Tyler's lean figure, all the more accentuated by his sharply cut suit, sliced neatly through the throngs and aggitated customers and panicked employees halting only behind the relative safety of his own office door. There, surrounded by rich comfort colors and overpriced fabrics, Tyler released a sigh of regret, more out of habit than necessity.

Outside his window, the cityscape twinkled brilliantly, masking the trouble tonight's winds clearly carried. But for Tyler, the signs were all too clear and there was none to blame but himself. If Gabriel had been here to see his emotional outburst at Namaria...

Well, best not to think about it.

He snatched his cellphone from his belt, and listened for the familiar chirp as he utilized it's walkie talkie function.

[i:233feceeed]"Zach,"[/i:233feceeed] he said sternly, [i:233feceeed]"...ZACH!"[/i:233feceeed]

[i:233feceeed]"Yes Ty...uh...Mr. Moore?"[/i:233feceeed] came the tinny, filtered response.

[i:233feceeed]"Bring me an upper."[/i:233feceeed] he said, then tossed his phone onto the nearby couch. Somewhere from the depths of the cushions, he assumed came Zach's compliance.

Outside, the sound of frustrated and unsatisfied club-goers mingled in with the low churtle of a starting car. Tyler, eager to avoid the responsibility that the ominous blinking hold light on his speaker phone offered, peered at the window with vague detachment. Below, amidst the gathering crowds, Namaria's car sat, it's dew covered surface shimmering in the harsh, orange lamplight.

Tyler watched as his meal ticket gestured wildly at the crowds pouring out of the club and then tore out of the parking lot like a getaway car in a heist gone bad. The perceptive Ventrue was also careful to note the bulky figure in the passenger seat...but for now, the company Namaria kept (despite her blustering) was the least of his worries.

As Namaria's tailights left a serpentine red pattern before disappearing around the corner, Tyler snatched his blue tooth off the desk and attached it nervously to his ear. Composing himself, the Ventrue hit the portentous [i:233feceeed]Line 1[/i:233feceeed] button.

[i:233feceeed]"This is Tyler."[/i:233feceeed]

For a moment, there was only the hiss of phone lines on a damp night, and then...

[i:233feceeed]"Tyler, it's Nash."[/i:233feceeed] Nash, the city's Scourge had been one of the few in the hierarchy to retain their position in recent nights. Since Valek's fall and the Inner Circle's retaking of the Cascadian government, "cleaning house" hadn't just been a corporate term, it had been a very real, and for some very painful, reality.

[i:233feceeed]"Good evening Nash, it's been awhile."[/i:233feceeed] Tyler said, his voice betraying his lack of any real joy in speaking with the terror of the Caitiff and Thin Bloods.

[i:233feceeed]"Regretfully, I must confess this is not a social call Tyler. We have a..."[/i:233feceeed] he paused, presumably for effect. Drama queen. [i:233feceeed]"...situation."[/i:233feceeed]

[i:233feceeed]"Alright, well give me the bad news."[/i:233feceeed] Tyler grumbled, dropping his head into his palm and closing his eyes for the worst. Speaking wtih the Lasombra was seldom pleasant. It was dangerous at worst and morbid at best.

[i:233feceeed]"The uh...gentleman you threw out of the club tonight apparently has some very importantl friends."[/i:233feceeed]

[i:233feceeed]"How important?"[/i:233feceeed]

[i:233feceeed]"He's the ghoul to an Archon."[/i:233feceeed]

[i:233feceeed]"Ah shit."[/i:233feceeed] it was becoming a catchphrase tonight.

Pace drove Nam and her bloodbag back to his hotel room. He carried the still groggy David upstairs with consummate ease, throwing him on a chair.

"You'll stay here for a few days till I get a lay of the land." Nam made to argue, pouting instead when he gave her one of his "looks".

"No arguments, Nam. Not this time. Now who's the stiff that was dissin' you?"

"He's called Tyler. Thinks he's a bigshot on account that his pops is a Ventrue bigwig. Guy called Gabriel O'Brien?"

"O'Brien huh? Yeah I've heard o' him. So Tyler's his spawn huh? Hmmm nice choice of bedfellow, Nam."

"Hey! I never said I was fucking him!" Another look.

"Well okay....maybe I have, but he's just a substitute for my beautiful black stallion..." She winked playfully.

"Save it, Nam." He glowered before pulling his cell out of his inside pocket, Stillman's name being summoned to the small blue display.

"Hey, Still. How's the face?"

"Like roasted onions, Pacey you know it." An audible chuckle rose from the speaker.

"Still, you ever been to Cascadia?"

"That shithole? What the fuck you doin' holin' up there?"

"Nam."

"Oh." A pause then, "Sup?"

"She's got herself entrenched with a local Montoya wannabe. Fella named Tyler. Childe of Gabey O'Brien. You got any clout I can use?"

"I'm Nosferatu, Pace, who DON'T I know?"

"I heard a Nossie was installed here on janitorial duties, that right?"

"That's a joke, right? Yeah we've got a Prince there. You want to be his new best pal, right?"

"Somethin' lke that. Can you help out?"

"I'll make a few calls. But noone sees the Prince you know that."

"Yeah I know. But if you can at least give me someone to call on if this Ty get's frisky."

"Leave it with me, Pace."

"Thanks, Still. I o..."

"You owe me more than one but I lost count. Stay safe, Pace."

A click heralded the call's end. Pace looked darkly at Nam, then out his hotel window.

[i:87adece392]"Fuck that puckered asshole, that overbloated Ventrue neonate, that...."[/i:87adece392] The lurid epithets wound down in her mind as her temper spent itself in thinking up new and less-than-complimentary names for her contract owner. [i:87adece392]"What the [b:87adece392]hell[/b:87adece392] was up his butt anyway?!? Him making me out to be the cause of his rude interruption of [b:87adece392]my[/b:87adece392] performance and then acting like he owned me and my crew! He merely has a contract with me,I don't [b:87adece392]belong[/b:87adece392] to him! And no one, [/i:87adece392][b:87adece392]BUT NO ONE[/b:87adece392][i:87adece392] has the right to touch David!!"[/i:87adece392] Aria snorted in re-emerging irritation.

Sneaking a peek from the corner of her lashes, Nam watched Pace boring his gaze into the darkening skies as if he could read his own thoughts written on the wind. Turning away to a small antique chiffonier, she grabbed up the packette of cigarettes and lighter that lay there. Not because she needed to smoke but for a couple of other reasons.

One, she liked to blow smoke rings and watch them float away. Concentration on their creation let the mind absorb the parts of a problem and then sort them in to order, ultimately leading to a plan of action or solution. Besides, she was sure she appeared regal and assured when she did it. It steadied her. Two, because it drove her ebon companion crazy to be around it and it was [b:87adece392]so[/b:87adece392] enjoyable pricking him with it. His growl of [i:87adece392]"Stub it!"[/i:87adece392] left her smugly curling ruby colored lips in satisfaction but she didn't obey.

[i:87adece392]"How is it,"[/i:87adece392] she mused inwardly, [i:87adece392]"that he always seems to know when I'm in need of his presence? Long before I am even aware that I'm in trouble?"[/i:87adece392] Another stolen look from the edge of her vision saw him wrinkle his nose at the spreading stink and then, with a glare, turn and stalk off. She admired the view as she watched his tight end flex and dimple and wished, for the umpteenth time, that she could bed him again.

They'd only done it once, when she was still early into her transformation, after her sire was done teaching her a Daughter's disciplines and responsibilities and had left her to her own survival. For whatever reason, Pace had taken her under his immediate auspices and then continued to "look" after her. No matter where she went or what hole she managed to dig herself into, he always found her and fixed things, setting her back on her feet again.

The Swan sighed into her image in the reflective glass and reminisced about that one time he'd gently led her to the bed and made exquisite love to her. He'd made her feel alive again and had spoiled her for all the others. She wished he'd do it again but he didn't seem inclined. Pity. And [b:87adece392]she[/b:87adece392] didn't beg. But there was the hope that letting him [i:87adece392]think[/i:87adece392] she and the pretentious scumbag had done the dirty might make him just jealous enough to start thinking about it.

She huffed in annoyance and turned her mind back to Tyler. [i:87adece392]"So, what got that putrid monkey stirred up for, anyway?"[/i:87adece392]

A low thud eminated from the hallway and a moment later a timid knock on the door.

[i:d72fcee59b]"Mr. Moore?"[/i:d72fcee59b] another knock and then the door opened slowly, almost hesitantly. [i:d72fcee59b]"Mr. Moore, I've got your upper here..."[/i:d72fcee59b]

Zach's fragile features slowly emerged from the darkened office, a puzzled and bemused club patron in tow. The petite blonde appeared to be enjoying her ride, her revealing clothing mussed and wet in places where she had spilled her drinks. Pupils like the mouths of wells betrayed the true reason she seemed to have so few qualms about following a virtual stranger into a darkened office.

Across the room, Tyler sat facing the Cascadian nightscape in stark silence. Chin propped upon his fists and legs crossed indian style, he sat upon the top of his desk, quietly and intensley pondering the mess he had clearly gotten himself into.

All of Cascadia's power players had been unusually discreet since Valek's dethroning. Old Prince Valek had more than one odd fetish, and when his indiscretions became an overt threat to the Masquerade, the upper echelon of the Camarilla took him for a ride, Mafioso style.

Since then Cascadia had been on lockdown, filled with archons and the occasional justicar investigating the extent of Valek's atrocities. A puppet hierarchy had been placed and the old regime dismissed. This of course included Tyler's own sire, Gabriel from his role as Seneschal. Outwardly, Gabriel had feigned happiness in being released from service or "Babysitting Damien Omen" as he put it.

But Tyler knew the loss of influence and being associated with a massive failure of an administration stung his sire's pride. Now one of the archon's had a wedge against Tyler and would undoubtedly be calling in a favor.

[i:d72fcee59b]"Mr. Moore?"[/i:d72fcee59b]

[i:d72fcee59b]"Leave her here Zach."[/i:d72fcee59b] Tyler hopped off the desk and grabbed his coat from it's place on the couch. Thrusting his arms through the sleeves, he turned just in time to see the door shut on Zach's exit. Perplexed and clearly riding a cocaine high, the girl stood wavering slightly.

[i:d72fcee59b]"Your name's Moore? That's cute."[/i:d72fcee59b] she giggled, her eyes wandering wildly about the room.

[i:d72fcee59b]"That's what it says on the door."[/i:d72fcee59b] Tyler grabbed several papers, a portfolio notebook, a Montegrappa fountain pen, and a Browning 9 Millimeter high power handgun and slung them all into his briefcase. [i:d72fcee59b]"What's your name dear?"[/i:d72fcee59b]

[i:d72fcee59b]"Penny."[/i:d72fcee59b]

[i:d72fcee59b]"Penny, I've got to run, so we'll have to make this quick."[/i:d72fcee59b]

[i:d72fcee59b]"I'm starving. Got anything to eat?"[/i:d72fcee59b] the poor thing was near exhaustion.

[i:d72fcee59b]"Actually I had just ordered room service."[/i:d72fcee59b]

(( oh god you guys.... I'm really gonna have to post something....

Yes, you are! :twisted: :shock: :twisted:

Hello, hun. HUGS!!

((I may do a Bobbi post...hmmm then swing in with Nix

KEWL! I know that Mike has been wanting to do a Quicksilver posting but I'm not sure if he was waiting for Bobbi or what. I'll certainly point hm this way. ::grins::

and yeah, I'm looking forward to the Bobbi post :p thats why I am waiting.

((the worse thing is that I've completely forgotten what the whole storyline is about so I'm re-reading it now to catch up!

The soft strings of a quartet mournfully wafted out the door of the suite as Tyler entered, passing the retainer without so much as a glance. He found himself within a large foyer, classically decorated with the expected company of busts ranging from Greek philosophers to Roman generals. Lit dimly with candlelight (no doubt a concession demanded by its inhabitant), the young Ventrue was barely able to make out the doorway leading to the parlor beyond.

[i:05699451b3]"Your coat sir?"[/i:05699451b3] the retainer asked sternly, hands aloft. Tyler slipped his overcoat off handed to the little weasel of a man, maintaining his firm grip on his suitcase. [i:05699451b3]"You'll find Mr. Mannotini in the next room."[/i:05699451b3]

[i:05699451b3]"Thanks."[/i:05699451b3]

Tyler stepped forward, past the timeless gaze of the generals and philosophers, and entered the parlor area. Equally dim, and only illuminated by a tightly kept fireplace which crackled merrily along to the baroque melodies, the room was awash in deep, fine colors and undoubtedly overpriced fabrics.

A large, circular room constructed upon two levels, the parlor held three doors, the one through which Tyler had just stepped, another indiscrimately leading off the kitchen, and a third set of double doors which surely led to the bedroom. In the center of the room was a large couch and several exquisitely crafted chairs, the kind of which only a Kindred with hundreds of years of unlife could grow used to.

Seated directly next to the fire was a portly, balding figure in a neat three button suit. Shalks of what surely was in life a thick mane of black, sicilian hair were confined tightly into a ponytail that only accentuated the lack of hair atop the man's head. A set of dark brown eyes peered at his new visitor with interested, and it seemed sometimes before the massive jowels draped on either corner of his mouth raised with an uneasy smile.

[i:05699451b3]"Mr. Moore?"[/i:05699451b3] he stood with some effort and extended a pudgy hand. [i:05699451b3]"A distinct pleasure. I am Archon Mannotini."[/i:05699451b3]

[i:05699451b3]"The pleasure is mine. Please, call me Tyler."[/i:05699451b3]

He took Mannotini's hand was instantly jerked forward with such strength that he dropped his briefcase and found himself nose to nose with the corpulent Archon. The Archon inhaled deeply for a moment, and then released Tyler's hand, turning and approaching the large bay window that sit behind him.

[i:05699451b3]"Hmmm...yes. Well, well we share a common trait! Both Ventrue. You're 9th Generation, yes? Your House is of...my we're more alike than I had anticipated! Italian descent? Although there's something else there...indistinguishable."[/i:05699451b3] Mannotini eased himself into a chair with clear self approval.

It was then, for the first time, that Tyler noticed the open medical box which contained what appeared to be a wide array of blood samples, some in tightly sealed vials, others merely stains on paper.

[i:05699451b3]"Mr. Moore, I have been assigned by my superiors to Cascadia because of my particular abilities. I specialize in matters of the sanguin nature, and with considerable more tact, efficiency and taste than any mere Tremere I assure you."[/i:05699451b3] the chamber music drifted to an easy stop and Mannotini glanced over towards the extensive stereo system. [i:05699451b3]"Oh dear. Tell me Mr. Moore, who do you prefer? The classics? Beethoven, Handel, Mozart, hmmm...you seem more of a Wagner man to me. Might I suggest Martinu? He's rather contemporary actually, 20th century if you can believe! But he creates such beautiful chamber music, he specializes in..."[/i:05699451b3]

[i:05699451b3]"I'm more of an Elvis man actually."[/i:05699451b3] Tyler said, retrieving his briefcase and holding it leisurely behind his back.

[i:05699451b3]"Elvis? Oh, I see."[/i:05699451b3] the smile now drifted from Mannontini's face, and he lurched forward, setting his elbows upon his knees. [i:05699451b3]"Perhaps we should get down to business."[/i:05699451b3]

Pace woke early in the evening. Bare feet padding the wooden floor of his hotel rom as he took great care NOT to wake the dozing siren. He'd insisted she lay low for a night or two, this being the second night since his insistence, he had made arrangements that he tucked into his jacket in the form of a 9MM Glock. Patting his suit jacket to further camouflage the faint bulk he pulled on leather shoes and left.

The car he drove couldn't have been more conspicuous and THAT was the point. Noone could help but notice the Shelby GT500, though considerably fewer noticed the figure inside looking out. He watched and waited. A grin escaping his ebon pout as a long Mercedes saloon purred to a stop at the Blue Iguana's steps and the scrawny Vent bully that had Nam so riled came tumbling out with an audible curse. Evidently drunk on his evening "feed".

Pace photographed Tyler and his "muscle" before climbing out of the car and walking to the door.

The rhinocerous that posed as a doorman stepped forward, blocking his entry.

"Clubs closed."

"Hmmm. Well he just got in," He motioned in Tyler's wake.

"Yeah? Well he's the boss."

"Yeah? Well he's who I'm looking to see."

"What would he want from you?"

"Well for one. He needs a new doorman."

"Huh? What the fuck are you on, man?"

The rhino swung clumsily, allowing Pace to step in, cutting the punch short and allowing him to snap the rino's wrist. He fell to the ground shrieking briefly before Pace chopped him in the throat just as two armed men ran to his aid.

Pace gave his most winning smile and held his hands up almost apologetically.

"I'm here for the doorman position?"

((OOC: Sorry, everyone, but with the house sold, the buyer wanting to close EARLY! and the hunt for a new place to live... :shock:

this is the only chance I've gotten to drop by. If ya all want to write, go with it and I'll jump in where I can. If things go right, I'll only be a week out of commission. If they go wrong, *sigh*, it might be as much as three weeks to a month. So, write on! :lol:))

[i:ace8b7a04b]"I've never been one for long monologues or excessive elocution so I'll put it quite simply Mr. Moore."[/i:ace8b7a04b] Mannotini purred, clearly intent on enjoying his advantage to the fullest. [i:ace8b7a04b]"The gentleman you had ejected from your club this evening was an employee of mine, and a particularly lucrative one at that. I can hardly expect the man to live up to his nightly responsibilities with two mangled hands."[/i:ace8b7a04b]

[i:ace8b7a04b]"He broke the tradition of domain."[/i:ace8b7a04b] Tyler said flatly, well aware that the ghoul hadn't.

[i:ace8b7a04b]"I think you'll find that a dubious claim and a moot argument in any case. We're both aware of the situation in Cascadia."[/i:ace8b7a04b] a chesire cat grin spread across Mannotini's fat face, adding several thick folds to his doughy chin. [i:ace8b7a04b]"Only the Masquerade matters now."[/i:ace8b7a04b]

[i:ace8b7a04b]"Alright, so how do I settle my tab?"[/i:ace8b7a04b]

[i:ace8b7a04b]"I'm glad you asked."[/i:ace8b7a04b] Mannotini reclined into his chair and plucked up a Bordeaux glass of thick, rich vitae that proclaimed it's potency and age even to Tyler's crude palate. [i:ace8b7a04b]"As I mentioned before, I have a certain penchant for matters of the blood. As such, your charge will involve just that."[/i:ace8b7a04b]

Tyler was acutely aware that his patience was beginning to wane thin and redoubled his efforts to remain affable. This fat prick of an archon did have him over a barrell after all.

[i:ace8b7a04b]"Anything I can do to be of service of course."[/i:ace8b7a04b] he hissed through a clenched jaw.

[i:ace8b7a04b]"The local Cascadian police department have become increasingly intrusive in recent nights. It seems that their restless correlates with the fall of crime in our fair city. Now that clubs have ceased to explode on a nightly basis and multiple bar homicides have slowed, CCPD have returned to their investigative roots and away from merely officers who shove corpses into body bags."[/i:ace8b7a04b] the greaseball spun the glass in his hand and indulged himself, "[i:ace8b7a04b]Mm. Delightful."

"As I was saying, they're clueless of course but troublesome nonetheless. This brings us to the matter at hand. Three nights ago a local thinblood apparently got his ire up and took it upon himself to pilfer what was an intregal part of our investigation. He and several of his cronies broke into one of our labs and turned it into a bloodbath."[/i:ace8b7a04b]

[i:ace8b7a04b]"How could a group of thinbloods cause so much damage?"[/i:ace8b7a04b] Tyler mused aloud, taking a quiet jab at the Archon's clearly sloppy security.

[i:ace8b7a04b]"It was a laboratory Mr. Moore, not a vault. It was manned by Kine and ghouls. In any case, the perpatrators have been more than dealt with."[/i:ace8b7a04b] a cruel gleam echoed through Mannotini's serpentine eyes, a gleam that Tyler could sense was never far below the surface, [i:ace8b7a04b]"However, the police stuck their collective noses into the situation before I could inspect the scene personally. There were several Masquerade sensitive items lying about."[/i:ace8b7a04b]

[i:ace8b7a04b]"Alright. So use our connections within the police department to..."[/i:ace8b7a04b]

[i:ace8b7a04b]"We'd be more than happy to, but I'm afraid our dear Mr. Welkes has gone missing."[/i:ace8b7a04b]

Tobias Welkes had been around since Tyler's first nights in Cascadia. The primping, preening Toreador was a fixture in the halls of power, his lilly white powdered face grinning and fawning over each and every human art craze that swept the country. He was the epitome of a stereotypical Toreador and undoubtedly would've been considered by and large a joke had it not been for his connections. The androgynous little pip was infamously well rooted in some of the most influencial (and seedy) parts of Cascadian society. He had acquired boons from almost every powerful Kindred in Cascadia for his ability to cause the police to look the other way for their indiscretions Tyler hadn't heard he was missing which was somewhat odd since the man was so high profile.

[i:ace8b7a04b]"But as I'm sure you understand, this matters is somewhat time sensitive."[/i:ace8b7a04b]

[i:ace8b7a04b]"Alright, so what do you need me to do?" [/i:ace8b7a04b] the young Ventrue was becoming restless and found himself crassly drumming his fingers on the armrest of the chair he found himself in.

[i:ace8b7a04b]"Yes...let us discuss your role in this matter..."[/i:ace8b7a04b] the chesire grin and the cruel gleam returned in pair and Tyler realized that whatever came next was not going to change his luck for the better.

A strip of acrid, orange light oozed from the streetlamp and slunk lazily through the open moonroof of Tyler's W221 Mercedes-Benz S-Class. The ebony luxury vehicle purred quietly by the curb that sat silent afront the Blue Iguana. Statuesque and glistening with dew, the vehicle gave the impression of raw, animalistic power draped in a shroud of calculated elegance. Of course, this is why it was a modern sight in nearly every Ventrue stable in modern nights, for many Blue Bloods it was a outward personifcation of their own personalities.

However, tonight Tyler was anything but confident. Archon Mannotini had effectively taken the wind out of his sails and now the young entrepreneur would have to devote his resources towards the completions of the corpulent Cainite investigator. He sat momentarily motionless, merely peering at the tangerine light playing on the dashboard of the Mercedes' fine leather interior, and then with great effort let himself out of the car and made his way into his office.

There, he kept the lights off, bathing in darkness and solitude. As he propped his feet upon his desk and reclined in thought, only the curtains swaying near the open window.

The familiar sounds of the urban evening drifted across the cityscape and into the sizeable office. Tyler digested each in an intentional vie to escape his thoughts. Out the mundane mesh of police sirens and distant house music came a rogue sound, the unnatural sound of a man sobbing, a deep throaty gurgle mixed with grunts of frustration and anger.

Tyler's phone chirped.

[i:69024bde12]"Mr. Moore, we've got a situation."[/i:69024bde12]