VtM: Mansion, Servants, and Dog

It took less than an hour for Edhem to realize that he could have come in human form. This wasn't a well-run household; this was a theater troupe, re-employed to keep them solvent during the lockdown. That Bianca Cavalieri was also a performer didn't stop her from paying them -- indeed, the woman seemed thrilled to have other performers at her beck and call. 

She and Lucien slept through the day and awoke at night, of course. Indulgence of the rich, perhaps, but almost certainly something more. And despite Lucien's strenuous objections, Bianca did have a soft spot for dogs. Showing up just after dark not only got him inside, it got him a warm blanket, a cushion, and in surprisingly short order an assortment of treats. Bianca -- and consequently her staff -- had no qualms about feeding him bits of chicken and ham and other scraps. 

And Bianca, diva that she was, had no discretion whatsoever. It was Lucien who chased the servants away, Lucien who tried to speak to her about the displeasure of the Tremere elders -- whoever they were -- and Lucien whose words confirmed that Jack Grey died here, and his wife Valeria was taken away from here by someone named Grand, who apparently was unacceptable because she's a Toreador -- whatever that was. 

By the time dawn came around, Edhem was happy to escape.  

VtM: A Mask, A Book, A Mansion

Edhem traced the edges of the mask with his fingers. The leather was firm, molded into the shape he needed, touched with paint to add emphasis and finalize the appearance. He'd never tried to become a corgi before, but this mask should do it.

Eighteen hours, he thought. Six to cut, soak and mold the leather, four more to let it dry; another two to scribe his best description of the breed onto the back of the mask in the First Tongue. Then two hours of careful painting, to reinforce the effect and confirm his intention, and another two hours of touch-ups and careful corrections. He'd set it aside to dry, and now it was ready: quivering and eager in his hand, ready to transform him into a dog. If he'd given it any capacity for mobility, it would have been nudging at his hand and trying to make its way into its place over his eyes. The power of the Old Blood hummed through it: his blood, that he'd used in scribing the runes. 

He set the mask beside the collar; he needed them to know each other, to recognize each other and work together. The collar was a simple leather loop, set with a buckle; where an ordinary dog collar would hold a tag, this one displayed a wooden carving of the glyph for health. It, too, had been touched with his blood; it too had a description of its purpose written in blood in the First Tongue on the inside surface. Edhem couldn't mask up as a dog, so he'd made the collar to turn aside diseases. The wood would decay and crack as the charm worked, and when it shattered he would need to make another. 

He left the weapons behind. Based on what Shannon had told him, he was walking more-or-less-willingly into unimaginable danger, but deceit and discretion would protect him far better than any weapons. And if he was somehow discovered and had to return to human form, he still had his book prepared; it probably wouldn't protect him, but it might provide a momentary distraction which he could use to escape. 

There wasn't much else to do. He had the next business card, from his mysterious patron; he just needed to park the van someplace inconspicuous, and try to make his approach without attracting any suspicion. 

Bianca Cavalieri lived in an enormous mansion with her... lover? husband? father? ...Lucien; they had recently acquired a number of servants. She was an opera singer, famous enough that even Edhem had heard of her, idolized and despised as a notorious diva. Ridiculously rich... he'd never have been able to pose as a servant. So he'd try approaching as a corgi, and see if she had a soft spot for outrageously cute dogs. 

There were so many things that could go wrong. Shannon had advised him to walk away, and maybe he should have... but having caught the attention of Elder, that seemed dangerous as well. And while he couldn't match an actual vampire for sheer power -- not at night, anyway -- he might still be able to learn what he needed and slip away. 

Idly, he wondered what Ciaran was doing right now. Hunting me, most likely. There were other possibilities, but between the murder of their master and the effort Ciaran had put into trying to kill him as well, Edhem didn't think any of them were likely. That could still be a problem; if Ciaran located him, he would not only be exposed but likely facing off against a sorcerous rival who was already more powerful than he was. He needed more counters and evasions, and his options in both cases were limited. The only thing in his favor was his geas: he couldn't die as a human. 

It would have to be enough. Still... he could add more pages to the small, hand-scribed book that held his more active spells. And he'd learned enough of fire and darkness to at least try to counter the things he'd seen Ciarin do. It would take time to make those preparations, but Ciaran would need time to prepare his attacks too; it might balance out. And if Ciaran showed up in the middle of a bunch of vampires, he'd be in at least much danger as Edhem; that was mildly reassuring. 

He touched the mask again, then called up a map of Seattle on his phone. Today would be a day of scouting. Tomorrow, he'd take the shape of a dog and go in.

VtM: A Coffee, a Park, and a Beautiful Ghoul

Edhem found Shannon leaning against a square concrete arch in Gasworks Park, and nodded to her before stopping to unroll the king-sized blanket he'd brought. He was smiling behind his mask, which was absolutely ridiculous: there was no way to get to know her without pushing into Malachi's business, and he knew full well that pushing into Malachi's business was dangerous. And yet... he wanted to get to know her. He was glad to see her. It had been years since he'd felt this way. 

Suicidal, you mean? asked the voice of his worse-if-wiser self, but he closed it away and set the paper bag in the middle of the blanket. Shannon strolled casually over, then knelt over the bag and pulled out the coffee he'd brought for her. He could see her smile even behind her mask -- which probably meant that she could see him grinning like an idiot behind his -- and retreated to the opposite corner of the blanket. 

The park was surprisingly empty, but then it was nine in the morning on a Tuesday, and all the solid citizens were probably either at work or huddled in their homes -- or, where possible, both. They were far enough apart that the risk of transmission was negligible, and there was nobody close enough to hear them. The air was chilly, but not unpleasant. 

"You're not a ghoul, are you?" asked Shannon. 

Edhem shook his head. "I don't even know what that is." 

"It's what I am," she told me. "I asked you who you belonged to because I belong to Malachi -- though it's loyalty, not slavery, despite how it might sound." 

Edhem nodded slowly, putting things together in his mind. "And this... belonging... is what allowed you to move the way you did?"

"Well, partly. Practice plays a big part, you know." 

"I know." He shook his head. "I've never met anyone like you, that I know of."

"Then how were you able to keep up?"

"Practice does play a big part, but... I belong to a tradition, an ancient one. My ancestors were the defenders of the First City, and something of their strength lives on in my blood." He met her eyes. "I think that's how I got caught up in this: I was trying to find out what happened to Jack and Valeria, and something... like Malachi... saw me using one of those ancient skills." 

"Ah," said Shannon. "Yes, that would explain a lot. Especially if the one who caught you belonged to Jack's bloodline." 

Edhem hesitated a moment, then said: "They're real, then." 

Shannon tilted her head. "You've never met one?" 

Edhem shrugged. "That I know of. We hunted dark spirits, rogue magicians, unquiet ghosts."

Shannon nodded slowly. "That explains... I doubt they know any more about you. At least, Malachi's never mentioned anyone like you. Everybody keeping their secrets so carefully that they didn't realize that others around them were as well." 

Edhem considered that. "I'm not sure that's an entirely bad thing," he said. 

"I don't know," said Shannon. "Things are bad now, and seem to be getting worse. It might be better if you walked away and pretended that you never learned anything." 

"I don't think the one who found me would let me go that easily," Edhem replied. He'd been thinking about turning his back on all this, but it didn't seem like the same sort of escape route now that his secrets weren't entirely secret. "...And I don't know how to escape it, not with any certainty."

Shannon shook her head. "I don't know what to tell you, then. They do recruit allies, sometimes, but they're... obsessive about loyalty... and they have ways to ensure it. If you've caught the interest of an Elder, my advice would be to be as boring as possible and hope it becomes distracted by some other entertainment, but that isn't much of a strategy and you're probably not helping it by meeting with me."

"Honestly, meeting with you has been the best part of this whole thing," said Edhem, and was rewarded when Shannon smiled. "No, I think the only thing I can do is press forward -- cautiously -- with this investigation, and hope that I can reach some sort of accord with this thing when we're done."

VtM: An Encounter, a Question, a Pair of Crossed Blades

"You must be Edhem," said the woman, and he froze for just a moment, stunned. 

The Crux Invertis was a very different place in the light of day; as different from his first visits as it must have been before the pandemic, with the night wrapped around it and a line of people waiting to get inside. He'd come looking to talk to the kids, picking a time when the owner Malachi seemed likely to be asleep; he hadn't expected to find a woman his own age opening the door, let alone a stunning redhead with amber-brown eyes and a scattering of freckles over the pale skin of her cheeks. He swallowed, and said: "I am." 

"Malachi thought you might be back." The sun was pale on this overcast autumn day, but its touch didn't seem to bother her at all. "He didn't believe you were just a reporter, or a biographer, or whatever it was that you were trying to represent yourself as earlier."

Edhem swallowed, then turned his head just slightly as he studied her. "Forgive my surprise," he said. "Malachi didn't mention you at all." Her mask was flat black, solidly built, with an exhaust vent built into one side: the kind of thing people wore for mountain biking and the like.

"Shannon," she said, and put out a hand. "And while you still haven't really explained yourself, you're clearly not, as the kids say, 'from Social'. So come inside, and ask your questions; perhaps we can trade." 

"I..." He was hesitating, he realized, because there was something in both her looks and the way she carried herself that really threw him off. Edhem was not, as a general thing, immediately attracted to much of anyone... but here he was. Which, based on my history, means there's at least a fifty-fifty chance that she's a lesbian. "All right. What would you like to know?" 

Shannon chuckled. "Courteous," she observed, as she closed the door behind him. "Let's start with the obvious. I'm Malachi's: who do you belong to?"

Edhem stopped, noting that Dark was withdrawing through the far door of the club's antechamber but pretending not to notice. "For the moment, only myself. My master was Saladin El-Mohtar, until my brother killed him." He turned to look at Shannon, and found her studying him. "Does that serve?" 

"I don't know that name," she said slowly, "and that doesn't quite tell me what I wanted to know, but it is an answer. All right: who sent you here?" 

Edhem started to object, then realized that in confirming that he understood the rules of their game he'd asked a question of his own. "A mysterious figure who accosted me when I went to investigate Jack and Valeria's last apartment. Pale, otherworldly; they didn't offer a name." 

"Ah," she said. "Old." She paused then, seeming to realize that she might have said more than she meant in just that single word. She turned towards the inner door, and led him through it, back into the mostly-empty club. 

There were six teenagers scattered around the room: three girls, two boys, and Twilight. Dark was sitting at a table, apparently involved in a game of dominoes with the waifish girl Edhem had seen earlier and a black girl who looked to be a year or two older than either of them. Twilight was sitting with a petite boy, round-faced and slump-shouldered, at a bench along the wall; books and comics were scattered across the table in front of them. Another girl -- Korean, judging by her features -- was asleep on her side on another bench, wrapped in a heavy black duster. 

Shannon nodded, catching Edhem's eye again, and said: "Your turn." 

"Are the kids safe here?" 

"Who are you calling kids?" growled Dark, half under his breath, as he scowled down at the dominoes in front of him. 

Shannon glanced back at him. "Hush, you." She turned back to Edhem. "Safer here than anywhere else in Seattle, I suspect. You're asking if Malachi takes advantage of them? Or me? Or if I take advantage of them?"

Twilight stood up. "No." Their voice was firm. "I... actually appreciate your concern.. but no. Our safety isn't your business, and you should stay out of this." 

Shannon started to say something, but Edhem held up a hand and turned to Twilight instead. "It actually kind of is," he said. "...Though not in the way you probably think. And you may be right that I should stay out of it, but if I do and something bad's going down here... I'm complicit. You understand?"

Twilight looked at Shannon, looked back at Edhem, and then sat down. "You'll forgive me if I have a hard time believing you." 

Edhem kept looking at them. "I'd be surprised if you didn't." He turned back to Shannon. "So you say nobody's taking advantage of these... young adults... and they seem to agree. I think that makes it your turn to ask." 

Shannon nodded slowly. "Are you a hunter?" 

Edhem tilted his head, considering. "I'm not entirely sure I understand the context," he said after a moment, "but if I have to answer, I'd say that I am, when it's called for." 

Shannon seemed to think that over, then nodded. 

"How dangerous is Malachi?" asked Edhem. 

"More dangerous than you," she answered, "though if you'll permit me to answer what I think you're really asking... not to you, or me, or any of these." She nodded to the teenagers around them. 

"That does help," he said. "What else?" 

"Do you fence?" 

Edhem blinked, startled. "Yes." He remembered that it was now his turn to ask a question, and considered for a long moment. "Do you know anything about who sent me here?"

"No," answered Shannon. "But since we don't seem to be enemies, I'll make some guesses: Jack Grey belonged to... a clan of magicians. I'd guess that the one that recruited you was one of their elders, probably in his direct bloodline. I could make better guesses if you told me more, but I don't think that would be safe for either of us. So let it go at that." 

Edhem nodded slowly. "That would make sense," he admitted. "Which makes it very definitely your turn. Ask what you will."

Shannon smiled. "Will you cross blades with me?" She tilted her head towards the stage, and Edhem noted that what he'd taken for speakers and suchlike at the edge of the stage was actually a pair of fencing masks, vests, and blades. 

"...If you like," he said, and turned to cross between Twilight and their friend and an empty table. A short flight of steps led down to the dance floor that encircled the stage. He could feel the eyes of the teenagers on his back, but the weight wasn't hostile; they were unwillingly fascinated.

"Double-wide epees," he said, picking up a blade. 

Shannon nodded. "I prefer them. Much closer to using an actual blade." 

"All right." He set the blade back down, then picked up the vest and pulled it on. Beside him, Shannon did the same. They pulled on helmets, picked up epees, tested them and examined the rubber tips. After a moment, they both stepped out onto the dance floor. 

Pounding drums flooded the space around them. Edhem looked around for a long moment before his eyes found the DJ booth, and he realized that Dark had stepped inside and put on The Eye of the Tiger -- ironically, judging by his expression, but it was still appropriate enough. Thump. Thump-thump-thump. Edhem chuckled behind his mask, and saluted Shannon. She returned the gesture, then settled herself. 

The first pass was cautious: a touch of the blade, a flicker of feint-test-response before they withdrew. Then Edhem came in with a cautious lunge, and Shannon parried and riposted; Edhem withdrew before she could make contact. Shannon cracked her neck, and Edhem rolled his shoulders. 

The exchange was longer this time: attack-parry-riposte-parry-counter-parry, and this time it was Shannon who stepped back and away before Edhem could follow up. He smiled, frustrated but intrigued, and set himself again. 

"Not bad," Shannon said, weaving the tip of her epee through a figure eight. Edhem kept his eyes on her shoulders. "Can you deal with this?" 

She came in suddenly, a lightning storm of probing attacks, and he fell back automatically, parrying as he could, overwhelmed by the inhuman speed of her thrusts. He was reacting by feel rather than sight, but she was still too fast; he lost track of where her blade was and knew he wouldn't be able to block whatever came next. Reflexively, he pulled himself up straight and thrust his blade directly out towards her center... and was rewarded when she lunged straight onto it. The metal flexed painfully, the tip bent to nearly a ninety-degree angle, but it held against the force of her advance.

"Son of a bitch!" she shouted, but she stepped back and saluted, and he returned the courtesy. She pulled her mask off and stepped forward, and he matched the gesture. 

Gripping her hand, Edhem met her eyes. "That was amazing. I've never seen anybody move that fast." He thought he might have come close to it himself once or twice, but only with the help of his arts. Was Shannon doing something similar? Or did she have some other way of accessing that kind of speed?

She smiled behind her mask. "It was a good counter. I could see it coming, but I couldn't change direction."   

"I..." he hesitated, then decided to press ahead. "Would you like to go get coffee somewhere? Maybe take it to a park, and talk about the things that aren't secrets?" 

There was a brief hesitation, and then she grinned. "Are you kidding? If we weren't in the middle of a pandemic, I'd take you to bed right now."

VtM Interlude: A Sacrifice, a Request, a Demand

Ciaran lit the match with a careful, deliberate gesture, then bowed to touch the flame to the kindling beneath his fire. Each stick and log was touched with his blood, and the black steel fire pit was covered with incised inscriptions in the First Language: commands to give it purpose, and constraints to maintain control. Six small, rolled-up scrolls contained additional pleas specific to this ritual, set at intervals around the edges of the fuel. 

The flames spread quickly, taking root in the wood and reaching out. They touched the scrolls and consumed them, and Ciaran nodded to himself as the fire suddenly rushed upwards, voracious. It found the offering atop the wood, consuming the meat and gnawing at the bones in a rush of heat; then the fire collapsed, leaving a bed of glowing coals. They winked, red and black and red again, giving the disturbing sense that the remains of the pyre now regarded Ciaran with every bit as much intention as he regarded them. 

It formed slowly, outlined in the smoke that drifted up from the coals: something that was and wasn't a face, new-formed but horrifyingly ancient, bodiless but very much alive... 

Ciaran spoke a name, and the thing replied with his own: a faint whisper that sent sparks rising from the coals to outline the smoke-framed hints of its features. 

"I bring you sacrifice," Ciaran said. "Meat, bone, and blood."

It is good.

"It serves my interests to keep you happy, O wise and powerful spirit."

And how would you see your interests served? You know the price of further power.

"I have not forgotten. But my brother is sly, and now he is wary. He moves around. He is hard to catch." 

You ask nothing, then?

Ciaran nodded carefully. "I would not have you grow displeased while I hunt."

A word, then: your brother is being watched. Tread carefully. Seek him in the places of his interests, but tread carefully.

Ciaran nodded again, and the fire collapsed in on itself with a sudden, unnatural hiss. He held out his hand, and found that the ashes were cold; the Great Beast had taken the last of the heat when it departed. Well then, he thought, and shivered. A small sacrifice for a small bit of knowledge, and a small price to assure his provider's continuing goodwill. He would need to find a better sacrifice for the next one, especially if he had not found and crucified Edhem by then. 

Edhem, who might be found in the places of his interests: fortune telling and magic tricks, the things that looked like sorcery but weren't. Edhem, who was being watched... and watched by someone or something consequential enough that the Great Beast had felt it was worth a warning. Edhem, who needed to die so that Ciaran could complete his bargain with the Great Beast and finally come into the fullness of his power. 

All right then, Ciarin thought. Let's do this.

VtM: A Club, A Card, An Interview

 It was ten o'clock at night before before Edhem returned to the Crux Invertis. A different teenager opened the door this time, this one dressed all in shades of gray: a hooded sweatshirt, an oversized coat, loose pants, off-brand tennis shoes. Even the mask that covered their mouth and nose was the color of charcoal. "The guy who wanted to meet with Malachi, right?" Their hair was tied back in simple ponytail, dark enough to look black in the limited lighting inside the club; they studied Edhem with a severe face that held no particular expression, punctuated by high cheekbones and dark eyes.

"Edhem Blackburn," he said. "Should I ask who you are?" 

The teen shrugged. "Twilight, for the moment. Some of us use names; some of us don't. That was Dark you met earlier, unless he's changed it." 

"Is Malachi available? Will he see me?" 

"Yes." Twilight swung the door all the way open and stepped back. "That's why I'm being so polite." 

"I'm grateful," said Edhem, with no irony whatsoever; it sounded like he should be. His own mask was still white, and didn't muffle his voice quite enough to leave any doubt about his tone.

Twilight looked momentarily nonplussed, and Edhem took that moment to step inside and look around. This was obviously the entryway; there was a counter to his left, unoccupied, but with a cash register and a handful of posters on the wall behind it. There was another door ahead, exactly where he'd expect to find a bouncer to prevent anyone from entering the club without paying. 

Twilight closed the door behind him and shot the deadbolt, then moved past him with a vague motion that Edhem took to mean he should follow. 

He did, and found himself in a large room. To his right was the main bar, and an entrance into some other area; to his left a sort of balcony wandered around to a second, smaller bar. The balcony overlooked the dance floor, and the raised stage beyond. A second, higher balcony circled overhead, also overlooking the dance floor; two more teens stood on the far side, looking idly down at them. One was Dark; the other was an unfamiliar girl, waifish, in a tank top and sweat pants, with disheveled blond hair and no sign of makeup. She stepped back as Edhem looked up at her. 

"Come and sit down," said a voice at his elbow, and Edhem turned his head to look down at a short, slim man in a black coat and tie, the handkerchief in his breast pocket folded to show an inlaid rose. "I don't believe I know you, Edhem Blackburn." He must have been in the room; he must have moved to Edhem's flank; but Edhem hadn't seen him at all. That does not bode well.

"There's no reason you should," said Edhem, cautiously polite. "We haven't met, and until yesterday I had no idea your club even existed."

Malachi tilted his head, and there was something just slightly off about the gesture: not quite the inhuman stillness that the thing in Jack and Valeria's apartment had displayed, but a hint of someone trying to avoid giving that impression. "Then what is it brings you here?" He extended a hand, motioning Edhem towards a booth near the front wall. 

Edhem nodded. "The Magical Mister Grey and his beautiful assistant Valeria," he said, as he crossed to the booth and took a seat. 

 Malachi slid silently onto the bench opposite him. "I see, Mister Blackburn. Would you care for anything to drink?"

"Not now," answered Edhem, "but I appreciate the hospitality."

Malachi nodded to Twilight, who turned and walked away. "So then," he said, when they were apparently alone, "you've come to ask about Mister Grey and his sudden demise."

Edhem gave a single, slow nod. "Your name was given to me as someone who had met with him shortly before he died."

"Ah," said Malachi. "And you suspect I might have killed him?" 

Unchosen Gods, he better not have. Edhem shook his head, wondering if he should have brought one of the canes from the van, and decided to bluff. "I'm putting together a story," he said. "I know that Jack Grey died by violence, and that his wife-slash-assistant disappeared shortly afterwards. I started looking into it because I knew him, and there aren't that many stage magicians in the business -- especially not with the kind of talents he sometimes displayed. So, I'm looking for people who knew him and who saw him in the last few weeks of his life." He kept his expression still, showing nothing but mild curiosity.

"Then you aren't a police officer, or a private detective." 

Edhem shook his head, and Malachi nodded slowly. "Young master Dark, the one who greeted you at the door earlier, was worried that you might be with Social Services, but clearly you are not that either." 

"No." Edhem made sure he met Malachi's eyes. "I'm curious as to why you seem to have at least three teenagers in your club during the lockdown for the pandemic, but it's none of my business." At least not for now. If there's anything amiss, well... later for that. "I just need to know about Jack Grey." 

"They're runaways," said Malachi. "All six of them. And what passes for shelter in this city is inadequate and frequently dangerous. I spent enough time living on the streets to want to offer them something better, now that I can." His expression turned briefly wistful, and Edhem found that disconcerting. 

"So how did you know the Magical Mister Grey?" 

"As an entertainer, more than anything else." Malachi turned his attention back to Edhem's face. "He and Valeria performed here, just before the pandemic forced us to close. It was a good show, even though his stalker showed up for it; the bouncers removed him before he could cause any trouble."

Edhem considered that. "So you hired him, and presumably paid him, and that was the extent of your interactions?" 

"Essentially, yes." Malachi Omicron looked faintly puzzled. "Is that all you wanted to know?" 

It wasn't even close, but Edhem nodded and said, "Yes. I'll seek more information elsewhere." 

"Please let me know what you find," said Malachi. "I'd be delighted to help in any way I can. And with the club closed, well... I don't hear the gossip they way I used to."

VtM: A Boy, A Door, A Conversation

 Edhem looked at the address on the business card, looked at the small building on the edge of downtown Seattle, and looked back at the business card. No, the address was correct; unlikely as it seemed, he was in the right place. The name on the card was Malachi Omicron, and the name of the club was the Crux Invertis. It was closed now, of course, a victim of the pandemic; but there was a light on in front of the door, suggesting that someone might still be present. 

Edhem approached, then knocked. 

It took a few seconds, but then the door opened and Edhem found himself looking down at a kid in his early teens. "Who're you?" 

"My name is Edhem. I'm looking for a Malachi Omicron." 

The kid frowned. "You with Social?"

"What?"

The kid was wearing black jeans and a plain black t-shirt, and had the sides of his hair shaved close while the rest had been allowed to grow longer. He was barefoot, and looked Edhem up and down without the faintest waver in his frown. "Never mind. No chance, you dressed like that." 

Edhem blinks, then decides that it's better not to ask. Instead he says, "I'd like to speak to Malachi Omicron, if I can."

The kid shakes his head. "Too early. Come back after dark." 

"Like a vampire, huh?" asks Edhem, testing a suspicion. 

"You could say that," answers the kid, without the least change in expression. Then he swung the door closed. 

Edhem checked his phone. It was four-thirty in the afternoon, but apparently that was too early. It bothered him that the kid hadn't been wearing a mask, but then he hadn't been wearing shoes either; perhaps the knock on the door had woken him up. That might explain the moodiness, though Edhem couldn't help but think that the kid's sense of disapproval was thoroughly ingrained. 

Okay. That left him with several hours until he could return; he wasn't hungry enough to eat dinner yet, but he could park the van somewhere and see if he could pull together a talisman to turn aside disease... all other dangers aside, that seemed a decent use of his time. It wasn't worth the time to check in on any of the other names and addresses, especially since it seemed increasingly likely that they'd all turn out to be nocturnal.

VtM: A Book, a Mask, a Deck of Cards (Sorcerer Character Concept)

Edhem Blackburn stepped down from the railing onto the balcony and straightened, pulling the leather owl-mask from his face. The feathers were wilted, the leather worn and almost scorched; he wouldn't be able to use it again. He tucked it into the pocket of the long coat that had, until moments ago, been part of his wings; he'd need to put it to rest properly when he got the chance. 

As far as he could tell, this was the last apartment that Jack Grey and his wife/assistant Valeria had rented. It was dark and empty now, but Edhem had been able to see in the dark for as long as he could remember; it was one of the things that had brought him to his master's attention. The balcony let into the living area, which was as typical as he could imagine: a couch against one wall, flat-screen TV mounted on the wall opposite, a couple of advertising posters framed on the wall to his right. 

He stopped and studied them. This was definitely the right place; the odds that he'd somehow broken into the apartment of a random Stan of the Magical Mister Grey were absurdly slim. So, then... 

The bedroom was black enough that even his night vision needed help; he found the lighter in his pocket and called up a small flame with it. There should have been light from a window, but somebody had tacked blackout cloth over it. The bed was unmade, but from the look of it not recently used; there was a deck of cards on the chest of drawers that sat opposite the foot of the bed. 

There, thought Edhem, and stepped forward to take them. 

He moved back to the living area, which was more or less the center of the apartment, and sat down with his legs spread in a diamond shape, the soles of his feet pressed together. He leaned forward and set the cards across from him, then drew his master's deck from its place on his belt. 

The cards were old, and stiff as he shuffled them; he kept his movements gentle, sensing their resistance. The deck was still in mourning, grief-stricken and resentful, but it moved beneath his fingers anyway; it knew him, and at least acknowledged his presence. Edhem was grateful for that; the cards might have chosen not to, and he didn't have an alternate set to turn to. 

When the sorting felt right, he dropped them back into their case. Then he pulled the small knife from his pocket, flicked it open, and drew his sleeve back to cut his arm. He placed his thumb against the wound, then pressed a print of the drawn blood against The Magical Mister Grey's deck of cards, and then touched the blood again and laid a matching print on the face of his master's deck. The blood dried and disappeared, and he drew the first card. 

It was Battle, the one his master had said represented a conflict involving violence from multiple sides. That alone suggested that Ciaron hadn't murdered Jack and Valeria; his former brother in the blood had always worked alone. He'd made no secret of the fact that he viewed cooperation as a form of weakness. 

The next card was Distance, an image of an open landscape that required a far more nuanced interpretation but in this case probably meant that the battle that had finished Jack and his assistant had taken place somewhere else. It would be a mistake to assign a more specific meaning; the cards hadn't been ready to respond to another's hand, and while they wouldn't lie outright they didn't pretend to like him. 

He had his hand on the next card when a soft voice said, "What is this you do?" 

Edhem went still. He was used to being unnoticed, and would have sworn the apartment was empty. After a moment he said, "I'm asking the cards what happened to the people who lived here. Who are you?" He looked around. "Where are you?"

Ignoring his questions, the soft voice asked: "What do you see?" 

Edhem remained still for a long moment; then he shrugged. "Death, I think. For Jack Grey, a fight that he didn't survive. I'm not sure about Valeria." 

"Taken," said the voice. He still wasn't sure of its source, only that it was still here in the room with him. "Given what she needs, perhaps, except for the time to grieve." 

"I hope not," said Edhem. "They seemed very devoted to each other. And Jack was... remarkably talented. It was almost enough to make someone believe in real magic."

A shadowy figure swept Jack's old deck of cards aside and seated itself on the floor opposite Edhem. "And you, doing this, do not? What brings you here, truly?"

Edhem started to lift his gaze, then thought the better of it. There were stronger and stranger things than sorcery in this world; he supposed he shouldn't be surprised to find that Jack had somehow been involved with them. Picking up the cards on the floor, he tucked them back into his master's deck; the reading was finished, regardless of what happened next. "You don't think that hearing that Jack and Valeria had disappeared was enough? The word is all over the scene, though I'll grant you it's not a large scene." 

"What scene would that be?" The voice was... unearthly. He couldn't even decide if it was male or female. More than anything else, it sounded... unpracticed. Unused.

"Stage magic." Edhem slid his master's deck back into his belt, then reached across to another pouch and pulled out the small handmade book he kept there. He flipped it open, found the page he wanted, and laid a finger on it. He kept his thumb back; there was still blood on the tip, and he didn't want that to touch the page just yet. 

"I see," said the figure. "You are a part of this scene, and you came to uncover what happened to him." 

Edhem nodded, still not looking up. He wasn't sure why it was such a bad idea, but he was certain down to his bones that it was. "I came to see if it was done by someone who tried to kill me -- someone who might be killing magicians." 

There was a long pause in the darkness. "Even so, you came to see how he died. And you know it was by violence, and not here." 

Edhem nodded reluctantly. 

"I, too, would learn more of this. One of my... grandchildren... was affected by it. He mourns, and I find that his grief affects me." The figure shifted, then extended its own hand of cards -- but these were business cards, not playing cards. "In the week before he died, there were some people he met. I think you should meet with them."

Edhem pressed his index finger against the back of the page, preparing to tear it free and touch his bloody thumb to it. He doubted it would kill whoever was sitting across from him, but it might hurt them -- at least long enough for him to get away. And he was absolutely certain he'd need to be well away from them. "That sounds spectacularly dangerous." 

"Doesn't it? But these people weren't his enemies. Given time, they might even have been his friends." A pale hand laid the cards on the floor between them, and then the voice said: "Look at me." 

The commanding tone riled him, but curiosity overrode his irritation; Edhem looked up, and found himself staring at a face of inhuman beauty, cold and clean and pale, with deep blue eyes against white skin beneath sandy blond hair. Its eyes went strange as he met them: "You will take the cards. You will go these people. You will find out what they know. And you will forget that you ever saw me." 

Edhem blinked. "...Yes, Maybe, We'll see, and No. In pretty much that order." 

The inhuman figure blinked and drew back, a startled marble statue. "You are..." 

"Mine is the old blood. I'm pretty fucking sure you can kill me without breaking a sweat, but I am not yours to command." And there it was: the same pride that had led him to believe what his teacher had said about him, the same pride that had led Ciaran to betray them, and the same pride that was almost certainly going to get him killed in the space of his next breath. He'd die with some degree of dignity, at least, but now that the words were spoken he wasn't sure that was a particularly good trade.

The figure was still for the space of a breath, then another, and then another. When it finally moved to resettle itself, the change came as a shock; somehow, Edhem had almost forgotten it wasn't a statue. "Take the cards," it said, and this time its voice was normal. "If you are curious. If you are brave. I will... watch over you." 

"In a good way, or a bad way?" asked Edhem. 

"I am not certain," the thing replied, "that either of us could truly answer that. Nevertheless, it will be so."

Edhem blinked, then blinked again. "And if I decide that Jack's death had nothing to do with my enemy, and return to hunting him instead?" 

"Then I will watch as you do that, and we will see what will be."

Edhem drew a deep breath and held it, then closed his eyes. "Do as you will. I don't believe I can stop you." He was still half-certain he was going to die, though his master's cards lay quiescent in his belt and they would surely have warned him if this thing was actually going to kill him. He let his breath out, then opened his eyes. 

The pallid figure was gone.

"Son of a bitch," he said absently, and gathered up the business cards from the floor.

VtM: Ghostly Traces

 "Take care of it," muttered Lucien, as he descended the steps. "Take care of it! As if she were the sire and I but her childe! That woman will be the true death of me yet..."

Still, it was probably better that he came alone; Bianca might charm the ghost with a song, but she knew nothing of fighting or even the most minimal forms of caution; she tended to assume that everyone would naturally adore her, and she was correct just often enough to make it difficult to argue with her. Not, he thought, that I've ever argued her out of anything she truly wanted to do...

He was still muttering when he reached the bottom of the stairs. "Ghosts, yet. Bad enough I must have peasants in our dwelling while we sleep, now it seems we have a ghost as well."

In truth, he was not certain that they did. Ghosts did exist, but it would be strange to find one here; as he understood it, they were most often bound to one particular place or object, unless summoned deliberately through necromancy. Despite the recent unpleasantness, neither scenario seemed particularly likely. But there were other things that also existed out at the brittle edges of mortal perceptions, and might easily be mistaken for ghosts...

Fortunately, he was not limited to mortal perceptions. Extending his senses, Lucien looked around the room again. It was still empty of life, nothing new revealed to his eyes or ears, but... he scented something, paused, then drew a deep breath to fully taste the air. 

There was dust, of course, despite the best efforts of the peasants to keep the place clean. A hint of oil and ozone, the traces of the machines that kept the walk-in refrigerator and freezer cold. And there, a faint smell of decay, and under it, teasing, elusive...

...was the scent of blood. 

It took Lucien less than a minute to locate the corpses of what had once been a family of rats, lined up along the edge of the far wall behind a row of canned goods that he and Bianca would never touch. They were curiously organized, laid nose to tail, nose to tail, and despite decaying to the point of desiccation they appeared to be intact; whatever had killed them had done no visible damage.

Extending his senses like this had sometimes brought Lucien strange and unexpected insights, and he could feel one building now. The room was still bright with electric light, every surface visible, but he was increasingly certain that there was something he wasn't seeing. Something — someone? — was in here in the room with him, watching him... 

...standing behind him.

Lucien spun to his feet, arms raised, fangs extended, and found himself looking at... Nothing. The room was still empty. No. I do not believe that. There was something here, he knew it. And he trusted that knowledge more than he trusted his more immediate senses. 

Abruptly, the sense of being watched was gone. Then the sense of presence began to fade. A moment after that he was alone. The ghost — whatever it was — had gone.

VtM: The Ghost In The Basement

"Mister Lewis! Mister Lewis!" 

Alexander Lewis turned as one of the maids came rushing up to him. "I saw him! I saw him again!"

He took a deep breath and sighed, keeping his expression firm and calm. "There is nothing down there, Yasmin. We have looked and looked." 

Yasmin looked stubborn. "It's a ghost! I told you it was a ghost. That's why you didn't find anything. It has to be a ghost, no child that age would be prowling around in someone else's cellars." 

Alexander looked away. There were no such things as ghosts, but Yasmin had come to them from the theater and appeared impervious to reason. "Very well, Yasmin," he said heavily. "I shall come down with you, and we will look again." 

Yasmin shook her head. "I'm not going back down there. Herself doesn't pay me enough to deal with ghosts." 

Fine, he thought. "Then get on with whatever else you're supposed to be doing," he said, and paused. "What were you doing down there anyway?" 

"Oh, Joel asked me to see if we had any more of the lemon-butter sauce left. It seems he's trying to learn to cook." 

Well, that was something else Alexander would have to deal with. He certainly didn't mind the staff trying to expand their skills, but he should have been consulted about anything that might throw off the stores. Or informed that Joel seemed to be angling for a new position in the household, for that matter.

Frowning, he left Yasmin behind and went into the kitchen. 

The kitchen had been a marvel of modern service space, at least until the night of the Mistress' concert two weeks ago. The refrigerator was still missing, of course; the Master and Mistress had yet to schedule a replacement for it. Without it, they were forced to keep the perishables in the larger walk-in downstairs, in the basement, which was haunted. Or at least Yasmin swore it was, and several of the others were at least half-convinced that she was right. Ever since Mister Grant had fainted down there, and had to be carried back upstairs to recover...

Joel was standing beside one gleaming steel counter, with a cutting board beside him. He appeared to be trying to bread a pair of chicken breasts with panko crumbs, and having some moderate success at it. 

"Mister Jackson," said Alexander. "Practicing your cooking?" 

Joel shrugged, self-deprecating. "Trying, anyway. I wouldn't mind moving over to a position as cook or chef or something, if I can get the hang of this." 

Alexander nodded, satisfied; this was the acknowledgement he'd wanted. Evidently Mister Jackson hadn't felt he was far enough along to broach the topic. "Yasmin claims that she saw the ghost again." 

"Yes, I figured when she came rushing through here. I looked downstairs, but... nothing." 

"Naturally," answered Alexander, though he was actually fairly impressed with Mister Jackson's initiative. "Still, I promised that I would look again." 

Joel abandoned his project and came to stand beside him. "I'll come down with you," he said.

"Very well." Alexander started down the stairs, and Joel followed. 

The room at the bottom was large, and despite its clutter it was clearly empty. Alexander crossed the room, navigating between shelves, and opened the door to the refrigerator; then he closed it again and moved to the freezer. Both were empty of ghosts or other intruders, and nothing seemed out of place. He returned to where Mister Jackson stood waiting at the bottom of the stair. "I fear," he said, "that our Yasmin is perhaps too excitable for her position in our household." He flipped off the lights. "I'll have to bring it up to the Mistress when she awakens this evening." 

He turned to march back up the stairs, but Joel stopped him with a firm hand on his shoulders. Slowly, he turned and looked back. 

There, on the far side of the room, he saw a pair of gleaming red eyes. The room was absolutely dark; he could make out nothing of the face or body that must have been there as well. Hesitantly, he reached out for the lightswitch again; but before his hand could reach it, the eyes blinked out and were gone. 

The room was empty again when the lights came on. 

"I see," said Alexander Lewis, very slowly. "I shall have to speak the Mistress about this, and perhaps the Master as well."

Then he turned and fled, and Joel followed close on his heels.

VtM: The End Of The Fight

Willard has thrown the fridge through the door, pinning one guy under the fridge and scaring the crap out of the other two. Mario is still in the kitchen with Jack, and looks for a gun from the dead guy. Lucien is coming back down the stairs with his blade.

Mario fails to find a gun. Jack, looking out the window, watches Charon approach, and tries to mesmerize him; despite his absolute concentration, Charon smiles and says, "Nice try, thinblood." Bianca emerges from the safe room and comes upstairs, notes the destruction of her front door, and immediately goes into a frenzy. Willard: "Hello there, little lady!"

Willard grabs a guy, clenches him, and tries to squish him. He doesn't kill the guy, but somebody's going to need to put his ribs back in place. His victim tries to break free, and fails. The remaining human on the front lawn aims his gun at Willard's head and empties the clip. Willard's head is... bruised. Charon comes right up on Jack, aiming to cut, and takes him down.

Willard continues to try to squeeze the life out of this guy; Mario sees Charon with the machete, and decides try to restrain him and then stab him. Bianca is frenzying.

Mario moves in to stab Charon. Charon dodges, and stabs back at Mario, injuring him. Jack heals a bit, and Bianca - frenzied by the sight of her shattered front door -- is wrestling with Lucien, who's attempting to restrain her. Willard is still squishing his guy, and something crackly happens in his spine. Willard turns to glower at the remaining merc, who reloads his waepon.

Willard prepares to tackle his guy; Mario prepares to stab Charon again; Jack is still healing; Bianca's still frenzied, and Lucien is still... occupied.

There are other people on the lawn, coming up with machetes. Willard: "Sumbitch."

Lucien yells: "Chanteuse, calm yourself!"

Mario tries to cut again, and slices him. Bianca gets herself back under control while Jack heals himself. Willard leaps in for the tackle, but the guy steps out of the way and Willard crashes to the ground but imemdiately pops back up. The merc tries to empty his newly-reloaded pistol into Willard's head again. Charon attacks and hits, but Mario soaks part of it; he is badly damaged.

Willard decides to go for another clench. Bianca decides to kill Willard by breaking Lucien's hold and borrowing his sword. Jack decides to come to his feet and stab Charon from behind. Mario goes for Celerity: slash and dodge.

One of the lawn-machete guys advances on Willard, and tries to slice him. Lucien, looking at Bianca: "Which one do you want me to murder?"

Bianca: "I guess you go for the bad guys, and I go for Willard."

Lucien: "We have but one sword."

Bianca: "Then go get a gun."

Lucien picks up the sword: "You should return to the panic room." He advances onto the lawn.

A woman with a machete advances on Willard. She's less skilled, and Willard, well, kind of parries with his massive abs. He doesn't take any damage.

Jack attempts to attack Charon, but fails to do any damage.

Bianca charges out to jump on one of the guys who was attacking Willard. The guy with the gun on the lawn reloads his gun. Willard clenches him, ignoring the two guys approaching with machetes. He squishes him and injures him.

Bianca decides to jump on somebody's back: the man with the machete. Willard intends to crush the guy he's holding, Jack decides to dodge as well as he can. Mario uses celerity again, for a heal-and-dodge action.

The guy with the machete turns to face Lucien, who salutes him with his sword and then moves in. The guy tries to dodge, but fails; he's not badly damaged, but he's damaged. The woman with the machete moves to attack Bianca, and hits her; but fails to do any actual damage. Bianca: "My dress! You bitch!"

Charon slashes at Mario, who dodges. Jack, finding that Charon hasn't attacked him, dodges behind the island in the kitchen. Bianca, with her dress damaged, changes course and decides to punch the woman instead. She flattens her nose. Willard, meanwhile, is squishing the mortal in his arms and crushing his kidneys into pudding. The guy tries to escape, but fails.

Charon attacks Mario, misses, misses again, hits and cripple Mario, and hits again... and incapacitates Mario.

Willard just keeps squeezing, put all his attention into it -- and plans to charge the guy with the machete afterwards. Jack concludes that he needs to throw a knife at Charon.

Lucien trades blows with Machete guy, and cuts him a couple of times; he's hurt. The woman with the machete misses Bianca.

Mario heals. Charon comes around the island to attack Jack, and downs him.

Bianca, meanwhile, punches the smile off the machete-wielding vampire woman's face. Willard squishes his guy, who goes down. "Don't worry little lady, Ah'm coming!" he charges the machete woman vampire and tackles her, knocking her flat and crippling her. Willard manages to stay on his feet; so does she. Willard tips his hat to Bianca as he passes; she hisses back at him.

Jack dies as Charon cuts his head off. Charon zips around and decapitates Mario as well.

Willard looks around; Lucien has sliced up his opponent, machete-guy; the woman with the machete is crippled. Willard decides to heal. Bianca decides to punch her again.

Machete guy attacks Lucien, who parries and ripostes but misses. Machete girl tries to attack Willard, using a bit of dominate. He was healing anyway, so he stops as she commands. Bianca punches, but the woman with the machete soaks it.

Willard moves in to clench the guy who's fighting with Lucien, mauling him.

Willard continues crushing his victim. Bianca punches some more. Also, Willard has regained two willpower for squeezing people in half with brute strength. Lucien attacks the guy that Willard is holding, and hits; but he cuts Willard on accident. Bianca figures this is just the correct priorities.

Machete Woman attacks Bianca, and cuts her. Bianca is bruised, her dress is damaged, and she is *pissed*. Bianca bitch-slaps her again, loudly but not for any great damage. Willard crushes his guy, who's incapacitated.

Mario: "Lucien, cut this guy's head off." He wants to clench the chick. Bianca intends to punch.

Lucien finishes the guy off. The girl makes a limp for it. Bianca pursues her and punches her again. She goes down. Willard was planning to tackle her again, but she's down... Willard goes running back to help Mario!

A little late, but okay.

Willard runs into the kitchen and finds Mario and Jack's decapitated bodies. He figures out that this was clearly done with a knife.

Lucien: "Madame Grand, she is in danger. I can feel it."

Bianca: "But they're in the panic room!"

Meanwhile, back in the panic room:
Valeria hears gunfire outside. Then the door rips off the panic room, and there's a young guy with a machete. "Walk away," he says.

Valeria circles around him, hands up, then comes up behind him and kicks him in the balls from behind. He whirls around, and at that moment Madam Grand bolts past him. Valeria steps back and holds her hands up. "Kidding!"

Charon takes off after Madam Grand. Willard looks up as she races past; he's looking for whoever killed Mario. Charon comes out right behind her, and Willard steps in and clenches him. Squoosh! "This is for Austin! And Mario! And all the Corona-ers!"

Bianca and Lucien are coming back towards the doorways when Madam Grand comes racing out. "Anarchs!" she cries. "They're in the house as well!"

Bianca: "We will burn it down!"

Madam Grand: "Guard me! I must make a call!"

Lucien: "I must finish off the other attacker."

Charon tries to escape from Willard's grip, but fails. Willard squeezes him. "Mario, this is for you." He squeezes the crap out of Charon, incapacitating him. Willard breaks him. Lucien walks up calmly. "I do not believe that anyone, Prince Cross or otherwise, would sanction you for taking his blood."

Willard: "Wait, what?" Then he diablerizes the FUCK out of Charon. He uses his last willpower; it's almost like the blood's fighting back. He goes all the way down, drinking up all of Charon in the most intimate possible way.

Bianca walks in, looks at this. "Haven't I endured enough?" She walks back out.

Willard completes the claiming of Charon's blood. He even manages not to frenzy as he takes the guy's essence into his own soul.

Valeria finds Jack's body in the kitchen.

Madam Grand: "I'm so sorry. Do you have a place to stay?"

Valeria": "No, it'll be fine, we'll just go back to the apartment and Jack'll be back in the morning..."

Madam Grand, dominating the hell out of her: "Look at me, child. You need to come with me. I'll see to you."

Valeria, dominated: "Okay."

Bianca is having a meltdown. "My dress! My house!"

Madam Grand: "I am so sorry. We'll see to putting things right."

She departs with Valeria in tow; her custom Rolls Royce pulls smoothly and silently out of the estate.

Willard tries to glue Mario's head back on, but it doesn't work. Then he goes out to the truck and looks at Austin. Austin is out completely. He's still alive, but he's really sick.

Willard turns him.

So at about 4:00 a.m. The Chaos' eyes flutter open. "Willard, man, I had this fucked-up dream, I was really sick, but I feel so much better."

Willard: "It's okay, Mario man, you just had this crazy dream where you were Austin, but you're Mario."

Austin/Mario: "Aw, damn. I forgot. I am Mario."

Willard closes the door. The engine roars to life, the music kicks in, and drives back to Mario's home.

(It's very weird playing a game where some of the party is playing Interview with the Vampire, one person is playing The Lost Boys, and one is playing Near Dark.)

VtM: Interruptions and Invaders

At the end of last session Bianca had just begun to sing, when we were interrupted by the sound of sirens pulling on to the property. Bianca...

...is PISSED.

"Willard, did you leave that dead guy in your car?"

Willard: "Naw, he's just resting. He'll be in to get some poontang in a little while."

Bianca: "Lucien!"

Lucien looks out the window. "I must go down to see what's going on." He departs, and Mario follows.

"Monsieur Mario, do you intend to do the talking?"

Mario: "Yes."

The cop knocks in that particularly Cop Knock way that they do.

Mario opens the door slowly, and partially. "Hello?"

Officer: "Good evening. Are you the owner of the premises?"

Mario: "She is upstairs."

Officer: "We received an anonymous tip that the health policy was being violated -- there's a gathering of more than five here." Which, of course they did; Bianca had the invitation sent out to the entire Kindred community, and vampires dwell in a community of harmony and mutual support in much the same way that rabid dogs do.

Mario: {counting} "No, I believe we're at four. A gathering of four. There is perhaps a servant somewhere as well."

Officer: "Would it be possible to speak with the owner?"

Mario: "I have her partner here. Lucien?"

Lucien is gone.

Mario: "Curious. I thought he followed me downstairs. One moment."

Lucien appears and Mario coaxes him into talking to the officer. Lucien does, and agrees with everything Mario has said.

Officer: "That seems like an awfully small performance, sir."

Lucien: "There is no problem here officers. I am grateful for your help, and I will be happy to say so to my friend the commissioner when I next speak to him."

Officer, Awed: "There is no problem here. Glad to be of service."

Willard is watching out the window as the cops leave. "They're leaving! Okay, more performance! Go, Miss Bianca! Whooo!"

Bianca: "No, you sit still and listen quietly, and then when I am done you donate money."

Ms. Grand: "Oh, I was not aware this was a charity event."

Bianca: "We are supporting the Opera House!"

Ms. Grand. "Ah, my child! How plebian! You should have come to me."

Jack, casually: "Patronage is a noble tradition."

Bianca: "I do apologize. I planned this in perhaps twenty-four hours." Ms. Grand, mollified, actually smiles.

Ms. Grand asks Jack if perhaps Master Brachetti would prevail upon Prince Cross to lend his haven for such a performance. Jack can only ask. This is... suspicious: Ms. Grand was the prince for nearly a century, until Cross deposed her; mysteriously he did not kill her. She's also the Toreador Primogen in the city. So her asking for access to his haven, even by proxy, is... fraught. The flip side of that is that she is still the Toreador Primogen in the city, and Jack has no desire to cross her.

They settle in and begin the performance. It goes well, though none of the Toreadors become entranced.

Mario, meanwhile, has noticed a number of suspicious unmarked cars down the road; it's one of those odd little flashes of premonition from his Auspex.

Ms. Grand reaches into her Louis Vitton purse and pulls out a flip phone. "A moment, while I take care of this."

Lucien: "Chanteuse, you should retire to the panic room. There are several people approaching, and they are not gendarmes."

Bianca: "If my dearest Sire desires it of me, I will go. But someone should send food with me."

Lucien: "Yasmin is already in there, but..."

Bianca: "Lucien! You said--"

Ms. Grand: "These are not law enforcement. I should very much like to see this panic room of yours."

Bianca offers her arm to Ms. Grand, and Valeria looks after them but decides to stay. Mario explains the concept of a panic room to Willard.

Willard: "So none of you fuckers know why a bunch of people in black cars is coming towards the house?"

The women depart for the panic room -- which turns out to be more of a panic suite -- leaving Mario, Willard, and Jack (who's decided ambivalent about this, as he has absolutely no skill at fighting). The other servants follow their mistress to the panic room. Lucien has faded out, but he was headed in the direction of the panic room when he vanished.

We head down to the kitchen in a group. Willard goes straight to the fridge; Mario grabs a cleaver, and Jack comes up with a trio of steak knives. There are three people outside the kitchen window...

Willard decides that he's going to grab one of them and hold him for Jack to look into his eyes, because Jack is so convincing. Mario tries to get some info about them, but gets nothing. Jack manages to hypnotize one of them through the window: "These guys are not your friends, you should stop them."

The guy -- apparently a human male -- pulls out a pistol and turns to his companion... and promptly shoots him in the head. Willard reaches straight out through the window and grabs the remaining guy, then squishes him a bit...

The guy shoots Willard, to no particularly dangerous effect. Mario, with his remaining Celerity-enhanced movement, reaches out and takes a slice at the guy, injuring him badly. Willard begins to chomp on him, while Willard reaches to disarm him.

Jack's newly-hypnotized friend takes a shot at his former co-worker, the one Willard is draining, and kills him. Bianca hears more gunshots: "I should go out there and kill them myself." She's referring to Willard rather than the intruders.

Willard continues to drain his victim. His Stetson is ruined, though. Mario searches the guy again, finding no ID.

Jack asks the hypnotized guy how many came with him; there were at least three more in his team, and three... others. Jack suggests the other guy come in, while Mario looks outside.

The guy climbs into the kitchen: "I think they're probably around front." Mario notes another figure approaching from the left, carrying something... He can't make it out.

Willard pulls the corpse of his dinner into the room, and drags him across the kitchen and over to one of the hallways, where he can get some cover. Jack fails to catch the figure's eyes, but notes that they're carrying a machete or something similar. Jack ducks back and dodges behind cover. Mario notes the machete as well... and that someone else is inside the house.

Willard has taken three blood points from the dead guy; he's good for maybe one more. Willard finishes him off and pushes that blood point into strength. (Willard, OOC: How many successes would I need to throw a fridge at somebody?)

Jack stands up and tries to hypnotize the guy at the window again; Willard attempts to pick up the built-in fridge, in a massive display of indomitable will. Bianca, donstairs, hears nothing. Jack gets a better look at the guy who's moving in; he's a younger African-American guy. And Mario identifies the new figure in the house: it's Lucien. He's heading upstairs. He also senses some people out on the front lawn.

Jack suggests that his new friend should probably shoot the guy outside the window. Bianca hears this one.

Willard hauls the fridge to the center of the room, and climbs up onto the island, cracking the granite countertop.

Jack sends the hypnotized guy over to suggest to his boss outside the window that this has all been a terrible mistake and he should come inside and talk it over with us. The fellow does, addressing his boss as Charon.

Mario is still watching from afar: Lucien has reached the third floor, and three people have reached the door. Willard hears about this and moves towards the front door. His plan is to throw the fridge through the front door. Jack sets up to try to hypnotize the mercenary boss if he gets into range.

Mario hangs well back from the fridge-throwing event; he takes cover. Willard hauls the fridge to the front hall, and throws it at the front door. (VtM does not appear to have a damage rating for attacking with a fridge. We went with Strength +5.) Bianca flinches as there's a giant crash upstairs. The fridge goes through the double doors at the front of the estate and creams one of the three guys. The other two just piss themselves.

We finish there.

VtM: The Concert... Eventually

Austin The Chaos receives a phone call from Willard, who wants him to come to the party -- and help them get beer on the way, at the drive-through beer barn... which doesn't exist in Seattle. Hijinks ensue. (Apparently he drinks Blood Light.) Austin comes out of the hospital with fever, cough, and an IV, makes it out to the truck, and then goes into the store with the guys; he's still hauling his IV around, and in fact using it like a walking stick or crutch. Only, he can't do that and carry beer, so he pulls the IV out of his arm, hangs the bag on a rack, and hides the pole. The clerk tries to point out to them that he can't sell beer at this hour, but Austin's coughing terrifies him into checking them out just so they'll go away and he can take a bath in rubbing alcohol. Now suitably equipped, our wrestlers head to The Party.

Elsewhere...
The sun begins to go down over a mansion in Laurelhurst. "CHANTEUSE!" screams Lucien, loudly enough to scatter the birds outside.

"Why why why are you making that noise?" asks Bianca.

Lucien is holding the Macbook Pro, though not the way Bianca does. "I--" He manages to keep himself under control. "My darling, did you send this invite to everyone?"

"I was not in charge of the invite. It was... what is her name? Over there?"

Yasmin the Peasant: "Did I do something wrong?"

Lucien: "You are not to send things for miss Bianca unless I say so."

Bianca: "You should do as I tell you. But maybe talk to Lucien first."

Yasmin: "I'm getting mixed-- um, may I be dismissed?"

Bianca: "Yes."

Lucien, to Bianca: "You have invited both Princes!"

Bianca: "I did nothing. I gave instructions to the peasants."

Lucien: "This is a very delicate thing! You cannot invite them both to the same occasion! And we don't have enough refreshments to entertain two princes!"

Bianca: "I thought you said that we weren't allowed to eat the staff, so perhaps you should be out rounding up more peasants?"

Lucien: "What does the staff know?"

Bianca: "They know that we are throwing a party, and that everything must be perfect or I will eviscerate them-- lightly, and empathetically."

Lucien has started pacing and massaging the bridge of his nose.

In front of the house, a VERY loud horn plays Dixie. Willard and his buddies have arrived.

Lucien: "Darling, your ringtone is terrible."

Bianca: "That was not me." She looks out the window. "Perhaps we should kill them."

Willard cracks open the door to the Beast, blasting country music across the estate. Lucien claps his hands to his ears, and Bianca... considers more murder. She stops to consider the situation, and concludes that, yes, there's a monster truck on her lawn, blaring this horrible caterwauling.

Willard is wearing overalls and the one collared shirt that he owns: church clothes. He's got his good boots on. Mario is wearing a tuxedo and his dress black luchador mask. "We're here for the party!" calls Willard.

An older gentleman approaches. "Stop that at once! This is a private function. Get your vehicle off the premises!" It's Lucien. Lucien is... displeased.

Bianca, arriving a moment behind him: "This one smells like... food."

Mario hobbles over and introduces himself. [And then Roll20 glitched and I missed a bit, but presumably his courtly manners are enough to smooth the situation somewhat.] Mario tries to get them indoors as quickly as possible, dragging Willard past the doorbell before he has a chance to bang on the doorbell.

Lucien, to Mario: "I probably won't call you El Magnifico, but you are welcome. However, this gentleman who is clearly ill cannot come in."

Willard: "Hey!"

Mario: "This is going to be tricky getting this guy in here."

Willard: "Don't be a pussy. Why don't we all wear masks? Let's put a mask on him."

Mario: "Austin, would you feel better laying down in Willard's truck?"

Austin: "Oh HELL yes."

Meanwhile:
Peasant #1: "Miss Bianca, should we call the cops?"

Bianca: "It seems likely."

Peasant #1: "So if they won't leave, I should call 9-1-1?"

Bianca: "You should probably ask Lucien first, but I would say YES."

Willard: "All right, we can put him in the truck, but if we see a woman who looks like his type..."

Mario borrows the keys and takes Austin The Chaos back to the truck. Notably, Mario does not return the keys.

Lucien is doing his disappearing act. "This is what happens when you do not check the guest list."

Bianca: "These are peasants???"

Lucien: "Worse! They are Anarchs! Perhaps it is as well that we've brought the Prince."

Bianca: "I do not want my party disrupted."

Lucien pops back into view beside Willard.

"Oh hey there, my name's Willard! Put'er there!"

They make some introductions, up to a point. Lucien: "You may come in, but do not touch anything."

Willard: "So I'm going to bring in all the beers and lime-a-ritas. Chicks dig those." He gestures to where they've been stacked on the lawn.

Bianca: "Ah! You brought refreshments for our refreshments!"

Lucien: "This is acceptable. Better than acceptable, even."

Willard starts hauling the booze from the lawn to the basement, with the butler showing the way. He can carry a *lot* of beer all at once, and Mr. Alexander Lewis the butler is a little taken aback by this.

Mr Lewis: "Where do you think you are?"

Willard: "Well, I got an invitation back before I deleted my Facebook, and it said there'd be this hot chick singing -- I thought like, Dolly Parton!" He begins to sing Jolene at the top of his lungs, and Lucien fails his self-control check. He reappears, not looking happy.

Willard decides that he needs a hug, what with the fangs and the expression of mindless rage. He's not going to dodge; he's just going to soak whatever Lucien throws and grab Lucien.

Lucien hits; Willard attempts to soak and succeeds. He tries to grab Lucien, and wraps him in a bear hug and starts stroking his hair.

Meanwhile, Jack and Valeria roll up in their Prius, which feels a little déclassé in these surroundings. Jack tries to find parking, but can't get his Prius in beside the truck (which, oddly, is the only vehicle with open spaces around it).

So, Mario is alone when he comes back to find Willard holding Lucien. Bianca arrives at about this point: "Hush! What are you doing?"

Willard: "I'm here for the party!"

Bianca: "He's going to kill you!"

Willard: "I was talking about songs and your friend just flipped out!"

Bianca: "So you were the one making that horrible noise?"

Willard: "That can't have been me."

Butler: "The gentleman in the hat began caterwauling, and master Lucien attacked him. Understandably so," he adds.

Lucien attempts to claw Willard's eyes out, but can't get loose.

Bianca: "You are one of us, aren't you?"

Willard: "I think you're right, ma'am."

Bianca attempts to sing a soothing song to calm Lucien down. Willard attempts to say soothing things, too, and at least doesn't make it worse.

Lucien, back to himself: "Release me, Willard."

Willard: "I'm just really sorry about that. And that was beautiful. Are you that singer lady?"

Lucien: "I think I need a drink." He disappears again.

Jack and Valeria park around the corner and walk back to the house. "Mansion," says Valeria. "It's definitely a mansion." The topiary is well maintained, the lawn is trimmed, and a very fancy Rolls is just pulling up in front of the house. Jack and Valeria hang back, not wanting to interrupt their betters.

Bianca and Lucien and Mario and Peasant #2 (Alexander the butler) are now back in the receiving area. Alex offers to shoot Willard for Bianca, which makes her laugh.

Bianca: "Could you see that Mario and his pet are taken upstairs to the performance, and that his pet is placed at the back with some sort of gag, perhaps of duct tape?"

The butler is not enthused, but he leads the way. Mario and Willard follow.

There is now someone using the knocker on the door. Bianca is displeased at having to open her own door. The Very Proper Driver has come to greet the house.

Driver: "Miss Grand wishes to know if the performance has begun."

Bianca: "It has not. She is welcome to come in. I WILL HAVE A SERVANT HERE TO LEAD HER UP AT SOME POINT."

Another peasant materializes out of sheer terror. "Mistress?" He's a younger man. "I'm sorry, I was preparing drinks."

Bianca straightens his uniform. "You are fine and I just need one little thing. I need you to take this royal lady who is about to depart her carriage, and make sure that Lucien gets her the best of accommodations and the best of cocktails."

Jack is just sure he recognizes that car, but he's not sure from where. He nudges Valeria, but she doesn't recall it either. The driver and one of the house servants come out and look towards us; Jack gestures for them to see to their charges.

The driver opens the door, and a very proper looking vampire emerges. So, this is Lou Grand, the former Prince of Seattle and Primogen of the Toreador.

Willard, meanwhile, is trying to connect to the local bluetooth so he can blast country music through the house speakers. He... manages to connect... and of course Bianca comes stomping up the stairs.

Bianca: "Mario, darling, can you control your companion so he does not ruin my event in front of the entire Toreador clan of which you are a member?"

Mario: "Hey, Willard, can I borrow your phone?"

He breaks it. The music stops.

Willard: "Hey!"

Mario: "Oops. I'll buy you a new one, don't worry."

Bianca begins doing her vocal exercises, but Mario manages not to become entranced by this. It turns out that Mario was at the original showing of Carmen, and Bianca was the original showing of Carmen.

Jack and Valeria finally approach the door, now that the former prince is gone, and are greeted by a servant. Jack attempts to be gracious, and is also led up to the performance hall.

Meanwhile, Miss Grand is led into the room and Bianca totally fails to recognize her, but realizes that she's entirely too well put-together to be someone unimportant. Bianca introduces Mario to Miss Grand and heads off to find Lucien, who is... elsewhere.

Mario does not recognize her, but attempts to bluff past that. He comes across as completely believable; he greets her with old-world etiquette, and she responds with not-quite-right gestures. "I don't believe I've had the pleasure? Mario, was it?"

"You may have heard of my recent performances. El Magnifico Volador?"

She... thinks he's a singer. He corrects her; he's in the physical performing arts.

Jack arrives just as Miss Grand turns to Willard. "And you are a rodeo clown, yes?"

Willard goes for the southern charm, and she is amused. Willard is polite; she is mildly condescending.

Ms. Grand notices Jack and Valeria, who are ridiculously polite to her; she appears to find that pleasing. She asks after Master Brachetti and the Prince, and Jack admits that in both cases he is uncertain of whether they intend to attend. She considers this a great pity; leaders should value their people, and keep them informed. Jack tries to be self-effacing, and she suggests that we all take our seats for the performance.

Bianca finally locates Lucien and informs him that Miss Grand has arrived. He is not reassured to know that she was left with Mario and Willard. They argue, with Bianca sending Lucien to deal with the former Prince and Bianca to listen outside the door or perhaps take her place backstage. (Narrator Voice: it's the former.) So Willard is mingling, in his own way: he's intimidating the servants into applauding whatever the hell Mario does next. This is because Mario has spoken with Miss Grand and offered to display his skill at Flamenco for her. (She thinks he's a dancer now, rather than a singer; Luchador isn't anywhere on her radar.)

He starts looking to gather more of the servants to cheer, and Mario ascends to the stage to display his Flamenco skills; despite his general rustiness, he's good. Willard is... not helping, but he thinks he is.

One of the servants come by with a tray. "Mister Willard, what can I get for you?"

Willard: "Wait..." He points to Miss Grand. "I'll have what she's having. In fact I'll have two. Maybe three!"

Bianca tries to keep her self-control as Mario cuts in on her performance. She succeeds.

Joel The Peasant takes orders from Jack and Valeria.

Lucien comes to greet Miss Grant, but of course Willard intercedes.

Willard: "I just like to party, Lucien! I don't know how this works. We gettin' started yet?"

Lucien: "The performer sings when it is time for her to sing."

Willard (chanting): "Bianca! Bianca! Bianca!"

Lucien... freaks out again. "Chanteuse, I am going to kill this man. He is ruining your grand entrance. I tried to reach into his mind but I couldn't! I fear he has no mind!" He turns to Mario: "Master Marius, my mistress would like a word."

They head off, and Willard heads over to Jack and Valeria to meet the new people.

Bianca: "No killing yet."

Lucien: "I must kill him. If we do not, then it will be improper when she does."

Mario: "We need some way to entertain him."

Lucien: "I have no coloring books."

Bianca: "We could have one of the servants dance. Do we have one who is hot?"

Peasant #4, Amashari, will do some dancing with Mario as a further prelude to Bianca's singing. Bianca will find a better outfit for her. (She manages this with amazing skill.)

Jack, meanwhile, Dominates the fuck out of Willard and sends him down to retrieve a signed photo from his truck for Valeria -- and to return quietly. He goes!

Miss Grand: "You have done the Lord's Work this night."

Jack: "We try our poor best, ma'am."

Willard heads down to the truck and wakes up Chaos. Austin passes Willard a sharpie and the five pictures. Willard heads back to the party with absolute stealth.

Mario returns and finds Willard missing and everyone looking much cheerier. Bianca dresses Amashari, and then sends her out looking like a solidly formal dancer. "Okay, you can breathe now, get in there and fucking dance. I will give you a hundred dollars if you don't embarrass me."

Mario has now explained the whole history of Flamenco to the crowd. His new partner emerges, and Mario produces his scarf.

Valeria: "Only one? Amateur."

As Willard re-enters the room, pink-panther-sneaking like a champ, and promptly trips and falls on his face as Mario and Amashari begin their dance. Fortunately, they're so good, they just dance around him. And over him. And he's terrified, because a high heel through the heart equals torpor. Madam Grant avoids Stupor, and after a time Bianca emerges to begin her song.

As the Flamenco comes to a close, Willard is at last out of danger (but his autograph photos are ruined). Jack goes and has another word with Willard, persuading him to come and sit quietly and listen to the performance -- and give money afterwards.

Willard feels so guilty (about the lost photos) that he just does.

Lucien puts Amashari back to work, and then he sends Mario out to the audience and introduces Bianca. She starts to sing... and is interrupted by the sound of police sirens outside. Show business is hell.

Most of us get 3 experience points.

VtM: Delete Your Facebook

As the sun sets on another night in pandemic-ridden Seattle, and the previous night's chaos begins to catch up with people:

We open with Jack, who awakens to his ghoulfriend Valeria handing him her phone: there's an email on it, addressed to him. It's from Nadine, at the Tremere Chantry. Nadine is not somebody that Jack knows well, but she's Tremere and she's influential; this isn't something he should ignore -- Nadine is fairly highly placed, and favored by "the Professor". The email indicates a possible breach of the First Tradition (secrecy) at a local hospital and enlists Jack to go check it out. Which... okay, that's well within his skill set.

Jack heads to the Hospital. He has to go the long way around since the bridge is inexplicably closed, but he manages just fine. Approaching the hospital (in a mask and gloves, because he's rather better prepared than I am) he gets flagged by the cop out front. Leaning a bit on the Dominate discipline, he convinces the man that he's a fellow law enforcement officer (plainclothes) here to investigate an incident from the previous evening. The officer is helpful: two guys got into some kind of scuffle in the ER waiting room last night, go on in.

So Jack proceeds inside, finds the nurse, and gives her much the same story. She was there; she remembers the three Really Big Guys who couldn't behave. One of them's still here, in fact, up on Four. Could she find me a room number? She could. Jack proceeds up to the room, then looks around for the biggest guy in it and finds Austin/The Chaos. "So, what can you tell me about your two friends?"

Austin Watts: "Who wants to know?"

Jack shrugs: "I'm looking for a couple of guys who started some incident last night. I was hoping you could help." He puts some emphasis on the last word, meeting Austin's eyes but limiting himself to that single command instead of mesmerizing him entirely.

Austin Watts, Dominated: "They are the dopest wrestlers. I can tell you some stuff! I watched Willard push a tractor. He's a big guy, but like.. an actual tractor. I had it in Park. And Mario, he's really sensitive about Chinese people, so when you meet him don't call it the China Virus."

Jack: "You have contact info for them?"

Austin: "Sure! I work out with Willard all the time."

Jack takes the info, lets Valeria know that he's fine, and then emails Nadine to say that he got names and an address, and does she want him to continue investigating or are they going to step in?


Bianca, meanwhile, is up and fully costumed when she receives another call from Evan. She's all ready for him to send over some potential staff to interview.

Evan: "I have a couple but they were curious about compensation."

Bianca: "I would pay them fifty dollars an hour. What is the minimum wage in this state?"

Evan: "I think they would find that acceptable." He carefully does not answer the question.

Bianca: "Lucien will take care of the money. You know him. My manager."

Lucien, taking the phone: "Yes, send them over." He hangs up.

Lucien: "Who is coming where, darling?"

Bianca: "Our staff is coming here. We discussed this last night."

Lucien: "I have a concern."

Bianca: "Not at all."

Lucien: "So much of this power of ours requires empathy, and I fear that may be beyond you, darling."

Bianca: "I am very convincing."

Lucien, slightly awestruck: "...When you interview them, you must use your voice the same way you just used it on me."

Bianca: "So we are roleplaying!"

Lucien: "Just so. We must play the parts of caring employers. The moment your forget--" He draws his hand across his throat.

Bianca: "Ah! I am to play Marie Antoinette!"

Lucien: "...Something like that." He begins making a Bloody Marie, which is like a Bloody Mary but made from real blood from a real Marie.

Lucien: "So shall we watch something as we wait?"

Bianca: "You could watch me perform? I can do the entire opera that WE SHOULD BE PERFORMING RIGHT NOW."

Lucien: "Every part?"

Bianca: "Of course! One cannot be an actress without knowing everyone's cues."


Meanwhile:
Willard, finally awake: "Gotta get my truck."

Mario: "I'll drive us to get your truck."

Willard: "Mario, man, you can use the Uber app to see where you last came from! Just check it and we can go straight to my truck."

Mario puts masks on both of them, and they head out. The Uber guy is... not endeared to them. Mario, meanwhile, calls Austin/the Chaos, who tells them about the "cop" that visited him earlier looking for them. They get a little bit of a description, and Mario announces that he doesn't trust anybody in boots. Gestapo wore boots. No boots, man.

Austin is at least feeling better. Mario encourages him to get an icepack for his head. He's apologetic about telling the fancy cop about them.

Willard, meanwhile is already on the phone with his agent, Wendel: "Man, I went to the hospital last night. I put IVs in everybody and shit and--"

Mario shuts off his phone. "So you remember that I'm the promoter? You need to listen to me. And SHUT UP."

The car pulls over in front of a cartoonishly oversized pickup truck. Uber Driver: "You guys stay safe, okay?"

Mario: "You too. Keep the mask on. And, um, forget everything we said." He drops a very nice tip.

Driver: "You were never here." He deletes the footage from his dashcam at Mario's request.

Willard is already texting people about this award that he's clearly going to receive for being so heroic last night.

They get back in the truck.

Willard finally catches up to the idea that someone looking for them after Mario freaked out in the ER is bad news. Willard: "We need to shelter in place!"

Mario: "I have an idea."

Willard: "That's probably better."

Mario: "You never get in trouble if you rat yourself out first. We should tell the Prince."

Willard: "Yeah! Okay! Let's go find him!"

Mario: "Great! How?"

Willard: "I will try the Facebook!"

Mario watches in horror as Willard botches and deletes his Facebook page... and his whole, carefully nurtured account.

Mario: "The fuck???"

Willard: "I'll drive, you call your mentor."

Mario hits up his mentor for information on how to get in touch with the Prince and/or the court; he calls him instead of texting, because it's been a while and also his mentor isn't so good with the texts.

Mario: "Como estas!"

Mentor: "Where are you? I hear a giant rumbling."

Mario: "Willard's truck."

Guerrero: "So, what is this?"

Mario: "Well, I need to get in touch with the prince or something 'cause something went down last night and I need people to know we had it under control."

Guerrero: "You're in trouble?"

Mario: "No, we got it. But better to head it off."

Guerrero: "I can make some calls, but... maybe you should talk to the Sheriff?"

Mario: "...Might be good."

Guerrero: "Sheriff Bart's a good guy for a Tremere."

Mario: "You doing okay? You're staying safe?"

Guerrero: "I'm fine. Head over to University district. Let me make some calls."

Mario hangs up. "We need to head to University Street."

Willard: Turns the radio back up, doesn't listen. He's got friends in low places...


Meanwhile, Jack is checking his emails:
Nadine: That's good, the Tradition has not been breached. These people are something of an unknown; go and take their measure.

Jack: Understood.

With the address in hand and the low traffic, Jack quickly shows up at Willard's place: a nice house in the suburbs. There's a truck in the driveway; it's older, a beat-up green pickup with the rounded hood and a dent on one side. The lawn hasn't been mowed in months, and there are piles of Amazon packages and notices from the HOA all over the porch. The lights are on, so Jack goes up to ring the doorbell.

There are dogs inside, and they erupt into barking when Jack rings the bell. They're Saint Bernards that have been raised entirely on chili.

Well, okay. Willard doesn't have any of the "someone rang your doorbell" apps, so he's unaware of all this. Jack goes around and checks out the house. Having established that there are two Saint Bernards (Garth and Brooks) and no vampires currently in residence, Jack emails Nadine again and settles back in his car to wait.


Bianca, meanwhile, has had a brilliant idea: "We should have a concert for other vampires! They come over, I sing, they donate money to the theater so that I don't have to!"

Lucien: "Such an event might expose us."

Bianca: "We would not be exposed. Unless you wish to have an orgy. That would mean exposing ourselves. We could have an orgy to raise the money."

Lucien: "But we would have to change the memories of the staff. We do not have that power. Perhaps just a normal performance? Your singing is so much better than an orgy."

Bianca: "Very well, a concert! I shall sing all my favorite Arias! You could accompany me, Lucien."

Lucien: "Alas, I could not." Lucien isn't much of a singer.

The doorbell buzzes. Bianca gets into character as Lucien goes to open the door.

Bianca: "Welcome, PEASANTS!" (Whispering to Lucien:) "I am trying to be empathetic!"

This goes over just exactly as well as you might expect.

Bianca: "I'm sorry, my English not very good." She manages to turn on the charm for this one, and the mortals seem mollified. None of these are particularly familiar to Bianca, but they're... interested in being paid. "We will pay you money. And you can have rooms on the second floor!"

Lucien: "They will be living here?"

Bianca: "It is fine. They will be asleep when we are awake."

Lucien: "But if they are asleep when we are awake, then the reverse is true as well." He makes the throat-slitting gesture again, passably discreetly.

Bianca: "Well of course! I don't think you have thought this through, Lucien!"

Five potential servants have shown up. "You have rooms for all of us?"

Bianca: "Lucien snores, so none of you want to be around that. I need a bartender, and a ladies' maid, and two people to clean things up, and someone to hang out with me and be my companion."

She is very persuasive. A "fantastic employer". So they're asking about the jobs, and she's describing the jobs: the bartender tends bar, the cleaners clean the house, the bartender might also cook for the staff, the lady in waiting will help her dress and do her makeup, and the companion must be able to laugh at the stupid bitches on the TV and listen to her SING.

The only issue is that nobody wants to be the maids - probably shouldn't have mentioned the toilet cleaning. Bianca: "Very well! If nobody wants to do it, it will be an extra chore and everybody will do it and I will assign it." Bianca-splaining.

The peasants understand that they can just go round-robin with this shit. "So when do we start?"

"As soon as you want to, my darling. I could use a cocktail right now. Lucien, darling, would you care to show them how to make my cocktails?"

Lucien: "Um, no."

Bianca: "Well, show them how to make the mocktails. You know, the ones with alcohol instead of..." She winks saucily. "...You know."

Lucien: "She is so funny."

The staff: "ECCENTRIC!"

Bianca returns to planning a concert, to which she intends to invite both princes. Is that going to be a good idea? We'll see.


Meanwhile in the pickup truck, Willard is playing both kinds of music at Mario: Country and Western. Loudly.

Willard manages to park right in front of the stadium. Guerrero's called back; he's putting Mario in touch with Nadine. He isn't sure of how important she is, but she's definitely connected. He sends meeting details, for a bar not too far around the corner.

Mario puts on his gimmick mask, and Willard changes out into his costume: overalls and a mask. This largely involves pulling off his shirt from under the overalls. The meeting point is seven blocks away, so after some debate they decide to drive.

Mario: "Okay, be ready."

Willard: "Like, with the axe?"

Mario: "Sure."

Willard: "But we're apologizing! I don't need my axe to apologize!"

Mario: "Wear the armor, leave the axe."

Willard decides that maybe he should check out the alley before he goes down it. He floods the alley with his headlights. There's a figure about halfway down the alley and he's blind now.

Meanwhile, Jack gets a text from Nadine.

Willard starts down the alley, and then realizes that he needs to cut the lights and does so. "Ho there, partner, my name's Willard! Glad to see you! Come on out!"

The guy moves forward a bit, confused. He looks to be early twenties, east Asian kid. Jogging pants, nice sneakers, yeah... he's Kine.

Willard: "You need to be inside with the social distancing."

Guy: "Some lady told me I had to come here and meet two guys? I guess that's you?"

Mario: "Lady?"

Guy: "Said her name was Nadine." He tugs his mask into place and wanders off.

Willard: "Hold on, partner! I have signed photos right here!" In the pictures, he's doing his patented glare, shirtless.

Guy: "So, are you like a famous cowboy?"

Willard: "I'm wrestler!"

Guy: "Oh! I thought you were like MMA or something real."

Willard: "Oh those little guys in the cage?"

Mario: "Fake! You don't win unless Dana White wants you to win!"

They head over to Elysium at the Seattle center and park again.

Jack and Nadine show up by the glass museum, and Willard spots them immediately and starts shouting for them to come over. Then he pulls two of the photos out of the glove compartment. Nadine is a gold-skinned woman, and wearing a black pantsuit. Willard hands them photos (signed).

Jack: "The wrestler?" He doesn't actually follow wrestling, but he can take a hint.

Willard: "In the flesh! So about this award ceremony..."

Jack: "Can you lay out what went down last night, first?"

Nadine: "Which one of you is Mario?"

Mario: lays out a formal Spanish courtly greeting from a good century earlier, and Nadine relaxes fractionally.

Nadine: "I understand you sought an audience."

Mario: "Yes. We hoped to explain."

Willard: immediately launches into an explanation about Austin Watts not doing so well, and taking him to the hospital, and doing the IVs... Oh, and Mario losing his shit over the "China Virus" phrasing.

Mario: "But I calmed down."

Nadine: "Fortunately, my associate's investigation showed that nothing was breached, but I would like to impress upon you--"

Willard: "I am so sorry!"

Mario: "Wasn't your fault, man."

Nadine: "No censure is forthcoming. Be aware that the Prince has decreed that no Kindred will hunt at hospitals at this time. The risk is too great."

Mario: "So us feeding...?"

Nadine: "The professor says we are safe, but he believes that we can spread the disease."

Willard: "So... we're cool."

Nadine: "So, Mister Grey: what say you? They don't seem to be Anarchs."

Jack: "No. They weren't seeking to cause trouble, they just stepped into a bad situation. But it sounds like they managed to restrain each other, and they got out without further incident."

Nadine: "Agreed."

Willard: "Again I am SO SORRY little lady."

Nadine: does not kill Willard for calling her a little lady, but it's a near thing.

Jack hangs out as Nadine leaves, still following the "check these guys out" order. We agree to meet up at Laurelhurst the following evening for Bianca's concert.

And we get two experience points.