Bright Lights, Bloody Nights, Big City: Vampire Game Thread

[frigidmagi]

Jason and Helen were perched on a flat rooftop not far from the slaughterhouses. The smell of dead and dying cattle of more than one type hung in the air marking the soft darkness they moved in.

"Secret to hunting is patenice, you wait for the good moment, the best moment and then hit hard." Jason whispered eyes following a nervious young man who practicely skipped down the street. A boy looking for a whore to do his first lay. Helen followed his gaze and nodded.

"What if there is no moment?" She whispered back. Jason shrugged and twitched a lip. They began to move down into a deserted alley, they moved carefully and in no great hurry.

"If you find the right prey and wait long enough, there will be. Of course, there is nothing wrong with making your own moment if you can do so." Jason replied softly. It was good she asked questions and did so quietly. Proved she was thinking and doing so like a hunter. Once they were on the ground Jason jerked his head towards the alley mouth. He was getting hungry. Helen walked over, unbuttoning the top of the blouse Jason had found for her in Wright's warehouse. Hrm, that reminded him, he needed to find an apartment or something. Helen was still at least partly human and humans had needs that he didn't after all.

Her walk changed from the gliding pace that Jason had taught her, to a slower more sublte movement, one that any male would notice.

"Heya there, looking for a party, Sweetie?" He heard her ask. He took a position for an easy pounce. The prey stuttered a reply, Jason almost snorted. Helen said something back leading him into the alley. Jason leaped and sank his fangs into the target neck, drinking what he needed of blood. He wouldn't kill this one, plenty of chances for a real kill were coming...

In fact he should head to Wright's after this. Check on things.

[Cynical Cat]

They gathered around the bonfire. Behind them lurked companions, old and new, with whom they had shared blood. They had tested each other and established their own hierarchy. Let the others dance around each other in Elysium. Their society was a fiction that lasted only as long as everyone agreed to play by the rules. The Gangrel dealt with that which was real.

Haakon rose and spoke. "The Brujah are going to fall. The Toreodor and Ventrue are going to strip them of their power and resources. They have made me primogen because they want Gangrel warriors to back them if the Brujah vent their rage through violence."

"So we become the Ventrue's dogs?" asked a wild haired woman. "Heel when they call?"

"Bah," said Haakon. "When have the Brujah treated us with more respect than the Ventrue? Never. They think they have bought me with a title and that I will bring you to their aid. The Ventrue in the North Country knew better. We shall see what is offered."

The Gangrel growled with agreement. "What of the Brujah?"

"If they wish our aid, let them become ring givers."

[Josh]

He straightened his arms, the faggy jacket that he bummed off of the Freak was at least a size too big for him. The agreed-on meeting ground was at the edge of his domain, an alley network near a steel yard.

He crouched by a dumpster, hand on his pistol, as he waited for Jason to show himself.

[frigidmagi]

Jason and Helen moved towards the agreed meeting place. Jason took the led, senses open. The alleyway made him slightly nervious all things told, it was to easy for a hunter to become hunted.

[Josh]

He heard them coming. Jason was sneaky, the girl not so much. Besides, she had that thudding heartbeat that was a dead giveaway. He whistled softly, the agreed-upon signal.

[Charon]

Marcus drove his car back to his home and headed inside to inform the Brujah about what was going on at elysium. No one responded, after a bit of searching Marcus found that the Brujah too was gone. "Fuck it, they can have fun dying." Marcus went downstairs into the basement to vent his rage. It didn't take much poking of the beast before it leapt out and sent Marcus into his own, slightly controlled, rage. Much of the basement was destroyed, minus his room and study, before the Lasombra calmed down. Fixing his hair her returned to the first floor and went into the library where he read.

[frigidmagi]

Helen flinched when she heard the sound. Jason just whistled back, reaching back and putting a hand on her shoulder. She was still noisy but improving. One of these days she would be good enough to take on a real hunt. One of the these days.

Jason stopped and waited.

[Cynical Cat]

Cargo's place wasn't too far from Wright and Jason were meeting and they still had plenty of time this night. The next move was most definitely theirs.

[Josh]

Wright stepped out to greet Jason. "Alright," he said quietly. "Good seeing you. We got issues to take care of. Like a little breach of secrecy that's getting cleared up, over a corpse that got left in front of the old club. And I got a target for you."

[frigidmagi]

Jason tilted his head to the side.

"Who is the target?" He asked. Getting right to the good stuff, let someone else play with the leftovers.

[Josh]

He handed over a paper with the scrawled address. "That fuck Cargo. You know his face, you got his scent. Everyone's expecting me to take the place in a big-ass shootout that draws the fucking reporters and all sorts of hassles. Fuck that shit. Just bring me his head. That'll put their asses off balance but good. Then we start lining up on the fuckers behind him."

He meant the part about the head literally, and figured Jason would understand that.

"I don't care about the rest of his people or the operation. But if you have to whack anybody else, best to be quiet about it. Best of all if you can just whack his ass without anybody seeing you. They'll start worrying about what I got hidden away."

[frigidmagi]

"May take a couple nights. Must scout his place out, form a place, see if I can create or find that good moment to hit him." Jason replied taking the paper and putting it in his pocket. Helen would most assurely not come with him on the scout. Still to much of a novice hunter she was to do more than draw fire on herself. However by himself he should be able to take a peek around. And if the good moment appeared while he was there...

[Josh]

He nodded. "I know y'will," he said with a sort of offhand 'like there's any doubt' confidence. "You'll get the job done. I gotta go get mine done. Anything else we need to talk about?"

[frigidmagi]

"I need an human dwelling place. An apartment or something." Jason said, jerking his head slightly toward Helen in way of explanation.

[Josh]

He looked at him for a long moment. If he was a short-time pawn, he'd offer to set him up directly, some place he knew so he could keep tabs on it. But he planned to work with Jason for the long term, so...

"I don't need to know where. Nobody does. Having a public haven gets you fucked over like I did," he pointed out. He reached into his pocket and extracted his money clip, and counted off a wad of bills.

"Four hundred will float you for a good while for housing, even with the fucked up pricing in this town. Once you stake out a spot, we set a series of meeting grounds and signals to where we meet. We hook up two nights from now, back end of the container yard on Bentley street, we hash that out. I gotta restake my turf after this fuckup."

Only to Jason and Samson would he admit that he'd fucked up. It wasn't a pleasant experience.

[frigidmagi]

"Alright in two nights then." Jason said pocking the money. With luck he would have a small gift for Wright at that point. But no promises he couldn't keep, that wasn't a way he went. He nodded to Wright and left.

[Josh]

He watched him go.

Very unpleasant situation, trusting somebody. Every time he'd done it in the past, he'd gotten fucked over. So he wasn't going all out. But he was giving the clanless bastard more trust than he'd given anybody in a couple of decades.

Sure as shit more than his own clan, the fucking wannabe blowhards. 'Revolution! Revolution! Okay, give us our cut!' Goddamn gutless wonders treated him like a pussy for being honest about what the game was about. Idealism was a sucker's game.

Fuck 'em all. He had a devious fuck of a Gangrel to track down. He made his way through the railyards to where they'd met Haakon before.

Might or might not work, but if it did, it'd save him a lot of hassle. Skulking through the shantytown, he found a pile of junk near where the elder Gangrel had dis-armed the Freak, and pulled out a swatch of fabric he'd lifted from the Freak's place. He took one more scent of it, just to make sure there was no lingering Freak-scent, then proceeded to rub it across his face, getting his scent good and worked into the cloth, before laying it under a rock.

Beacon left behind, he proceeded back to the Freak's haven.

[The Silence and I]

Spying Jaques, what was it now... Trav something... Trav... Travailler? Yeah, that had to be it, hard to recall because it was so unusual.

Approaching him, Nathaniel made it very obvious he wanted his attention, but waited patiently. He had made the first move, he wouldn't further impose unless required. Besides, it looked like the guy was busy, he might become irritated if Nathaniel interrupted him rudely.

[Cynical Cat]

As the conversation began to break up, Travailleur made a limp wristed "you may approach" motion to Nathaniel.

[The Silence and I]

The Toreador's attitude was not exactly hidden from the world, and Nathaniel decided a small respectful inclining of the head would be appropriate. He walked carefully forward.

"I won't take much of your time sir, I merely need some information and thought you would be able to help me. As I am new to the city I am looking for some places to stay, is there a chance you could point me in certain direction?"

Speaking like this to these monsters was not his first choice, but he was very good in his school plays and in the years since he had only improved his ability to act nice to those he felt didn't deserve it.

[Cynical Cat]

"Its a big city," said Travailleur. "I'm sure you can manage."

[The Silence and I]

A little dissapointed, and entreily unwilling to press the issue Nathaniel thanked him for his time, inclined his head again, and walked off.
Couldn't say he was surprised, but he had hoped. Oh well, time to get out of this den and go about it the hard way.
He retrieved his coat and walked off, brooding.

That's right, run away at the first dissapointment! But who am I to judge. By the way, it's been four nights...four nights...nights...four...
The half heard, barely acknowledged voice echoed a bit before fading to silence.

Nathaniel sighed softly, fumbled for the address the Lasombra had given him. May as well see about his possible job, give him an excuse to see more of the city anyway. He might stumble onto some apartments or something.

[imperfect vision]

Holden watches as the Lasombra drives off, and then turns and walks in the opposite direction of the railyards. He looks to walk down a quiet suburban street, Cassie still on his arm. Holden is silent for much of the walking, before finally...

"Do you sing anythin' other 'n that new music out there?"

[Bratty]

Holden is not the only silent one in the walk. Each one of those who emcamped the body which was once Cassandra, Queen of Spades, were silent. For a single moment, they were almost as one. Almost, but not quite. Cassie thought of Wright in her silence, and worried over her mama. Mary thought of ways to kill Cassie, and how to break the cage that she seems trapped in, designed for her by Rosemary and her own mind. Rosemary reflected on the happenings of the night, committing the details to memory, lest they become important. The reverie and thoughts are broken though with a simple word...

"Do you sing anythin' other 'n that new music out there?"

Cassie looks up, and smiles tiredly. The twisted lips and malshapen face seems incredibly out of place with her soul for any who knew of it.

"Before I learned the modern music, I sang in the choir. 'Fraid it's all I know."

A moment's pause, before a heavenly voice descends from her lips,

"Shall we gather at the River?
Where bright angels feet have trod?

Her voice seems destined for songs about heaven and angels. It seems otherwordly when in its element. If one were inclined to believe in heaven above, one would say her voice was touched by God. Others have. Her mother included.

As the voice which defines Cassie sings the hymn, Mary grumbles in her cage to Rosemary,

"Where the hell was Cassie's god when that monster did this to us? Why am I here if there is a god? I would spit in a god's face even if there was one?" EXASPERATED, Mary howls to Rosemary. "How can she hold on to her faith like that? She is a fucking SHEEP."

Rosemary breaks from her reverie and in calm demeanor, explains to Mary, "It gives her hope." She says simply. "And it is what she needs."

Mary scoffs, "I don't need anything but myself and a good 4 x 4. FUCK god. "

Rosemary smiles calmly. "Then you are your own god, and your anger is your faith. It is your hope, and it is what you need."

Mary silences, actually pondering this for a moment. As Cassie sings on, Mary asks Rosemary, "What is your god? What is your faith?"

Rosemary takes a moment for reflection, and simply answers, "Knowledge is my god and application is my faith. Through the knowledge acquired, I know we will survive. It is in our blood. The Nosferatu."

Mary and Rosemary listen to the rest of the hymn.

[imperfect vision]

Holden allowed Cassie to sing her song. He had been a good little protestant back during his breathing days, before he set out upon his entrepreneurship. He thought upon that time, and it churned inside him. He preferred the way he was now, although having to defer in many cases bothered him so.

He shook his head quickly at his own internalization. He was undead, and powerful, and that would be that.

They continued down the street as she sang, his eyes darting about at the quaint houses, appraising each, looking for something either grandiose or dilapidated.