Day 8 Part 3: 7PM - 9 PM

Friday 8/7/14

Day 8 Part 3

6:54 PM Private Suite: Mr. Confetti

Mr. Confetti hears a sharp knock on his suite door. He had finished repairing Andy's mind a few hours ago, and hoped to get as much sleep as he possibly could. Searching the area for Fahd would be draining, and then starting the repair of Tommy Hinds would be even more so. He tries to hide his annoyance as he stands and dons a bathrobe.

"Come in." He says in an overly enthusiastic tone as he opens the door. Salihah frowns at him and storms into his room. "Good evening Salihah."

"I have a huge problem. My brain has been...invaded."

"Yes, most interesting. Some time ago I created a new discipline, quite unique. I call it The Breaker."

"The breaker? What does it do? Is it some form of mass telepathy?"

"No. I had long heard of the Malkavian Mind Network and I thought it would be very intriguing to learn what it was all about. The Breaker allows me to listen in from time to time on the Malkavians!"

Salihah giggles a bit. "Oh, you are joking. I see. So, I drank your blood to heal myself, and since you are Malkavian I-"

Mr. Confetti waves his hand. "No. I am not Malkavian. I am Gargantuan. A common misconception, though for the life of me I don't understand why."

Salihah smirks a bit. "It's just us in here Mr. Confetti. Obviously, you can access the Malkavian mind network because-"

"Because I created a discipline that allows me to infiltrate it. It was hard work, that. And as you discovered, they quite know that you're there when you use it. That was the worst part for me. I had hoped to learn all of their secrets but. Well, anyway, to your real question, the blood should be all used up. So I doubt you'll have access to The Breaker anymore."

"I see. So I am cured, then."

"If you continue to have problems just...use the blood."

"Okay."

"Okay." He grins delightfully. Yet there is something...she sees something in the edge of his eyes that her experience tells her that it is time to make a tactical retreat. She does so.

Mr. Confetti can't seem to acknowledge the fact that he is Malkavian.

8:01 PM Central Room, The Hotel

Mr. Confetti eyes all of the competitors of will with a wolfish grin as he plays his violin to serenade them into the room. Everyone patiently waits as there is clearly a lot to be said on several subject matters.

Mortimer in particular is clearly in a foul mood. This was expected and it was agreed upon beforehand that Marshall would sit on his left and Pablo on his right, just in case the Nosferatu elder finally has a freak-out moment in the conference room.

He's pretty much the only one who hasn't had one, so far. And since Mr. Confetti and everyone else intentionally didn't tell him about the horrendous assaults on their person by Fahd the Assamite, Dr. Deathtrap - whoever or whatever she is, as well as Jeremiah's exploding brazier that exactly imitated the assault the night before on Mortimer himself.

Yes, they had conveniently forgot to tell him that the entire group had come under assault and that most of them, including Mr. Confetti himself, had been at risk of Final Death. Salihah, of course, had been the closest and had the worst brush with doom. She had performed the rescue of Tommy Hinds with all of the toes on her left foot missing, and had spent the entire adventure hearing the voices of Malkavians, a fact she did not admit despite it clearly endangering not only herself, but both Antonio and Mortimer as well.

As Jeremiah, the last to arrive, takes the only open seat, the chaos begins! Or at least, everyone assumes the chaos will begin. But none of it does. Mortimer just sits there, glowering at everyone a bit.

Marshall Barry, the least patient of everyone in the room turns his head to the bird-monster next to him. "So, uh, Mortimer, about-"

Mortimer turns his head to Marshall and glowers at him directly. The effect of that causes Marshall to lose his train of thought. "Uh, so, yeah. So we're under attack by some freaks, and stuff. So, what happened with your computer wasn't an isolated incident and-"

"How about telling me something I don't already know."

Jeremiah leans forward. "Thanks to Mr. Confetti's shared memory experience dreams, you are now up to date."

"Well thanks." Mortimer says glumly. "I have an appointment at the zoo. So, goodbye."

Katarina stands up, being right near the door "But-"

"Whatever it is, don't worry about telling me. I'll just dream about it tomorrow." Mortimer shoulders past her and out of the room. Everyone breathes a sigh of relief.

"Well, he didn't frenzy, anyway." Salihah grins. She turns to Mr. Confetti. "So, do we have this piece of the puzzle yet?"

Mr. Confetti shakes his head. "I fixed Andy first, as per the request of the group. That was invigorating but quite the challenge. Unlike his body, which Katarina cleverly fixed in half a minute, very impressive by the way-"

"Thank you." Katarina slightly bows her head.

"I stole all of his memories and replaced them with fake ones that I had to create on the fly. Difficult work but necessary. So I had to reverse that process. It was detailed work. I have not yet begun the work to repair Tommy Hinds."

"But you will do that tonight?" Pablo asks.

"I can either do that, or search for Fahd. Which would you prefer."

"Fahd." Salihah says quickly.

"Seems clear he ain't gonna get the jump on you sister." Marshall says. "I wanna know why we went to all of the trouble with this Hinds guy."

"Let's not forget that these people are working in a group." Jeremiah says simply. "Their first assault failed. They may decide to come at us a different way next time. Either switching foes or even trying to isolate one of us with more than one of them."

"Fahd, then." Salihah replies simply. Mr. Confetti plays the violin softly.

"Well, if they are coming at us, they won't find me or Marshall in Gary tonight!" Pablo announces, and grins brightly at the Gangrel. "Your challenge. It's on!"

"Sweet! I need to go to Cabrini Green tonight anyway. So-"

"It is very unfortunate that neither of you will find the flag there tonight." Salihah says with a soft, sad tone. "Why's that?" Marshall wants to know. Salihah grins brightly. "Because I am going too, and I am going to find it first!"

Marshall attempts to look angry about it, but the smile in his features betray his amusement. "You think so, girl? I know gang territory better than all of you. That flag will be mine."

"I suggest we get other things done first in town." Pablo says simply. "Then we meet here at midnight and drive on over to Cabrini Green together and start all at the same time."

"Agreed." Salihah smiles. "Yeah, fine." Marshall nods his head.

"And what about you Antonio?" Mr. Confetti inquires. Everyone looks over at the short, pudgy Giovanni tough guy who has been so deadly silent this entire meeting that many of them forgot he was even in the room. "I gotta go introduce myself to the Prince. Might as well get that nonsense out of the way."

"Good idea." Pablo says. "I can go with you and help make the introduction."

"Nah. I'll just go myself." Antonio replies. Pablo is baffled. "But-"

"Nah. I'll just go myself." Antonio says again, this time, with a little more oomph. Pablo sits back in his chair. "Suit yourself."

"I will suit myself." Antonio stares hard at Pablo, slighted for no apparent reason whatsoever.

Katarina stands from her chair again. "I am leaving."

Everyone gets quiet for a moment, absorbing her announcement. "What do you mean?" Pablo is confused. "Leaving for where?"

"When I was first invited to come here, I was exhilarated. I had never been to America, never been out of the mountain sanctuary in Romania at all. And this seemed like such an adventure, but one I thought would be entertaining, and informative. It has been a little too, how do you say "Rock Em Sock Em Minotaurs for my liking. I realize now all I really wanted to do was travel before getting back to my laboratory and my science experiments. My servant is coming by later to collect my things, and then I will be leaving Gary, and this game."

"You...you can't!" Salihah says quickly. "Because-"

"I can't? Am I a prisoner here at the Hotel?" Katarina turns her head to Mr. Confetti. "Not at all. All players are volunteers. Indeed, I have invited many players who have not yet arrived, and whom may never arrive. You will likely not be the first to find the game to your displeasure, and you are free to come and go as you please."

"Thank you." Katarina gazes at everyone. "I hope you all know what you are doing by staying. I wish you luck. Goodbye."

"But now I am the only female in the contest." Salihah groans. "So you should win quite easily now." Katarina winks at her.

And with that, she strolls casually out the door which she intentionally sat directly next to. Everyone sits dumbfounded for a moment, then Confetti breaks the silence with his violin. "Danger is not for everyone. The risk of Final Death, as you can tell, is a part of the game. There is no getting around it."

"That is a part of being Kindred no matter where we are or what we are doing." Salihah responds. "Fahd would have tracked me down to assault me from anywhere. Indeed, my own childer might have staged a coup within my own temple had I overstayed my welcome. I have seen that happen with my own eyes. None of us are ever safe. I am staying, and playing. If we continue to walk into danger, so be it."

"Speaking of walking into danger, I must prepare myself for my own confrontation tonight." Jeremiah stands to leave the room. Pablo stands as well. "Oh, man. You and Erichtho are going to confront some big bad right here in Gary, aren't you? We can all delay going to Cabrini Green and help with that Reverend. Isn't that right?"

"I thank you, but no." Jeremiah says simply.

"You sure Rev? With us at your back-" But Jeremiah cuts Marshall Barry off. "Under normal circumstances I would be delighted by your offer. But we will be facing powerful magical opponents tonight. Both Erichtho and I are equipped to defend against that but the rest of you could die immediately in a conflagration of lightning and flame."

"Well, when he puts it like that." Salihah shrugs.

"We might be more of a hindrance than a help, yes." Pablo sits back in his chair. Jeremiah nods at each of the other competitors in the room. "I appreciate your offer of help, it is duly noted."

"I didn't offer nothing." Antonio says brazenly. "That was duly noted too." Jeremiah responds. Salihah face-palms.

"Okay, so for the Cabrini Green crew, we meet back in the parking lot here at midnight." Pablo says, as he rubs his hands together.

"It sounds like we all have big plans." Confetti tucks his violin back in its case. "I wish you all luck in your exploits."

8:06 PM Private Suite: Katarina Novoskyatin

Katarina packs the last of her clothes into her large trunk. She will have words to Mr. Confetti about the rest of her belongings that never made it to The Hotel. A sharp knock on the door causes her to turn her head and narrow her eyes. "You may enter." She calls.

Jeremiah Thomas strolls into the room, and closes it behind him. "So. You are really leaving the game?"

"I am."

"Are you leaving the region entirely?"

"What business is this of yours Reverend Thomas?"

"You have a folder with the identities of members of the Sabbat inside. I want it."

Katarina's lip quivers ever so slightly. With everything else going on, she herself had forgotten all about it. "I see. And payment for this information will be?"

"Let's not play games. Both Pablo, Mr. Confetti and I are all well known enemies of the Sabbat. If they learn that all three of us are here they will assault this place. If they do it correctly, we will die. Is that really what you want?"

"It is not remotely what I want. You will remember I have no association or affiliation with any member of that sect, and that my family would consider any contact with a single member of them to be a contamination. However, we are Kindred. I have something you want. You have in fact reminded me of just why you need it. In your foolishness to appeal to my sensitivity, you have in fact increased the price, not lowered it." Her eyes narrow and her lips frown. "We are true elders, you and I. You should know better than to try and haggle me down."

Jeremiah's eyes grow cold. His face, while to many might seem a calm, even poker face, is clearly seen by the experienced Katarina to be convulsing with anger. "What is it you want, exactly?"

"I think you already know."

"I will not teach you Thaumaturgy, no. Don't ask again."

"What will you teach me then?"

Jeremiah is quiet for a time, then he nods his head. "Dominate. You will find that a great boon. But in order to learn, you will have to stay-"

She reaches deep into her trunk, and pulls the folder out. "I agree to your terms. But no, I will not stay. We are immortal, so as long as neither of us dies there will be time in the future for you to educate me on this discipline."

"I will do my best not to die, then." Jeremiah takes the folder from her, and opens it. "There is only one profile in here."

"I never opened the folder so I am unaware of its contents. You already know this. Had I opened it and read it, you would have seen all and I would not have had the option to sell the information to you."

"You knew you were going to leave?"

"This game is deadly. I am not as bored as the rest of you, apparently. Well, there is only one other Tzimisce in the region. I hope you are not disappointed by it."

A twinkle flashes in Jeremiah's eye. "If the information is accurate, then this is great news. Perhaps the Sabbat only have scouts in the-"

"Enough. I do not need to know anything about these scum you hunt. I hope you find and kill it. Doing so will aid in the purification of my bloodline. Be well Jeremiah Thomas."

"Don't worry. You have fulfilled your end of the bargain. Should I fall, another of my clan will teach you Dominate. You have my solemn oath."

"Then perhaps we will not meet again. I wish you luck."

"And you Katarina. I am glad to have met you. To know that there are others of your bloodline outside the monsters in the Sabbat who are civilized and honorable. I will enlighten my clan about this so when the day comes that we finally end this war, you and your family will not be assaulted."

"If that is the case, then my coming here was indeed worthwhile."

Jeremiah closes the folder and leaves the room.

"Dominate." Katarina muses. "What fun I will have with that."

8:12 PM Private Suite: Mortimer T. Smith

Mortimer T. Smith is a genius, but even he can be overwhelmed with too much information all at once. The focus had already been split between the Contest of Will, the race for Prince in Chicago, and the rescue of Tommy Hinds.

Now it would have to be split twice more between the massive assault on the entire group and Mr. Confetti himself by these outsiders, as well as the fact that Mr. Confetti specifically didn't tell him about it because Confetti believes that Tommy Hinds is a piece in some kind of larger puzzle.

Mortimer had multi-tasked assignments many times before. Doing so in and of itself was not a problem. But, partitioning the time management of assignments, assigning the risk-to-gain quotient parameters properly, and dealing with all of the potential conflicts without actually meeting Final Death would be, he realized, insanely difficult.

For the first time since his monitor exploded, impaling him with a giant shard of glass, he turns on his computer. It had been odd to have the computer off for several days. This was his main tool, his weapon of choice. But, it had been turned against him, and he had to admit, that was a new and very disturbing experience.

But now that he knows that the culprit is not one of the other competitors, the ghouls, or Mr. Confetti himself that caused his monitor to explode, he can deal with the issue. And deal with it is what he plans to do. After all, if its a computer hacker who was assigned the task of assassinating him and for whatever reason - strategy, human error, computer error, plain luck - good or bad - the assault came a day earlier than the rest, well, Mortimer should be able to track, find, and retaliate. It is all a matter of due process.

Many hackers in the world are quite amazing. But only one has The Algorithm. Spending the time between now and his meeting with the owner of the petting zoo would be best spent dealing with this enemy. He is of course concerned about the yacht.

If he just gets two hundred more points before Salihah gets three hundred, then the biggest prize yet handed out would belong to him! A gorgeous yacht on the river would serve many purposes and Mortimer has decided he wants it.

But the first priority is survival. After all, earning a yacht is useless if the very next day the enemy successfully assaults him and this time kills him. His lovely yacht can float for the next half century uselessly in the water. Enemy first. Yacht second.

Risk-To-Gain Quotient Parameter. He starts the process of sending his bots forward with the task of securing first this computer's network access, permanently sealing it from successful assault by the enemy's programs. That should have been his first move before. Not doing so was arrogant, but who could have expected a program bomb?

He should have expected it. Survival first. Yacht second. Maybe, Mortimer thinks to himself, he should put that on a sticky note. Securing his access route will take the bots a few hours. He assigns the next task to occur automatically.

Next his bots will multiply and then proceed forward to find and assault any rogue programs belonging to the enemy or any other entity, while capturing their signature so he can learn the culprit's identity, IPP number, and with great fortune, actual real location inside the Gary, Indiana information network hub. This, of course, is his municipal asset.

And Mortimer snickers to himself, he won't even have to pay five thousand dollars to anyone. Well, maybe he'll have to pay it to Mr. Confetti as part of the game.

"Damn. Shouldn't have thought that out loud. Well, not out loud, but in my own head," Mortimer thinks to himself. "Mr. Confetti will hear that when he reads my thoughts and charge me. I need to remember to not think things that will cost me money."

Mortimer stops typing and grimaces. "I can't stop the Malkavian from infiltrating my mind, but I can stop myself from becoming as crazy as one. Focus, Mortimer. Time Management. Work the Algorithm."

Soon, he reflects, he'll have secured his own network, the city's information network rendering it completely under his sole control, and perhaps will have a lead towards the individual who tried to kill him. Not a bad beginning. Not bad at all."

COMPETITION RESULT: Mortimer spends $5,000K to increase the security rating of his municipal asset to 2.

8:14 PM Private Suite: Andy

Andy looks about the four room suite. "And you're saying, all of this is mine now?"

Jeeps nods politely at the man. "Yes, Andy. After all, we're responsible for your condition, so we'll house you and make sure that no further harm comes to you."

"I'm a vampire you say?"

"The proper term is Kindred, actually. But from what you know from the fictional versions from film and television, yes."

"Are you a-"

"No. I am a humble servant here at The Hotel. I will stay with you here tonight and answer all of your questions, and tell you much of what you need to know."

"I see. So you guys just grab people off the street and-"

"No. These were unusual circumstances."

"Because that other guy had to be rescued right? But then I had to be rescued so..."

"So why didn't we just rescue him the way we rescued you?"

"Yes."

"Sometimes things turn out to be less complicated than you think they are. And you concoct a grand scheme and don't discover until during or afterwards that you could have, should have done it a simpler way. That's really what happened."

"So I never needed to be turned into a vamp, um, Kindred, and never needed to be made to look like Hinds, or put in his cell at risk of being tortured or murdered, or burned in the sun. Which, I'm still burned."

He lifts his left arm which is indeed charred.

"That will heal in a few days. Your body is tougher than it used to be, but sunlight and fire will both do you in rapidly."

"What will you all do with me next?"

"What do you mean?" Jeeps raises an eyebrow.

"Well, you saved me, so you must have more schemes where you plan to use me in them, right?"

"Well, no. No we'll just teach you how to survive now as-"

"So I can leave if I want to?"

"Well, we'll have to ask Mr. Confetti."

"So I can't leave? I'm your prisoner?"

"No, you're not my pris-"

"So I can leave then?"

"If you leave you'll die Andy."

"So you're threatening to kill me then?"

"No, I'm...Andy, let us teach you how to survive and then you can come and go as you please. Just give it a few weeks with us, okay?"

"Just a few weeks?"

"We'll teach you everything you need to survive."

"What do you know about me, Jeeps?"

"Very little, actually, Andy. Mr. Confetti said you were a great scavenger though. That you are a survivor of-"

Andy socks Jeeps in the face with a right hook so accurate and strong that it knocks him completely unconscious. "So you had no idea I have an amateur boxing record of 24-0 then, either eh?"

Andy runs out the door!

8:16 PM Parking Garage

Salihah grins brightly as she climbs aboard her motorcycle. "Oh, wow, they filled it up with gas!" Pablo inspects his ninja. Nearby, Marshall whistles in appreciation.

"These are some nice bikes. Not Harley's but-"

"We had that option." Katarina brushes past them all to inspect her own motorcycle. "We chose these instead. They are faster and lighter."

"Suit yerself." Marshall says. "I can't wait for my chopper to get out of the shop. Meantime, since you got that sports car and a bike, Pablo, how about-"

"Forget it, Marshall. You wreck things."

"Aw, c'mon man that wasn't my-"

"Newp." Pablo cranks up his Kawasaka Ninja. "See you at midnight." He rides off. Marshall grimaces. A large black van pulls up.

"Who's that?" Salihah asks suspiciously.

The Agent climbs out of the driver's seat. Katarina is pleased to see him. "Ah, my man is here."

"You really are leaving?" There is a sudden sadness in Salihah's tone. Katarina gazes at her, slightly contemptuously. "We are not close friends all of a sudden. You will forget me swiftly, I would wager. Anyway, I can't understand this place. The rules don't make sense to me. Out there, at least I will understand what is happening."

"Let me explain something to you right now, sister." Marshall folds his arms over his chest. "Out there, ain't no rules. No rules at all. You keep that in mind if you want to survive."

Katarina nods her head slowly. "I will keep that advice in mind." She tosses her security pass key and room key to The Agent as he approaches. "Everything is packed and ready."

"Then I will meet you at the rendezvous."

"This is goodbye." She cranks her cycle and puts it in motion. As The Agent enters The Hotel Salihah and Marshall watch her go. "Well, that's that, then." he says simply.

"I suppose you are used to it. With motorcycle clubs people must come and go often."

"Yup."

"At my temple it was very different. You stay in one place and every member of the family becomes an essential part of the community. I will have to get used to this...more transitory state of being."

"You do that. Meanwhile, Pablo's got the jump on us."

She grins brightly. "He does." She looks down at her motorcycle. "I have no idea how to make this go anywhere." Marshall laughs at her. "You ain't never rode one before?"

"No need in the desert. You will have to teach me!" Marshall smirks. "I could do that, but what will you do for me, sister?"

"We will see. There are many comparable skills that I can trade. Perhaps I will teach you how to dance." Marshall laughs his head off. "I don't think so, sister. I got me two left feet. Anyway, I'll see you later."

Marshall heads down the street at a trot. Salihah sighs, and climbs off the motorcycle. She vanishes in plain sight and heads on her way to complete her own agenda.

The Shadow Agent has arrived, signaling the departure of Katarina from the Contest of Will

8:18 PM Private Suite: Tony Hidalgo

Antonio sits on a small chair that Bellboy Girl had dragged into his room along with a small table she retrieved from the basement. Antonio's nose crinkles at the terrible smell of them both, and he knows he will need to do the menial chores of cleaning them.

Somebody's going to have to pay for that. But later.

He proceeds to the task at hand, carefully cleaning his gun, and then re-loading it. Halfway through, his eyes fall on something on the shelf across the room. Something he completely forgot about, in all of the excitement with the Tommy Hinds rescue mission. He puts his gun down on the table and crosses to the cell phone. He rifles through both of his pockets, then the back pocket of his trousers. There, he finds the business card given to him at the casino.

He makes the call.

"Mr. Hidalgo, thank goodness. I've been trying to reach you but nobody knew how."

"I told you I would contact you. And here I am, contacting you. Why were you trying to contact me when I told you that I would contact you?"

"Because the meeting is arranged. It's tomorrow night."

"Where?"

"Right here at the Casino at ten o'clock at night. Mr. Hidalgo, my understanding is that some very important members of The Outfit are attending. This could be very good for you and me. I'll have my boy Squeegee wait in the lobby for you. He'll bring you to the right place."

"I'll be there." Tony hangs up the phone. So Victor Monterro got the job done. But is it the job of setting up a real meeting with high-level members of The Outfit, the Italian mafia in Chicago, or setting Tony up for assassination? If the latter, Monterro and his people will be in for a very large surprise.

He opens his closet and picks out a suit appropriate to meet a Camarilla Prince in. Even though this Modius guy is an obvious loser, Tony knows that Confetti and the rest of the gang have a game going on. One that'll make Pablo five million dollars. He might be willing to spread some of that around to people who play along with the game.

So, Tony decides, he'll be nice to this Prince and get in and out of there as fast as he can.

And then, somebody is going to pay for this nasty table and chair.

8:19 PM Hotel Rooftop

Victor successfully set up a meeting with the Chicago Outfit to negotiate Tony's intended takeover of the casino. Or did he?

Mr. Confetti sits Indian style on the roof. He focuses his mind. Soon he will leave his own body, float above the city, and look down upon it. Will he find the Assamite Fahd and his associates or are they still out of range? He knows he could go farther than he has in his search pattern before, but to do so would be time consuming, and there is much to do. Repairing Andy was the right thing to do, he knows. And doing the right thing certainly feels good. But, it has caused a huge delay. Delays in games such as this one can be fatal, for himself and all of the others.

He must get into the mind of Tommy Hinds, and soon, to learn what is buried there. But enough of that for now, he clears his memory of such thoughts. That is for later. For now, the focus must be solely on Fahd. He lifts himself away, out of his own body and floats into the night sky. It is slightly windy for a nice summer evening, but he can't feel it in this non-corporeal form. He starts generating his sweep pattern from the roof where his own body sits, rather helplessly he reflects, and then through the entire building below.

And is shocked to find Andy, the vagrant vampire, on the run towards the front entrance. Jeeps, he learns quickly, is unconscious. As Jeeps never needs to sleep, this is a disconcerting pair of circumstances. Mr. Confetti returns to his body and rushes through the roof access door. He'll check on Jeeps' condition first. Then they will attend to Andy.

8:24 PM Used Car Lot

Marshall Barry hops over the fence, checks and finds that no, the used car lot has not yet put better security in its system. And there she is, the green convertible that did such a fantastic job last time around.

He climbs into the car, quickly hot wires it, and drives!

It only takes him four minutes to power down the street to Solutions Services Inc. Driving a sports car isn't like cruising on a Harley, but it's not altogether terrible either.

He parks the car and walks over to the front gate. Solutions Services is nicely disguised as being closed, but since he knows it's not, he simply pushes the newly installed bell button. You'd think Jeeps would have one installed over at The Hotel, Marshall thinks, but probably Confetti won't let him. Whatever.

The gate lifts and the door opens with that familiar buzzing sound, and Marshall enters to find Brenda Guffinlaw devouring a salad while she works on her computer.

"So, I got an assistant today."

Marshall takes a seat. "Oh yeah?"

"I think she'll be good. I told her the truth about you, Mr. Howe. And about this company's one big client."

"If she can handle the truth about that, then she's our girl, eh?"

"I have her working on your garage. Have a timetable for the first arrivals yet?"

"Next week." Marshall says confidently. He hasn't talked to anyone about moving here yet. He wanted it all set up first. But, realistically, he can't ask Brenda to keep acquiring things without a significant down payment. To move on with the garage he'll need to get at least five Hell's Angels to buy houses. He'll need to make a list and make some calls. Might as well do that tonight, actually. Yeah, a good way to spend time and be at the Hotel when Pablo and Salihah return for their adventure.

"And they'll have money for their houses." Barry says confidently. Brenda grins brightly. "That's what I wanted to hear, Mr. Howe. We'll proceed accordingly. I can snatch up as many houses as we need, the moment I get payments for the first few it will be the proper amount of capital."

"You'll have it. Next week, Brenda. It's all going down next week."

Marshall grins as charmingly as he can muster. About one tenth of the charm that Pablo has when he does it, but a smile is better than a snarl, which has always been Marshall's usual. "I was thinking, Brenda. About spreading this company's influence, and how we need to do that."

"Spread our influence? Huh?" Brenda is clearly confused. "I thought we wanted all of this to be our little secret."

"Yeah, but, uh, see what I'm thinking is, you need to take over as many other real estate companies in Gary as you can."

"Why?"

"So that they don't catch wind that this town is about to get profitable and start buying up the things we want. We need to spread this company's influence by shutting down the competition."

Brenda rubbed her chin slightly. "I guess I see what you're saying, but-"

"Here's five thousand dollars. See who you can buy out for that."

Brenda takes the envelope, her face gets all screwed up for a moment, then she laughs hysterically. "You think I can buy out a legitimate real estate company for five grand? I'd need half a million to-"

"So you're saying it can't be done legitimately."

"Not for five thous-"

Marshall takes the envelope back. "I see what you're saying Brenda. And don't you worry. I'll take care of it!"

Brenda's mouth opens and then closes. "Please don't. Nobody is going to compete with-"

Marshall pops out of his seat. "Right. You don't need to know nothing about it. You're doing a great job and if anything illegal were to happen to knock off any of your competition in Gary, it wouldn't have nothing to do with you personally, so let's not even pretend that this conversation even happened, am I right?"

Brenda swallows hard. "I just think that we have a good thing going and it wouldn't be a good idea to draw the unwanted attention of the police."

"Where you been Brenda? There ain't no police in Gary no more."

Brenda didn't know quite what to say to that. Instead, she just shrugs her shoulders. "You're right Mr. Howe. This conversation never happened. I never saw that envelope full of money. Well, what you consider money, anyway. How many rolls of quarters did you have to save up to buy that car?"

Barry laughs at the joke. "Buy it? I didn't buy that car." He stands and heads for the door. When he arrives there he turns back. "We're gonna get filthy rich, then you can get the hell out of this shithole town and start a new life for yourself Brenda. By the time it hits the fan around here, you'll be long gone, so don't you worry about a thing."

"Maybe you thought last night was the fourth of July. Well it wasn't. But I heard more gunfire and explosions in one night then I've ever heard before."

"Oh yeah. The Sin City Disciples shot up some rich dude's mansion last night. Really did a number on it, as I understand it. He must have not paid up for some drugs or weapons or something, is my guess."

"Gary is getting worse than Compton. It's turning into a war zone."

"Maybe Brenda. But you're on the winning side, I promise ya." Barry winks and smiles, and Brenda Guffinlaw finds none of that reassuring at all. Not even a little bit.

8:26 PM W. Ridge Road, Gary, Indiana

Jeremiah strolls casually down the sidewalk, hands in pocket. He'd not yet looked at the profile of the Sabbat member yet. He knew if he did he'd be tempted to abandon everything else and just seek her out, to capture her for interrogation. That would need to happen, and soon, but not tonight. He'd left the folder under his pillow in his bedroom.

He'd review it later. If there is a later. Tonight's mission would be dangerous, for certain. They would likely be expecting Tremere to come after them, and would be prepared for their arrival. In other words, just like always.

They think they are prepared for a pair of clan Tremere elders, but it is very rare that a pair of elders are part of any assault, usually assigning such tasks to well-trained Ancillae. He and Erichtho together will likely be able to annihilate at least twenty experienced mortal mages and their minions quite quickly and easily. These people will regret what they've done, but only for the briefest of moments before they die.

There is always the chance, however slim, that they truly are prepared. And then it will be Jeremiah and Erichtho with the regrets. He knows Pablo will take over finding the Sabbat if that should happen. A reassuring thought. Despite the oddity of the man's armor and methods, one thing is for sure. People underestimate just how many Sabbat the Night Fist has successfully hunted down and destroyed. The number is very high.

But all that is for later.

Jeremiah strolls into the new Pawn King, the third location in the chain, but first in Gary, Indiana. Of course, the store closed at 7 PM, but Jeremiah had made the phone call and arranged to see the owner, Harry Cottage, after-hours.

If a deal is good enough, pawn shop owners will make all manner of off-hours meetings. It is actually better for them to do a big deal in private, without the prying eyes of their regular customers on them. You can't put a large price tag on an item if everybody knows you bought it cheap, after all. And the best pawn brokers buy cheap and then get every last dollar for the item in question.

Jeremiah had long ago learned the advantage of having the ability to slip important books and documents into a city secretly, which is why he took over the library as his municipal asset. Just as important is the ability to bring in rare, important mystical artifacts. If you disguise them to look like junk amidst a batch of other items, you can smuggle in just about anything without the Sabbat or even other Tremere noticing you've done it.

That requires two things. The first is the ownership of storage facilities, or at least a contact who does. This is to fool the pawn shop owners you are now looking to influence. Jeremiah knew he could simply dominate the people at Pawn King, as he had done with the head librarian. But dominate takes its toll on people, makes them a bit duller.

You want these kinds of people to be sharp, to be able to notice things out of the ordinary. Every now and again you can get lucky and learn about a private auction or a collection being sold that has the potential to garner an item or two of great value to a wizard. For an immortal, "every now and again" means you can build a huge library of rare tomes and acquire all manner of useful totems and artifacts for a versatile arsenal of tools and weapons. Jeremiah realized now that he would be staying in Gary, Indiana and Chicago for a very long time to come. Gaining control over Pawn King, eventually all three, would be a double-value deal. It would assist him in his work as a Tremere.

It would also allow him to get his business asset started. Due to all of his recent responsibilities with the clan, unavoidable as a Tremere, he had fallen behind in the Contest of Will. In only a few hours he would be at it again, perhaps in mortal combat with other wizards, in order to save the immortal spirit of a neonate he'd never met.

It had been Erichtho's idea to hit them at exactly midnight. Enough time, he knew, for her to meditate and charge all of her power, feed on mortal blood if need be, and arrive in Gary comfortably and well-armed. Jeremiah intended to do the same. But first, an acquisition in the Contest of Will would put him right back in the game.

He smiles at the stocky, bearded man behind the counter. "You Jeremiah?" he asks tentatively. "Reverend Jeremiah Thomas, at your service."

"I wasn't expecting a priest. That's...different."

"Is it? Well, as I mentioned on the phone my friend Jackie owns a lot of storage facilities. She's really quite big in that circuit. And well, she's had a lot of people default on their facilities. She's very busy, and she knows the church could use the money, so she told me that I could basically act as her selling agent regarding the storage facility contents."

"That really sounds great. Can I call you Jerry?"

"Certainly. It's Harry, right?"

"Yep. Harry Cottage. I own the joint. Couldn't keep my manager here this long after hours. He's had a long day already." He laughs. "I don't mind coming in to do a nice deal, though. How many units we talking about?"

"I think she said sixteen. Many of them filled to the brim. Furniture and clothing, mostly, but you never know what people have in them. I might also be a buyer, by the way. I'm a private collector. Rare books, and old jewelry, heirlooms, that kind of thing."

"Sure. Crosses and the like?"

"Oh, no. We've got plenty of those already." Jeremiah forces himself to laugh and shows off his big holy symbol. Harry's eyes bulge when he sees it. "Good Lord! Literally! That thing must have cost a mint. It looks like it weighs a ton."

"No, it's hollow on the inside. It makes me feel good. Found it at a garage sale, actually. I had it appraised. It's not worth a thing, monetarily speaking. Of course, spiritually..."

"Yeah, uh, sure. Well, I can get into the spirit of making money with you Jerry. Come to think of it, there's an auction I know about in a few days, might be some pieces there of interest to you. I'll see if I can get a list, and get you invited, if you want."

"I would be very interested." If it is a daytime auction he can always try and recruit Jeeps or even Pablo's man Magnussen to be his representative.

"Well, its certainly lovely to make your acquaintance Harry. Here is Jacqueline's phone number. I know she'll be eager to talk to you about the units, and then we'll start the negotiations in earnest."

"So you're looking for me to just buy out the contents of the units in bulk, then?"

"That would be so much better for us than if we tried to do it item by item, after all. And if you end up with a couple of treasures, then wonderful!"

"Yeah, that does happen from time to time. I'll call her tomorrow."

Jeremiah shakes the man's hand. Nice and firm, a good businessman's handshake. Jeremiah leaves. He's made a huge mark forward in the Contest of Will. Now it's time to get to the real business at hand.

Jeremiah is getting into business with the Pawn King himself, Harry Cottage.

8:28 PM The Hotel - Lobby

Bellboy Girl sips a coca-cola while checking out all of the monitors. Her head snaps sharply as she hears someone run from upstairs. She watches Andy hustle through the lobby and towards the front door.

She gets up and runs towards him as he pushes through the front door. Andy realizes he's being chased and tries to speed up. Bellboy Girl pursues at an even pace as they run down the block. The Hotel takes up the entire city block, and they run along its side.

Andy turns the corner sharply. As Bellboy Girl turns the corner, she is not remotely surprised to find that he's stopped and is waiting for her. She is not surprised because she'd stopped hearing his footsteps. This is Andy's first rodeo. It isn't hers.

He tries to nail her with a right hook. She grabs his hand and lifts him high into the air, and slams him face-first onto the pavement. She grabs him by the scruff of the neck and drags him, much against his will, back to The Hotel and through the front door.

"No, stop it!" he yells the whole time. "I don't want to be a vampire. I don't want to be a vampire! I have a life of my own, you know!" Just as she hauls him through the lobby, Mr. Confetti bounds down the steps. When he sees what's going on, he grins brightly.

Bellboy Girl tosses Andy down the stairs none too gently, into the basement, and shuts and locks the door. Mr. Confetti kisses her on the forehead. "Someone did a goody!"

Mr. Confetti unbolts the door and heads into the basement, and shuts the door behind him. Bellboy Girl sits down at her chair behind the counter, and realizes as she sees a reflection of herself in the monitor that she is blushing.

She did a goody!

8:46 PM Prince Modius' Mansion

Antonio approaches the Prince's estate, or rather, what little is left of it. Those Anarchs really did a number on it. Antonio can't suppress the laugh and cocky smile. He knows that'll have to go away once he gets inside, but seeing the wanton destruction these little rebels did on the boss vampire's property is hilarious! Yeah, this guy's in charge of something. Riiiiiight.

Antonio wipes the smile off his face as he walks across the lawn. Two armed guards at the door meet him. "Who are you?"

"Yeah. My name is Antonio. I'm here to kiss the Prince's ring and declare solidarity."

"Declare what?"

"Solidarity."

"What's that mean?" One guard looks at the other. The other guard shrugs. He don't know. They look at Antonio. "What's that mean?"

"It means, you know, solidarity. Solidarity! It means..." Antonio gestures wildly. "Like if you're all on the same baseball team you know. Maybe you're the third baseman. Maybe you're the right fielder."

The other guard thinks about it. "I used to play shortstop in little league."

"Shortstop then. You're the shortstop! Yeah. You know. Solidarity."

"I don't think we should let him in." The first guard says. He looks at the other guard. The other guard shrugs at him. "You can't go in."

"Look, pal, I'm here to see the Prince. The Prince!"

"Does he know you're coming?"

Antonio rubs his chin a minute. "Yeah. Yeah, he knows I'm coming. He's waiting for me right now."

"He's waiting for you? Really?"

"Maybe we should let him in, then."

"Yeah, you should let me in." Antonio points at the other guard. "He's right."

"I don't know. Nobody told me that anybody was coming tonight."

"Well, our meeting is very private."

"Is that so?"

"We don't want everybody to know I'm declaring solidarity."

"Solidarity?"

"Yeah." Antonio tries not to put his fist through the man's eye and right into his brain. It takes a lot of willpower. "Yeah." Antonio grins brightly. "Solidarity."

"One of us should go in and tell them that he's here." the other guard looks at the first guard. The first guard nods his head in agreement.

"Yeah, I'll go in. You wait here with him."

The first guard goes inside. The other guard stands there, and stares dumbly at him. Then he remembers something like bolt of lightning has struck him in the brain. "If you have a weapon, I need to take it for now."

"You ain't taking my weapon."

"No weapons in the house."

"What if the Anarchs come back tonight? Eh? Then my weapon is out here, I'm inside. The Anarchs are out here."

"I'm out here, then. So-"

"Yeah. You're out here. With the Anarchs. And I can't help you because I don't have my weapon. So then you're a dead man. A dead man, my friend."

The other guard thinks about that for a moment. He shrugs. "Well, I gotta take your weapon. It's the rules. "

"You ain't taking my weapon."

They size each other up. It's about to get violent when the door opens. The first guard gestures. "He can come in."

Antonio strolls towards the front door.

"But, he's-"

Antonio heads into the house. The other guard frowns as the door shuts. The first guard stands next to him. "What's the matter?" The other guard shrugs and gets back into position. "Nothing."

Having outmaneuvered the two buffoons on the yard, Antonio was feeling pretty good about himself as he approached the front door of Prince Modius’ mansion. After he rang the bell, it opened and Strohman the butler answered. Antonio opened his mouth to tell the manservant why he was there, but Strohman beat him to the punch.

“Good evening, sir. We are expecting you.”

Antonio was confused. He had come here without sending any kind of introduction letter or even made a phone call. “Why?”

“Mr. Confetti contacted us and let us know you would be arriving.”

“Oh.” Antonio said, annoyed. Strohman turned down the hallway. “This way, sir.” Antonio grumbled as he closed the door behind him. “Confetti needs to learn to mind his own damn business.”

Strohman clearly heard it, but being an experienced ghoul servant, did not respond to it in any way. “The Prince will meet us in the foyer shortly.”

“Okay.” Antonio looked at the horrific damage the Anarch Movement had done to the entire place. Of course, he had seen it first hand when they rescued Tommy Hinds from his prison cell. But the Prince had not moved quickly on any repairs. In fact, he hadn’t moved an inch on them. This place was literally falling apart.

As they walked through a long hallway, Antonio noted that there used to be paintings on these walls. But they had been removed, and in their place were huge empty square imprints against the paint. Those paintings had been hanging for hundreds of years. Their removal was obvious.

The foyer was in no better condition than what he had previously already seen. The windows were gone. There was no glass on the floor. That had been cleaned by someone, likely Strohman. The room was large enough for fifteen people to mill about. But Antonio was by himself. Strohman moved to a place he liked to stand in against the far wall. “Where’s the prince?” Antonio wanted to know.

“He will arrive shortly, sir. He is busy with another matter at present.”

Antonio frowned. He didn’t have all night for this. He had other plans, once this nonsense was through. He was going to scout out the casino for his big meeting with The Outfit tomorrow night. Knowing the access points and the choke points for an ambush would be helpful in case it went south. All things considered, it probably might.

Antonio stood in the middle of the room, by himself. Annoyed. And there, they waited.

Part 4