Liam awoke refreshed the next evening. Pockets' door was open a crack. He heard a television on inside. Upstairs, he could hear Robyn having a heated discussion. As he couldn't hear anyone else, he presumed she was on the phone. If he felt like listening in, he could easily do so from the bottom of the stairs.

Relieved to have a new wardrobe to chose from, Liam stepped out of his room and into the basement's common area. Pockets was awake ahead of him again. He crossed the room, fully intent on checking up on her when he caught Robyn's voice from up the stairs. Liam paused and cocked his head to listen.

"Look, I didn't ask for all this shit to be dropped on my lap," Robyn said. "For Chrissakes, I'm supposed to be laying low."

"Okay fine, so what if I did? What the fuck else was I supposed to do? Let 'em get blown up?"

"Well that's easy for you to say, you're a goddamn monster."

"Look,we're getting off the point. The work isn't done. And it's not getting done 'til I fix her."

"None of your damn business, that's what."

Nex. Robyn was presumably using the bracelet to communicate somehow. He thought it unlikely that Nex carried a phone. Liam frowned. Robyn could take care of herself, and there was little he could do to help but he didn't have to like it. With a shake of his head he dismissed all thoughts of the conversation and knocked on Pockets' door, before nudging it open.

"You alright in there?" he asked, putting on a smile.

Pockets groaned as she turned her head to greet Liam. She didn't get up. "I mean I'm not worse," she said weakly. "But I'm not getting any better, either. The pain is... pretty indescribable. If I was mortal, this shit would be healing. But it's just...not. I'm worse off than an NPC right now."

“Is there anything I can do?” Liam asked. He suspected there wasn’t much he could offer that Robyn hadn’t already done, and done better. “Do you need anything from the city?”

Pockets shook her head. "Not unless you can fix this, nah," she replied. "I feel so goddamn useless. I'm in so much pain I can't even concentrate on video games."

"I mean, I'd be willing to take a look," Liam replied. "I'm not sure what I can offer that Robyn cant but sometimes it just takes a different perspective."

I don't suppose there's any roll within Liam's purview that would be contributory?

Pockets laughed a little, but it was cut off by a groan. "Ow motherfucker," Pockets said. "Stop makin' me laugh. No I don't need another person poking at my stitches. And the last time you got medical training predates antibiotics."

"Unless you have a mook in your back pocket that's out of their mind on painkillers and edibles, I'm good. But thanks."

Liam smiled. "I'll ask Augusto if he has anything for your pain," Liam offered. "I'm planning on paying him a visit tonight."

"Knowing him he'll try to sell you a doped-up mook," Pockets muttered. "Watch your ass tonight."

“I will,” Liam replied. “How are you for blood? Let me know if I need to start hunting for two,” he said.

"Nah I'm good," Pockets said. "Not using blood for much these days. Robyn's drumming up volunteers, too. 'til I'm better." There was a pause. "Stay safe, mate."

Robyn had completed her conversation by the time Liam came upstairs. She was seated on the floor in her office, with her back toward the door. She had covered the floor in thick blankets and every pillow in the house. As she heard him come up, she flopped on to her back, and watched him upside-down as he ascended. Her pupils were as wide as saucers. The Tome was in her lap, unlocked but closed. "Heyyyy, there he is," she said slowly. "The night flyerrrr."

“In the flesh,” Liam replied. “I was thinking I’d take a flyover tonight actually. Pay a visit to Deluca.”

“Everything okay? I heard you on the phone before I went to check on Pockets. It sounded heated.”

"Pppfff I wasn't on the phone," Robyn said, waving her hand weakly. She seemed eager to change the subject. "Hey if you're going to see that guy, I got a package for him! In the hex box."

She pointed to a large wooden box on her shelf. Though it looked very plain, something about it repulsed Liam to his very core. His Beast raged at its chains at the very thought of touching that box.

"I better go get it, actually." She crawled over to the box. Agonizingly slowly. As she lifted the lid, Liam spied the source of his loathing. The inside of the box was covered in wards and sigils, both in the cuneiform of the First Tribe, and other languages Liam could only guess at. It probably wouldn't have opened quite so easily for him, though he surmised their primary purpose was to contain magically suspect items.

"No peekin'" Robyn said, and dipped a hand inside. She handed a small package to Liam.

From its size, weight, and the way it rattled Liam knew right away what was in the neatly wrapped brown paper package. Magic bullets.

"Book said if I ever needed anything, that I should give him those," she said. She clutched the book to her chest, pulled over a thick pad of paper and set of pens, and settled into the cushions. "'One. At. A. Time.', he said. Treat 'em like they were diamonds." It was a box of 40. That's a lot of diamonds.

Liam took one of the bullets out and held it up to inspection. After a moment he handed the rest of the package back to Robyn. "Better you keep them in there," he said, nodding towards the box without looking at it. "One is enough to show him I'm serious."

"Do you need anything from town?"

"Mmm, Gatorade," Robyn said. "Helps me get whole again after... Y'know." She patted the book. "Hey. Hey, psst, hey. Wanna see how I busted up the Tremere's stupid little world domination plan?"

Liam smiled. "Sure," he replied. "Show me."

"Kay," Robyn said. She took a thin mouth guard out of her pocket. "Just, uh, make sure my head hits the pillow."

She placed the guard in her mouth, and flipped open the cover. She flipped the thin embossed metal pages with a practised hand, until she came to rest on the correct page. She stared at the writing for a moment, and her whole body began to convulse. Her eyes bulged, and every muscle in her body gripped and shook. After an agonizing minute, her back arched, and she fell back hard on the pillows. She bled from her ears and nose, and her mouth foamed around the guard. Liam didn't know how she was able to find and grip one of the pens on her pad, but she managed to grip it in her whole fist like a child, and scribbled illegibly on the paper. She tore off a sheet and scribbled over another. Then another. And another. After what seemed to Liam to be at once both a very long and short amount of time, she went limp. She laid there for a moment, staring up at the ceiling. Then she spat out the guard.

"All you gotta do to save the world is that, 40 or 50 times in a day, once a week, for ten years," she said. "Let's hope that this problem is easier to solve."

The smile slipped from Liam's face immediately and he fought the urge to rush to Robyn's side. Instead he watched worriedly as the convulsions wracked her body.

"Jesus Christ," he said softly as the last tremor passed through her limbs and she fell silent. Liam knelt down beside her, and reaching out he took her hand. "That's ... quite the ordeal to watch. You're much stronger than I am to have stuck with it as long as you have."

"Thanks," Robyn said. With Liam's help she hoisted herself back into a seating position. "Gotta keep the pace up. It's worse when I stretch it out. Please remember to close the office door." She put the mouth guard back in, and found her place in the Tome.

And just like that, Liam was dismissed. He quietly made his way out and shut the door behind him. Turning away from the office he crossed the living room and exited through the garage. It was early enough that the village would still be awake.

The village site was a hive of activity. They had managed to lay the foundations for three trailers, and a massive pit for the gigantic septic tank. Liam was greeted with far less apprehension than the first night he'd first approached the yurt. But there was still some apprehension.

Caleb rushed over to greet his master. The old boxer flopped to the ground, grateful to have momentarily lost the attention of a dog with supernatural endurance, who would be forever in his prime.

He was pleased to see Brad at the controls of the small backhoe. Apparently he and his wife had made it back safely.

Joyce was seated over by the fire. A table nearby had been set up with the evening meal. She waved hello to Liam as he appeared.

Liam returned the wave and smiled, making his way over towards the fire with Caleb fast on his heels. "How are you tonight, Joyce?" he asked, taking a seat beside her.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:03, Mon 27 July 2020.

"As well as any of us can be, I suppose," Joyce said. She had barely touched her plate. She moved a bit of salad around with her fork. "Certainly more comfortable than we were three days ago. We saw three people off today. The young woman who hasn't been eating took a granola bar today. Still won't tell us her name though. No change with our three sleepers, though. The sooner we can get them to your doctor friend, the better."
This message was last edited by the player at 02:30, Mon 27 July 2020.

"To Corr's?" Liam ran his fingers up over his scalp. "Now there's a double edged sword."

"He runs the sort of hospital where I wouldn't send my worst enemy, but where I've been known to take my best friends when I'm in a bind. He's the best there is, no question. But he hasn't sworn the oath you're accustomed to."

"Have you talked it over with Robyn at all?"

"She recommended him," Joyce replied. "She said that she owed him an interesting case. And she also said that 'it might help him with his own blocked research into a cure,' and I was to make sure whoever delivered them made sure he was told that." She smiled. "She also said it was probably a better idea for you to deliver them than her, daylight travel notwithstanding. I assume there's some unresolved conflict there."

"Oh, yes," Liam said, grinning. "You could say that." Liam cast his gaze back across the camp and then looked down at Caleb, scratching underneath his chin. "Alright. I'll do it."

"Going to be a tight fit in the back of the cruiser though," he said.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:40, Mon 27 July 2020.

"Robyn suggested you could use the pickup truck," Joyce said. "But I guess we could buckle them in upright. Why don't you park whatever you want to take outside the yurt, and I'll go round up some of the boys to help you load them in."

Liam shook his head. “The pickup might be more comfortable but it’ll draw more attention. I won’t do them any favours if I pull down a Red Watch patrol.” He stood up and brushed down his pants.

“I’ll get the car.”

It didn't take long for them to load the three comatose people into the car, awkward though it was. They opted for putting all three of them shoulder to shoulder in the backseat, so nobody flopped on Liam and ran him off the road.

The trip to Corr's was thankfully uneventful. He didn't spy a single Redwatch patrol. When he pulled up to the spot where he'd parked a few nights before, Crowe's floating face appeared before him.

"Evenin' Liam," she said. "Come to rile up the doc some more?"

“Christ, you have no idea,” Liam said as he stepped out of the driver’s side door and walked back towards the rear. He opened the doors wide. “Robyn sends these with her regards. She says, and I quote ‘she owes him an interesting case’.”

"Puttin' it mildly," she said. "I'll send up some gurneys. So what's wrong with 'em?"

"I don't know," Liam confessed. "More Tremere bullshit. They wont wake up."

"Robyn says... Gods help me," Liam hesitated momentarily before gamely soldiering on. "Robyn says I'm supposed to tell him 'it might help him with his own blocked research into a cure'."

"I swear to God, Crowe, I'm just the bagman."

Crowe's eyebrow arched as Liam spoke, and she burst out laughing. "Well I'm sure as hell not passing that on to the doc, and I don't suggest you do either," she said. "Jesus Christ, man, you've got your hands full with her."

"I know, right?" he said with a helpless shrug of his shoulders. "But now I can at least faithfully state that I conveyed her message. Sadly I was not present to see his reaction when it was ultimately received."

"Its as close to a win-win as I get these nights, I think."

"Fair enough," Crowe said. A stack of three spinal boards floated its way on over. "I take it you're not coming in to say hello?"

"No," Liam said wistfully. "I should make sure the doc accepts the patient transfer before I head back out," he continued as he reached for the top board and started unloading.

"Its hardly fair to impose upon his services without so much as a hello, interesting cases or not. I can't stay long though. I've got a lot of ground to cover tonight."

"Probably for the best," Crowe said, taking the other end of the board. "Doc was in a real foul mood after you left. Your friend is a bit of a firecracker."

Liam took the elevator down with the first two patients. The invisible pair went back for the third. Corr was, of course, waiting for the elevator as it opened up.

"Mr. O'Farrell," said Corr. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Good evening, Doctor Corr," Liam said, putting on his most candid smile. "I've brought some interesting cases your way. We recovered them from the Tremere workshop the night I was last here, and despite our best efforts we've been unable to rouse them. I had thought you might have more success if you're willing to take a look."

Short, polite and to the point. The less embellishment the better, he decided.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:27, Tue 28 July 2020.

He examined the patient Liam was holding, indelicately lifting up the man's shirt to examine the runes carved into his flesh. "These are vessels for the Fugue blood," Corr remarked. "Halfway complete. Fascinating. I don't suppose you managed to get one who went through the complete process?"

"No," Liam said, with a shake of his head. "Only those that could leave of their own accord, and the few they could carry came with. I am told there were others left behind, deemed too far gone. I presume they perished in the fire."

"Pity," Corr said. "Still, I'll see what I can do. I'll contact your satphone if there are any developments. Thank you, Mr. O'Farrell. This should prove revelatory." Funny, he didn't think he'd given Corr his number. "Was there anything else?"

The elevator opened again behind him with the third patient. This one they carried straight down the hallway.

Liam shook his head. “Not tonight. Have a good evening, Doctor.” Presuming he was dismissed, Liam turned to take the elevator back to the surface. He still he took get the cruiser home before he headed out into the city.

Taking the logging roads into the city was time consuming, but afforded Liam safety and anonymity. Still, the night was young when he arrived back with the cruiser. Joyce waved casually to him from the fire. She was up if he wanted to debrief. Otherwise, the skies awaited.

Liam dropped the keys in the garage and headed back out into the camp. "Corr accepted them," he said, dropping down next to Joyce and turning so he could watch the fire. "That just leaves our midnight security guard to contend with."

"I'll keep working on him," Joyce replied. "I worry that the first place he'll go when released is straight to the VFPD."

"That's exactly what I fear as well. He's going to get himself killed, or worse. I don't know how to help him apart from showing him the truth, and right now I don't think he's inclined to hear it."

"Perhaps a ride along is in order," Joyce said. "Maybe if he sees some police loading people into unmarked trucks, he will be more open to the truth."

"Its not without risk," Liam said, looking away from the fire. "If he got free he could cause a big mess. But, I suppose nothing is these days. And it would mean one less headache for everyone here."

"More than a mess," Joyce said. "Did you blindfold him before taking him here? Does he know where 'here' is? Regardless, how will your adversaries respond to word of a colony of former thralls out in rural country? Or that their vaunted mind control has a counteragent in circulation? An unwitting collaborator is still a collaborator, and he's seen where we live."

"We blinded him before bringing him here," Liam confirmed. "And you'd be hard pressed to find it anyway without knowing exactly where to look. But the notion that 'here' exists would be enough to have the woods crawling with patrols all the same. That's the last thing we need."

"I have to say, I didn't know what to do with him when he balked. I figured he'd run straight to the police and get himself killed. Didn't seem right, but then this doesn't either."

"The burden of leadership is sometimes having to choose between two bad scenarios," Joyce said. "It takes a good leader to know which is worse, and to minimize the hurt involved with making that decision. I'm sure you'll find your way. And I'm always here to help ease your mind, should you find your burdens too much to bear." She patted Liam's shoulder.

"I'm really glad you're here, Joyce," Liam said, smiling fondly in her direction. "I never expected to help found a village but I'm glad you're part of it."

"I'll leave our friend for another night. I've got some things I need to do first."

"Seems to me you've been doing work for us since we got here," Joyce replied. "Go do what you need to do. Have a safe evening."

Liam stood up and strode away from the firelight down the dirt road. He wasn’t driving any further tonight. Once he was out of sight of the village he took to the skies. The transformation could be disconcerting to watch.

First on his agenda was Taben’s ridge and the remains of the Blue Tree cairn. Some things he needed to see for himself.

The Caern was a short distance from the ruined arboretum on the edge of the nature preserve. The building had been gutted by fire a decade ago, and it was strange and disconcerting that nature had not reclaimed the ruins. A VFPD cruiser was parked in the cracked and broken lot, though there was no sign of any officers.

The Caern itself was easy to spot from the air, mostly because all the trees in the vicinity had died. They had poisoned the soil for a kilometre around the site. It stank of motor oil and metallic salts. A solitary mook cop stood at the centre of the Caern, doing what had to be the shittiest guard detail the department had to offer.

Liam circled over head once, watching for additional sentries on the wing and on the ground. Unless he saw another however he alighted behind the mook and swiftly transformed. Liam had remembered to bring the red band with him and when he spoke he had every confidence he would be obeyed.

“Bare your neck to me,” he demanded.

(If the officer is compliant, Liam will take 2BP. Liam figures this is about the safest person to prey upon as it’s unlikely Red Watch has any other eyes out here)

The police officer complied without reply or hesitation. His eyes glided right off Liam. It was like he was never there.

It was enough to take the edge off of his hunger. To sate him completely would have killed the man. Liam backed away and took to the skies without another word, though this time it was only a short flight - a little over a kilometre down the ridge line. Liam descended beneath the canopy and found a fallen log to seat himself upon. Drawing the very last cigarette from his pack he set it against his lips and thought of Book.

Almost immediately, a voice came from behind. "Filthy habit," Book commented dryly. He stepped into view. "Evening, Liam. How's your first week back going?"

"Oh, you know..." Liam said with a smile. Because Book did know. He knew everything.

"Not quite the relaxing babysitting job I thought I'd signed on for."

He held his cigarette up to inspection, the sole pinpoint of light beneath the stars. "Its my last one," he said. "At least until the next one."

Liam let out the rest of his breath and with it a great plume of smoke.

"Have you been enjoying the fireworks?"

"My dear Liam, you know how I abhor violence," Book said, oozing with false piety. "That said, I can't think of a group more deserving of violence than the Tremere. Especially those Tremere. I try to think of it as an investment in violence prevention. It's just good luck for your friends that you arrived at exactly the right time to make a major difference. I shudder to think how it would have gone if they'd been two men short and without a major diversion." He chucked Liam's arm, with just a hint of condescension. "Bully for you."

"The Fates conspire," Liam said with a wry grin. He took another puff on his cigarette.

"Unfortunately we didn't make an entirely clean getaway. Robyn has her hands tied up with Pockets now."
This message was last edited by the player at 19:27, Wed 29 July 2020.

"How fortunate for Pockets that Robyn entered her life," Book said. "You've got to look at this situation as a 'glass half full' scenario. Robyn is quite competent. Brilliant, really. If anyone can help your friend, it's her."

“I have every confidence in Robyn’s abilities,” Liam replied. “I know she’ll get there eventually. But if you have any notion how to keep Pockets comfortable in the interim, I’m all ears.”

"Drugs work on Kindred when filtered through an intermediary," Book replied. "But I'm sure you knew that already. You're a resourceful boy, I'm sure you'll find an opening. But if it were me, I'd go straight to the source, as it were."

Straight to the source, Liam mused. “The Tremere, you mean? That would be Miss you have in mind, I suppose.” Admittedly Liam had had the thought already. “Have you spoken with her recently?”

"Did I mean her?" Book said slyly. "No, she's still sore about me having half of the Third Tribe killed. You know how kids get when they're holding a grudge."

“Downright explosive, I imagine,” Liam remarked. “I can’t very well stroll up to the chantry and knock on the door though. I don’t suppose you know where she is tonight?”

"Why can't you?" Book said, and shrugged. "Because right now she's at the Alhambra, and I guarantee you you'll get an icier reception over there. I don't think she can reach the pedals on Jean's old Rolls, so I imagine she has a driver. I don't think she'll be staying too long. Maybe another hour. I don't know how you plan to get into a moving car without arousing attention, but then again I don't have your aptitudes."

"Jean's old car, you say?" Liam asked. "I think I remember it."

Armed with that information Liam had a sporting chance of finding Miss tonight. Getting in to see her without rousing suspicion was another matter. He'd have to think it over, and rather quickly. An hour at most wasn't much time at all.

"I may have to rearrange my plans this evening." He fished out the bullet Robyn had given him and peered at it in the moonlight. "I'd been planning on paying a visit to Deluca, but I suppose he'll keep for another night or two should it come to that."

"I don't know why you don't just wait til she's home and knock on the front door, but you do you," Book replied.

He perked up when he saw the bullet. "Ah, Augusto," Book said wistfully. "Some of my finest work. Finally getting some use out of Robyn's gift, I see. Tell him I say hello."

Liam nodded, turning the bullet over between his fingers. “I will,” he said, somewhat distractedly. “It is the bullets then and not the gun?” he asked. “Or would these bullets cause havoc in any other firearm?”
This message was last edited by the player at 23:54, Thu 30 July 2020.

"It's the bullets, and the wielder," Book said. "So don't get any fancy ideas. That said, you give him two of those and he'll happily put one of them wherever you want it. He might talk you up to three, but he's really in no position to bargain. He will desperately want that one in particular. He's been out of them for a while now."

“Now that is a helpful piece of information,” Liam said, pocketing the bullet with a smile. “Last question for you tonight, Reverend.”

“When I so much as glance at the Book, it doesn’t just call to me - it practically drags me inside. But when Pockets flipped through its pages, it may as well have been a Cyrillic phonebook. She wasn’t phased in the least. It was like the tome was dead for her.”

“Why is that?”

"She's a special case," Book said. "She can spot Vamanando's presence with a glance. It's why she became so involved so quickly after her arrival here. She just sees the world differently than you, and even me. But mostly, it's because she just never bothered to learn the language."

“I suppose that makes sense,” Liam replied. He stood up and crushed his cigarette into the ground beneath the toe of his boot. “Maybe another hour, you say,” he said, glancing down at his wristwatch. “And I can just knock at the door.” Liam sounded somewhat incredulous at this point but Book was usually right on the money about these things.

“Thank you for humouring me this evening. I always appreciate the fresh perspective.”

"Oh, I live for these little chats of ours," Book said. "Anytime."

Liam waved farewell and took to the skies. An hour was still an hour, and he intended to make the most of the night. His path led him straight towards the Orphanage, though he circled overhead once to ensure he was alone before landing.

The Orphanage looked much the same from the road, but it was different from the sky. A new addition had been built on the grounds. The Redwatch were making a lot of orphans. Reception was open and operating. A familiar feeling of calm washed over him. For the moment, the worries of the city were gone. He knew everything was going to be all right.

The girl at the front desk was new, and couldn't have been older than 17, though this was hardly a surprise. Orphans without adopters tended to get jobs here until they were old enough to be on their own. A couple had even stayed, and moved on to more hands-on roles. What was surprising was that she wasn't mooked. She made a convincing display of going glassy eyed and mute at the sight of a vampire, but Liam was pretty canny.

Liam stood in the vestibule and closed his eyes, feeling the worries of the evening leach away. He felt lighter. Wholly at peace. If only it could last...

He sighed, an expression of contentment as much as melancholy, and opened his eyes to find the young receptionist staring at him without trying to look like she was staring. Liam smiled. His eyes sparkled.

"Good evening, miss," he said, slipping off the red arm band. Even as a disguise it had no business being displayed in this place.

"Would you be kind enough to tell the mistress of the house that Liam O'Farrell is here to see her?" He found a chair across from the reception and took a seat.

The girl was afraid to act for a moment, and stood there with her mind reeling. Finally she picked up the phone and placed an internal call. There was an exchange of hushed whispers. Then a moment of waiting. Finally, someone emerged from the doors leading out of reception. Liam recognized the woman from the front desk over a decade ago. Naturally, she was a little older, and far wiser. She studied his face with scrutiny, then nodded to herself.

"You look different," she said flatly. "But you're you, all right. Please follow me."

She led him up through the old halls to the lonely attic stairs. Or rather, the place where they used to be. The doorway was now hidden by a false wall and a sturdy trophy case. The woman flipped a hidden latch, and both swung away with ease. The stairs led up into absolute darkness.

"So you've returned," Eurydice said. There was the sound of a body rising from a pool of water, followed by the rustling of fabric and wet footsteps on tile. They approached him, and he felt a momentary electric surge as wet fingertips traced the contours of his face.

Liam shuddered under the familiar touch and smiled in the darkness. "A little bit older, and a little bit wiser I hope," he said. "But its still me." Liam reached up and gently closed his hand around Eurydice's.

"Chianna did it, if that's what you're wondering. I'd started to feel like the picture of Dorian Gray, and the face I wore no longer belonged to the man inside."

"This feels more... suitable to a man of my age."

"How are you keeping, Eurydice?" he asked after a moment's pause.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:45, Fri 31 July 2020.

She stiffened perceptibly at the mention of Chianna. "The Tzimisce does... Thorough work." She was eager to change the topic. "I am as well as can be expected. I've been hard at work protecting the children of this city, I do what I an to help them heal from the horrors they have witnessed, and I place them well outside the city. The Tremere believe that they are planting sleeper agents, but I am doing my best to thwart that as well."

"I saw," Liam replied. "Your receptionist put on a convincing show, but I could sense she had her wits about her."

"Admittedly I didn't know what to expect, coming here tonight. So much of the city has changed. So much is gone. I'm glad to find that some things at least stay the same."

"It has not been easy," Eurydice replied. "Jacob and Hasan made it possible. Were it not for them, I fear the Tremere would have discovered me. That would have been the end of everything."

“Have you spoken to them recently?” Liam asked.

"A few months ago," she replied. "They didn't mention you'd be coming here."

"They didn't know," Liam said. "I didn't know."

He looked around in the blackness but it was of no use. He could see nothing. And he'd never dared to use his night vision in this private sanctum. It seemed invasive.

"May I sit?" he asked.

"Certainly," Eurydice said. She led Liam gently to an old leather wing chair, and guided his hands to the armrests. He could hear her seating opposite to him. "So what brings you here tonight? And back to the city in general?"

"Tonight? The simple pleasure of your company. So much has changed while I've been away I needed to know this place still existed, and I apologise for frightening your staff to assuage my own insecurities," Liam replied.

"As for Verdant Falls, I suppose you might say the winds of change. A hedge wizard here has cracked the Tremere formula. She has a cure. It seems you must have something as well so perhaps that in and of itself is less significant than I thought," Liam said with a smile for the shadows. "But her's has the potential for mass dispersal, and I can only presume your method is more personal."

"That is welcome news. My method is time consuming, and... Very personally taxing," Eurydice said uneasily. "I would welcome ammore efficient method, provided there are no harmful side effects, and no one was harmed in its creation. Is this something that you can share?"

Liam reached for his mister and held it up to the darkness. "One spray from this bottle brought Msizi back to us."

"I don't know how it works, but I've witnessed its efficacy. It breaks all blood bonds. No side effects, apart from the jarring return to reality. We've liberated a small village already, but we're limited as to how fast we can grow without arousing suspicion. They're hurting, Eurydice. For the first time in a decade they can acknowledge their pain. Some of them are close to broken from the strain."

"Stranger to my thinking are the ones who refuse to believe it when freed. We've had to keep one poor soul under lock in key so that he doesn't run to the police and get himself killed. I'm still puzzling what to do with him."

Eurydice took the bottle as he held it up, but continued to listen silently.

"Take me to him," Eurydice said at the mention of the guard. "I can heal a wounded mind as well as a wounded body. I would ask you to make preparations prior to my arrival, as I do not wish to be seen."

It occurred to Liam that Robyn had a mastery over shadows, and could make accommodation easier.

Liam's mouth dropped open at the suggestion. "Are you sure?" he asked, having never known Eurydice to leave the orphanage before. "I could bring him here, if that were easier. I don't want to risk any harm coming to you or the children."

"Still," Liam mused. "Pockets is badly wounded. I had some other thoughts to pursue there first, but perhaps you could heal a broken mind as well as a broken body."

He pursed his lips.

"You know Hasan would kill me," he said, breaking into a grin despite himself. "I suppose its still a net win."

"Harm coming to the children is precisely why I do not want you bringing him here," Eurydice said. "And you should have led with Pockets needing assistance. What's wrong with her?"

“She was shot. Tremere bullets. Robyn says they’re some sort of binding charm or something,” Liam said, clearly out of his depths. “Robyn is the hedge wizard,” he clarified after the fact.

“Whatever they are it’s like they’ve turned off her ability to heal herself. We had to take her to Corr’s lab just to get the bleeding to stop. She’s stable now, but she’s not improving. And she’s in a great deal of pain. Robyn has been wracking her brains as to how to help her for a couple of days now.”

“I don’t know why I didn’t lead with that. I suppose I didn’t think it would be safe to bring Pockets to you, and I never imagined you might come to Pockets.”

"If you could guarantee that you wouldn't be spotted bringing them in and drawing suspicion here, I would much rather stay here," Eurydice said. "But I know you cannot. And if my intervention can prevent harm or death, then I must act. That is the way of things."

"What sort of preparations might you need?" he asked. "I thought perhaps you might require us to come collect you but that carries the same risks as bringing them here. I can infer then that you have some means of evading the patrols all by yourself?"

"I do," she said. "And then the consequences of discovery are on me, not on you. I would need anyone not directly involved to be well away. If you could bring them both to the same spot, it would minimize the work involved with that. Somewhere without any light. I don't do well with directions, but if you'll excuse me a moment I can fetch something to help me find you."

Liam heard her stand, and move into the other room. There was a sound of a drawer being opened, and a moment of rummaging. Finally, she returned, and placed a beaded charm in his hand. She also returned the spray bottle to him.

"In case you need it tonight," she said. "You can share it with me tomorrow."

"Thank you," Liam replied. "I'll arrange a meet in the woods nearby so you don't have far to travel. Robyn will assure your anonymity. We'll bring Pockets and the mortal. I can have Mik join us as well if you require further protection, but otherwise it will just be us four."

"I'll call the reception at dusk tomorrow to confirm. If there is any reason I think it unsafe, we'll postpone. Does that seem reasonable?"

"That should do," Eurydice replied. "And no, I would not invite Msizi. You were correct when you said Hasan may kill you if he finds out. See that he does not."

Liam cringed. For all that he wanted Pockets hale and healthy again (and to be relieved of the burden of the troublesome security guard), even he was uneasy with the plan to have Eurydice leave her sanctum however fleetingly.

"I'm sorry, Eurydice. It really wasn't my intention to burden you with these matters tonight. Truly all I'd hoped for was a visit. But I am thankful that you can help."

His visit more or less concluded, Liam moved to rise from his chair. He'd have to rely on Eurydice to see him safely out.

"It is my privilege to help," Eurydice said, leading him to the top of the stairs and placing his hand on the railing. "Until tomorrow."

"Until tomorrow," Liam echoed. He made his way back down the stairs and slipped out behind the trophy case making sure to secure it behind him. On the way out he paused and smiled at the receptionist. "Thank you," he said, kindly. And then he stepped out into the night.

Liam glanced at his watch. The visit with Eurydice had taken longer than he'd expected, but there was still a hope of catching Miss's ride from the air. If he was to take Book's advice, Liam wanted to be well and sure Miss was home before he came to call upon her.

Liam's short time with Eurydice left him feeling renewed and energized. He soared into the night sky with a deeper appreciation of the wind beneath his wings. He intercepted the unmistakable Rolls Royce just as it was entering Rosewood. It was hard to miss, as it had a heavy escort. Two APCs and a lead patrol car. Liam couldn't even make out the number of occupants from this altitude, but the lead car had its lights on, so the attention of the aerial patrols was bound to be drawn. It wasn't safe to stay near the motorcade, even as a night flyer in a moonless sky.

Liam was no tactician, but a vintage and quite unarmoured Rolls with that much attention on it would be a sitting duck in the middle of that convoy. With open season having been declared on Tremere, it wasn't just overconfident, it was reckless.

[WP refilled]
This message was last edited by the player at 01:51, Tue 04 Aug 2020.

One word rattled through Liam's avian brain, equally intelligible to its predatory instincts and to the human intellect he'd shed.

Bait.

The Camarilla was trying to draw them out.

Liam banked away from the convoy. After all, he knew where it was headed. It wasn't important that he watch it on route. But perhaps there was something to be learned at its destination, ideally from the shelter of a reclusive perch. Thankfully Rosewood was filled with grand, old trees with lush, sprawling canopies. Finding one to watch the manicured drive leading up to the Chantry grounds from would not be difficult. And with his gifted night eyes he wouldn't even have to get close.

The convoy didn't stop at the Chantry. The Rolls simply peeled off from the group and up to the chantry gates. The motorized gates swung open smoothly, and the car drove into the underground garage. The rest of the convoy took the next right, and began to double back to the Alhambra. It did not reemerge after several minutes.

Liam sat stock still until he was reasonably confident the fliers had lost interest. He remained still awhile longer because his mind frankly rebelled against the very notion of what he intended to do next. He was paralyzed with indecision. Walking up to the front door of the Chantry and knocking was suicide. Every fibre of his being told him this was so.

And yet Book had told him otherwise. Liam had no shortage of reasons to question Book’s motivations, but about this one piece of information Liam was absolutely convinced Book was speaking the truth. If he wished to speak with Miss, this was how it was going to happen. This and no other way.

Liam took to the air and landed on the lawn of the sprawling estate beneath the shade of an old oak. As he regained his normal guise once more he affixed the red sash to his arm.

“I really hope you know what the fuck you’re talking about,” he muttered to the empty walkway as he made his way up to the heavy door. Christ, he really wanted a cigarette. Too bad he was all out.

Liam seized the brass knocker, hesitated only for a moment and then let it fall.

After what seemed like an eternity, the door swung open. A plump, matronly older woman answered the door. She was dressed in a modest blue-gray livery. She did not recognize Liam from the next vampire on the street. "Good evening, sir," she said warmly. "How may I help you?"

Liam inclined his head. He could not quite believe he was doing this still.

“Good evening to you as well,” he said. You’re out of your God damned mind, an inner voice screamed at him.

“If the Regent is available, could you kindly inform her that Mr. Monday is here to see her?”

"One moment please," the woman said. She closed the door, and Liam was alone on the doorstep for an even longer agonizing wait. In the last decade, Miss had installed new topiaries around the front door. He was not visible from the road. Thankfully, the Tremere didn't seem to get many other visitors.

Finally, the door opened again. The woman beamed at him again. "Right this way, Mr. Monday." She opened the door fully and allowed him inside. Liam didn't recognize the place. The Chantry had always been a shifty building, but under Miss' regime, it had a very different atmosphere. Gone was the grand reception area and the vaulted open-access library. The front foyer was just wide enough to accommodate the two with a comfortable distance between them, but just barely. The walls were black and undecorated.Closed doors led in every direction, but the matron was headed for the one at the top of the stairs.

This led to... Another hallway. Through a door, and another hallway. Black and bare. More stairs, and another door. She produced a key, and unlocked it. Finally, he was in the office of the regent.

This room looked much as it did in Jean's day. An impressive private library lined one wall. A cozy sitting area, and the Regent's imposing desk. The fireplace behind it was new. And big. Very big. Miss must not be bothered by fire, but even Liam's Beast leapt at its chain at the sight. Bet it scared the shit out of the initiates.

However, he found Miss seated in the cozy nook, nestled in a well-worn overstuffed leather chair. There was another one sitting empty opposite hers. An ancient bottle sat on the table between them, its label worn and illegible. A filled glass sat at his place. Miss had hers in her hands.

"Thank you, Mabel," Miss said. The matron left without a word. "Have a seat, Liam."

She was unusually dressed, for her. A contemporary suit, tailored to her small frame. She looked unhappy.

Liam knew from past experience that the whole of the Chantry was a massive puzzle box. He reasoned this was as much to build up the skills of the initiates as it was to confound intruders. Walking down the long, imposing corridors Liam couldn't help but cast his gaze back over his shoulders and wonder if the halls would still be there in the same configuration if he tried to retrace his steps.

Jean's old offices were a more comforting sight apart from the roaring fire behind the Regent's desk. Liam's gaze drifted towards the licking flames involuntarily and he almost missed the servant's departure. Tearing his attention away with an effort he offered a smile of genuine warmth if uncertain affection for Miss.

"Thank you, Annie," he said, as he accepted the seat. Liam was likely one of the few people left alive who knew and had used Miss's name before - always when they were alone. He reached out and picked up his glass, nosing the bouquet before taking a sip. He knew Miss to have exquisite taste.

"I've caught you at a bad time," he said apologetically. It was clearly more of a statement than a question.

"Have you?" Miss replied. She took a sip from her glass. "Because I was just thinking about you, and after ten years of silence, here you are knocking on my front door." She studied him for a long moment.

The vitae was well-aged, but had a strong bitterness and undertones of want and rage. A couple sips and Liam could feel his Beast purring. A good vintage for nursing one's resentment.

"Fortunately for you, the Chantry is not the marketplace of ideas it was before the occupation, but a vault for secrets. I admire the audacity, but perhaps you shouldn't make a habit of it."

"You were thinking of me?" Liam replied with some surprise. "I'm not sure if I should be flattered."

He shook his head in agreement. "No, I don't think it would be wise either. But after ten years abroad I didn't know any other way to contact you."

"Who's left? Kieran I hope?"

"Oh, he's around," Miss said. "Along with a handful of others. Most of them got picked for assignments and moved to the Alhambra. Anyone who was in any significant way involved with Holloway, or the Accord, or had been overly generous with our secrets during the transparency era, or demonstrated too much loyalty to Cormier were simply left here to rot. Or had 'accidents'. Some have tried to make childer, but the Redwatch claims them all. They get the Red Chalice, and they're off to die with the yellow-bands."

She drained her glass and poured another. "Me? I fit none of those criteria. I wasn't a fan of the Accord, or Cormier, and especially not Holloway. But I'm a child in their eyes. And a female child at that. I just got back from asking van Fokke for an assignment, and got chewed out for having the audacity to tell him how to manage the Pyramid. And also got a pretty clear message to watch my back on the ride home."

"And so you are left to steward over a mostly empty house with nothing but time on your hands," Liam concluded, raising his glass to his lips briefly. "Its van Fokke's loss whether he knows it or not," he continued after a moment. And infinitely to my gain, Liam silently considered.

"But is that truly what you would have wanted? They are the occupation, as you succinctly put it. Why help them at all if you are not called to?"

"Why do you think?" Miss said with a smirk. "Thanks I'm sure in no part to you, they find their recent archaeological acquisition understaffed. I offered to bring in my crew. I explained exactly how qualified I am, and how I am the preeminent scholar on the language of the First and Second Tribes, and was instrumental in the dismantling of the Third Tribe."

She slumped back in her chair. "He offered to pass on my journals. Insisted, rather. Took them right out of my hands. I've been waiting half my unlife for Seavers' vigil over the site to finally come to an end, and all that's keeping me from it now is the archaic prejudices of a small, officious prick."

"Ah, that kind of assignment," Liam said, finally grasping at Miss's intent. "Is that the reason I came to mind tonight?"

"I confess I may have had something to do with the sudden abundance of vacant management positions at the archaeological dig site. Its part of the reason why I'm here, truthfully."

"Finally ready to take the fight to the Pyramid?" Miss mused. "I'll try my best to keep our Chantry out of the way. But for the moment most of them are still bound to the Pyramid, so there's only so much I can do."

"Yes," Liam replied. "And no."

"I was specifically thinking about the dig site when I flew over. I've seen the Alhambra and the water works. I have no illusions about launching an offensive against either one. But the Pyramid doesn't know what they have in the Old City. That's abundantly clear from how little attention they're devoting towards it."

"If you're wondering how it is I came to be back in town, it was Book who informed me that my return would be timely. And it was also Book who told me I might find you here tonight with no other intrusions," Liam said over the brim of his glass.

"Mmm," Miss replied. "So you've come to free It. And you need me. Or rather, we need each other. I wonder just how much of my misfortune has been orchestrated by that smug demon."

Liam nodded. "We do," he concurred. "And only Book can tell you the answer to that, although if its any consolation I think he's authored his own misfortune more than that of anyone else. The Third Tribe lived and died on the back of his conceit."

"A question though, if you'll forgive my ignorance. How is it that some of the Chantry is not presently bound to the Pyramid? I would have thought that was insisted upon, though clearly you are not beholden to van Fokke or any of the hierarchy."

Miss allowed herself an indulgent chuckle at Liam's first comment. "Yes, how many times have his plans been so very close to fruition, only to be dashed by humankind's insatiable ambition? How does he go on? I suppose when you're unable to die, you just have to keep getting back on the horse."

And to his question, she merely shrugged. "I could never get the hang of deferring to someone I didn't respect. So I guess blood bonds just never took with me. The rest of the chantry is still bound to the Pyramid. In our case, the pledge is renewed thrice a year. You can understand the position that puts me in. I have to pretend to be his puppet or my life is as good as forfeit." She scowled, and looked into her glass.

Those lousy miserable pukes. They all deserved the unhappy bloody end to their grim polemic. And they were gonna give it to them. They were all gonna pay.

This vitae was getting to him.

Liam pursed his lips and stared into the swirling colors within the generous bulb of the crystal wine glass. At last he put the cup aside and turned his gaze to Miss.

"You are aware of Robyn Rowe?" he asked, apropos of nothing.

"The Witch?" Miss said. "Am I ever. I've got an autographed copy of her book, right over there." She pointed it out on the shelf. Against the backdrop of ancient leather-bound tomes, the glossy hardcover stuck out like a sore thumb. "It's the finest book of practical magic ever constructed. The section on laundry alone is worth the work involved in decrypting it. She was going to go to van Fokke when they took her, only she got wise to the Fugue, caused a couple scuffles, and then disappeared. The Redwatch assumed the Nagaraja had taken her to Enoch."

She smiled slyly. "That's all I know, but something tells me I'm about to know more. So how's she mixed up in all this?"

"She's still around," he said with an impish grin. "And in possession of the Book," he added significantly.

"Book's fatal flaw always lay with casting his net too broadly. A tribe will always give in to humankind's insatiable ambition. But the few can tame it. Robyn can help us. I am confident. But her attention is devoted elsewhere at the moment, and for that I need your help."

"Pockets was wounded at the University. Robyn says she's been afflicted by some sort of binding curse or charm. Her body wont heal. I have every confidence that Robyn can solve this eventually but that keeps her otherwise occupied, and Pockets languishing in pain in the meantime. I thought perhaps you could point her in the right direction."

Miss pondered the implications of the revelation for a moment. Her expression was inscrutable. The second revelation seemed to intrigue her as much as the first. "Binding, you say? Do you have any idea who cast it?"

Liam shrugged. "I wasn't in a position to see," he replied. "But I presume they didn't make it out of Teasdale Hall."

"Binding is very deep magic indeed, Liam," Miss said. "I only know of one binding curse like what you describe. So the story goes, it's nearly as old as the Path of Blood itself. Tremere - that's the person, not the clan - needed a weapon to use against the elders themselves. He only taught it to a handful of his acolytes. It's what allowed him to diablerize Saulot. Once he became an antediluvian, he grew paranoid that the knowledge could be turned against him. He had his acolytes killed."

"The curse was supposed to block a vampire from their own essence. The victims would lose connection to their disciplines, their supernatural affinities - like your ability to heal wounds - and the powers associated with their generation. With powerful enough casters, it could make an elder as weak as a thin blood."

"van Fokke served under Tremere. It is possible that he learned it clandestinely or was taught by one of Tremere's acolytes. No one else could possibly hold that knowledge. It would also explain how he and his Witch-hunters managed to best Seavers."

"If your account is accurate, he's passed that knowledge on, at least one step down the Pyramid. This means he's desperate to take out Holloway. It also means you must be very careful. Draw down on the wrong Tremere, or trigger the wrong booby trap and... Well, you better have a weapon a mortal can wield.'

"The way curses tend to work, it can be lifted easily by the caster, and with difficulty by another Thaumaturge. They would, of course nedd to have learned the path. That's just a guess, though."

"If the caster is dead..." Liam mused, rubbing his chin. Eurydice might be able to close Pockets wounds, but Liam had his doubts she could unbreak this particular curse. He was even more grateful for having made the fateful decision to visit Miss this evening.

"Is this a path you know?" he asked. "You're the only Thaumaturge in the city I'm inclined to trust. That said, I'm not sure Pockets trusts any since her 'falling out' with Cyrus. It would take some convincing to get her on board."

"Until you told me about Pockets, I thought it was a myth," Miss said. "I'm sure the Tome could help me there. Or I could conceivably torture it out of a Witch-hunter."

Liam winced, and then broke into a smile despite himself. "Perhaps we'll leave the torture out of it for now."

"What you've told me may be enough to start. I don't give up easily, I'm sure you recall."

Liam took a deep breath. "I've a couple more questions for you, if you don't mind, since you're my only window into the Camarilla at present."

"Who is left, after Teasdale? van Fokke, obviously. But who else should I be wary of?"

"And do you have any insights into Redwatch? I think we deprived them of a sizeable number of their fliers the other night. Do you have any idea how many gangrel are left?"

"van Fokke has his personal retinue to contend with," Miss said. "Magic is a versatile field, but the Witch-hunters have devoted their entire Thaumaturgical education towards combat. You also have van Fokke's administration in the Alhambra. A dozen or so vassals to other high-ranking Tremere, and a few bureaucrats. They coordinate the clan's efforts worldwide. There are also about eight or nine architects overseeing the waterworks. They're young, and very green. Embraced and trained to take over the roles of the fine folks you blew to kingdom come. This project is pretty important. They'll probably bring in replacements. I don't know who'd be stupid enough to volunteer, though."

"As for the Redwatch... you'd need to ask someone close to them. I don't qualify. They're only marginally more fond of me than they are of you."
This message was last edited by the player at 18:53, Wed 05 Aug 2020.

Sent you a message on discord in case Miss elaborates on Redwatch. I'll post regardless since I have a moment.

Liam took the information in stride because there was nothing else to do besides. He steepled his fingers over his lap.

"You don't know who'd be stupid enough to volunteer because of the big red 'X' they just drew on themselves from the likes of Holloway, or because the project itself is dangerous?" he asked.

"Is there... is there anyone you would trust to remain loyal to you over the pyramid if not for the chalice?"

"The project itself is glamorous, even if everything but its importance is being kept a secret from new applicants," Miss said. "But the entire old project team, including well-respected masters and elder Tremere, being killed in one fell swoop... you can't keep that kind of thing a secret for long. Not if I had anything to do with it. And I did."

To Liam's second question, she winced. "Hard to say," she said. "Trust isn't something that's fostered within the Tremere. I couldn't really hazard a guess unless I broke their blood bond first. The logistics are easy; the upper echelons perform the ritual for me, and I perform it for the Chantry. But the only reliable and suitably clandestine method for breaking bonds is Vaulderie blood. And I'll be damned if I'll give this Chantry over to the Sabbat."
This message was last edited by the player at 18:59, Wed 05 Aug 2020.

"There's no Sabbat left to give them over to," Liam remarked. "Leave it with me for now. I have some ideas, but I need to talk to Robyn."

"What can you tell me about these blood wagons? I've been leery to hunt too brazenly with the patrols as they are. Is vitae rationed out by the powers in the Alhambra, or is there enough to go around that if some were siphoned away it might go unnoticed?"

"That's Redwatch business," Miss said. "They don't want us out hunting in a pandemic, so anyone gets a weekly delivery. I don't know about others, but they give us exactly enough for us to make it through the week, and nothing more. I hear they've got a few stockpiles around the city, too. One less after the bombing, of course."

Liam nodded.  He still had one other avenue to explore but it would have to wait for another night. “Just one more question, tonight. How do I contact you again?” He asked after a moment. They both seemed to be of the opinion that knocking at the door wasn’t a sustainable option.

Miss downed her glass and walked over to the desk. She opened a drawer, and rummaged around in what sounded like a pile of keys. She returned with a nondescript brass key, and handed it to him. "This should get you past the wards." She said. "You can come in the same way I'll let you out." She walked over to the bookshelf, flipped a hidden latch, and opened up a secret compartment that led to a ladder. "It won't open from the inside, but you should knock before entering my office anyway."

Liam held the key in hand and peered up the ladder. “Thank you, Annie,” he said. “I need to figure out the next steps. It may take me a few nights, but I’ll be back. And I’ll be sure to knock.”

"I look forward to seeing you again," Miss said dryly. "Oh, and incidentally, the new face isn't so different than your old one that you should be showing your face around town. Masks are popular nowadays. Consider investing. I hear the Redwatch ghouls are fond of those stupid neck scarves with the skull mouth on them. But I think they also come in black."

"Interesting," Liam remarked. He sounded somewhat surprised. "I'd thought only the ghouls would be wearing them and any Kindred wearing a mask would draw more attention. If they're the fashion of the day however, who am I to complain? I'll be sure to find one."

"Goodnight, Miss."

Liam started up the ladder and into the night.

Augusto next unless interrupted

"Don't get me wrong, it's mildly suspicious," Miss said. "But not as suspicious as your face to anyone who might remember you from back in the day. Don't forget that some of your old friends are now serving as yellow-bands."

"Goodnight, Liam. Be safe."

The ladder led out into one of the belfries adorning the roof. Liam made a note of which one. It would be a trivial thing to see a bat coming to roost in the Chantry. Far less risky than knocking on the door.

The docks were the only area of the city that had remained open during the lockdown. The Camarilla couldn't afford to shut down the lifeblood of the city's economy; and moreover, it would look suspicious to the mortal authorities. Mask compliance was, naturally, near-perfect thanks to the Fugue.

He had no idea where to start looking for Augusto, but there were a few likely spots that immediately stood out.

The Sole Regret was a dive bar open to merchant seafarers around the clock. It had been around in Liam's day, and he doubted the occupation had done much to improve its image.

The warehouse at Pier 6 seemed to be inordinately well-guarded. Men in suits were posted at the fence, the doors, and the rooftops. None of them bore Redwatch insignia.

Then there was the Liska, a Russian cargo ship anchored a good two kilometres from the shore. Angry foreign music was blasting from its loudspeakers, and the deck was patrolled by men in full body armor, with an arsenal of weapons that made the kit at the pier look like popguns.

Liam descended on one of the quieter piers and helped himself to a wayward sailor who'd spent some time in the Sole Regret already this evening by the taste of his blood. His belly still grumbled in protest but he was not in dire straights. Doffing his arm band and tucking it deep inside a pocket he walked over to Pier 6 with his arms conspicuously out to the sides. The suited gorillas worked for Augusto, he was fairly certain.

"Good evening," he said, smiling at the guards posted at the fence. "Is Mr. Deluca in tonight? I'd kindly like a word."

The meanest of the assembled gorillas gave Liam an appraising glower through the reflex sight of his shotgun. Definitely not mooked. Judging from the thickness of his accent, he was an import. He did not lower his weapon as he spoke. Neither did the others.

"Name," he said bluntly.

The gorilla nodded to one of his cohorts, who took out a radio. ×<<There's a Liam O'Farrell to see the boss,>> he said in Russian.

A short time later, there came a reply. <<The Boss says he's a good customer, sending the skip out now.>>

The goons lowered their weapons. The gorilla jabbed a finger to the direction of the docks. "You go," he said. "They send boat."

Liam nodded. "Thank you," he replied, happy to leave the guards to their monotonous duties. He turned his head in the direction indicated and then went to meet the skiff.

The boat driver was just as friendly. There was no conversation on the way over to the boat. They led him up the ladder and immediately below decks. Augusto was in the galley, sitting in the centre of the room. Goons were occupying the corners.

Augusto was wearing sunglasses, but they did little to disguise how skeletal he had become. Jacob looked tired and worn-out from his hard years in Verdant Falls. Augusto looked withered. He had a bottle of Jack's Own open and poured. When Liam appeared, he stood and walked over to him.

"Liam!" he said warmly. "How've you been, huh?" He took Liam's hand in his chin, and lightly slapped his cheek. "I feel like I been keeping up with you from all the purchase orders the boys have been sending out, but what's it been since I seen ya? Ten years? C'mon, c'mon, have a seat."

After they sat, he took out a pack of cigarettes. A Russian brand Liam didn't recognize. He took one in his lips, and offered the pack to Liam, then left it on the table between them.

"Ten years," Liam agreed as he took a seat across from Augusto. "Thank you," he added, reaching for a cigarette. "You've no idea how much I've been looking forward to one of these tonight."

He sparked the tip with his lighter and let out a breath with a smile.

"I see you've been keeping plenty busy," he said, gesturing about the cabin with the lit cigarette. "The Liska, is it?"

The cigarette tastes a bit like smoking a road flare. An old one. But any port in a storm so they say.

"Eh, this is nothin'," Augusto said. "You know, when you left town, they were using the Russian mob to traffick in all their test subjects? The first wave of the Fugue," he gestured at the goons. "All these guys. They didn't account for me taking over the whole syndicate. Bit too late, of course. By the time I shut down the meat market, they had already rolled it out. Then nobody noticed when the locals went missing."

"Still, I've been like a bad penny to them ever since. I'm guessing you were with the boys when they lit off my little firecrackers the other night?"

"I sure was," Liam grinned. "Front and centre. Hell of a view."

"How have you kept this lot free and clear of the Fugue?" he asked, nodding towards the very same goons. "Vaulderie? Or are you trafficking in bottled water on the side?"

"Imported bottled water, and imported crew," Augusto said. "They all know what's what. Vampires, the Fugue, the whole deal. Keeps 'em from getting stupid."

He drained his glass, and poured another. He slid the bottle to Liam. "So is this a social call to let me know you're in town, or were you looking to acquire?"

"Bit of both," Liam said, reaching for the bottle and pouring out a second, healthy glass. "The first firecracker I set off didn't belong to you," Liam said, taking a puff on his cigarette.

"Cams found my safehouse in Riverhead while I was gone. Turned the key in the lock for the first time in ten years and *boom*. Everything's gone up in flames. Myself included," he said, patting his chest and blowing smoke.

"Going to need to replace my kit if I plan to keep sticking it to Redwatch."

"But the city also changed while I've been away, which I suppose shouldn't come as a surprise. I'm calling on old acquaintances - trying to figure out the lay of the land."

"I understand Redwatch has all but ceded the docks to you," he said, gesturing with his cigarette. Liam took a sip from his glass.

"Well of course they have," Augusto said with a smirk. "I supply them with half their arsenal. They've tried to take me out a couple times, but I've made it clear that my cut of their weapon sales ain't worth their time. They kinda gave up trying. All the same, I tend to keep well out of the city proper. I run the warehouse from here, but they don't know that. It's like Sun Tzu says: If your enemy knows where you're at, buddy, don't fuckin' be there."

He took another gulp of whiskey. "Sorry to hear about your troubles. Of course I can kit you out. What is it you're looking for, exactly?"

Liam smiled. Of course Augusto was making money off of both ends of the conflict.

"Its just stuff," he said with a shrug. "I didn't lose anything I need that I can't replace."

"I presume then everything you have or can get your hands on are also imports? Nothing from inside the city?"

"I need a proper trench gun to start. I plan to get my hands dirty down in the sewers at some point. I had an automatic shotgun that would have done the job nicely, but its so much slag at the bottom of a pit in Riverhead now."

"Shit, I thought you were gonna ask for something hard," Augusto said. He shouted towards the kitchen. <<Shotguns. Give me the autos and the high-caps.>>

Moments later, the cooks brought out a pair of long foot lockers put, stacked one on top of the other. They opened these and laid out an impressive array of large-bore boomsticks.

He picked up the largest of the first set. "You've probably seen the Redwatch humping these big fuckers around. AA-12s. Bulky, fussy, heavy, pain in the ass." He tossed it to one of the cooks, who stumbled to catch it.

"You want a Saiga," he said, picking up something that looked like a Kalashnikov. "It's basically an up-chambered AK. Compact, reliable, tough. Twelve round magazines. If you want a more compact arrangement, the stock comes off. Standard mag holds 8. You can get a 12-round box or 30—round drum but then you're back to being bulky. Personally, if you want capacity you're better off with a good pump."

He passed the Saiga to Liam and picked up a futuristic looking boxy number. "Neostead. Two tube mags in the top, 7+7+1, 15—round capacity. You can select which mag to feed from and load it up with two different kinds of ammo if you're so inclined." He laid the second gun in front of Liam. "So what'll it be?"

"I had a Neostead," Liam said, running his hand along the barrel reminiscently. "Got it off of Trent back in the day. Always feared the ammo selector would fail on me at the wrong time."

He looked back at the gun in his hand, feeling the weight of it. "I think you're right. I want a Saiga. Kalishnikov built a rifle that would fire under the worst conceivable conditions on the eastern front. That's what I need out of a gun."

Liam took a puff on his cigarette, holding both it and his drink in the other hand now.

"What do you have for ammunition? Dragon's breath?"

"I mean, if you hate your gun and want to change out the receiver every twenty rounds, then sure I can get you Dragon's Breath. It's what I sell the Redwatch. Though if you want to do some damage to your opponent and not your gun, I'd recommend a HESH round. He leaned over and dug a round out of one of the foot lockers. "It's basically a metal-coated C4 slug. You use it on a hard target, and it kinda... Squashes on it before it blows up. Good for light armor, but it'll blow up people just as well. Though just between you and me, good old-fashioned double aught buck suits most needs just fine. And it's a lot safer than high explosives if you plan on takingit  into poorly maintained tunnels, capisce?"

“I like it,” Liam replied. “That makes a good deal more sense to me.”

“How about this swanky body armor your boys are wearing?” Liam asked. “Got anything in my size?”

He set the gun down and took a sip from his glass.

“By the way, is the Sole Regret yours? Or is someone else running out of the docks? I see the Cams haven’t shut it down.”

Augusto smiled widely at his first question. "This guy," he said to one of his goons. "Just gets through telling me he walked away from a bomb blast, and he wants to get some armor." He chuckled.

To Liam's second question, he shook his head. "No," he said. "Nothing in the city is mine. Except for the warehouse, but that's because I do business with them, and I've demonstrated I'll defend it." A dark expression washed over his face for a moment, and he was quiet. Then he changed the subject.

"So yeah, we can get you some armor. Those guys on the deck are wearing some entry-level tactical gear. Ballistic helmet, full vest and groin. You probably don't need any pads so that'll lighten you up a bit, but that ceramic plating is heavy as fuck. You're strong, but it'll probably still bind you up a bit if you wanna get acrobatic. If you want something a little more form-fitting you can wear all the time, I can get you that too. It'll take a pistol or a shotgun blast but anything high-powered will punch right through. Might slow it down a bit, but it's not you're gonna find it sweaty or anything. Perks of being dead." He knocked on his own chest to indicate that he was wearing one himself.

He arched his eyebrow. "I do have to caution you that after a couple rounds, even the big boys lost their integrity. After that it's basically just a really heavy cardigan. So no refunds."

He snickered. "Now, if you're planning on standing in front of any more explosions, I can probably get you an EOD suit, but I'll have to ship it in from Ukraine."

"I didn't plan on standing in front of the last explosion either but these sorts of things have a knack for finding me all the same," Liam said with a grin. "Maybe its because I don't leave well enough alone," he added with a wink.

"Forget the bomb disposal suit. I need to be able to move. How much are we talking for the form fitting suit, the Saiga, a couple of spare mags and a box of HESH rounds?" Liam asked.

One job at a time. There was only so much he could walk away with and still fly home, Liam knew. And there was no point in walking out with an arsenal he couldn't use. Finding Lloyd was a definable objective. He had a rough idea of what he might need to get there and it didn't include 30-cals on a belt feed.

"And do your guys have a chop shop with an RF shielded container or something like that? If I brought back some Redwatch guns or maybe something as large as a VFPD cruiser, could your boys strip out the transmitters?"

"A cruiser or something you're gonna want to handle on site," Augusto said. "If the GPS logs led up to my warehouse and then it went dark, well, even the Redwatch are going to figure that one out. If you're looking to bag some kit, you can literally bag it."

"We can discuss price once I make sure we've got everything in your size," he said, almost dismissively. Then, to his lieutenant. "Bring Mr. O'Farrell one of the big Faraday bags when you bring up his purchases, please. And throw in a few boxes of buckshot on the house." The gooniest of the goons in the room disappeared into the bowels of the ship.

"Cops use Faraday bags for phones and laptops all the time," he continued. "All's you gottaJust make sure you don't open the bag unless you're inside a shielded room. We made one out of a shipping crate. Which I guess you could use to conceivably boost a car. Which is why you usually bring someone who's good with tech with you to steal the car, cause that sounds like a lot of work. But I don't rent out my techies. Normally I'd tell you to hire us to boost something, but the city's too hot right now. Maybe when things cool down a bit we can talk."

He leaned in conspiratorially. "But from the sound of things, you're no stranger to boosting stuff. What's this I hear about you stealing a buncha houses?"

“The resistance needs a place to live,” Liam said with a grin. “Although I’ve gotta say, that one could have gone smoother,” he added without elaborating.

“I’d love to talk battle rifles with you sometime but I flew in tonight, so I’m only carrying out what I can wear. Couple more items on the list I’d like to bring back with me, and they should be easy. I‘ll take an extra face mask off your hands if you have any. Ship full of mortals in the midst of a pandemic, I’d be amazed if you don’t. And I need a bottle of Gatorade. Any flavour, so long as it’s unopened. Special request,” he said with a wink.

He turned to one of the cooks. "You heard the man," Augusto said. The cook disappeared into the kitchen. He turned his attention back to Liam. "You be sure to give ol' Augusto a call when you're setting to kit this resistance out, you hear?"

The chef returned with a black & gray digital camo neck gaiter, a navy blue fabric earloop mask, and a bottle of Gatorade with English and Russian on the label. "Now who says gun running isn't a service indus-"

Augusto trailed off as the music booming from the deck cut off abruptly. He stood, and looked at his goons. Then at Liam. There was a moment of silence, then a voice came over the radio.

<<Someone from the Tremere to see you, Boss,>> the voice said. <<On the deck.>>

Augusto cleared his throat. "Be right back," he said. He looked up at the dorade vent on the galley ceiling. "You know, if I wanted to look up on deck without being seen, I'd use one of those."

"Augusto," Liam interjected. He hated to negotiate with a man over a barrel, but really what better time was there to do so? Liam reached into his pocket and pulled out something small in his closed fist. "Sun Tzu might have had more to say on the subject but I always thought Roosevelt put it well: Speak softly and carry a big stick."

Liam unfurled his fingers palm up, holding the smallest big stick that ever there was on his upturned hand.

"I thought this might make us square tonight."

Being arms dealer to the arms dealer was a rare and heady opportunity. Liam wasn't about to lose his best and only customer to van Fokke's witch hunters tonight.

For the moment, Augusto forgot all about the commotion up on deck. He took off his sunglasses and stared wide-eyed at the object in Liam's palm. He reached out ant plucked it with trembling fingers. Then he hastily pulled out his gun, and fed the round into the waiting chamber of his five-seven. As the slide snapped the round into place, Augusto gave a grunt and a deep shudder, like a junkie getting his first hit after a long dry spell. Liam swore that his face grew a little less skeletal right before his eyes.

"Yeah...this'll just about square us," he said placidly, after a moment lost in bliss. Then, dreamily, he added. "I, uh, gotta go see what's what."

"Go," Liam said with a smile. He put out his cigarette in the ash tray and tossed back the remainder of his drink. Standing up from the table as Augusto departed he looked around the compartment at the remaining goons. "Fellas, I'm going to go watch from up there if that's alright with you," he said pointing at the vent.

Liam discorporated into a vaguely man shaped cloud of mist with a wink and gently drifted up towards the ceiling.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:36, Mon 10 Aug 2020.

There was no argument from the Goons, and they seemed unsurprised when Liam disincorporated in front of them.

By the time Liam had made it to the bell of the Dorade vent, Augusto was already on deck, facing off against a Tremere agent. The Tremere wore a heavy, thick duster that looked like it was armored. He wore an armband like the Redwatch, only his was white, and instead of the group's flaming tower crest, it bore the sigil of House Tremere superimposed on a fanged skull. Presumably, one of the Witch-Hunters.

He and Augusto had not exchanged words. The Tremere was simply busy drawing a casting circle on the deck with his own blood. A moment later, particles of light began to emanate from the circle. The Witch-Hunter stepped back, and the light coalesced into a form. The man was old-looking for a vampire. His eyes were beady and cold, his head bald, and his expression severe. Van Fokke, nearly in the flesh. His work done, the Witch-Hunter made a quick departure.

"You know," Augusto said. "Zoom works just as well for a face-to-face, and it doesn't mess up my deck. Maybe you can ask one of your neonates to show you how t-"

"You have been disloyal," Van Fokke interrupted. "Holloway and Al-Rashid detonated a fuel-air bomb in my city four nights ago. They could only have received it from you."

"Wait, that wasn't you?" Augusto said, feigning ignorance. "I figured you were working on a new super-spell that went wrong. I haven't sold any bombs that big, and I sure as hell wouldn't sell it to a couple of terrorists like-"

"Spare me your pathetic excuses," van Fokke said. "You have been allowed to remain in this city by the benevolence of the Tremere and you have taken advantage of our good faith. Now you will understand the price of betrayal."

"Hey now," Augusto said, folding his arms. "You touch me, you'll have the entire Giovanni to answer to. I've left all the details of your little world domination plan with people I trust. Not to mention you need me to keep you outfitted with all that fancy ammunition."

"Oh don't worry, we wouldn't dream of harming you," van Fokke said, and gestured with his hand. "And I think we will make do with what we take as reparations." The pier lit up with flashing red and blue lights as the full force of the VFPD descended on Augusto's warehouse. The sound of distant gunfire carried across the waves.

"Think about what you're doing," Augusto growled. "Without my associates, how do you think you'll be able to control the pier?"

Van Fokke shrugged. "A problem for the accountants," he said wryly. "Now take your little boat and leave. If we see you here again, we'll send you on a guided tour of the bottom of the harbour."

"I can't believe you're sacrificing the goodwill between our two clans, and the business relationship we've cultivated, all on an unproven suspicion," Augusto said. "If I could just-" But it was no use. The figure vanished, and the magic circle dissolved in a burst of sparks and flame.

"Aah, fuck," Augusto cursed. Then he turned and shouted up to the bridge. "Weigh anchor. Kill the lights. Get us the hell out of here."

He took a look at the dorade where Liam was hiding, and headed back below decks. In their absence, the lieutenant had returned with a full duffel bag, and a slim vest over his shoulder. He handed it to Liam to try on.

"Guess this'll complicate our future deals," Augusto said. "Unless you want to help me get back at them."

"I was going to help you get back at them even if you didn't ask," Liam said, once he'd taken shape again. He reached for the slim vest and tugged off his shirt. "Its why I'm here."

"What did you have in mind?"

"It's going to be harder to police the waters if they don't control the skies," Augusto said. "The local choppers should be easy enough for someone who can fly, and I can get you in to the airbase. I can kit you out with enough explosives to ground their entire fleet. Then all we need to worry about is the Gangrel."

The boat shuddered as it began to accelerate. The hum of the engine grew louder, and the ship swung around. Liam's innate sense of direction told them the boat was headed up the river towards Montreal.

“I’m in,” Liam readily replied. “I’d like nothing more than to take back the skies.”

“When?”

"That's up to you," Augusto said. "Say the word and I send one of these jamouks here to deliver the goods. Can you fly a chopper?"

“No but a friend of a friend can, and tonight I intend to enlist him into the resistance whether he’s ready for it or not.”

“How do I go about contacting you now that you’re heading down the river? And what can you tell me about this air base and the choppers? I noticed oddly enough they didn’t send any to keep watch over the warehouse tonight.”
This message was last edited by the player at 00:45, Tue 11 Aug 2020.

"Why would they?" Augusto said. "I can't fly, and I don't think they care whether any of my boys make a run for it or not. They're too busy looking for you, and coordinating with the airborne Gangrel. If I was you I'd fly right on in - they get bats flying in and out all damn night - pop whoever's in there, and let gravity bust the chopper for you. But I'm guessing your buddy can't fly without a chopper, and you're going to get upset about collateral damage. So you could always blow 'em up from the ground."

"Now as for the airbase, how do you feel about slithering up a drain pipe?"

"That's... not a bad idea," Liam conceded. "Not dropping them over the city mind you, but the rest of it."

"I can squeeze through just about any pipe. Where's this one?"
This message was last edited by the player at 01:23, Tue 11 Aug 2020.

"So one of my guys worked construction before the occupation. Had to fix a downpipe blockage at the airbase. The drain in the pilot's lounge runs down to the river, and it had formed a clog where it met the waterline. Flyboys are spoiled, and a lot of 'em don't like mixing with the grunts. So they've got a shower in their little clubhouse. They also don't like to walk, so it's right next to the fuckin' hangars. I can work a tentacle up it, but I can't bring in or take out anything that won't fit through the drainpipe. You, you beautiful freaky bastard, don't have the same problem."

“No, I don’t,” Liam concurred. “Is this drain marked? How do I find it from the river?”

Augusto pulled out his phone, and called up a satellite image of the area. The facility itself was blurred out, but the river was not. He pointed to a spot on the embankment. "Hereabouts," he said. "It'll look like a black pvc pipe sticking out of the rocks. Might need to poke through some weeds. If you're a rat it'll be a much bigger landmark."

Liam nodded. “That’ll do nicely for the airbase.”

“Any idea where the local helipads are? Where are the helicopters grounded when not in use?”

"3rd and 5th precincts, the TV station, and the hospital," Augusto said. "Helipads are made to be pretty easy to spot from the air. You should have no trouble finding them."

The vest fit like a glove. The stab pad made it a little difficult to bend over, but it was a good addition to have, especially if someone tried to stake him. As he fitted the vest, the lieutenant unpacked the contents of the duffel. A brand new Saiga, freshly cleaned and oiled. It still smelled of cosmoline. Two 8-round magazines, a long 12—round box mag, and a cartoonishly large 30—round drum, all pre-loaded with buckshot.

"I throw in drum," the Lieutenant explained with a smile. "For fun times."

He continued to unload four 12-round boxes of buckshot, and a sturdy hard case containing a dozen HESH rounds safely ensconced in fitted foam. He also produced a tightly rolled Faraday bag that would comfortably fit a long gun. As a final gesture, Augusto placed his card on the table with a flourish. Augusto Deluca, Purveyor of Fine Imported Goods.

Once Liam was satisfied, the Lieutenant packed the bag up again, and included the masks and sports drink.

“I like him,” Liam said hitching his thumb at the exuberant Lieutenant.

He picked up the card and read aloud with a smile: “Purveyor of Fine Imported Goods.”

“Now isn’t that the truth.” Liam stood and took a cigarette out of the pack, tucking it behind his ear for later enjoyment. Then he hoisted the duffel bag over one shoulder before turning back to Augusto.

“The answer is yes,” he said, though Augusto hadn’t asked. “More than enough to kit out a nascent resistance I should think, with a few more besides to plug through the backs of some pesky witch hunters should it come to it.”

“Relax. With van Fokke souring on your enterprise tonight, I’m your new best customer and you’re mine. I think the two of us will get on smashingly.”

“Thanks for the drink. It’s always a pleasure to see you.”

"That's Anton," Augusto said proudly. "Quartermaster and head of inventory control. You ever need to know if we can get something, he's the man to ask."

Augusto was all smiles, but Liam could tell his night had been ruined. Even if it was only a fraction of his inventory, losing a property, a foothold in the most lucrative port on the eastern seaboard, and a big fat contract with a bunch of inept spendocrats all in one night was a lot for anyone to bear. But Liam's promise of more bullets didn't tug at Augusto's greed like he expected. He appeared more relieved than anything. Grateful, even.

"Liam," Augusto said. "This could be the start of a beautiful fuckin' friendship."

Liam gave a casual two finger salute off the forehead and turned for the door. "Have a good night, Augusto. I'll be in touch."

As soon as he hit the deck he paused and fumbled for his ear piece.

"Who's awake, boys and girls?" he asked. "Pockets, you listening tonight?"
This message was last edited by the player at 03:00, Wed 12 Aug 2020.

"I think it's just me tonight, Liam," Jacob said. "Hasan's out with Tyr, reacquainting him with the city, and I'm still healing up from our last escapade. The life of the bullet sponge, as you know too well."

Liam laughed. "All too well, Jacob," he said. "I've got some bad news and some good news."

"Bad news is that van Fokke and Deluca have had a falling out after our little escapade. The Tremere have shut his enterprise down and the Liska is headed down the river towards Montreal."

"The good news is that every cop in the city is swarming around Pier 6 at the moment, so tonight's not a bad night for shenanigans if you had any in mind. I'm planning to pay a visit to the 3rd precinct myself, see if I can find a man about a helicopter."

"Helicopters," Jacob said. "Excellent idea. I'll get in touch with Hasan and they'll hit the fifth precinct. Tyr still has some anger to work out against the Tremere. Thanks for the report. Terrible news about Augusto. At least he can stop sitting on the fence and pitch in a little."

"We talked about that and he has some ideas," Liam said without elaborating. "We'll get into another night."

"Right now I've got to get moving. I'll check in at the end of the night, Jacob."

Liam waited for a reply and then removed his earpiece. Tugging out his red arm band he slipped it on along with the neck gaiter and moments later he took to the skies.

Heading for the 3rd precinct. Liam will scout it from the air.

"Have a safe flight," Jacob said.

The Third precinct, formerly the SIU offices, was basically a vault meant to house secret records. Its physical security was formidable in Jacob's day, and Liam had no reason to doubt that it had relaxed following the formal dissolution of the secret police.

Fortunately for Liam, he didn't even need to set foot inside. The helicopter was not on the pad. It only took him a moment to spot moving, flashing lights. One was out in the stretch between Riverhead and Verdant Falls. The other was quite close indeed to the Alhambra.

Liam circled once over head as he contemplated his options and then veered towards Riverhead. He had no way of knowing if Logan would be in that helicopter, but if he was in the other one circling close to the Alhambra it was unlikely he'd be able to extract him safely tonight - at least not until he changed course.

The helicopter was flying low to the ground, with one of its doors open. Bats were flitting in and out of the trees, moving with the chopper as it made a slow sweep of the forest. They were searching the woods in force tonight. It would not be a quiet extraction. On the other hand, an opportunity to kill more Gangrel.

Bats. And more than a few, Liam thought though it was difficult to know just how many as the tiny creatures flitted in and out of view. This was never going to be easy, Liam knew. But it was at least possible if he was smart about it. The horse was out of the barn waiting to be corralled. It just so happened to be surrounded by coyotes.

Liam set down behind the patrol far enough away that he felt comfortable to regain his human guise under the cover of the canopy.

"You and Tyr get the memo, Old Man?" he said, popping the messenger stone beneath his tongue as he dragged the Saiga out and fit the box mag into place. Liam hastily repacked the duffel bag and strapped it securely over his back.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:06, Wed 12 Aug 2020.

"Can't talk, sneakin'," came a hushed reply. Liam guessed that was an affirmative.

“You don’t have to talk, just listen. There’s two choppers up in the air tonight. One of them’s being piloted by a ghoul I plan to liberate. I’m tailing the helicopter near Riverhead, but I’m not alone out here. There’s a hefty number of Gangrel scouts in the woods.”

“IF you can swing it, I’d love for you to make contact just as I get inside. Just wait for my voice. Hopefully they’ll send up some flares and peel some of the heat away from me. At the very least any reinforcements from the Alhambra will head your way and not mine.”

“If my boys inside I’ll get him out. If he’s not I’ll drop the bird and head your way, because he’ll be headed there.”

“Capisce?”

Liam tucked the cigarette from behind his ear into his breast pocket. Things were about to get hairy.

“Shouldn’t take me more than minute to get inside. Give ‘em hell.”

Liam wasn’t expecting an answer but he did wait a moment just in case. Then he leapt to the air and veered towards the open bay door of the helicopter.

"Mm," Hasan said, not really listening. "HEY WE DON'T GOT TO BE QUIET NO MORE!" He added, presumably to Tyr. Automatic tracer fire lit up the rooftop as Tyr shredded through the helicopter with some manner of high-calibre machine gun. Several of the bats immediately diverted to the scene. Two of them flew into the chopper for orders. More of them transformed and hung on to the side to hear for orders. Then they too flitted off. With only a trio to guard them, the helicopter broke off and headed toward the precinct. They were likely low on fuel and useless as anything but a target in the fray. And apparently they'd just declared open season on helicopters. The light near the Alhambra opted for the safety of the skyscraper's rooftop.

As there was nothing stopping Liam from boarding anyway, he did so. Logan was in the pilot's seat, staring blankly ahead. There was a Blue armband on his shoulder. There was a vampire Liam didn't recognize in the co-pilot seat. He had a yellow band.

"Who the hell are you?" He asked Liam. His right hand disappeared over the front of his seat.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:26, Thu 13 Aug 2020.

Liam gave his head a shake as he regained his form inside the bay of the helicopter. "Well that's hardly any way to talk to a friend," Liam remarked. He reached for his spray bottle and spritzed the yellow band, trying to angle away from Logan so that at least one of them was still flying the copter. "Wouldn't you agree, Logan?" he asked.

Logan said nothing. His programming to ignore the comings and goings of vampires was overriding his ghoulish impulses. Liam had heard about ghouled mooks acting spacey when their blood bonds were in conflict. Hopefully, Logan would retain enough wherewithal to keep the chopper level.

The vampire shook his head and sputtered. He dropped the gun he'd grabbed from under the seat. "Wh-what'd you do to me?"

"You're free," Liam said simply. "But you're not off the hook yet, because I didn't come here for you and this helicopter still needs a pilot or else its going to get real choppy, real fast."

"What's your name, my friend?"

"My name is Hector Cortez," he said, turning around in his seat and fixing Liam with an intimidating glare. "I'm from the enclave in Bar Harbour. And I've been held against my will for the past two years. If you don't explain exactly what is going on here, friend, I will run this bird into some goddamn power lines."
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 22:21, Thu 13 Aug 2020.

Liam glanced out the cockpit window at the rapidly approaching city lights and then out the side at their escort on the wing.

"I can respect that,” he said. “Alright kill the comms, and we'll talk," he said, nodding at the dash.

"Ten years ago the Tremere hit upon a way to bloodbond just about anyone with a modicum of effort. The Cams chose Verdant Falls to roll it out. The entire city is bonded down to the very last man, woman and dog." Liam snapped his fingers in front of Logan's unseeing eyes for emphasis.

"I've been gone a few years myself but it seems the Camarilla has stepped up their game. They're not just bonding mortals anymore. They’re bonding unwilling and unknowing Kindred too. I don't know who you are or how you came to be in Verdant Falls but the Cams found you somewhere and turned you into one of their pawns."

He pointed at Hector's arm band.

"That’s what the Yellow Band means. Forced conscript."

“Now I’m happy to entertain any other questions you might have but I might suggest we do it after we point this bird away from the city and deal with those Gangrel. Fair?”

He narrowed his eyes, and studied Liam carefully. "Deal," he said. Then he swung the chopper south towards the open sea. One of the escorts swooped in, and materialized on the landing strut furthest from Liam. Her gun was drawn. "Freeze," she said. "Who are you?"

A second escort landed on the strut closest to Liam. He was boxed in.

Liam looked down at the pistol in the shovelhead's hands. "Are you fucking kidding me?" he said, swinging the Saiga around. He didn't give the red-band a chance to answer. The report from the shotgun sounded like a cannon going off.

Took a guess at the dice from the player's guide, since I'm going to watch a show with a friend. If I'm wrong feel free to roll for me.

3 successes on the attack (spent a WP because I figured I really didn't want to botch inside the helicopter)

4 successes on the damage (dropping the 1s)

I think Liam can pop off a second shot (seems like the rate of combat shotguns is 3?). If so, the second die string is also below.

1 hit, 5 damage.

At this range I'm presuming that's aggro and gangrel 1 just turned to mist.

21:23, Today: Liam O'Farrell rolled 2 successes using 10d10 with the World of Darkness 3rd ed system with a target of 6 with rolls of 5,6,3,1,7,10,1,10,5,3.  Damage.

21:23, Today: Liam O'Farrell rolled 2 successes using 8d10 with the World of Darkness 3rd ed system with a target of 6 with rolls of 8,6,2,1,2,10,2,5.  Dex + Firearms + WP.


21:26, Today: Liam O'Farrell rolled 5 successes using 8d10 with the World of Darkness 3rd ed system with a target of 6 with rolls of 3,6,4,9,7,10,4,10.  Damage.

21:26, Today: Liam O'Farrell rolled 1 success using 8d10 with the World of Darkness 3rd ed system with a target of 6 with rolls of 3,5,7,5,3,5,9,1.  Dex + Firearms.

This message was last edited by the player at 01:27, Fri 14 Aug 2020.

[Numbers look good to me!]

The Saiga practically cut the neonate in half. It kicked like a mule. The escort flying outside veered off towards the university, presumably to alert someone. Not good.

With his back now turned, Liam didn't see the other Gangrel draw his own pistol, and pointed it through the glass window of the closed door and square at Liam's head. At this range it would be difficult to miss.

The bullet mildly disturbed Liam's hair, and mushroomed harmlessly against Liam's impenetrable skull. The neonate coughed and sputtered in disbelief.

Cortez responded in kind. He pointed his sawn-off shotgun at the young Gangrel's head, taking half of it away. Unfortunately for everyone involved - mostly Logan - aiming the shotgun in such a fashion placed it directly behind Logan's head when it went off. And though he wore hearing protection, that was enough to cause him to lurch forward and on to the stick, sending the helicopter into a spin.

The escort did the smartest thing he could at that point, which was to let go of the helicopter and be flung away far enough to turn back into a bat and fly away.

Cortez righted the helicopter and continued towards the ocean. They were still perilously close to the waterworks and its flak cannons. "All right," Cortez said. "Now where am I going?"

“Just get us away from that,” Liam said, pointing towards the waterworks. “And start veering back towards Riverhead. We’re going to have to put this bird down. They track everything. They’re tracking you right now. There’s a transmitter in your arm band.”

Cortez ripped off the armband and threw it out the open door. Then he veered at a full clip towards Riverhead. He spotted a farmer's field on the route, and took the chopper down immediately. He cut the engines and hopped out. He made a beeline for the trees at a fast pace, shedding his equipment as he did so. Like a drone, and without anyone to oversteer him, Logan started up the rotors again and prepared to resume his orders.

“Easy there,” Liam said, reaching for the bottle and spraying Logan in the face. “Logan, buddy, we don’t have a lot of time until the scouts come looking for us so all I’m going to tell you is that Grace is safe and I’m taking you to her. You’re going to have to trust me on that.”

Logan must have been through the wringer, because he was taking the de-mooking hard. He went catatonic, and buried his face in his hands. He was, however, a short man with a slim build. He was very easy to unbuckle and carry.

Liam swept the cockpit with an eye towards any physical evidence that required mitigating. Two of the scouts had made off into the night, which was regrettable, but there was nothing to be done about that now. At least the gaiter had held in place since he’d donned it on the deck of the Liska.

Spying the black box beneath the console he tore the secured container free and ripped it open like a clamshell. Tossing the device onto the open floor of the bay he pointed the Saiga down at its exposed guts and popped off a round at point blank range.

“Time to go,” Liam said, helping Logan out of the pilot’s chair and taking a moment to tear off his band. As soon as they were safely away from the helicopter Liam swapped the Saiga out for his striker and levelled a shot at the fuel tank. There was an incendiary loaded in the chamber, one of the last two he’d held onto over the years. When the fuel tank went up it took the rest of the chopper with it in a blazing fireball.

Hoisting Logan over his shoulder, Liam turned and made for the tree line.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:25, Fri 14 Aug 2020.

Cortez had waited for him by the treeline, but didn't stick around when Liam caught up. The fireball would bring reinforcements. They were about to be hunted.

"I don't suppose you know these woods," Cortez said. "But we need to get to running water if we have a hope of losing them."

There was, of course, the river which ran from the titular Verdant Falls and then ran down underneath the city proper. Due north, right before a steep cliff that would be a challenge for anyone carrying an incapacitated Logan, though not nearly as daunting a challenge as would face a capacitated Logan. By Liam's estimation the shortest route to Robyn's would be up the river itself, and then across the lake at the falls.

"I do," Liam replied. "Very well."

He tugged down his gaiter and bared his face for the first time since meeting Hector.

"Liam O'Farrell. We can shake later."

"There's a river due north of us that runs down from the falls along the base of a steep embankment. I take it if you used to run with the Bar Harbor enclave and you're not in the least bit afraid to pilot a helicopter into power-lines that you can fly?"

"Only reason I haven't flown off yet is I still have questions, and I don't see you leaving the ground with that kine in tow," Cortez said. "What've you got in mind?"

"No, but I don't leave a scent. Handy trick I picked up living under the noses of a Garou pack a few years back. Those scouts couldn't find me with a pack of bloodhounds in the middle of an empty parking lot. It'll help a bit with Logan's scent on my back but its not perfect, and the less options we give them the easier it'll be to shake them."

"In fact if you really want to throw them, give them something to smell down that'away," he said, motioning generally away from Robyn's property. "And then fly up to the top of the ridge to meet me."

"Once we get to the top we'll be freer to talk."
This message was last edited by the player at 01:40, Sat 15 Aug 2020.

Cortez scowled in the direction Liam pointed. He curled his lips and snarled. "Fine," he said, and charged away to create a distraction. Now there was the simple matter of getting up the Ridge.

Liam plunged northward for another minute or two giving any tailing lupine scouts a clear path to follow in Cortez, then he dropped to his knees steadying Logan before him. "This'll just take a moment, bud," he said, stripping out of his shirt and chest armor. These went into his duffel and Liam made one last check of Logan to make sure the pilot was carrying nothing that could be tracked in its own right. Standing back up, Liam cradled Logan in his arms rather than across his back as he resumed course. The reason for this was immediately apparent as four spider like limbs made of hardened condensed blood erupted from his back.

"If Mik could only see me now," he said, racing towards the river as fast as any wolf.

Devil Channel (Abombwe 4)
Back: The character sprouts four spider legs from his back. These legs provide two additional actions if used to grapple or attack. Any attempts to climb automatically succeed, and attempts to escape by running are at -2 DC.

Once he hit the water, Liam broke away along the current. It did him no good for Logan's scent to just pick up again on the far bank. He had to come out somewhere different - ideally somewhere he could scale the escarpment unseen.
This message was last edited by the player at 10:44, Sat 15 Aug 2020.

For much of the waterfall, the deluge was away from the rocks. The surface behind the water was damp, slippery and not at all suitable for climbing. However, that was no issue for Liam. It did afford cover for nearly half of the ascent. The rest of the way was difficult, but he stuck to the shadowiest crags. It was a grueling climb, and he reached the top of the Ridge a short hop from the rendezvous.

Liam had sensed that Logan was back to his senses halfway up the cliff. But it seemed the best way to survive the night was to stay limp. It was up to Liam to decide whether it was better to set him down at the top or simply proceed to the rendezvous without letting Logan know his facade wasn't fooling him. However, it had been a long night and beating the sun home was going to be a photo finish even at a brisk pace.

By the time he arrived, Cortez looked ready to leave. "Do you have shelter nearby," he said impatiently. "Or should I start digging a hole?"

“I’m getting him home tonight,” Liam said resolutely, nodding towards Logan still playing rag doll in his arms. “I don’t trust he’ll still be here at sundown tomorrow otherwise and I don’t plan to be the one to tell his wife I got him a stone’s throw away from salvation only to lose him at the gate.”

“I have enough time to get back, but only just. I promised you answers and I mean to keep that promise, but you’re going to have to decide just how many questions need asking and answering. If this is quick, ask away. I’ll tell you what I can and then I’ll be on my way.”

“If you want to dig deep, or if you’re looking for payback against the bastards who did this to you - well then you’re going to have to come with me. I’ll warn you up front, there will be other people where I’m going; Kindred and Kine both. They’re going to be suspicious of you, but if you come in with me after helping to save one of their own they won’t harm you.”

“I’ll probably get an earful about it, but I couldn’t have saved flyboy here without you.”

“You’re going to have to trust me, and I’m going to have to trust you.”

"It’s my intention to return to Bar Harbour immediately and inform the Elders," he replied. "But I will not get far tonight. You lead, and I will keep up."

The ride home was quiet and hasty. Liam chose the form of a great wolf, and faced with the prospect of being tied to a vampire wolf's back, Logan chose to break his ruse and come around. He did not appear to be in the mood to converse with either of them. It was far simpler, if a bit awkward, for him to cling to Liam's back on his own.

Cortez followed as a panther, keeping to his promise to maintain the pace. He moved through the forest as deftly as Liam - as would be expected of anyone who calls themselves a Gangrel. It had been a long time since Liam had run with a pack. It brought to mind the times with the Garou pack of generations past. The last time his heart had been full.

He left Hector near the packages drop-off. Near enough that he benefited from the arcane warding that would keep him undisturbed in the daytime, but not so close as he could find the house unbidden. He was a wounded animal, and not in the mood to endure anyone's scrutiny. He barely tolerated Liam as it was.

Sunrise was imminent, but there was enough time to check in on Robyn. He left Logan to reunite with his wife in private. There would be time for accolades tomorrow. For now, he had a sports drink to deliver.

The door to her bedroom was closed, and a "Do Not Disturb" sign was hanging from the knob. There was a hand-scrawled "Deliveries Excepted" hastily written on it. Presumably the sign was chiefly directed at the villagers. He knocked, she grunted, and he entered.

Robyn was curled up on top of her covers, both shivering and sweating profusely. She looked ragged. She reached up weakly as Liam approached. Her lips were cracked and her throat parched.

Liam already had the Gatorade at the ready. He smiled as he crouched down, twisting the cap off with a snap before handing it across. "You look like you've had a long night," he said. "Here. Its 'энергетик'. I'm reasonably confident there are no steroids in it."

She squinted at the bottle. "Been to Russia tonight?" she quipped. She took a long draught. "Tastes like corporate homogeneity. Just what I needed. Had a lot of questions to ask tonight. About the curse, about Sunny... About you."

"Little Russia. Do I want to know what the Tome has to say about me?" he said, raising a brow as he sat back on his haunches.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:05, Sun 16 Aug 2020.

"Let me say, you command a lot of Its attention," Robyn croaked. "I wanted to confirm whether what you've been telling me was true. It confirmed basically everything you told me. And a lot about the actions you've taken in this city. Both in the past decade or so, and the distant past. The life you gained and lost in your bringing the Tome to me."

She picked at the label as she continued. "I showed you what it means to uss the book because I wanted you to understand it is both a tool for knowledge and an implement of self-torture. I need you to know that no action has ever both caused me more harm, and changed my life so much for the better as when the Tome came into my life. And that includes the murder of the love of my life. I don't know how the part you played in all that settles with your conscience, because I'm not sure how it settles with mine."

She took a long sip of her drink. Deliberately so, it seemed, to hold the silence of those words over them. "I won't apologize for doubting you. Because until recently the most decent example of your kind I'd ever had a conversation with was Nex. But I will say that I trust you a lot more than a most of the mortals I've met in my days."

Liam offered a wistful smile in return. “It could have been quite a lifetime,” he said softly. “Liza was the second love of my life after Marie. I’ve been thinking about her a lot since learning of the destruction of Blue Tree. Funny you should mention Nex. I’ve been wondering what’s there on the other side. In the Shadowlands.”

Liam sighed and shook his head, casting out bad memories and bittersweet ones besides.

“You’d have no reason to apologize anyway. Knowing what you know about us it would have been foolish to place your trust in me unquestioningly, no matter Jack or Maeve’s opinion. I’m just glad that I’ve earned some measure of it now.”

“As for my conscience, I’m not sure I know either. But I still have one,” he said patting his breast over his heart. Underneath all the monster there was still a man inside. For tonight. He could never ever grow complacent.

Liam reached his hand out to Robyn.

“Come. I’ve had a busy night, and I presume you’ll have a busy day. We have a lot to discuss, but not much time. Sun’s coming up any moment,” he said, pointing to the ceiling. “I’ve done some digging around Pockets condition, and, well, it doesn’t look good. But I think I can at least get her back on her feet. I’ll need your help to do it though.”

“And, I’ve figured out how we’re going to do the Waterworks job but that’s a discussion for tomorrow.”

"Liam O'Farrell," Robyn said. "You're a credit to the evil undead. And you're too right. Any pressing business can wait until I've had some sleep."

She took his offer to help her get tucked in, and accepted his hand. As she buried her head in the pillow, she looked up at him. "But one last thing for tonight. Who's buried by the driveway?"

Liam smiled. Robyn knew. Of course Robyn knew. "His name is Hector Cortez. He was the other pilot aboard the helicopter when I liberated Grace's husband, Logan. Hector's been a yellow band for the past two years. I sprayed him as well. Its unlikely I could have got Logan back tonight without him."

"Still, he's not the friendliest fellow," Liam admitted. "He has a lot of questions. Otherwise I think he would have flown back to Bar Harbor tonight. You can meet him tomorrow."
This message was last edited by the player at 01:13, Mon 17 Aug 2020.

"I insist on it," Robyn said, closing her eyes. "And please, don't bring any more vampires here without my permission. Just because he's the enemy of our enemy doesn't mean he's a friend. I understand you had an emergency, but at least send me a text or something. If I hadn't just had a reliable character reference, I would have assumed you were planning to doublecross me."

Liam reached into his pocket and pulled out his satellite phone. “You know, Book told me I always forgot to turn this thing on. Especially when it was important.”

“Maybe he was on to something.”

Liam smiled. “I promise. No more vampires, at least not without your say so.”

“Sleep tight, Robyn.”

Liam stood and turned towards the door, closing it quietly behind him. Reaching into his breast pocket he took out a card.

Augusto Deluca, Purveyor of Fine Imported Goods.

He entered the number onto his phone and sent a text as he made his way down the stairs.

’Local birds are down. I’ll be in touch.’

Finally he reached for his earpiece as he climbed into bed.

“I’m okay, Jacob. Found my boy. Get some sleep.”

"The boys are back home too," Jacob replied. "Good work tonight."

There wasn't time to make a reply before the sun streamed over the horizon, and sleep took him.

[4 xp for the scene]