It was more than a few hours before Liam heard anyone approach. The torpor of the day was still heavy upon him, so he couldn't do much but listen.

A woman gasped. "Shit... uhh... nice doggy?"

Liam heard Caleb stir, and trot over to the sound. The woman seemed uneasy for a moment, but Caleb was a smart dog, and didn't respond as threatened. It helped that her scent was all over Jack and Maeve.

The woman took a few steps closer. "Ugh, dolly," she muttered, and footsteps trudged slowly back up the driveway. After what seemed like an inordinate amount of time, the footsteps returned, accompanied by a loud metallic clanging.

As she hauled Liam up the driveway - a very wobbly ride - she cursed Jack for not dropping it off at the door, and remarked about being too hung over for this shit. Eventually, the sound of wheels crunching on gravel was replaced by smooth concrete.

There was the electric clatter of a powered garage door closing.

"There's no windows in here," Robyn said. "But I can't say the same for the other side of the door. I'm assuming you can let yourself out when you're... uh, ready. Just knock on the door. Gonna go throw up now. C'mon doggy, let's go watch me puke." This was followed by the sound of slippers shuffling along the concrete, and then a door opening and closing.

Not quite the welcome he was expecting.

Will Power: 8/8
Blood Pool: 13/15
Health: Unharmed
Experience: 2

---

The sun bore down upon him like a weight. Liam could track its course across the heavens by the depth of his stupor, even unseen. Leaden limbs lay pinned to the earth until the last dim glow fled from the sky. At last he reached out to feel for the release. Darkness did not bother him in the least and he had no difficulty escaping his wooden prison. Climbing out of the box he smoothed down his wrinkled clothes and reached for his bag.

"Don't forget to check the fridge," he muttered to himself, looking around at his surroundings for the first time. Spying the refrigerator he made his way over and gently pulled back the door.

The fridge was packed to the brim with Jack's Own. More than enough for Liam's entire tenure guarding Robyn, plus enough for bribery and trade. With Jack out of town these were soon to become hot items.

A gray cylinder stuck out among the bottles like a sore thumb. Liam recognized it immediately as a smoke grenade. Where there should have been labels regarding its contents, there was merely 'Last Resort' in handwritten sharpie.

Caleb was already aware of his master's stirring. Liam could hear him snuffling at the door.

Liam picked up the smoke grenade and turned it over in his hand. After a moment he set it back on the refrigerator shelf, grabbed a beer and closed the door. “I hear you, Caleb,” he said. “I’m’a coming.”

A few moments later he was at the door of the house and opened it wide.

“Did you miss me?” He asked the dog.

Caleb clearly had. With the added stimulation of a new house and a new person making all sorts of interesting smells, he'd clearly had a full day.

Robyn was stretched out on what appeared to be a very comfortable couch, watching what appeared to be some sort of vampire reality show on the television. She didn't get up when he emerged, but raised a hand in a half-hearted wave.

"Whatup, mister vampire?" she croaked.

[Roll Perception + Investigation, DC 5]

Liam nodded, and raised his bottle in salutation. "You must be Robyn," he said. "I'm Liam."

He glanced at the television briefly.

"What are we watching?" he asked.

22:13, Today: Liam O'Farrell rolled 6 successes using 7d10 with the World of Darkness 3rd ed, Specialised system with a target of 5, rerolling 10s.  Perception + Investigation.

"What We Do in the Shadows," Robyn replied, hitting pause. "It's about a bunch of misfit vampires on Staten Island. They're... a lot more pleasant than most of the real-life vampires I've met. No offense. I'm Robyn, by the way."

The woman appeared to be in her early thirties, but it was hard to tell with the bags under her eyes. Liam had seen his share of hangovers in his day, but this was a doozy. Her mousy brown hair was a tangled mess. She was wearing a baggy hoodie and well-worn track pants.

Having said his hellos, Caleb quickly hopped back up on the roomy sofa by Robyn's feet. Judging by the speed at which he settled, he'd already claimed the spot.

The main room of the house was an open-concept kitchen, dining and living area. The curtains were drawn on the large windows that covered the south wall, but Liam doubted they'd be sufficient to protect him from the sun.

Judging from the furniture and the general size and condition of the house, Liam surmised that she did all right for herself. Judging from the state of things, she was also a slob. Discarded snack wrappers and half-empty cans were on every surface. There were quite a few empty liquor bottles in the recycling.

Messiest of all was what Liam assumed was one of many writing areas. The empty silhouette of a laptop was the only clean area on the table facing the bay window. The rest was piled with stacks of notes, old indecipherable reference books, and most important of all, the Tome of the First Tribe. It was unlocked, but closed. Its secrets ready for the taking.

As Liam crossed the room, something odd caught the corner of his eye. A familiar face in a framed photo on the wall. It was Sunshine Leibowicz, erstwhile new age store owner. Liam knew her better as Ms. Mandala, one of the Third Tribe's inner circle, before she was killed. Judging from the way they were posed, the two had been close.
This message was last edited by the player at 06:22, Fri 05 June 2020.

Liam twisted the cap off of his bottle and after a moment's consideration dropped it into the recycling bin with a *clink*. "Most of us are assholes, but I know a couple of good ones," he agreed.

He drained the neck of the bottle and glanced around the living room. Caleb had taken the other half of the sofa so Liam eased back into a stuffed armchair.

"Good is a relative term. We do have to eat."

"I see Caleb is making himself right at home," he said with an arched brow towards his ghoul.

"You can shoo him off if he's bothering you. He's pretty good with English and French, at least for a German Shepherd. His German isn't very good. I don't speak it around him very much."

Sent you a message on discord as well. Trying to sort out what Liam knows about Sunshine and what he does not. Its been a while, and it was primarily Ian's arc.

"Oh, he's all right," Robyn said, forcing herself to a seated position. She winced as she did so. "He's a good nursemaid and a decent listener." She glanced at the clock. "I guess we should make a run into town to pick him up some food. Maybe some toys, too." She patted his head with her foot. "Not sure what you're gonna eat, though. Snacking on me isn't part of the deal."

Liam glanced back at the recycling bin, beer paused halfway to his lips. “I’m not sure my liver could take it,” he said with a grin.

“Don’t worry about me. I still have some friends in town. I’ll check in with them before I go hunting. I’m sure the ‘rules’ have changed, and if I’m here to protect you I don’t want to bring any suspicion back on this house.”

“Caleb would certainly appreciate it though. He isn’t a picky eater.” He paused to take a drink.

“How have things been in the city? Can you just drop into a store to pick up food? Jack and Maeve made it sound like the whole place was locked down tight.”
This message was last edited by the player at 16:53, Fri 05 June 2020.

Robyn snorted in mock laughter at Liam's comment about his liver. "Hey buddy, when you crack a world-ending mind control conspiracy, let's see how you celebrate."

She hauled herself up off the couch, and held her head. "Ugh, I gotta make some tea for the road. Gimme a few."

She stumbled her way to the kitchen area and switched on the kettle. "Jack and Maeve were right," she said in response to his other comments. "Fortunately, it means there aren't many watchdogs around to catch you when you break in and take shit. The big worry is the aerial patrols, and we already found a way around them."

“Oh? How are you managing to do that?” Liam thought back to his prior attempt to elude the aerial patrols with Nex leading him on. It seemed like a rather harrowing way to pick up dog kibble at ten in the evening.

As Robyn made her way into the kitchen, Liam rose and circled the living room. He paused before the photo of Sunshine and leant in for a closer look.

The photo appeared to have been taken at some sort of retreat. They were standing in a lush sunny field, and in the background, Liam could see various figures, scantily yet extravagantly clad, and a blurry yurt. Robyn had her arm around Sunshine, who was resting her head on Robyn's shoulder.

Robyn chuckled as she opened a cupboard. Out came various jars full of herbs, roots and mushrooms. "Well, I don't know if you know much about shapeshifting, but they're not out there fitting vultures and eagles with tiny headsets. They're up there for a whole shift, no radio, no communication. They know scheduled patrols and convoys, but that's it. If you look like you're supposed to be there, they just tune you out. That was the tricky bit."

As she spoke, she picked out small samples from the various jars, and dropped them in a large mortar. She then pulverized the concoction with a quick and practised hand.

“I know a thing or two about shapeshifting,” Liam replies, still trying to make sense of the photo. “Is - is this some sort of wizard thing?” He asked.

Robyn laughed weakly as she sprinkled the contents of the mortar into a steel tumbler, topping it with hot water. She screwed the lid on and gave it a shake. "Nah. Some mechanic work though. C'mon."

She led Liam back to the garage, past his empty crate, to a vehicle underneath a tarp. She pulled back the cover to reveal a genuine VFPD interceptor. A crumpled uniform was on the driver's seat.

"Vamps don't work the beat," Robyn said. "Are you someone they'd recognize?"

Liam shook his head. "Not any more." He smiled. There was a time his face was plastered across Camarilla safe havens throughout the city. So he got a new one. Or rather he kept a version of his face, but older. And only a handful of kindred in the city would know him now.

"You've done this a few times before I take it?"

"Yup," Robyn said. "As long as you don't use the lights, they aren't going to come putting their noses in." She took a sip of her tea and shuddered. It appeared to perk her up immediately. "And just in case, how's your German accent?" She stepped over to a tool cabinet and opened it. Liam could spy another uniform suited to a Texan with a dad bod hanging on the rack, along with a black trenchcoat and wide-brimmed hat. She was after the armband and lapel pin on said coat. Liam recognized the emblem immediately as that of the Redwatch.

"Fließend," Liam replied. "Is that for me?"

"Yeah," Robyn said. She took another sip, and shuddered a little harder. "They're basically the SS around here. It helps that most of 'em were in the actual SS. If we get caught, just pretend you're a Nazi and they've interrupted your Naziing. You'll have to do the talking, because I'm gonna pretend to zombie out. Cops are basically an armed taxi service. The crime rate is zero, so whenever they're not shipping krauts they're manufacturing the illusion of crime. I could say something topical, but you don't strike me as a news junkie."

She unzipped her hoodie and started donning the uniform.

Liam picked up the cap and stared at the insignia over the brim. He’d killed a lot of men dressed in similar attire over the years. It took a few minutes to disrobe and change before he finally fastened the lapel pin on his breast.

"How do I look?" he inquired.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:30, Sat 06 June 2020.

"Like a fascist begging for a brick," Robyn said, donning her own cap. She stuffed her tangled hair into what might have passed for a bun from the air. "Is Snuffles going to be okay on his own? I let him out like an hour ago."

“He’ll be fine,” Liam assured. “Let’s go shopping.”

"You got it, bud," Robyn said. Sip. Shudder. She hopped in the driver's seat, and they were off.

[Roll Fate]

Liam climbed into the passenger side door and fastened his belt. It was time to see the city for himself.


22:48, Today: Liam O'Farrell rolled 69 using 1d100.  Fate.

Liam had only ever encountered someone with more of a lead foot, and she had the excuse of thinking the world was obeying Grand Theft Auto rules. At least Robyn seemed to care about not hitting anything. With the roads completely empty, and no fear of the fuzz, it might not even end in carnage. Liam began to recognize this as the outskirts of Riverhead. They'd be driving through it in a couple minutes at this pace.

She took another sip of tea, tilting her head to the side so she could keep an eye on the road. "So, uh, you knew Jack from back in the day, huh?" Robyn asked as they sped through the country. Her hangover appeared to be all but gone.

“Yeah,” Liam replied, gripping hard to the seat cushion. “Jack settled in Verdant Falls just after I did. I lived in Halifax before. Tried not to draw too much attention my way back then, although it’s hard to live unlife without stepping on a few toes.”

Robyn laughed. "I wouldn't call fomenting a revolution in the Camarilla not stepping on toes," she said. "Jack told me a few war stories."

They were coming up on Riverhead now. Many lights were on in houses, but not a soul was out and about. "Riverhead hasn't changed much since your day," she said, gesturing out the window. "Camarilla came and annexed it a few years back, right after they trounced the werewolves." She made a handbrake turn on to the main drag. A cop in a parking lot looked up, uninterested.

"Mostly they let this place keep to itself," she continued. "Pre-lockdown, I mean. They've got some halfwit aristocrat playing Prince with no subjects up here. There's a friend of Jack and Maeve's holed up here, too. She's cute, but weird. Real weird. I think you might know her. Don't know her real name but she goes by Pockets."

So the garou had been routed then. It seemed incredible to him after encountering the force of nature that was Mountain Gale. The cost in lives must have been staggering.

“That is her real name,” Liam said. “If she ever had another one, it’s long gone now.”

“Do you know how to find her? She’s right at the top of the list of people I need to see.”

"Yeah man, I know where she's holed up," Robyn said. She slowed her exit from Riverhead for a moment. "We can swing by now, or on our way home."

"Dog food can wait," Liam replied. "This is more important."

He watched the lights spill past their windows for a moment without really seeing anything.

"The werewolves are all gone?"

Robyn fishtailed the car around, and sped back to Riverhead.

"Mostly, yeah," Robyn said. "The Camarilla armed the whole city with silver bullets and sent them in. Old folks and kids, too. It was a massacre. Not sure how many people died; the Cam covered it up like usual. Dumped 'em in a mass grave where the Garou's... I guess you'd call it a holy site... used to be. Jack tried to get into contact after it happened, but he couldn't find anyone. If they're out there, they're staying hidden."

“Jesus Christ,” Liam muttered. He wasn’t worrying about Robyn’s driving at all any more.

“Any idea if the Camarilla keeps an eye on the burial ground?”

"They might," she said. "But not a close one. They probably station a mook or two; nothing we can't handle. From what Maeve told me, it's defiled and no longer sacred to them."

Robyn slowed as they neared a deserted parking lot on the outskirts of town. The Mattress King outlet stood alone and shuttered. Robyn pulled around the front, and turned off the car. "We're here."

It might not have been sacred to the Garou any longer, but it was important to him.

Liam stepped out of the car and reached for his hat. The Mattress King seemed oddly fitting. “Lead the way,” he said, sweeping his arm out with cap in hand.

She led Liam to the shipping area around the side. She removed her hat, and looked at the camera by the receiving door. She gestured for Liam to follow suit.

A familiar face opened the door moments later. Mike looked like shit. At least a decade older, emaciated and pale. Liam knew that thousand yard stare anywhere. He gaped at Liam in disbelief for a moment, then pulled. Him into a hug. He had a tremor.

"Liam? My God am I glad to see you."

"Mike." Liam was sure his face betrayed his shock. He'd stood all but frozen for a moment before returning the other man's embrace, holding him tight. He was several moments more before letting go.

"You got sick," he said. It wasn't really a question. "I guess even with the city in lockdown this virus is impossible to avoid."

How old was Mike really, Liam wondered? He'd never before thought to ask. Old enough to be a blue helmet in Kosovo. That's all Liam really knew.

Robyn took a large step back. "I'll... Wait in the car," she said quietly.

"I did," Mike said. "Seems like forever ago. People were just figuring out how bad it was. I'll live, but things are real different now. He sat on an up ended milk crate by the door. The ground nearby was littered with butts. "I'm glad you're here, man."

Liam nodded quietly towards Robyn.

"I'm glad to be home."

He fished two cigarettes out his pack of du Mauriers and handed one across to Mike. It took a few moments longer to find a lighter.

"How bad is it?" he asked around his first breath of smoke of the evening.

Mike waved off the cigarette, producing a joint wrapped in dark brown paper from his shirt pocket. He gladly accepted the lighter, though.

"How bad is it?" he repeated through pursed lips. He took a long drag, held it, and exhaled. His tremors calmed visibly. "It's the end of everything, man."

“The virus? Or the Camarilla?” It could have been both or either from the way Mike said it, a broken man at the end of a broken line. Liam suspected the later.

"Both," Mike said. "And a buncha other stuff." He took another toke. "Best case scenario: We beat the Tremere, reform the Camarilla, and vaccinate this damn virus. Not to mention the Elder God sleeping. What then? Do you really think the masquerade is tenable? Especially with the couple thousand people who have been tortured for the better half of a decade."

He blew the ash off the end of the joint. "Truth be told, I'm not sure things deserve to go back to normal."

“They don’t,” Liam replied flatly. “The Camarilla burned all of its bridges. There is no going back any longer.”

“When this is over - and it will end - the Masquerade will be a thing of the past. And then it will be time to reap the hurricane.”

“Whoever among us survive will have to build the new normal.”

"Well, good luck with all of that," Mike said. He took another drag, and another pause. As he spoke, smoke circled his head. "Me? I'm out."

“You’ve earned that right and more,” Liam said without judgement. “What do you intend to do instead?” And why stay here? Liam wanted to ask, but he knew the answer. Pockets. Blood bond or not, Mike loved her. He would never leave.

"I was only sticking around until help showed up," Mike replied. "And here you are. Have I ever told you how I came to be in her employ?"

Liam sat down and took a long drag from his cigarette. The night was going to be full of surprises it seemed. Ten years was a long time.

“No. No I don’t believe you ever did.”

Mike took a deep breath. "When I came back from overseas, I bounced around a lot," he began. "I did a lot of PMC work. All that tension for all those years - I had a lot of rage. I ended up getting punted from a lot of jobs. And VA was no help either. Christ, back in those days PTSD was a four letter word. I gave up when they asked me to prove I wasn't fucked up before I joined the Forces. I hit rock bottom, and that's when my old LT found me. Offered me a plum gig babysitting wealthy aristocrats against their imaginary enemies. No action, lots of secondhand luxury, and the most work you gotta do in a day is stand behind some rich gimp and look impressive. I didn't want to take it. But my mom begged me to. She said she thought it was important for me to take a job that was low stress."

He laughed mirthlessly, and took another toke. "My very first gig was some British heiress by the name of Arianna Kensington. 87th in line for the throne, or so she claimed." He jammed a thumb towards the building behind him. "She spiked my tea with her blood, and the rest... is history."

"I'm torn. I care about Pockets more than anything, but at the same time, I can't forgive her. Y'know?" He stared at the ground.

"Ms. Kensington has been paying me a six figure salary for about fifteen years. I got enough money to retire, and thanks to her blood, I'm more put together physically than most of the guys in my unit. I'm thinking of going to the Ottawa Valley. There's a lot of good therapists in the capitol, especially when it comes to old soldiers. I'll get a spot of land somewhere secluded. Get help. Maybe a dog or two. And when I'm ready, I want to build a retreat for veterans. And maybe ex-ghouls, depending on how society goes."

"All I know is that I'm spent. I've paid my dues, and more. And now that you're here, I know she's gonna be okay. I just have one favour to ask. Don't let her face this alone. She's not as resilient as she pretends to be."

Did he know? Liam was painfully aware. He had bonded Kate for a fraction of the time Pockets had taken Mike and had done incalculable harm. The one saving grace had been that she'd fled Verdant Falls with her son before the Tremere had their way.

Liam heaved a sigh, smoke billowing from his nostrils as he rubbed his forehead. "Does she know what's coming? Or am I going to have to tell her?"

Mike shook his head. "We've... Talked about it. A lot. I've been ready to leave for a while now. She's gotta know what's coming."

A lot of kindred hadn’t picked this life for themselves either, though even thinking it Liam knew that one wrong did not justify another and privately admonished himself. He considered asking Mike if he needed anything, but realized just as quickly that he’d already asked for the only favour he would ever call in. He smiled and pushed up off his knees, flicking his cigarette to the ground.

“Maybe I’ll come look up your veterans retreat in the valley one day when this is all said and done.”

Mike extinguished his joint by brushing the tip on the pavement. "As long as you don't bring trouble with you, you'd be welcome anytime." He stood, and rested the half-smoked joint between the bricks by the door.  "I'm gonna start packing. You should head on up."

Liam turned to climb the stairs, pausing with his hand on the railing.

“I don’t suppose you know how Rick is making out in all this, or where to find him?” He asked.

Mike shrugged. "He's Hasan's eyes, ears and occasional trigger finger outside the city. As far as I know, he's only in town when there's some serious shit going down. So maybe it's time he came home. But I guess you'd know more about that than me."

The inside of the Mattress King had been made into a temporary command centre. Computers, tablets and various devices far beyond Liam's ken sat on fitted cases. Evidently, they moved around a lot. Mike appeared to be using the break room as a kitchen. This was no way to live.

There was a light on in the offices above the receiving area.

Liam nodded. "Bye, Mike. I don't know how long it will take you to pack your things but if you're gone by the time I come back down, take care of yourself."

Inside the warehouse Liam ran his finger along one of the tables laden down with cases. Beyond taking note of them he paid them very little mind. Ten years later he still did not understand this high tech world and it was only pulling further ahead of him.

He shed his trenchcoat and cap as he made his way up to the offices, folding the former over his arm.

To the surprise of no one, Pockets was surrounded by electronics. Her back was turned, and she didn't get up or turn around when Liam approached. He could see the security feeds on one of the monitors.

"I was wondering who was going to show up and fix his little 'problem'," she said quietly. "I didn't think it was gonna be you."

"I didn't know it was going to be me either," Liam said quietly. He took a seat on a rolling chair behind her, coat draped across his knees and hat in his hands.

"Arianna Kensington," he said, with a wistful smile followed by another long pause.

"How are you holding up, Pockets?"

"Oh, things are going fine," Pockets said, smiling mirthlessly. Liam could tell from the red streaks on her face that she'd been crying. "I just lost the only person I knew was never gonna leave me to some dumb as shite game-breaking virus, and then I had to deal with the fact I was trapping him here because I'm some sort of broken fuckin' baby-brain who can't take care of her own damn self. Not to mention all the fuckin' genocidin' I watch from the cameras every day. That's how I'm holdin' up."

“Dumb question, I suppose,” Liam remarked. He leaned in to brush the tears from Pocket’s cheeks.

“I should have led with ‘are you okay?’” He held up his arms, offering to encircle her in his embrace and hold her tight.

“I’m not going anywhere. So let’s figure out what we’re going to do about this together.”

"Mm," Pockets replied unenthustastically. She leaned into the hug, but her arms stayed at her sides. She didn't pull away for a long time. Finally, she spoke. "So why're you rollin' with wizards?" she asked into his chest.

“Jack asked me to,” Liam said frankly. “I was in Bergen yesterday, blowing up Tremere. Now I’m home, keeping an eye on her,” Liam said, hitching his thumb in the direction of the parking lot.

“That’s actually why I came here tonight. I figured I’d been gone long enough that I could do with some help getting reacquainted. I don’t know that everything’s changed but it sure seems a whole lot worse than I remember, and it was shit when I left.”

"I'm the city recon since they murked the Nosferatu," Pockets said, sniffing. "Not much goes on without me knowing."

“I figured you were the best person to come to.” Liam was quiet for a few moments. “Is Lloyd still alive? Or do we have no way of knowing?”

Lloyd‘s was one of the first faces he’d encountered in Verdant Falls, and it was not the sort of face one readily forgot. The sewers were off limits to him now. Every rat was likely to be a ghoul. Every manhole had a trip circuit.

"That's a good question," Pockets said. "A few years back they turned on each other. I think the locals figured out that they weren't going to be as necessary with the Fugue acting as its own spy network. Turns out they were right. The Cam did nothing. Sealed them all in and let 'em duke it out. If anyone's alive down there, they're not letting anyone know. We'd have to go look for ourselves to be sure."

Liam nodded. It was something to consider. He didn’t much relish the thought of stalking the Nos in their own den though, if the wrong ones had prevailed.

“Who are you keeping in touch with these days?” It came out easier than ‘who else is still alive?’

"We all stick to ourselves," Pockets said. "I talk a lot with Jacob and Hasan. I know Saj is still kicking, but most of the Zodiacs died fighting. Ol' Metalhead makes an occasional horrifying appearance. And I go to the Wop Shop when I need kit. Which is often."

“And this place?” Liam asked, looking around the Mattress King offices. “How long have you been holed up here?”

"Since the lockdown," Pockets said. "We move-... Moved around a lot. I do my best to stay hidden, but those flying fucks usually peg us sooner or later. It's why we rarely go out."

Liam nodded, still looking around. "How are you managing to eat? There's hardly anyone on the streets by the look of things. Is it safe to hunt anywhere?"

"I've always been partial to getting folks while they're asleep," Pockets said. "But right now the Cam is stockpiling blood. So you gotta be careful 'cuz most folks are a pint or two low." She kicked the mini fridge by her feet. "They're pretty heavily guarded now, but if you twock one of their bloodmobiles, you're set for weeks."

"Good to know." From the perspective of minimizing trips in and out of Robyn's place, it made sense to do just that.

"And Marty? Do you have eyes in the Lantern at all?"

"He's still in business, and still lookin' the other way to line his pockets," Pockets said. "Big Tex used to make beer deliveries about once a month. We've been giving those Nazi fucks a lot of good excuses to drink."

Liam was silent for a few moments, lips pursed in thought. He looked at the monitors in the dashboard without really seeing them. “So what are we going to do about all of this?” He asked at last.

"Not sure what you mean," Pockets said with a shrug. "It packs up into a road case I take around with me. Why, are we going somewhere?"

“Depends. Have you had your fill of the Mattress King? I’m pretty sure I’m living out of a garage at the moment, and it’s not even my garage. But I could really use your help, Pockets.”

And I’m guessing you can really use mine.

"Well, when you put it that way, let me get packing," Pockets said, allowing herself a little smile. "Dream team, back together again! Hopefully your buddy down there doesn't go murdery like... Shit, how many of our third wheels have gone psycho on us?"

"Let me go talk to Robyn," Liam said, rising out of his chair. This was a night full of surprises for everyone.

Leaving Pockets to her affairs, Liam backtracked through the warehouse to the parking lot in search of the hedge wizard herself.

Robyn was speaking with Mike, with the cruiser between them. She was now wearing a black cloth mask. She looked up at Liam. "That was a short visit," she quipped.

"Yeah...." he said, climbing into the passenger side of the cruiser. "We need to talk." He glanced across the centre console at Pockets' soon to be former ghoul.

"I'm sure Mike's filled you in."

His gaze shifted to Robyn and he took a deep breath.

"I worry about her on her own. She'll fall of the grid entirely," he said frankly, playing his cards out in the open.

"Pockets could really help us. Really help us. She has her eye on the whole city and she has a way of looking at things that... well, she sees things in a way that no one else can. And I'd like to be able to help her, if you'd consider it."

"I promise I'm not in the habit of bringing stray vampires home with me everywhere I go."

Robyn looked at him incredulously, then glanced at her phone. "I've known you... Three hours," she said. She shook her head in disbelief, and thought about it a little. "You're lucky I know her better than I know you. And she's lucky she's adorable. But you gotta understand, she's Public Enemy Number Three. We're not going to be able to keep a low profile if she's along."

Liam nodded. He’d been worrying about the same thing. “How have you managed to keep ahead of them in the past, Mike? As long as she’s got enough blood on hand she should be able to stay inside for weeks, I’d imagine.”

“And I’m not worried about them finding her digitally.” Pockets was a ghost online, at least in as far as Liam had any concept of such matters.

“What’s tipped them off before?”
This message was last edited by the player at 02:23, Tue 09 June 2020.

"Her face, for one," Mike said. "She's got a motorcycle helmet, but all that does is make them suspicious instead of outright hostile. Mostly we move slow, watch the skies, and try to stay hidden. Her powers help, too, but she tries not to use up blood unless she has to. Doesn't always work, either. The Tremere have wards on everything important, and they've set their fair share of traps. Invisibility won't work on a trip wire. Jacob and Hasan run a lot of diversions for us, and lay down a mushroom cloud if things get too hairy. We try to stick to Riverhead when we can, too. Fewer eyes out here."

Mike sniffed. "Me, I usually just wait for daylight. Nobody but cops around, and they're pretty soft."
This message was last edited by the player at 16:00, Tue 09 June 2020.

"So if she stayed inside, and I did the leg work of getting her parts from Augusto the risk is minimal?" Liam probed. This was important. "I can't get Robyn into trouble over this, and if I have to figure out a way to keep an eye on Pockets from a distance, then that's what I'll do."

Truthfully he would feel better having Pockets in the house with Robyn while he was out and about in the city. Caleb was a very good guard dog, but he'd seen Pockets wield a shotgun.

"Pockets has always been the indoorsy type," Mike replied. "But I don't think anyone here can be called anything but trouble-adjacent, Robyn included."

"Thank you," Robyn said tipping her hat. She glanced over at Liam. "You're not the only one who gets war stories told about them, y'know."

"Well you'll have to regale me with them the next time you knock over a liquor store," Liam said, grinning. After a few moments the smile faded and he looked to Robyn with a serious, sober expression.

"So what do you think? Honestly. I can figure out other arrangements if necessary."

"As long as we're being honest," Robyn said. "I'm kinda more excited about sharing my home with her than with you."

Mike laughed. "We'll see how you feel in a week."

Liam smiled. "Thank you, Robyn. I really appreciate it."

He opened the door and climbed out of the car. "I'll go talk to Pockets."

It was shaping up to be an interesting night.

"Nah, I got it," Mike said. "Gotta say my goodbyes anyway." He pulled Liam into another hug. "You take care of yourself. And look me up when this is over and done with." With that, he headed back to the Mattress King.

Robyn pulled down her mask, and beamed at Liam. "Jack told me you were a softie."
This message was last edited by the player at 18:16, Tue 09 June 2020.

Liam laughed. "Don't let that get around. You'll kill my vampire credibility."

Leaning forward in his seat, he peered up at the sky in search of swiftly moving silhouettes.

"I don't suppose your place has a cellar? I never actually got the welcome tour. Its going to be pretty cosy in the garage, otherwise."

"I've got a finished basement," Robyn replied. "Don't worry, you won't have to sleep in the garage or anything. It'd be pretty embarrassing to accidentally incinerate you because I needed to go out for groceries."

"Well that's a relief," Liam quipped. He leaned back in his chair, satisfied for the moment that they were safe.

"Jack tells me you and Nex have something of a working relationship. Does Nex drop by often?"

"No," Robyn said flatly. She reached down, and touched a thin iron chain around her wrist. "We'll... Need to see them sooner or later. Probably sooner. They're going to want a copy of my research."

Liam nodded.

"What about Book?" he asked quietly after a moment.

Robyn stiffened. "Which Book?"

"You know more than one?" Liam asked, looking over at Robyn.

"Jack and Maeve warned me. Don't worry. I've met him before too."

We go way back.

Robyn fidgeted. "He only really shows up when I get too far off the rails," she said. "I haven't seen him in a while."

Liam nodded. "Sounds about right." Book was never very far away, but he wasn't right there with you either unless he thought he had to be.

Liam fought the urge to light another cigarette.

"I, uh... recognised your friend before," he said quietly. "The one in the picture. Sunshine. We had a friend in common. An associate, I suppose."

Staring out into the shadows, Liam wondered what had become of Rosie. Had they been friends? It was hard to tell with Malkavians.

"The two of you looked really close. I know it probably doesn't mean a lot coming from me, but I'm sorry for your loss."

Robyn went quiet for a moment. She stared blankly ahead, and went very still. Finally, she asked "Who's your friend in common?"

"Her name is Rosaline. Rosie. She's one of us. Or more specifically she's like Pockets, I suppose."

"I don't know how much you know or care about Kindred bloodlines but Malkavians are... well... they're special. Around here people would say they're touched," Liam said, gesturing to Verdant Falls at large.

"Rosie used to work at the psychiatric hospital just outside of town. I know, very appropriate. She was a night nurse. I think she genuinely enjoyed the work. I don't know how they came to know each other but Rosie was very protective of her. Sunshine made her a gemstone pendant and I don't think I ever saw Rosaline take it off. She wore it everywhere."

"Shortly after Sunshine died, Rosaline ran afoul of the Camarilla and had to skip town in a hurry. She disappeared into the Iron Graveyard and took refuge with the Sabbat. That was the last I knew of her. I left town not long after. Could be she's still there."

When Liam mentioned the pendant, Robyn began to cry. When he was finished talking, she pulled a familiar-looking pendant from underneath her shirt. Her crystal was blue, and the wire was gold, but the design was strikingly similar. "Sunny only made these for people she cared about," she said. She sniffled. "I miss her every day. I hope your friend is okay."

There was another pause. "Do you... Do you know anything about how she died?"
This message was last edited by the player at 00:35, Wed 10 June 2020.

“Me too,” he said, genuinely. “Me too.”

“I may not be Sabbat, but I left town on good terms with them. Could be I’ll get the opportunity to find out.”

He offered Robyn a Kleenex from a box by the gearshift.

"I know a bit about what happened. She was killed by a caitiff named Ian Brumley. That's like a Kindred whose blood is so thin they don't resemble any of the traditional bloodlines anymore."

“Ian worked as a detective for the Special Investigation Unit. He was also an asshole with a big chip on his shoulder. I don’t know why he killed Sunshine but if I had to guess, it was because she wouldn’t take any of his bullshit. Ian wouldn’t have handled that well, especially coming from a woman.”

“Given her family connections the Camarilla deemed it a flagrant violation of the Masquerade. This was back when they still pretended to care about such things. They did their best to cover it up while calling a Hunt on Ian, and Ian turned himself over to the Fomori seeking protection.”

“As best as I know he died in the incident at the steelworks, and it was still too kind a fate for him.”
This message was last edited by the player at 03:15, Wed 10 June 2020.

Robyn was silent as Liam provided gruesome detail after gruesome detail to a mystery shed tried to solve for years. Her eyes went blank and expressionless, and her whole body shook. After Liam finished, she was silent for a long time.

The silence was broken by the sound of the back door opening and closing. Pockets materialized moments later. "Peekaboo, fuckers!"

Robyn jumped at the sound, and clawed at her door. She shoved it open, and fell to the pavement on her hands and knees. She threw up, and collapsed in a screaming, sobbing heap.

“We’re going to need a few moments,” Liam said, glancing over his shoulder towards the back of the cruiser.

Unbuckling his belt Liam climbed out of the passenger side door and cast his gaze towards the sky as he made his way around the front of the car. “I’m sorry, Robyn,” he said again, taking a knee beside her. He could tell that he’d torn open an old wound - one that had never properly healed in the first place.

“I can’t imagine how painful this must be for you. Why don’t we go inside.” Unspoken was the sentiment that even a ‘police officer’ screaming and sobbing in the parking lot would start to draw attention.

He was hesitant to touch her, knowing that unlike his relationship with Pockets or Mike Liam hadn’t yet earned the trust with Robyn.

"Let's... Let's just go home," Robyn said. "I've got ground beef in the freezer. We can get food tomorrow but... I want to go home."

Liam held out his hand. "Do you want me to drive?"

Robyn nodded through her sobs. She accepted Liam's hand and got unstedily to her feet. Her knees were jelly.

"Put her in the back where she can stretch out," Pockets said from the car. Robyn seemed to follow the suggestion, and opened the back seat after a moment of fumbling. Pockets slid over as she crawled on to the seat.

"Want me to sit up front?" Pockets asked her. Robyn shook her head, and curled up next to her in the fetal position. "We've got you. You're safe. We're taking you home." Pockets looked up at Liam. "We'd better get out of here."

Liam climbed into the driver’s seat, adjusted the rear view mirror to a person of his height and put the car into drive.

“Let’s go home,” he said, pulling out of the parking lot and into the empty streets.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:55, Thu 11 June 2020.

Robyn's sobbing calmed down soon after they set out. They drove in silence for a few minutes, until Robyn spoke again.

"Did you know him?" she asked Liam.

“Before the German invasion there weren’t actually that many Kindred in the entire city. I knew most of them on sight. I’m sure we must have talked once or twice but it was hardly memorable. He was a closed individual. I don’t know that anyone was actually close to him.”

"And did you help cover it up?" she asked pointedly.

Liam glanced up at the rear view mirror, meeting Robyn’s gaze for a moment before looking back to the road. “I stayed away from the hunt,” he said, shaking his head. “They attract the wrong sort of attention. Vampires will come in out of the blue for the chance to kill another vampire legally.”

“And while I used to think the Masquerade was a necessary evil, I had nothing to do with the coverup. Now? I think it’s time to tear the whole damn veil off, come what may.”

"What about you, chuckles?" Robyn said to Pockets.

"Don't look at me, man," Pockets replied. "I never even met the asshole."

Robyn fumed for a few moments. "I knew you fuckers were mixed up with the cops for a while, but I had no idea. I guess Rick Johnson was one of yours too?"

“Not a vampire, but he worked for us. It’s practically a requirement for a city of this size to have someone high up in the force. Rick did what he thought he had to do at the time to protect the rest of us. That was the core conceit of the Masquerade. We don’t exist.”

"You don't exist. Werewolves don't exist. We're all fairy tales."

Liam fell silent for a few moments as he struggled for words.

“Look, Ian was a... a... he was an incel who happened to also be a Vampire.” He was quietly pleased with himself that he both knew the term and had used it contextually. “He was a liability from the moment of his embrace. What he did that night was despicable, and he put every other Kindred in the city at risk. When something like that happens it’s expected the offender will answer to Kindred law, not the laws of New Brunswick. The Masquerade required that we police ourselves. Harshly.”

“What do wizards do when one of you goes renegade? It must happen.”
This message was last edited by the player at 16:09, Thu 11 June 2020.

"Wizards are an organization in the same way that Grateful Dead fans are an organization," Robyn replied. "When there's a rogue wizard, there's no media manipulation, there's no cover-up conspiracy. There's just an angry and unreasonably powerful dude run amok. And we certainly don't gaslight the victims of heinous crimes."

She paused a moment, and took a deep breath, pushing down her rage. "I've spent years piecing together the truth. I knew that Ian Brumley was a crooked cop. I knew he shot her twice in the chest, then hacked off her face and her breasts with... some kinda pocket knife." Visions of Ian's teeth flashed in Liam's mind. "And that it probably happened just because she was a queer woman, or a trans woman, or maybe just because she was a woman with an opinion. You don't know the amount of digging I had to do just to find that much."

"I get that he was a 'bad apple' - a term I fucking hate, by the way. What I don't get is the amount of work that went into letting him be a bad apple. The layers upon layers of lies. The complete lack of accountability for the people who gave him that power, and just how much the SIU had been engineered to cover up for people like him."

"So now I gotta wonder, how many people did he murder without consequence or reprisal before he got to Sunny? How many other murders were covered up, just by virtue of the fact that he was one of your own? For that matter, how many other murderers have gone unpunished, just in this city? Dozens? Hundreds?"

By her tone, she didn't expect those answers from Liam. She stopped her raving for the moment, her eyes darting back and forth as she tried to untangle the web of rage in her mind.

"How many people died in Riverhead when the Camarilla armed the populace and sent them into a massacre?" Liam asked quietly. "Five hundred? A thousand? Does anyone actually know?"

Liam drove on in silence for a minute, staring out the window at the passing lights. After a kilometer or so he sighed.

"Ian wasn't a bad apple. That's the wrong term, and I don't say that to excuse him or us. He was a monster. But even on our best nights the rest of us are still vampires. That doesn't go away."

"And I believe you, for the record, that the wizards aren't doing the work of covering up after their own or at least not in any organised fashion but someone clearly is, so its probably us also."

"I used to believe the Masquerade was a necessary evil because the alternative - the alternative I thought was Riverhead," he said, gesturing broadly around. "A thousand Riverheads waged on the streets of every city, in every country, around the world. But Riverhead happened anyway. And not just in spite of the Masquerade but because of it.”

“And little did I know just how much worse Verdant Falls would be.”
This message was last edited by the player at 04:36, Fri 12 June 2020.

Robyn's glower softened a little as Liam spoke. When he was finished, she flopped back on to the seat and curled up. "You're right," she said. "I'm looking forward to tearing it all down."

"Fuck yeah, man," Pockets said, echoing the sentiment. "Time to blow up the clown." This earned her a chuckle from Robyn.

Liam's homing instincts were on point. They were getting close to Robyn's house.

"I have more questions about what happened," said Robyn. "But let's save it til I've had some rest."

Liam nodded. "That's probably a good idea. You can ask me tomorrow."

"You can have your own interview with a vampire, only I'm better looking than Tom Cruise," he said with a gentle smile.

Liam steered the car down Robyn's private drive.

"I'm done hiding. The world has a right to know."

"Not that you have much of a choice," Robyn said. "The cure isn't a memory wipe. When Verdant Falls gets liberated, I suspect the ensuing chaos will make the cop marches look like a box social."

Cop marches? Liam had been in the bush for a few weeks. The momentous global unrest wasn't on his radar.

As soon as the car was in the garage, Robyn was heading unsteadily for her room. "We'll sort out the living situation tomorrow," she said on her way. She closed her bedroom door.

Pockets looked around the main room, and whistled. "This is real nice after the series of shitholes I've been staying in. I gotta befriend more wizards."

"Jack lives out of a van," Liam said as he made his way into the house, greeting Caleb at the door. He took in the spacious open concept living area at a glance, and pursed his lips.

"I'm going to fix Caleb's dinner," he said, starting towards the kitchen and pausing to pick up a half empty diet coke and an open bag of chips on route. "And tidy up," he added. Caleb was going to get a lot of junk food tonight.

"Robyn says the basement's finished, though I haven't been down there yet. Should keep us cosy though until tomorrow."
This message was last edited by the player at 16:01, Fri 12 June 2020.

"Mike's gonna drop off my kit on the way outta town," Pockets said, glancing at her phone. "I didn't think it'd fit in your hoopty. I'll take a look down there while you're cooking and-"

Pockets trailed off as her gaze fell upon the Tome of the First Tribe. She looked at it, then at Liam. Then back at it. Then back at Liam. She gestured wildly at it with both hands. The words didn't come.

Liam nodded. "I'm aware. I'm not actually sure she is though," he said quietly.

"It was left in her possession to assist with her work. I don't think Robyn knows what it is. Not entirely anyway. There's no way it would just be lying out on the coffee table if she did."

He shrugged.

"This is bigger than you and me, kiddo. A whole lot bigger."

"I guess that explains why she's lousy with the bad code," Pockets said, stepping over to the book. She ran a finger down its spine. It hadn't occurred to Liam to check whether Robyn was marked by Vamanando's taint, but it hardly came as a surprise. "What's she working on, anyway? A cure for the brain scramblies?"

"Yup," Liam replied. "That's why Jack called me home. To make sure she gets it done."

"And this doesn't leave the room. I'm not sure I'm even ready for Jacob and Hasan to know, because I don't know what side of the issue Jacob would fall on. He gave centuries of himself to upholding the Masquerade, and we're going to tear it apart overnight."

"I worry the old soldier in him would still fall in line with the Camarilla, even after everything they've done to him. To us. To his city."

"I don't think you're giving him enough credit," Pockets said. "He's been fucking the Cam over from the inside for most of his life." She flipped open the cover gingerly. "Wow," she gasped. "Times like this I wish I could read this shit."

"I can," Liam said quietly, coming to stand behind Pockets and peer over her shoulder. "Or at least, I could."

"After Cyrus exploded your phone and I put a stake through his heart, I had a lot of time on my hands," he said, meeting her gaze momentarily. "It took me a while but I figured quite a bit of it out. Put together a lexicon to help me work through the text. Its still in the safe house, I should think. Assuming its still standing."

The Tome was not written like a conventional book. Right away, Liam understood that the First Tribe had been using the language in a very simplified, liminal sense. There was no logical structure to the language, and the closer he looked, the more writing he could see. Characters carved in the grooves of larger characters. Sentences that folded into other sentences.

He could feel it whispering the secrets of the universe to him. The words twisted across the page, unfolding and laying bare the very fabric of reality in his mind. He felt his mind struggling to grasp what he was reading. It was painful. It was mind rending. But the more intense the feeling, the harder he found it to tear his gaze away. His mind was caught in the Tome's intense gravity.

Finally, he tore himself away, and squeezed his eyes shut. Not exactly a light read.

Liam glanced at Pockets to make sure she was not similarly enthralled, in which case he gently shook her back to reality. Otherwise he headed for the kitchen, gathering errant candy wrappers unto himself like a passing breeze.

"Feel free to let Jacob know I'm back in town at least, next time you check in. I don't often try to raise Hasan anymore, and even then he seldom answers."

Pockets did not seem affected by the book. She continued to flip through the pages, merely marvelling at the strange patterns within.

"I'd be a pretty lousy intel officer if I let your arrival go unreported," Pockets said as she browsed. "I fired him a message while you were out talking with Mike. I haven't heard back yet, but the night is young. I'll arrange a meeting with him if you want."

"Not yet. But maybe soon. I've got other business to worry about first."

Liam opened the freezer and pulled out a block of ground beef, setting it out on the counter to thaw while he rummaged through Robyn's kitchen. In a few minutes it was sitting in a bowl of cold water in a watertight bag while he made his way around the house with a garbage bag. Half an hour later it was sizzling in the pan and Caleb was enjoying a plate of mixed potato chip hors d'oeuvres.

"Do you want a beer?" he asked.

"I haven't had one of those frosty fuckers in years," Pockets said. "Let's start with one." She waited by the basement stairs for him to deliver it. She was gone about ten minutes as Liam prepared the food.

Caleb, being a vampire's dog, wasn't accustomed to the smells of cooking. Having subsisted mostly on rodents and supermarket kibble the past few years, this was a rare and wonderful experience. The chips didn't last very long, and soon he was shadowing his master, wide-eyed with wonder.

"Looks like we have a big room and a small one," Pockets said as she reemerged. She headed to the garage for cardboard and duct tape. "I'm guessing I'll be keeping my kit in my room, so I hope you don't mind taking the small one."

"Suits me," Liam replied, leaning against the counter as he took the pan off the burner to cool. "Don't be surprised if you wake up with a German shepherd on your feet. He likes to stretch out."

Liam's entire kit consisted of what he could fit in his rucksack at the moment, plus a small armory in Riverhead that he intended to plunder the next night. It was hardly space consuming.

"I want to see about contacting Lloyd," he said, apropos of nothing. He and Pockets had both been on good terms with the Nos, once upon a time. If they were still down there to be found, there was likely no one else left in the city who would be better received. "I'd like to check out the tunnels."

"Not tomorrow, but soon. Are you game?"

"Well I'm sure as shit not going to let you go alone," Pockets said. She reemerged from the garage with a pair of empty beer flats under one arm, and a fat roll of contractor-grade duct tape on her wrist. "Just so's you know, we may not like what we find down there."

"I know," Liam replied. He scraped Caleb's dinner into a bowl with a spatula and set the dish down on the floor.

"But someone should know what happened. Lloyd deserved that much."

Caleb snarfled up the food with single-minded determination. His whole backside wagged so hard he had trouble keeping steady in the bowl. This made Pockets smile despite the topic at hand.

"Why's it always gotta be us doing the right thing?" she asked rhetorically.

Liam just shook his head. He wanted to say that someone had to do it, but that wasn't true. The world would go on without ever knowing what became of Lloyd Douglas, just as it had for the last five years.

Liam had to do it. Because on his best nights even if was still a vampire, at least he wasn't a monster. That space between - that was what remained of his humanity, and it was worth holding on to.

He smiled. "Because we're the good guys."

Liam handed Pockets a dishtowel to dry and started filling the sink. Robyn had left them plenty to do tonight.

Pockets clinked her beer on Liam's, and grabbed the dish towel. "To big damn heroes," she said.

The rest of the night's conversation wasn't quite so serious. Pockets introduced Liam to What We Do in the Shadows, and updated him on the massive global protests he'd missed out on. Mostly, they were both coming to grips with being safe and comfortable for a change. Liam's room was larger than he'd expected, and twice as cozy. There was little activity upstairs during the day, but Robyn was up and writing by nightfall. She looked a lot better than the previous evening. She was seated at her cluttered writing table with her laptop and a mug of tea. There was a large road case in the living room. Pockets' things, Liam supposed.

"Evening, Liam," Robyn said. "Thanks for cleaning up. You didn't have to do that."

WP 8/8
BP 12/15
2XP
Health: Unharmed

Liam pulled up a chair and sat down across from Robyn. His hair was still wet from the shower, the first one he'd had in weeks. With no other clothing besides what he'd brought with him in his pack he was in much the same outfit as he'd worn the day before. They smelled of Bergen. The outdoors. The sparing cigarette he'd had since they were last laundered. But not of Liam. He had no smell at all.

"It was a team effort. And quite literally the least we could do. How did you sleep?"

"Like an insomniac who knows a few good sleeping spells," Robyn said, stretching. "Deep and dreamless. Mike sends his love. He got out okay."

Liam smiled. "I'm glad to hear it. He deserves his peace and quiet. And Pockets will be glad to hear it to."

He glanced around, but didn't actually expect to see her coming up from the basement yet. Liam was usually the first to rise of the pair despite being considerably older.

"How's the manuscript coming?"

"Well, I'm past the first hurdle," Robyn said. She spun the laptop around. "The page is no longer blank." She revealed a title page, an empty table of contents, and a page one that said "dranks".

She grinned sheepishly. "I picked mocktails because I thought it'd be easy topic to bang out. Turns out it's like the pope trying to write a book on lesbian sex."

"There've been a few interesting popes over the years," Liam said, the corner of his lips turning up in a lopsided grin. "Mostly before my time."

Liam glanced at the opening header. "I may not be the pope, but I can do drinks," he said. "I used to own a bar in town before everything got turned upside down and not everyone came looking for Jack's Finest brew."

"If you get me a paper and pen I'll write them down. You don't want me typing on that thing or we'll be here all night."

Robyn arched her brow. "Well aren't you full of surprises." She dug a notepad out from the pile, and tore off a few pages of scrawl. She slid the clean portion of the pad to Liam, and added. "There's pens everywhere."

"Truth be told, I'd rather be doing fiction. But recipe books lend themselves better to instructional magic. I'll let you in on a little secret." She leaned in conspiratorially. "I'm not even vegan."

“I caught that from your choice of snack food,” Liam said as he busily jotted down his best sellers. “I can’t actually attest to how any of these taste mind you, but I can tell you what was popular.” After a few minutes he finished scribbling and pushed the paper back towards Robyn.

“Next time you feel like celebrating I’ll mix drinks.”

"I plan to party after I get it submitted," Robyn replied. She tucked the notes under the laptop, and closed it. "So we'll get to it soon enough." She stood, and stretched put her back. "So, you wanna take another crack at that tour?"

"If you're up for it," Liam nodded.

Robyn snorted. "Oh yeah," she said. "I've been feeling cooped up all afternoon. I almost went shopping without you, but I figured that'd be pretty rude. Seeing as how you're here to protect me, and all. Not that I'm not plenty capable or anything. I've been in my share of scraps since this all started."

She headed toward the garage, but caught herself. She lifted her head as if catching a phantom voice. "Oh, right," she muttered, and turned around. She twisted the ornate key on the front of the Tome, locking it. She pocketed the key and continued on her way to don her disguise.

Liam grabbed one of the scraps of paper he hadn’t needed and scrawled a note for Pockets.

Gone shopping. Let us know if you need anything.

Back soon

Liam

“Coming!” He called back, hastening to catch up.

“Let’s drop by my old place. It’s in Riverhead.”

"If you're sure it's safe," Robyn said, doing up the buttons on her uniform. "Is that where you stashed your arsenal?"

[Roll Fate]

"Guns. Spare clothes. A few other things."

"Assuming its still standing."

Liam donned the trenchcoat and hat and climbed into the car. Hopefully it was another quiet night in Riverhead.

Robyn still drove like a maniac. They'd be at his safe house in a matter of moments. "It occurs to me," she said as they drove. "That Riverhead has had more than its share of misfortunes over the years. Something tells me that Ian Brumley being at the steelworks and it exploding were not unrelated incidents."

“They were not,” Liam said quietly. “A friend of Book’s found out Ian was hiding there. Scariest bastard I’ve ever met, and that’s saying something. He raised the whole place to the ground to find Ian, and then he killed him.”

“The one good thing that ever came out of Ian’s miserable life - the decimation of the Fomori in Verdant Falls in one night.”

"Jesus," she replied. "What'd he do to piss him off?"

“He killed Sunshine,” Liam replied, matter-of-factly.

Robyn slowed the car down a little. "How'd a friend of Book's know Sunshine? Or is that a conversation for when we get home?"

“That is a question for Book,” Liam said. “Your friend Sunshine had more friends than I know about. I think she had more friends than she knew about, but that’s just a guess.”

"Has Book ever given a straight answer to a question?" Robyn said. "I'm gonna drill you more on this, just so you know. But we're here."

The renovated factory was much like Liam remembered. God only knows the state of the dust in that place after so long away. "Nice digs," Robyn remarked. "A hipster's dream."

Liam climbed out of the car and glanced towards the sky. “I don’t need much to get by,” he said, fishing the key out of his pocket. It was still standing at least. Hopefully no one else has helped themselves to it in his absence.

Robyn opened up the car, and looked up at the apartment. "Should I wait here?"

“Up to you,” Liam replied. “I shouldn’t be long.”

He climbed the steps up to the heavy fire door and slipped the key into the lock.

"I'll wait here," Robyn said. "Just don't be long."

As soon as Liam pushed open the door, he was blown back by a wall of flame.

[Soak 8 aggravated damage]

There was no click. No tell or giveaway. There was merely heat, too intense to bear, and a concussive blast that hurtled him into space. The next moment he connected with something hard and came to an abrupt stop. Eyes that could not see and ears that heard only ringing tried to make sense of a world of pain and darkness. They’d found him out. Somehow the bloody bastards had found him out. But they hadn’t killed him. Not yet.

Liam struggled to his feet, or tried to. There was no way they didn’t know he was here now...

Blinded by smoke and deafened by the blast, he didn't notice Robyn running up the stairs. Through the pain, he was able to feel her hand on his shoulder. A wave of cool washed over him, and by the time she pulled him to his feet, the pain was completely gone.

[You're still at Crippled, but you can ignore die penalties for the remainder of the scene.]

As the ringing in his ears subsided, he could hear Robyn coughing through the smoke. They emerged from the stairwell just in time to see a vulture land between them and the car. It shifted quickly into a Camarilla scout.

Liam spotted his cap lying cockeyed by the base of the steps, having been blown clear off his head by the explosion. He stooped down to retrieve it, using the stiff brim to beat down the last of the lingering flames clinging to his overcoat. Even before the blast it was unlikely the scout would have been able to piece together who he was. Now he knew he was burned entirely beyond recognition. He could feel it in every fibre of his face.

<<Well?>> He demanded in his best irritated, authoritarian German. <<Are you just going to stand there ogling?>>

He lurched forward on hobbled legs, giving the appearance of more grievous injury than he felt - or perhaps the injury he felt apart from Robyn's magical healing touch.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:22, Sun 14 June 2020.

Judging by his appearance, the Gangrel was either obsessed with youth or had been embraced very recently. He looked at the uniformed officer beside Liam, and then back at him. He stammered. "Uh... Uh... Sorry sir, I-I don't speak..." he reached out a hand to help steady Liam.

While the scout was distracted, Robyn planted her feet, and began to trace a pattern in the air with her right hand.

Another scout landed in the parking lot, with the squad car between her and the rest of the group. "What the fuck is going on here?"

<<I'm fine,>> Liam verbally protested, though clearly this was not the case. Whether or not the scout understood him, Liam made no effort to force away his outstretched hand. Instead he allowed the gangrel to steady him as a pretence for getting close, clasping his arm with one hand. He leaned forward with his other hand bunched at his hip, feeling his claws prick into the burnt flesh of his palm.

As the other scout alighted he looked up and shook his head and shifted his jaw in the manner of a man trying to clear his ears. "What?! Speak up," he said, louder than necessary. <<I can't hear you,>> he continued, shifting in and out of English.

These gangrel were young, but skilled enough to have mastered protean. Hopefully their dedication had been singularly focused and they were not equally adept in fortitude. Letting them go was a risk he was not prepared to take. If one of them followed the squad car back...

He glanced towards Robyn momentarily and then suddenly sprung into motion, dragging his claws through the unassuming scout's throat.

5 Successes on the claw attack.
7 aggro damage

14:39, Today: Liam O'Farrell rolled 5 successes using 9d10 with the World of Darkness 3rd ed, Specialised system with a target of 5, rerolling 10s.  Dex + Brawl.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:49, Sun 14 June 2020.

The scout by the car seemed to realize something was wrong. Perhaps she noticed Liam's claws beginning to grow, or perhaps it was the air around Robyn crackling with strange energy. She took two steps back.

Liam's blow swiped the scout's head clean off his shoulders. He was too young to turn to ash. His body merely crumpled to the pavement. The other scout turned and ran. She was halfway through her transformation when Robyn sent a bolt of lightning flying from her outstretched hand. The half-formed creature fell from the sky, struggling to fly with burning feathers and broken wings. Robyn swore and prepared another volley.

"Oh no you don't," Liam muttered under his breath. Forcing his vitae into his legs he leaped through the air, sailing clear over the top of the cruiser and landing on the fleeing gangrel's back with the weight of a runaway freight train. Razor sharp claws finished the work that the impact did not and in moments the alleyway grew quiet again except for the crackling flames.

Abombwe 4: Devil Channel legs.

2 success on the attack. 7 aggro damage (corrects for specialised roll + protean)

15:16, Today: Liam O'Farrell rolled 6 successes using 6d10 with the World of Darkness 3rd ed, Specialised system with a target of 6, rerolling 10s.  Damage.

15:16, Today: Liam O'Farrell rolled 2 successes using 4d10 with the World of Darkness 3rd ed, Specialised system with a target of 6, rerolling 10s.  Dex + Brawl.

Robyn shook off the effects of her conjuration, and ran towards the car. "Let's move!" she shouted.

Liam ran back towards the cruiser, scooping the headless body up in one clawed hand. Sinking his teeth into the angle of its missing neck he drank the last of the kindred's vitae before casting its crumbled remains aside. The door slammed shut and he buckled in.

"How many patrols did you say watch Riverhead on a given night?" he asked, staring up towards the sky.

Robyn peeled out of the parking lot. "A couple," she replied. "But that's a hell of a big fire. It'll draw everyone out."

She took the first turn onto a rural road she could find, and pulled the car into a tree-covered driveway. She killed the engine. "We better make sure we weren't spotted."

"Yeah," Liam concurred. "A really big fire. You should've seen it up close."

He opened the door and stepped out so that he could watch the skies unobstructed, eyes glowing faintly in the dark as he peeled back the gloom.

Robyn crept off the driveway into the ditch. She made some gestures with her hands, and the darkness seemed to melt to cover her.

"You might want to hide," she said from the shadows. "Unless you want to be the bait."

Liam nodded. Under other circumstances he might consider taking Robyn up on the offer, but after weathering an explosion point blank he wasn't about to tempt fate. He too disappeared from view, though without the benefit of magic to cloak his passing. His sunglasses at least had survived the impact and did serviceable work shielding the glow of his eyes.

After a minute or so, a crow alighted on the road, and walked towards the abandoned police car. He looked through the rear window from a distance, cautiously gauging the situation. He was still too far to strike with ease.

He paced from the safety of the road for a moment, his eyes continuing to search from the sky. After a moment, he unholstered a flare gun from his belt.

Before he could raise it to the sky, a bolt of lightning fired from the shadows. This was no glancing blow. The poor scout was instantly blasted into ash.

Robyn made no move to reappear just yet. She lurked in the darkness, waiting for more to come.

After several tense minutes, no further reinforcements arrived. Robyn reappeared, patting at her uniform, which had begun to smoke. She moved tentatively towards the car. "I think we're in the clear. You gonna live?"
This message was last edited by the player at 20:49, Sun 14 June 2020.

Liam reemerged from the brush and paced over to the heap of ashes, kicking it over with his foot.

Did anything survive the lightning?

"I'm going to be thirsty as heck for the next few nights, but yeah, I'll be fine," Liam said, turning back towards the car once he was satisfied. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Robyn replied. She started the car, and sped towards home. "For a moment, I wasn't sure you'd survived that blast. I'm guessing at the very least they knew that apartment was a hideout for someone that wasn't them. Still, Jesus Christ."

“If we make it home safe and sound, I’m prepared to cut my loses. The guns are replaceable and we can pick up new clothes anywhere. Most things of any real importance I carry with me everywhere, and there’s only one thing I can think of that burned up in that fire that’s truly irreplaceable.”

“Poor Caleb is going to have to subsist on potato chips for another night though.”

"Your vamp buddies are extremely well-armed," Robyn said. "I'd ask our roommate about getting more kaboom-boom. As for what you lost... Well, I might be able to help you there. What was it?"

"A book," Liam replied. "A book about your Book, in fact. The one on your coffee table. Not the one you're working on."

"I had it in my possession for a few months a long time ago. I spent nights trying to make sense of it, and a little bit I did. I wrote everything down."

"I was going to give it to you tonight. I thought maybe it could help with your work."

Robyn smiled, and scratched her cheek. "If you'd given it to me when I first got my hands on it, things might have been different. But now, there's not much about that book or its history that I don't know. We're pretty intimately acquainted. I appreciate the sentiment, though. If you'd like a faithful recreation, I can probably pull that off. Once I'm recovered, of course. Tonight took a lot out of me, and I was running on empty to begin with."

“I won’t worry then,” Liam said. He smiled, and with the state of his face it felt raw and painful.

“I don’t think I was ever intended to be more than a custodian for the Book. When I look at the pages - it’s hard to put into words, really. It’s like it’s trying to show me something and I can just about grasp the edges of it but the more I try to grapple with it, the more it grapples right back with me. And it hurts. It gets right to your sense of self.”

“But you solved the puzzle. I could never do that.”

"Turns out the solution was to let it blow up your brain," Robyn said, her stare going distant again. "Flood yourself. Lose yourself. And when you come to, you'll have held on to a fragment of what you came in for. Do it often enough, and you'll have the whole puzzle. Hallucinogens help, believe it or not. You can take a bigger piece out with you when your mind is expanded. But it's hard work no matter how you go at it, and every time you go in, you come out a little more fractured."

Her hands were shaking violently now. She had slowed the car down to compensate. Nearly home. "It's... nice to talk to someone who gets it."

“I’ve never talked to anyone about it before,” Liam confessed. “I was always afraid, I guess.” No longer.

“It’s going to take a few days for me to convalesce. Maybe you can show me what you mean, if you’re up for it.”

Robyn was quiet until she pulled the car to a complete stop. "I'll have to consult with the book about that," she said frankly. "And as long as we're being honest, you're also going to have to have a very frank discussion about just how many mutual friends connect you to my murdered partner. I'm sure you understand."

She didn't bother changing out of her uniform. She walked right into the house and buried her face in Caleb's neck.

"I'll make you a deal, O'Farrell," she said, her mouth muffled by fur. "I help you with those wounds and I get to borrow your dog tonight."

“I’m sure he prefers you to me already,” Liam remarked. “Can you actually help me to heal this?”

He’d glanced in the rear view mirror on the way back. He was under no illusions of how close he had come to death. It would take him days to heal on his own, and he’d be little good to anyone until then.

"I can," Robyn replied. "Just give me a few minutes to prepare you something. It won't fix you right up, but it'll help speed up your natural mending process."

Pockets emerged from the basement, a pair of giant headphones around her head. She glanced at the pair, nodded upward with her chin, and fished through the open road case for some indecipherable piece of electronics. She was halfway downstairs when she slid the headphones off, and peered over the top of the steps.

"Yo, are you aware you've been on fire?"

"Painfully," Liam replied, watching her disappear down the stairs.

"Pockets, honey, a moment," Robyn called to the Malkavian. Pockets paused her retreat. Robyn opened up her impressive spice cupboard, and retrieved around two dozen herbs, roots and fungi. She set about weighing and portioning each ingredient, feeding them all into a large mortar. She paused, and transferred the contents out of her good mortar and into an older, rougher-looking set.

"I'm gonna need some vampire blood," Robyn said. "Liam's looking a pint low, so maybe you should volunteer."

"No skin off my sack," Pockets said. Then, to Liam. "My shit's pretty trippy, though. You ready to go for a ride, mate?"

Liam nodded. Robyn had said hallucinogens helped with the process. Malkavian blood was likely the closest thing he'd get to that as a vampire, and it was probably a whole lot crazier.

"Lets have it," he said.

"Don't worry," Robyn said. "You'll be out for most of it."

She slid a large mug towards Pockets. Its face proudly declared 'BIG HUG MUG.' Pockets sliced open her wrist with a fang. She bled into the cup until Robyn directed her to stop. She poured enough of the blood to cover the collected phytocopia, which she proceeded to mash into a paste. She then spooned the bloody mush into the reminder of the blood. She gave it a stir, and the poultice effervesced. She set the nug in a pot of water to steep. She stared at it impatiently. "Can't rush this part," she commented.

Pockets had found something more interesting than her gadgets. She watched with morbid fascination. "I bet you make good weed butter," she remarked.

"I make great weed butter," Robyn retorted with a laugh. "I'm not big on edibles, though. That was more Sunny's thing. That girl could put 'em away."

No shit, thought Liam.

"I had to learn for Mike," Pockets said. "He couldn't make it through the night without 'em. I botched my first two attempts, and by the third batch I was overcompensating so hard I kicked his ass. Poor fucker woke up so stoned he forgot how to walk."

The three shared a laugh, then a sigh. Something unspoken passed between them, and they all thought of the respective pieces of themselves that had left them behind.

After a moment, Robyn cleared her throat, and attempted to dispel the increasingly awkward silence. "Well, no worries about hangovers with this," she said, changing the subject. "It'll put you to sleep and you'll wake up refreshed. You might have some trippy dreams, but I'm not even sure vampires have them." She gave the simmering potion a stir. It gave off a few small sparks, and fizzled quietly.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:08, Mon 15 June 2020.

As Robyn had set about working her Alchemy, Liam doffed his cap and overcoat. The former had come out relatively unscathed, having been blown clear off his head by the concussive blast. The coat had taken a bit of a beating but it was black to begin with and hopefully would still do serviceable work at night.

He picked up the concoction, sparks and all, and held it up. “Well. Bottoms up, I suppose.”

Robyn swatted his hand away before he could retrieve the potion. "Whoa there, cowboy," she said. "Not quite finished yet. And you want to make damn sure you're in bed before you drink it. You wouldn't even make it down the stairs."

She took the poultice off the heat, and strained the concoction through a cheesecloth bag. Then she decanted it back into the Big Hug Mug and passed it to Liam. She tossed the solids in her compost bin.

The concoction certainly smelled like hot vitae, however it was curious that it wasn't congealing into a puck. It bubbled and sparked like an electric soda pop. He had little doubt he could safely ingest it.

Pockets smirked at Liam. "Guess this is goodnight."

"I suppose it is," Liam replied. He picked up the elixir.

"Try not to get into too much trouble without me," he remarked. "I'll see the two of you tomorrow."

Saying his evening farewells, Liam made his way down to his basement sanctuary. His clothes stank of smoke and he removed them gingerly. He had one spare set in his wet-bag and it would have to get him through until the next night out. Finally he lay down and brought the potion to his lips.

Hopefully things would start to look up again tomorrow.

Liam could hear the two bantering as he retired. The potion tickled on its way down. He could feel its electric pings work their way down his throat and then through his body. The pinging amplified and resonated in his brain, drowning out his thoughts and eventually his conscious mind altogether.

He dreamt of fire.

[4 exp for the scene. You can heal up to three levels of aggro, with BP cost, instead of one tonight. You wake up rested and gain +1 temp WP. Or would, if you weren't full.]