totally down for this party when they called me. But I gotta go back to Milwaukee now."

 

"Milwaukee? You came here all the way from Milwaukee?"

 

"Yeah, man! How often do you see a Prince's house get totally wrecked!" She laughs her head off. They laugh their heads off too. "She's all right." The big guy says. "Thanks, man. Great party! I gotta go!"

 

The others hop down off her van and they stagger off, affected badly by her presence. Being an Elder has a distinct set of advantages when dealing with people who aren't, she considers. But this is one of the main reasons why this Movement started in the first place. She slides towards the front of the car.

 

Mortimer appears and tosses her the keys. She quickly gets in. Mortimer opens the back door and Tony slides the staked Tommy Hinds inside. They hop in and Salihah drives off as quickly as the Anarchs will allow. She lowers the window and yells approval at them the whole time. She smiles, winks, blows kisses, and finally hits the gas when she reaches the edge of the street.

 

"Wow." She says under her breath. "We didn't even need to do any of that with poor Andy. We could have just bagged Hinds and the Prince would have blamed it on the Anarch Movement."

 

"Maybe we should go back for him." Mortimer asks more than says it. Salihah shakes her head. "We'll never get in and out of there twice Mortimer. If the Anarchs don't burn it to the ground, they'll own it until it's proven that they can't. Andy is their prisoner now."

 

"Maybe they'll be merciful to him." Mortimer mumbles. Tony laughs at him. 

11:04 PM               Civic Opera House

Bret Stryker leads Prince Modius and Allicia through the crowd of mortals. Modius strides through the hall like a lion that has just made a huge kill.

 

Erichtho, DuSable, and Jeremiah watch them leave. "There goes my ride." Jeremiah says simply. "As if you wanted to spend another minute with them." DuSable says coldly. Jeremiah turns to him. "If he does have all of clan Toreador on his side-"

 

"Then he is a threat. His new fire must be extinguished. But not so quickly. Let him burn himself out. He will find more trouble than he wants trying to gain allies amongst the other clans. Meanwhile, we can turn our attention to other candidates."

 

"I'm still puzzled by one thing." Jeremiah asks as they stroll out a side door and walk calmly down the street together. "Why were you here? I thought you hated politics."

 

Ericho laughs. "Well, I do. And yes, when Abe here suggested I come to put Allicia at ease and make it seem like a true social gathering, I was against it. But then he told me about what happened to you with your summoning ritual. I can help, I think, with that."

 

Abraham gazes sideways at her. "I will leave you and Jeremiah to it. I have other work this evening." He steps into a small car waiting for him, and it drives off.

 

"And there goes my other ride." Jeremiah says simply.

 

"I can call a car for you later. Jeremiah, your base isn't yet properly set up to protect you. Whoever kidnapped Garwood's immortal spirit is clearly competent at sorcery. You should know that the spirit world is one of my strengths. And Garwood left me an artifact in his last will and testament."

 

"Oh yes. One that he suggested would help with that kind of work."

 

"It was his. There is nothing that could be more powerful or helpful in assisting a ritual to help locate him. I have it at my villa. We should go there and combine our efforts."

 

"I am flattered to be invited to your home."

 

"Don't get too casual. Garwood was a friend. I am uncomfortable with him being in the clutches of someone else. We need to rescue him."

 

Jeremiah hears the emotion in the woman's voice and nods his acquiesce. "I admit this has been a far more difficult task than I originally thought it would."

 

"He was snatched right out from under us in the clan Chantry. Someone knows what their doing. We should be prepared. We're probably going to have to kill someone."

 

The dread in her voice is palpable. Jeremiah narrows his eyes. "Leave that part to me, when it comes to it."

 

"I'd love to, but who knows if I'll have a choice in the matter. Anyway, my car is here."

 

She pulls out a pair of keys and unlocks a nice sporty but practical car. One that is plain and unnoticeable parked on a street in Chicago. Jeremiah admires the choice of blending in rather than standing out, and he climbs into the passenger seat.

 

He can't help but notice just how physically beautiful Erichtho is. She doesn't downplay it, but she doesn't use much in the way of cosmetics to highlight it either. She is simply a natural beauty. A natural beauty with no lover who keeps mostly to herself.

 

But, Jeremiah muses, that is not her strength. She is clearly an intelligent and capable wizard. Seeing her domain should give him a ton of insight about this confusing woman.

 

She turns the ignition key and drives. 

11:08 PM           4th Floor Suite, The Hotel 

Jeeps and Bellboy Girl carry Tommy Hinds into a previously unused suite on the fourth floor. They have already prepared a bed and a night table. "If he stays here, he'll learn everything about the Contest of Will."

 

Mr. Confetti walks through the door. "Perhaps. But if he doesn't, everyone else will learn what we've done."

 

"Yes. Good point. Perhaps we should set up an alternate location for any future occasion of this kind." Jeeps suggests. Mr. Confetti nods his approval. "Yes. Set it up the usual way. I'll leave all of the details to your discretion."

 

Jeeps pulls the stake out of Tommy Hinds' chest and retreats. Bellboy Girl stands near the door, ever wary. Mr. Confetti approaches. Tommy looks around. When he sees Mr. Confetti, he recoils. "No. No!"

 

Mr. Confetti grins at Tommy. "It's all right, now, Tommy. You're safe. I'm going to fix you now."

 

Tommy Hinds presses up against the back of the wall, in fear. "No!"

 

"I'm going to fix you now, whether you like it or not." Mr. Confetti grins, and then he enters the shattered mind of Tommy Hinds, and begins to put the pieces back together.

 

"Could he really be so important?" Jeeps wonders aloud. "Somewhere in there, is a piece Jeeps. A piece of the puzzle."

 

"What puzzle, Confetti?"

 

Mr. Confetti grins brightly. "Why, the one we're here to solve, of course!"

 

Jeeps nods his head, slowly. He understands it all now. Not any of the who or the what. But the where and the why. 

 

It has always been the why that has been the most important thing, anyway. 

12:05 AM             Erichtho's Sanctuary

Jeremiah marvels at the splendor of Erichtho's villa, seemingly set apart from the rest of Chicago, and perhaps, the rest of Earth. There is a positive energy here, the Chinese would call it Chi, that flows from one end of each room to another.

 

Jeremiah has never experienced such a positive environment in the haven of a Kindred. Erichtho emerges through the beaded doorway in a soft red velvet gown. It is short, tight, and she looks magnificent in it, but Jeremiah understands the moment he sees it that she is not wearing it for the aesthetic beauty like some Toreador trollop.

 

This is the wardrobe of a true magi, far apart from the dark blood magic of the Tremere, there are vast schools of knowledge of magic. Being undead cuts one off from such magical forces, usually. Except the darkest of them - entropy. Some Kindred, Jeremiah has heard, can wield the forces of entropy, but to do so is to invite pure madness.

​

There is no madness or entropy in this place. This is a place of love and spirituality. Erichtho places a large purple amethyst on the low square table in the room's center and sits cross-legged in front of it. Jeremiah does the same, directly across from her.

 

"Pardon me for asking, but...you were a practitioner far before you were Tremere, weren't you?" Her eyes appear to Jeremiah to become very sad for a moment.

 

"I was yes. My talents were small, but that was only because I was just learning. When I met Nicolai, I thought he was just a harmless boy. He decided I had potential so he presented himself to me. In my belief system there are entities of great power who bestow powers to those they deem worthy. I was young, trusting, and naive, and I thought Nicolai was one of them, appearing to me in the form of an innocent child. After he embraced me and I realized what he was and what I was-"

 

Jeremiah is surprised. "You are The Regent's childe? Then you must have extremely powerful blood yourself."

 

"Garwood was the only Ancillae among us. Otherwise, we are all Elders here. It does not surprise me they replaced him with you, considering he's the only one who died. Anyway, enough of my personal story. I wouldn't have told you any of it, except we're likely going into battle together Jeremiah. If we survive, perhaps I will finish my story. And you can tell me why a devoted Catholic Priest voluntarily became one of us."

 

"I will." Jeremiah says simply. Truth for truth. He finds himself liking Erichtho far more than most other Kindred he has met in this region. Or in any region.

 

Erichtho places her hands on the crystal. "When you tried to specifically find Garwood, you were attacked. I believe that path has been properly cut off by our enemy."

 

"I had considered that, yes. What tactic do you recommend?"

 

"I thought if we simply concentrated on finding the darkest source of magic in the region, it would naturally lead us to whomever is powerful enough to break through the Chantry's defenses."

 

"Ah. So a more generalized search that our quarry cannot have properly protected against. I like it."

 

Erichtho nods once, and concentrates on the crystal. "Join your energies to mine Jeremiah. Do so...now."

 

He does, placing his hands on top of hers. There is a crackling of blue lightning as they both channel their vast magical power into the crystal.

 

An image appears above them, hovering. "That location is in Gary!" Erichtho frowns.

 

"Indeed." Jeremiah stands. "Now I know where it is. I can-"

 

"I will go with you. But, tomorrow night Jeremiah. That ritual just depleted us both of more strength than I would care to lose going into battle."

 

"Agreed. Then we will meet there tomorrow evening?"

 

Erichtho's intensity sparks Jeremiah's own. "Yes, Jeremiah. Tomorrow we strike. At exactly midnight!"

Erichtho is not your usual vampire, as evidenced by her peaceful oasis of a haven. 

2:37 AM        Route 90 

Prince Modius' limousine streaks down the highway. There is no traffic at this time of night. Momentarily, the highway patrolmen follow them, but that is normal. Modius is wary for a moment, as Balthazar is his enemy, and it is he who controls these particular policemen. But after a few moments, they turn off, and away.

 

Modius grins brightly at Allicia. "Do you see? They all understand now. It's happening. We're getting back into power, Allicia. Soon the glory days of the past will no longer be memories to be bitter about and long for. Soon we will be living our dreams again!"

 

Allicia smiles warmly at Modius. A small bloody tear of joy falls down her face. The limousine stops so abruptly that both Modius and Allicia almost fall off the seat.

 

Modius is immediately enraged. "Fool! What do you think you are doing! My childe was almost-"

 

"Sir, stay in the car."

 

"What?"

 

The limousine driver and the security guard in the front both step out. Modius is immediately alarmed, and opens the door. His security guard turns to him. "Sir, please, stay in the-"

 

Modius stagger-steps forward onto his lawn. Though the party is over, and the Anarch Movement members have long gone home, their presence is overwhelming.

 

The lawn is a torn up ragged criss-cross of motorcycle and car tracks. Between the windows of the house and broken bottles, there is almost as much glass as grass.

 

The front of the house has been completely broken and destroyed. There is no front door. It's just gone, an indication of the massive damage they will soon discover in every room of the mansion.

 

Their butler Strohman and staff will later be found pushed together and cramped in the panic room, which luckily for them, the Anarchs never found. But all of Alicia's most prized artistic feats, some going back nearly a half century, are soiled and destroyed.

 

Proudly standing in the middle of the lawn is the Anarchy flag. Modius runs towards it, in nearly a frenzy and rips it from the Earth! He snaps it in two over his leg!

 

"It's...It's..." his eyes become wild, on the verge of a terrible frenzy. Then he calms down, almost chuckles. "Is this it? The mighty and terrible Anarch Movement? They wait until I'm out of town and then attack my house like a bunch of...of rebellious teenagers? This is all they have? This is all they've got? They are nothing! Nothing! Soon I will be Prince of Chicago, and they will either kiss my ring and like it, or I will plant little flags with their decapitated heads on this very lawn! Yes, I will! Do you hear me? Do you hear me you little snots! You cowards! Do you hear me? I was beaten, broken, defeated! Everybody was laughing at me and I just took it! But tonight after I created an alliance with clan Tremere, I met with my own Primogen and the Elders of my clan! And they are with me! They are with me and you are All! Going! To! Die!"

 

He whirls around. Who's there? Who is that? I hear you. Come out. Come out you-"

 

Pablo walks out from behind the corner of the house, frowning. "Clan Tremere? Really?"

 

"Pablo!" What are you-"

 

"I was securing the health department like we talked about and I heard the gunshots. So I came over. But they were leaving so-"

 

"Never mind. Let's talk about repairs."

 

Pablo raises a brow, and gazes at the house. Parts of it fall off as he does. "Prince Modius, normally I would be glad to take a big job like this. But you could easily buy a different house and-"

 

"Can you fix it for five million dollars, Pablo?"

 

Pablo whistles. "For five million I can tear a house down and build whatever you want. But not here. Where your enemies know exactly where you are. We should-"

 

"And let them brag about how they chased off the Prince, with his tail between his legs? No. We're going to rebuild. Right here! And this time we'll build the front of the house with far more durable materials. Let's see how they like that."

 

"But-"


"You saw it yourself. They never come in Pablo. They attack the house. Never us. Because they know we'll rip 'em apart! Yeah, let them come."

 

Pablo opens his mouth, but sees the near madness in Prince Modius' eyes that signals the beginnings of a vampiric frenzy, and closes it. "As you command, my Prince."

​

Modius turns to Pablo. "You tell Mr. Confetti! And all your friends. Every Anarch Movement member you capture, and I want them alive for interrogation, you get fifty thousand dollars! For each and every one of them. We can stick them in the lawn right next to their flag. Do you hear me? Do you all hear me? I am Prince Modius. And I've been taking it and taking it for close to three decades! But guess what? It's my turn now!"

 

Modius raises his arms to the heavens. "Do you hear me? Do you all hear me? It's! My! Turn! Now! You're out of the frying pan now you scum! Now, you get the fire!"

 

 

Prince Modius is offering a $50,000 reward for the capture of each and every member of the Anarch Movement!

6:45 AM            Modius' Mansion

Strohman grins viciously as the man he believes is Tommy Hinds staggers up the stairs. A few other guards are ready as well. "This way, sir. This way! You're going to be free now. Free!"

 

"Hungry! So hungry!" Andy growls. He reaches out for Strohman, but is immediately hit with the cattle prod by one of the guards. 

 

"Yes, sir. Soon you'll be where the food is. You want to be where the food is, don't you? That's right. This way!"

 

Andy staggers after him, stumbling drunkenly to and fro. It is a motion he is very used to, though now it is not from too much alcohol, it is from too little blood in his system.

 

As they near the front nexus, Prince Modius waits, and smiles at Andy like a piranha. Andy has never seen this man before, and is only confused by it all.

 

"Poor Tommy Hinds. To think I used to be afraid of you. You and all your clan. But you're just the first to go. Goodbye Tommy. I will miss our little sessions in the torture room. Won't you Strohman?"

 

"Oh yes, sir. I really will at that."

 

"But don't worry Strohman. Soon there will be Ventrue and Anarchs both a plenty for us to gain our little enjoyments from. Goodbye Tommy. Give my regards to Lodin when you see him in Hell!"

 

Prince Modius walks away towards the safety of the sub-basement, content that he has seen the last of Tommy Hinds.

 

Strohman gestures to the archway where the front door used to be. "Come on, now Mr. Hinds. It's time for you to go play in the sun! Come on. I'll go with you, to make sure you have the best of times out there."

 

Andy staggers after Strohman, right through the archway and out into the sun. Strohman grins maliciously as he calmly walks down what little the Anarchs left of the front path.

 

Andy has never felt such heat before! He immediately screams, tries to turn back to the house. "Eee! Eeeeee!"

 

"No, no, Mr. Hinds. This way. This is the only way for you now." Strohman grins brightly as Andy's flesh starts to blacken and burn away. "Eeee! Eeeee! Eeeeee!"

 

"I think that's far enough for us to go." Strohman says.

 

"I quite agree." Jeremiah Thomas smiles and bares his fangs at Strohman. The move is enough to throw the ghoul off his game. Jeremiah quickly locks eyes with him.

 

Mortimer's white van, now featuring Anarch symbols on both sides, pulls up quietly and slides open. Jeeps quickly pulls Andy inside, where Pablo, in his Night Fist gear hides under a large blanket, which he now shares with him, as well as some of his elder Toreador blood.

 

"Strohman, you watched Mr. Tommy Hinds burn to ashes in the sun. It was an extremely satisfying experience for you. He's gone now. He definitely died. You won't remember me or the van or anything else from this experience. Wait another twenty minutes, then go back into the house and back to your normal routine."

 

"Yes, sir, I will." Strohman says in a monotone voice. He stands like a statue on the lawn, with a stupid smile on his face. Jeremiah enters the van. Magnussen steps on the gas and they drive away. "I hope Mortimer doesn't mind us using his van for the venture." Jeremiah grins at Pablo. As Andy suckles at his wrist like a newborn babe at his mother's teet, red tears form in Pablo's eyes.

 

"This was...this is so good Jeremiah, that you thought of this. I...you really are a reverend aren't you?"

 

"What you said affected me Pablo. Sabbat tactics. And you were right. Mortimer's plan to retrieve Tommy Hinds was a good one, and we seemingly needed to do it when Confetti had his insight. But, we should remember that Mortimer has only been Kindred for a short while. He doesn't understand that every time you destroy an innocent life, you take a chunk out of your own soul too. And that is very dangerous for an immortal to do."

 

 

 

They saved Andy!

DAY 7 IS OFFICIALLY OVER!

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