Liam sat down heavily upon the chair. "No, I don't think I would have recognised him at all if he was as you say," he replied. "The Seavers I knew was always collected. Courteous. Prepared."

"I cannot fathom this irrational, erratic spectre."

"I'm not sure if you knew," van Fokke said. "But the two of them spent some time... Together. I'm not sure if that's when the seed was planted, or-"

A blond-haired figure appeared at Liam's right side, as he faded into the circle. He had a dossier in his hand, which he passed to van Fokke. He was adorned in the long coat of the Tremere witch-hunters. Their ranks were denoted by arcane symbols unfamiliar to Liam, but the fact his insignia were gilded gave Liam the impression that he was highly regarded in their ranks. He smiled at Liam, but the way his eyes sized him up made him feel like he'd do well to remember his face. He had a tattoo of a number 5 in the crook between his thumb and forefinger.

"I trust that the Magus wouldn't be interrupting unless he'd determined your identity," van Fokke said, taking a moment to thumb through the document. "So why don't you introduce yourself?"

"Magus Michael Flynn," the Witch-Hunter said. "And may I say what a pleasure it is to speak to a fellow Irishman, Mr. O'Farrell."

"Admittedly I had low expectations of making it through the end of the night unknown, but I'd thought I might at least make it to the end of the conversation," Liam said with a hint of a grin. He inclined his head civilly towards the Magus. "Well spotted, Mr. Flynn, although I suppose it doesn't exactly work in my favor that there were only three gangrel active in the city during the time period in question."

"Well, that certainly didn't make it easy, regardless," Flynn replied. "Most of the records kept of the city were destroyed when Holloway left the Alhambra. And most eyewitnesses are either dead or... Uncooperative. Putting a face to the name wasn't easy either. You're younger in your photos. A bit of an oddity for a vampire, I must say. Though not entirely unexpected for someone so chummy with the Sabbat."

"Paradoxically the unwavering face in the mirror became less and less familiar over time. Eventually he seemed to me to be a stranger," Liam conceded. "I left that life behind a long time ago."

"And who among us is above a little vanity?" he said with a smile.

"It could have been worse, you know. A gangrel of my age."

"You're not wrong there," Flynn said with a chuckle. "The Beast does strange things to us all. I can't speak for the esteemed Councilor, but I find it more and more difficult to restrain myself around the Redwatch with each passing year."

van Fokke's eyes looked up from his dossier for a moment, but he said nothing.

"Well," Liam said, with a wave of his hand. "Now you know who I am. And the full litany of my transgressions is laid bare. I have genuinely enjoyed our conversation, admittedly much to my own surprise. But I sense we are approaching a conclusion. What is to become of me now?"

"Oh, I was enjoying our little chat," van Fokke replied. "But if you'd rather get straight down to business, we can do that. Would you give us the room, please?"

At his request, the two ghouls behind Liam turned to leave. Liam heard the door close behind him. Flynn, however, stayed right where he was, standing behind the Councilor's chair to his right.

"Now, Mr. O'Farrell, I am about to give you a very generous offer," van Fokke continued. "You seem like such a decent fellow, and I'm tired of being your enemy. Come work with my team in the ruins. You may take up residence here, or in the Alhambra, and you may bring with you whatever little friends you please, or even the herd you've stolen for yourself. Share with us what you know - and I know you know more than you're letting on - and I will personally guarantee your safety, and the safety of your friends. You will be generously compensated, and will want for nothing."

"That is a generous offer, Mister van Fokke. I believe you. Especially since you've been so gracious already. And for what its worth, I'm not invested in being your enemy either."

Liam paused and pursed his lips, considering the spectres before him.

"My alternative?"

"Leave the city in peace. And never return. You will not be accosted on your way out."

"Also generous," Liam acknowledged. He was silent for a moment while he considered the paths before him. "You owe me nothing, Mister van Fokke, but I would make a request all the same. May I visit the old city on my way out to pay my respects to an old associate? I needn't enter. It's not his haven any longer. I think perhaps I would prefer not to see inside."

Van Fokke seemed genuinely surprised by the request. "I suppose that would depend on who that associate is, now wouldn't it?"

"Seavers Rare Books," Liam replied, simply.

"I don't see the harm," van Fokke said. "Though I must warn you that I don't know where dear Gilbert went after his Master passed. If he doesn't have access to Kindred blood, I fear that he may have already expired."

The door opened up again behind Liam. He heard footsteps behind him. "It appears Mr. O'Farrell won't be working with us," he said to the figures in the doorway. "See that he makes his way out of the city. Via Smythe and Seavers rare books."

The hand that touched Liam's shoulder didn't belong to either of the ghouls. They'd had friends waiting outside, apparently. An icy chill went over Liam's body. His limbs felt heavy, and his brain went numb. Similar to the feeling when Robyn had stunned him. Only this didn't go away.

"Tertiary binding complete," the Witch-Hunter said to van Fokke.

"Just to make sure no harm comes to anyone," van Fokke said. "You understand. We will release it when you're clear of the city. And when you see your people, I hope you'll tell them that despite our disagreements, I'm a man of my word."

"Come, sir," the Witch-Hunter said. "Let's get you where you're going."

[Physical attributes capped at 4. No access to active or passive disciplines, blood buff or instant healing.]

Liam stood, though his head still swam from the touch of the witchfinder. He nodded at van Fokke. "Good evening, Mister van Fokke," he said. "Mister Flynn."

Turning to regard his escort he smiled faintly and then followed them from the room.

Little was said as the Witch-Hunters led him through the sewers. Sure enough, the manhole that had been tiled over was now hastily ripped open. He wasn't sure where the two ghouls went, but his escorts led him to a black SUV. Liam was ushered into the passenger seat. One of the hunters drove, while the other sat directly behind Liam, to ensure there wasn't any funny stuff.

It wasn't long until they pulled up in front of Smythe & Seavers Rare Books. The place looked abandoned, although there was no attempt to board it up. Most of the store's inventory still lay on the shelves. The two Witch-Hunters leaned on the SUV while they waited for Liam to conclude his business.

With his powers bound, escape would prove difficult. And something about the predatory look in Flynn's eyes told him it was unlikely that they'd just drop him off at the end of the evening. Especially not with what he knew.

Liam climbed out of the SUV and walked solemnly up the steps to the front door of Smythe and Seavers, laying his hand upon the grand old wooden door. It creaked beneath his touch. No one had even bothered to make sure it was sealed shut. It was a wonder the elements hadn't invaded, or the rodents and vermin that made the city their home.

Liam glanced back over his shoulder and nodded at his minders. Then he stepped through the threshold into the mausoleum beyond. The storefront smelled of old parchment and wood. Dust coated the aisles, bookshelves, and the desk where Gilbert had once stood at the ready to receive all inquiries and customers. He turned down an aisle at random, running his finger across the spines of old volumes that no one would ever read now.

Pausing at the end of the row he stopped and opened his own book back to the first page, retrieving Liza's handkerchief and raising it to his nose. Liam turned and looked down the aisle, leaning into the one power he had left.

Sense the Other. To the best of Liam's ability to tell, is he alone?

Snapping the cover shut he stuffed the kerchief into his pocket... and retrieved the small pebble lying therein. Cellphones were obvious. The signal traceable. Assamite sorcery however was not - at least Liam hoped.

Still, he assumed he was being eavesdropped upon even if his minders had had the decency to wait behind at the car. The sending stone vanished beneath his tongue as he rounded the end of the aisle and doubled back towards the desk, stopping with his hand upon it.

"Well Old Man," he said, looking up at the high shelves with a wistful smile and looking for all the world as though he were addressing the house itself. "You'll never guess who was waiting for me when I woke up tonight."

Liam rapped his knuckles against the desk and shook his head.

"Your old friend Noonian van Fokke. Seems I chose just about the worst place in Verdant Falls to lay down my head. And now I expect he'll do to me what he did to you, or perhaps to Msizi. I'm not sure which is worse."

Running his palm off the edge of the desk, Liam turned towards the back of the house and started walking.

"So I've come to say good bye. van Fokke offered me that little kindness, at least. I don't expect I'll have long. The Witchfinders outside will only be patient for so long."

Liam stepped into the back room. He spoke to two ghosts as he continued, one living and one dead.

"You were always kind to me, Mister Seavers. There for me when I needed you most. I have not forgotten."

He paused in front of the entrance to Seavers' haven proper.

"I regret that I couldn't be here the night you needed me."
This message was last edited by the player at 00:56, Fri 23 Oct 2020.

Hasan was no fool. He caught on immediately. "Hold tight," Hasan said. "We're coming to you. Ten minutes or so. Stall 'em as best you can."

It looked as though the truly occult books in the back room had been rifled through. The hidden entrance to the tunnel leading to Seavers' haven, however, wasn't open. The trapdoor remained untouched. Likely, van Fokke and his team had taken the main entrance in the ruins.

Liam stared at the concealed entrance and tapped his chin in thought. "Now how do I open the entrance to the tunnel again?" he mused. "Gilbert would have known."

"I could really do with your insight right now. You of all people would have known what to do with Pockets, and now they've gone and done the same to me," he continued. "I don't think I've ever felt quite so locked into my body as I do tonight."

There was a pause. Longer than Liam would have liked.

"There's a hidden latch in the top right corner of the third bookshelf from the left. It unlocks the second bookshelf. We'll be there as soon as we can."

The front door creaked open. "Mr. O'Farrell?" a familiar voice said. Flynn had arrived from the Alhambra. "Wondering if I can have a word with you." He had not found Liam in the backroom.

Liam fished the kerchief out of his pocket along with the spray bottle and gave it a spritz at close range, careful not to let the mist hang in the air. The spray bottle disappeared into his pocket again and the kerchief vanished up his sleeve, close to his skin. Liza might well save his life again. At least if he didn't overdose like Jack.

Ten minutes. Hasan needed ten minutes. Liam painted on a smile and reached for the top of the third bookshelf.

"Ah. Magus Flynn. I was wondering if you were going to join us," he said from the back room. "Come. I was just going to join Mister Seavers for one last drink. I'm sure a fellow Irishman would understand."

"I'll never say no to a drink," Flynn said, slipping into the back room. He leaned against the door jamb. "And I've heard that Seavers had some legendary vintages. Didn't think he kept any in his bookstore, though."

"But its not just his bookstore, is it?" Liam said, finding the catch. He felt it move effortlessly. "Its his haven."

With the path unlocked, Liam reached for the middle book shelf and swung it back.

"Your lads came in from below, but Seavers himself used this entrance as often as not. Don't worry, I know they're still hard at work down there. I have no illusions of running away."

"Come," Liam beckoned. "And Liam is fine. Between you and me, I've always found the Dutch to be very stuffy. Not nearly as formal as the two fellows waiting back at the car though."

"Since we're being so informal, why don't you call me Mickey?" Flynn said. "Those boys are all right, when they're not escorting an infamous terrorist. We've even given you a chance to know 'em. And I can't say I particularly mind the Dutch. Especially when I'm knee-deep in goose-stepping Krauts and their suburban-redneck modern counterparts all day."

He smiled widely as Liam revealed the hidden tunnel. "Well look at you," he said. "I bet you'll know where he kept the good stuff too."

"Don't get me started on the krauts," Liam said in dry acknowledgement as he turned to lead the way in. "And I knew where the good stuff was kept. As to whether its still there depends very much on how heavy handed your friends where when they came through the first time."