[i:63925e5e2f]Find strength, Finn. Seek one from the clan of Kings. He will be known to you. [/i:63925e5e2f]

He twisted away from sleep as urgently as he would a bullet. Throwing the blood-soaked sheet to the floor as he opened his eyes with measured reluctance. He tasted blood in his mouth, the miniature sting in his bottom lip told him he’d bitten it in his slumber. Sliding his feet to the floor he burned blood metaphorically. His will unwilling to leave the supposed comfort the motel bed provided. Looking around the room, a few scant rays of moonlight through the window slats affirmed the time of day. Blinking at him from the travel alarm clock the time bolstened his awareness of it with glowing numbers.

[i:63925e5e2f]7:56.

“Shit. Overslept again.”

“You’re lucky to have slept at all.”

“Shut the fuck up, Tyler.”[/i:63925e5e2f]

Finn ran a sleep numb hand to his head, feeling his calamus grown back same as he did every night. He elected to shower, then trim his trademark quills off again.

[i:63925e5e2f]“Be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”[/i:63925e5e2f] He grinned a cruel streak at Tyler who sneered in retort, his hands cuffed to the chair against the far wall, his right ankle chained to pipework that ran along the wall like a monorail for mice.

[i:63925e5e2f]“Fuck off.”[/i:63925e5e2f]

Finn let the water wash away his night-sweats, the steaming water soothing his aching flesh like some aqueous masseuse that stroked and caressed without payment. Stepping from the shower he began to cut away at his quills, letting them fall in discordant lengths into the toilet bowl. His scissors hacked away savagely, until he stood there his hair showing through from under the quills’ normal dominance. A chopped, but reasonable cut that to a passerby looked unremarkable, indistinct.

He quickly towel-dried and pulled his jeans on, then the kevlar vest he’d stolen, tucking it neatly under his tshirt. Finally he counted the money remaining in his wallet, turning the notes over in his hand.

[i:63925e5e2f]“Hmm not too bad, still a coupla hundred left. You hungry yet, Ventrue? Could order some takeaway? Be a while before your boys get the money organised. They won’t risk that pretty little head of yours.”[/i:63925e5e2f]

At that the room telephone rang.

Finn answered it after the third ring.

[i:63925e5e2f]“Yeah?”

“Mr. Daw? Yeah it’s Marv. Got a call for you on line 2. Sounds important.”

“Thanks, Marv.”

“Sure thing Mr. Daw. Anything I can...”[/i:63925e5e2f]

Finn clicked to the waiting line before Marv could finish his ass-kissing.

[i:63925e5e2f]“Sup?”

“That Finn?”

“Cut the shit, Waverly. You got the money?”

“Got more than that, Finn. Got someone here wants to talk to you.”[/i:63925e5e2f]

Finn’s eyes darkened.

[i:63925e5e2f]“Hello. Minneapolis Finn isn’t it? I’ve been looking forward to this day.”

“Oh? And why’s that?”

“Because, Finn. My name is Emery. You knew my brother. And I want to return the favour you did for him.”[/i:63925e5e2f]

Finn’s blood ran cold.

[i:63925e5e2f]“Emery?! You can’t do shit chief! I’ve got one of your boys here and if any of your crew so much as sneeze in my direction I’ll send him in an urn.”

“Finn. Finn. Do what you have to do.”[/i:63925e5e2f] The voice was almost soothing. [i:63925e5e2f]“Point is you’re fucking dead you little worm! And if I have to walk through that pissant Tyler to get you, by fuck I will!”[/i:63925e5e2f]

Tyler’s ears pricked up.

[i:63925e5e2f]“What the fuck? You can’t do that! I’ve got connections!”[/i:63925e5e2f]

Emery, heard the Ventrue’s exclamations and answered for both parties to hear.

[i:63925e5e2f]“Your “connections”, boy. Have been severed. O’Brien’s disappeared. Your just baggage!”[/i:63925e5e2f]

Finn lost his nerve.

[i:63925e5e2f]“Fuck you! I killed your brother, I’ll do the same to you!”[/i:63925e5e2f]

He hung up, throwing the receiver across the room.

[i:63925e5e2f]“Shit!”[/i:63925e5e2f] Tyler hissed. [i:63925e5e2f]“We’re fucked.”[/i:63925e5e2f]

[i:63925e5e2f]“Worse than that. We need Jesus.”[/i:63925e5e2f] Finn joked mirthlessly.

Eveshka landed in Stapleton Airport and walked through Customs in her usual manner. In other words, she breezed through as if she wasn't even there. After all, a completely white skinned female with attributes more commonly bestowed upon comic book heroines than real live people does seem to draw attention.

She had received a call from one of her Daughters who happened to be in Aspen on "holiday" about a gangrel by the name of Finn. Evidently, he was up to something that would be of interest to Eve and her Empire of Sin. She had flown in from her Estate in Touraine to meet with him.

Fuck! For months his fuckin' Sire had been little more than a fuckin' pain in his fuckin' ass, and now he fuckin' up and disappears the ONE time that fuckin' fuck could be useful just by being fucking undead?! FUCK!

Tyler exhaled and glanced around the humble innards of the motel room. None of the belongings he had brought to Denver with him were present, likely tossed away by the until-recently-spikey-haired twat who sat on the bed, a dial tone purring evenly in his hand.

Situations and scenarios like these were the reasons that Tyler never showed up to meetings early. Only twenty-four hours prior, the Ventrue had been a mere extortion away from gaining sole shipping rights for the biggest plumbing company in the Colorado, tri-state area. Richard Hornsby, owner and co-founder of Hornsby Brothers Plumbing Co, had a history of screwing people over, and the old man's jowels had nearly dropped to the floor when he had seen those photos. Tyler guessed the hooker's inner-beauty really didn't shine through on surveillance camera stills.

The young Ventrue had been waiting in his private booth, checking his itinerary for the next day when that cockatoo had shown up, waiving a pistol around like Scarface. Normally, the punk would've been dusted instantly, but this one was quick. The Ventrue took a swipe and hit only air, and then the hiss of a silencer ejecting it's prize filled the booth and Tyler felt a sting in his abdomen. The poison was quick, damn quick.

When he awoke he was here...

[i:13795a3707]"Finn?"[/i:13795a3707] Tyler pulled slightly against his restraints to no avail. The Gangrel looked up, his eyes displaying the frantic calculations taking place behind them. [i:13795a3707]"That's your name? Finn?"[/i:13795a3707]

His captor's eyes narrowed and a scowl followed shortly afterwards. He tossed the phone into it's cradle and stood from the bed. He stalked towards where the Ventrue sat and pulled his pistol from the small of his bare back, placing it on Tyler's temple.

[i:13795a3707]"Well...the game's up old boy. You've outlived your usefullness and now you know my name. Say hey to Caine for me."[/i:13795a3707]

Tyler felt a surge of blood energy as panic set in, and writhed hysterically in his chair.

[i:13795a3707]"Shit!! No man! No! Don't do this shit!"[/i:13795a3707] he shrieked, twisting until at last the chair tilted back on it's leg and the centrifical force sent the Ventrue tumbling backwards. He body pivoted around his wrist, still chained to the pipework, and the Ventrue and chair slid down it until he was sideways.

The Gangrel's boots stood before him for a moment and the pistol disappeared once again behind his back. He turned and walked back towards the bathroom.

[i:13795a3707]"Now shut up while I figure out what to do."[/i:13795a3707] he grumbled from the bathroom. Tyler struggled to right himself.

[i:13795a3707]"Hey...HEY! Help me up Finn! Help me up!"[/i:13795a3707] he fought the bungee chords and handcuffs once more, and once more lost. [i:13795a3707]"Dammit! Dammit! Your hair looks like shit by the way!"[/i:13795a3707]

Finn's chuckled from the bathroom.

Tyler sighed dismally and glanced about the room from his viewpoint on the floor. Cocking his head over his shoulder, he could just make out his wrist, bound securely to the pipe, right over a growing pile of paint chips, a result of his struggle. He examined the pipe for any perceivable weakness, but found none, only a bit of raised text that read 'Hornsby Brothers Plumbing Co.'.

[i:13795a3707]"Fuckin' hell..."[/i:13795a3707]

OOC: hey, how do you want me to dive in? This is Cascadia right?

EDIT: ahh ok fair enough, and an answer to the first question?

((No, Denver.

Why he was headed to Denver, he wasn't entirely sure. Perhaps it had something to do with his job...

[i:d5c444e333]A few months earlier[/i:d5c444e333]

[i:d5c444e333]"Deny it if you want, Quicksilver, but you're nothing more than just another murderer!"[/i:d5c444e333] She started to shake as the enormity of her blunder dawned on her. Relief cascaded within when his reply calmly drifted back to her, [i:d5c444e333]"Yes Safira, and you, my dear hellion, are just another person looking to hire one. Which one of us, I wonder, is more the monster then?"[/i:d5c444e333]

Quicksilver had waited cautiously. A pair of nights spent in the prince's favorite little club itself, incognito; easy enough when even though you hunt for money, you still resemble a vampire yourself.

During this time, he had kept an eye on everything around him, taking in the lights, where they went. Waiting til the little prince, who loved the party too much, was too distracted by music and easy prey to realize someone was checking the place out, even going so far as to slip through doors that might otherwise be blocked.

It was during these nights too, that he made his preparations.

On the third night however, he waited outside the club, keeping an eye on his watch. Then he moved, circling around to the back door that every club in this city seemed to have. It was as though vampires influenced it, thinking an escape route through the back was to advantage.

But when he got involved, he always showed them, far too late, the error of their thinking.

He removed his sunglasses, the street lights filtering in to hit his ultra sensitive eyes, causing him to wince in momentary agony. Not that it mattered. The door opened and he stepped in, pressing a button on a small remote control, and the fusebox in the utility room simply died as the small device he had planted there the night previous blew every fuse in it, causing the lights to go out.

Without light, vampires would normally be in their element, but not all vampires can see in the darkest black, which left them at disadvantage; Quicksilver could see far better than the majority of them could.

A pair of large handguns, bearing his signature mercury tipped bullets came out, and vampires started dropping like flies...

[i:d5c444e333]Back to the present[/i:d5c444e333]

It had been gravest misfortune that the prince himself had escaped. Quicksilver's reputation was on the line, if even one vampire escaped that club, it had to be hunted down and destroyed, and, the prince, knowing who hunted it, fled, thinking Denver far enough.

Funny how quicksilver had followed it, and now lounged in class on the train.

His hand shot up to his forehead, and he winced; not from light this time, but from something else.

"Damn it," he said softly, and stood slowly, nearly buckling at the knee for a moment, then headed towards the back, going straight for the cargo area.

A battering came at the steel shutters.
“Open up!”
Bobbi stirred from her bunk, the smell of oil overwhelming her senses momentarily, as her eyes resisted the command to open.
“I know you’re in there! Open the fucking door.”
It was early; the winter made the nights longer, more time to walk among kine. Bobbi had rested fully clothed again. She sighed irritably and stood tying the sleeves of her blue overalls around her slim waist. Bobbi never got used to the long nights. Even before the unfortunate embrace she’d had a nasty habit of losing track of time, often working through the day and night on her latest project.
Pushing her bright auburn hair behind her ears, not bothering to glance at the indistinct figure displayed on the monitor of her CCTV, she pulled hard on the chain that opened the steel shutters. The hazy mist of warm air hitting cold cleared and the figure stood before her materialised.
“Hello Ms. Oxton. It’s been a while.”
Recognition swept over Bobbi, hitting her as hard as the smell of oil had done moments earlier.
“Oh shit…”

(OOC: ok I need someone to jump in. if anyone wants some info about Bobbi e-mail me: kicktoria@mail.com)

((welcome to the thread kids! i'm kind of waiting on Frank to post so I can take my que from him...but as soon as he does we'll be rollin' along nicely!

The world became a crimson blur as he clutched at his head, staggering into the cargo area and locking the heavy metal door behind him, then stumbling to the other door and locking it too.

[i:3c18030725]"Damn it, why now?"[/i:3c18030725] he asked no one in particular; his chemist was already in Denver, the two always traveling seperately for safety reasons, so now, he was left with the burning pain in his head.

His other hand shot up to his head as the pain shifted, leaving him to clutch at his temples and thrash about; this was uncommon for him; usually it didn't manifest itself as a headache.

Unless he was peaceful, or relaxed, when it came.

[i:3c18030725]"F... feels like my head... is gonna split open,"[/i:3c18030725] he said as he reached to his pocket, fumbling through it and pulling out a glowing tube and a hypodermic needle while he backed himself against a wall.

Sweat beaded on his forehead as he jabbed the needle into the vial's soft end, filling the needle by transferring all the bright, phosphorescent liquid into it.

And then, despite violently shaking hands, the hypo found one of Quicksilver's veins, and with a forceful push, shoved its contents into his body.

The needle was almost literally torn from Quick's veins as he dropped to the ground, convulsing and thrashing as the medicine burned its way through his veins, making him feel as though his body was incinerating itself from within and causing all of his muscles to seemingly go into seizures.

Blood splashed as his head struck the metal part on one of the suitcases with enough force to cause the metal to crumple, and then finally, for a long moment, he lay still as he slowly caught his breath, his headache subsiding and his shakes going away.

At last, Quick stood back up, and unlocked the door back to the passenger areas, heading back to his seat while pressing a cloth to the cut on his forehead.

Finn tapped the numbers into his cell phone. As the dial tone began to ring out. It took several rings before anyone answered.

[i:031acc5920]“Yeah it’s me.”[/i:031acc5920] Finn answered with hollowed words.

[i:031acc5920]“I’m still in Denver. I’ve got a problem, how fast can you be here?”

“Two days? Sure, fine. Call me when you hit the city limits. Oh and Kahn? Bring guns. Lots of guns.”[/i:031acc5920]

The cell phone chimed it’s own goodbyes.

A quick tap on the keypad and another number dialled through. He rubbed his eyes, this wasn’t a call he wanted to make. The woman was bad news. The fact that she held his brother in some kind of thrall wasn’t even the worst of it. But. She owed him a favour....

[i:031acc5920]“Aria? Time to cash the cheque. I need you in Denver ASAP,”[/i:031acc5920] He paused, reluctance evident in his face, [i:031acc5920]“How’s David?”

“La la la la la la la.”[/i:031acc5920] Tyler started to sing in the background.

[i:031acc5920]“Yeah that’s him, the Ventrue. Yeah he’s a pain in the ass.”

“La La La LA LA LA!!”

“Aria? You still got that....”

“LA LA LA LA!”

"The payment...LALALALA...the PAYMENT...LALALALALA...JESUS CHRIST SHUT THE FUCK UP ALREADY!!!"[/i:031acc5920]

The revolver came down hard and fast, too hard for Tyler to duck. It cracked him across the bridge of his nose, splitting the skin, spraying his face red.

[i:031acc5920]“Ahh jesus fucking christ! Son of a bitch!”[/i:031acc5920] He shrieked as pain flared through his skull.

[i:031acc5920]“Shut the fuck up then!”

“No, not you Aria. So, when can you get into town? Tomorrow? Great, call me when you’re close and I’ll set a meeting place. Till then.”[/i:031acc5920]

He ended the call and turned his attention to the slowly healing Tyler.

[i:031acc5920]“Now. You going to play nice?”[/i:031acc5920]

ooc: Ok.... people... please, someone jump in. I have NO IDEA who is at the door. I need some help.... so someone, just jump in. we'll sort it out...

((okie dokes...i'll talk to Frank (Finn) and see if we can figure out who's at your door and then post!

((Actually, I think it may be Quicksilver. Frank and I have both spoken with Michael and, AFAIK, it's in the works. Michael has school as well as work and RL to contend with, ATM. Hang in there. :)))

OOC: Okay, we're gonna call my little issue on the train a retropost for the sake of expediency. I shall now knock on the door.

When the train pulled into Denver, Quicksilver stepped off of it with only a large metal case in hand, locked, though not particularly thoroughly; one too many jobs involving home invasion had taught him that locks were fragile things, and one did not even have to be a master of the lockpick to make them fail.

[i:0d4ce8ef31]Its still early, even for you.[/i:0d4ce8ef31]

[i:0d4ce8ef31][b:0d4ce8ef31]Shut up, I didn't ask you.[/i:0d4ce8ef31][/b:0d4ce8ef31]

Quick shook his head, trying to shake off the voice intruding upon his thoughts. It did this everytime he didn't want it to, especially when he got nostalgic.

The nostalgia thing didn't happen very often.

[i:0d4ce8ef31]You aren't honestly going to see her, are you?[/i:0d4ce8ef31]

[b:0d4ce8ef31][i:0d4ce8ef31]Yeah, I am. Better to touch ground with your contacts when you roll in.[/i:0d4ce8ef31][/b:0d4ce8ef31]

[i:0d4ce8ef31]Hah, you just want to get laid.[/i:0d4ce8ef31]

[b:0d4ce8ef31][i:0d4ce8ef31]You know better than that. She is about the only thing that doesn't breathe that I'll call friend.[/i:0d4ce8ef31][/b:0d4ce8ef31]

[i:0d4ce8ef31]And for a nickel and a penny more, you'd put her in an urn.[/i:0d4ce8ef31]

[i:0d4ce8ef31][b:0d4ce8ef31]Would you just shut up?[/b:0d4ce8ef31][/i:0d4ce8ef31]

It was probably fortunate that this conversation was not vocalized, as people already looked at him rather strangely, a fog was rolling in, and it was dusk, yet he wore sunglasses.

Finally, he arrived at the door he wanted.

[i:0d4ce8ef31]"Open up!"[/i:0d4ce8ef31] he yelled, battering at the steel shutters next to the door, paying no attention to the now late hour. [i:0d4ce8ef31]"I know you're there, open the fucking door!"[/i:0d4ce8ef31]

The shutters opened, and there she was, auburn hair, a confused look on her face before he took off his shades, his red pupiled eyes glinting in the mist and black, the tiny slivers of light causing the most exquisite agony to him, though he did well to hide it. [i:0d4ce8ef31]"Hello, Ms. Oxton. Its been a while."[/i:0d4ce8ef31]

The sudden recognition that crossed her suddenly wide eyed face almost made him chuckle as she said the words more than a few vampires had said when they came to the same recognition, though for considerably different reasons.

The words, specifically were [i:0d4ce8ef31]"Oh shit."[/i:0d4ce8ef31]

[i:08e10cc4d8]"Mistress?"[/i:08e10cc4d8] A note in David's voice caused Aria to pause in the application of her makeup and give him her full attention. He sounded like he was about to cry and with a last performance finale, closing an extremely successful two week stint at this club, she couldn't afford to have him even slightly upset. It would have delayed her plans for a well deserved vacation.

She frowned at him in the mirror. [i:08e10cc4d8]"What is it?"[/i:08e10cc4d8] she snapped peevishly, knowing that her displeasure would stiffen his spine somewhat. His face blanked but she could see the fine tremors in his hands from some pent up emotion. She swiveled slowly on the little dresser bench, her countenance growing colder by the minute. Her ghoul cleared his throat once, trying desperately to whet a suddenly dry mouth.

[i:08e10cc4d8]"It's... it's Finn. My brother. He wants to..."[/i:08e10cc4d8], this time he coughed but plowed on at the impatient tap of her daintily clad foot, [i:08e10cc4d8]"...to speak with you."[/i:08e10cc4d8] Namaria smirked. [i:08e10cc4d8]"Well, [b:08e10cc4d8]isn't that just peachy keen[/b:08e10cc4d8]!"[/i:08e10cc4d8], she bit down on the words, [i:08e10cc4d8]"He disappears for a long stretch, with no goodbyes, not even a postcard, then just up and decides to call and chat? I don't think so!!"[/i:08e10cc4d8] She waved dismissively; turned back to her reflection, [i:08e10cc4d8]"Tell him I'm busy."[/i:08e10cc4d8]

A silent tear began to course down her manager's cheek as he came forward and placed a hand on her shoulder. She started to shrug it off but his words caught at her. [i:08e10cc4d8]"He said it was important. That you owed him. Please, Aria, I've never asked you for much but I would appreciate it if you'd just see what he wants."[/i:08e10cc4d8] His solemn face watched her eyes, begging her for this one thing. She capitulated with ill grace. Anything to keep the peace in her stable. [i:08e10cc4d8]"Alright!"[/i:08e10cc4d8], she groused.

[i:08e10cc4d8]"Well, hello, Finn."[/i:08e10cc4d8], the Daughter chirped in dulcet tones into the receiver, false gaiety obvious in her tones. [i:08e10cc4d8]"What can I [b:08e10cc4d8]not[/b:08e10cc4d8] do for you?"[/i:08e10cc4d8], she quipped at him, then nodded at his demand for restitution at the supposed loss of his brother's familial ties. As if she would ante up, she snorted to herself. And no way was she going to give up her plans, just so she could go on a wild goose chase to Denver.

She opened her mouth to deliver her refusal with unadulterated relish when she caught the sounds of another person in the background. If she wasn't mistaken, he was wearing manacles!! She'd had intimate acquaintance with the jangle of metal bracelets before because, at one point in her small and checkered unlife, there'd been a real bad-ass in her harem. He'd been fun for a while... until she'd had to scramble his brains for him...

[b:08e10cc4d8]OOOOO![/b:08e10cc4d8] Was Finnie-Pooh into some kinky stuff? She grinned in glee as his boy-toy started to break into their conversation, growing louder with each la-la-la. Then she winced at the souring notes and hoped he wouldn't be quitting his night job soon. But the real music to her ears was the sound of a blunt object meeting flesh with a [i:08e10cc4d8]*crrrunnncchh*[/i:08e10cc4d8] sound, followed by some classical whining.

SO, instead of telling the bastard what he could do with his requested meeting, she found herself agreeing to a hasty trip and another phone call. Shrugging to herself, as she hung up, she had to admit that stampeding horses couldn't have kept her from going. Overwhelming curiosity had sunk it's claws deep... and was eating her up!!