New Orleans 2: Electric Boogaloo
Contents
Questions. Answers.
"So what's the future like?"
Innocent sounding question, yeah? When you're me, not so much. But, we'll get to that in a little bit. First, a little followup from Rio.
So we got everyone home alive and mostly okay - which is cool, because we went through some grief and people are definitely going to need therapy. And that's just from the sewerslog, never mind the rest of it. I suppose people want to think their world is beautiful, and react poorly when they realize just how ugly it can be. Hopefully, the world gets better for them. At least they won't be dead in a week. Purloined goodies got set aside, and I had to go do several things that were so skull shatteringly dull but necessary that they bear mention, but only just. Set up an account with Christies' auction house, going headhunting with my HR department finders, getting a CEO to run my business while I'm off being rich, and various other things that made me want to scoop out my eyes with a melon baller. It wasn't without amusement, though, as Cass needed a reason to be there - so she was my trophy wife. The amusement was asking her what kind of ring she liked. Seriously, I have a section of a warehouse just for jewelry. Finally had to ask her "Do you like blue rocks, green rocks, red rocks, pink rocks..."
Civil servants. Sometimes I despair.
But that stuff sorted, we went to do important shit. Let the queen know we were on our way, and that we only had one Giovanni showing up, yes I agree he's my responsibility until he's shown he can eat at the adult table, and I'll take that briefcase of letters - holy shit - to Morgaine in New Orleans. As a side amusement, I watched Cass interact with Geno Twoheads. Admittedly, his actual surname isn't Twoheads, but he's got two freakin' heads. That kinda sticks out, even if you're a Tzimisce. So that was kinda fun. Then we went to a soccer game, I got recognized, which was kinda weird - I mean being Internet Famous wasn't exactly on my todo list, but there it is. So some bets were made, bets were won, and I came out 10 grand richer. I gave it to Cass. It was a nights' work, really. Not even that hard because I even had time to feed during halftime. Little buzzed, we changed and met the Brujah. Honestly, I have no idea what the hell she's going to do with the 10. And it's not like I've actually paid her anything yet. So yeah, there's a quick couple hours work, and the look on her face was kind of amusing.
Meeting the head Brujah was kinda weird. Walk up the gangplank of the SS Held Together By Happy Thoughts, and the gang was there. Mortals, no biggy. Until one of them trips me up with a bolo and piano wire. The lesson in overconfidence learned. Yet Again. I keep having to learn that, and I suspect I will continue to learn it for the forseeable future. The meeting was simple, brief, cigars were smoked, objectives given, and Cass was set out on her own. Y'know, really, Rio is like the Anarch Free States...but cooler. We hold to no sect, but we're not waving our fangs around about it. It just is. It also helps that we're not in the middle of disputed territory, and the leader is in fact a leader. That done, I shot some rounds with the posse outside - in the finest of creativity, they're called The Posse. Meh. I shot. I did pretty well, but I didn't want to take their money. Too easy. That done, we went back and I hacked the hell out of the Setites hard drives.
In a word - gross. After watching and going eww a lot, I was able to crossmatch and printed the list. And got some suspects too. Those were passed along, and the local police were ever so happy that they got a nice big bust. Partner's going to get a promotion, people are going home, and the Setite can kiss the fattest part of my ass.
So I was prepping and packing and enjoying the patio, when Cass looks at me funny, like she's seeing something not entirely there. Then she blinks and says something about 250 years. And then I remember I'm, y'know...technically around 250. I think. Somewhere between 250 and 300, gimme a break. Then she asks me what the future's like.
And here we get to part I mentioned earlier. It was a hard flood of sudden memories. Augustus Giovanni destroying the barrier between the lands of the living and the lands of the dead in order to recast the gameboard of the Jyhad in his favor, basically buying himself some time to get more powerful and incidentally also really putting himself in the badass Antediluvian spot. The only real side effect is essentially throwing the whole damn planet back to the dark ages. In the world according to Augustus, if you wanna make an omelette, you gotta kill a few billion people. And fuck a couple horses, some cousins, and some horses that are your cousins...
Speaking of Giovanni - Leo is...well, he's a Giovanni, but he's personable. He loves the Banhammer and wants to lease the patent. I'm hesitating, because A) it's the Giovanni and B) I really don't need the money. Sure, the first offer increases my annual income by 80 percent, but that's not quite enough to outweigh my hesitations. Seriously, I don't want my designs in the hands of some 12 year old kid, that's just...not cool. That said, this squares me with Donatello, and owing as few people as possible is a good thing.
I digress. Upshot of this tremendous flood of memory is that I've got basically 2 centuries to stop the Giovannis' master plan, which involves making a lot of wraiths. Since wraiths come from dead people, no way do they get the BanHammer plans. As a start. So...now this kind of starts to make sense. I know why I got sent back in time, along with Brenda. Lone Warriors, sent back in time to prevent an apocalyptic future at the hands of a soulless machine who cares only for itself. Motherfuck, I'm Kyle Reese. Which may make Brenda Sarah Connor. Or something - the analogy might be a little labored, but there it is. And if half of what I've heard is true, Augustus Giovanni makes a sufficient Terminator.
It's nice to have a hobby, I suppose. And stopping the apocalyptic end of the world is as good as anything. Beats counting how many zeros are in your bank account.
So now I know why I'm back in time, but not who or how. Although the more I consider, the more this seems planned and less happy accident. There's me, who handles technology and guns with equal skill and can flow through the mortal world well enough that we have exactly 0 problems with funding. Then there's Brenda, who's a necromancer - conveniently, that's the main thrust of Augustus' world-fucking plan. So she should be able to whip out a counter or at least stall it until we can convince the rest of vampiric society that destroying clan Giovanni is a necessary step. But then, still the question of the who and the how are left without an answer. And why would Old Me volunteer to be New Me? He was kind of a dick.
Not exactly pressing questions, but still questions nonetheless. And they'll sit until we get back from New Orleans. The banhammer prototypes got broken down, placed in gambling machines, and we leased a jet. Back to New Orleans, the jewel of the Mississippi. The dank swampass jewel. Customs was such a bitch, I had to dominate the guy to get everything through, and missed the appointment window to meet with the douchecanoe Ray. If he's really nice, I may let him know he's got a blood hunt on him in New York. Or not. The lodgings we have are acceptable. Hopefully better security this time around, I do not need anyone knocking on my door at 10 in the morning.
But the next night proceeded apace, we had to go to the lamplight with it's insane number of amateur gynecologists. A lot of excuse me's, pardon me's, and ooh that felt good later, I turn around to find that Cass has one guy in some wrist-lock thing and is throwing an elbow. You can't take cops anywhere. Even if it is a toreador owned exotic dance club. Get to Morgaine, who compliments me on my choice of traveling companions yet again - I pass the briefcase over, it goes to her office, and she's got some reading to do. I'll stop by in case she wants to pass anything back. Boon from the King earned, we're off to see the goddamn wizard. Wizard Ray, cafe du monde...it's a picturesque kind of place. Cass was a little off her game though. I guess it's the sort of thing that happens when you suddenly realize your badge isn't really all that good and your second language is everyones' first.
Ray...is a bit of a skeeze. He reminds me of a small time grifter, really. The first thing he wanted to make sure of was that last time was just business, it wasn't personal. Sure. And a Blood Hunt is just business. No mention of who hired him, but...meh. I'm not that into it. So we find out that somehow our target is in torpor in the goddamn tremere chantry. Because otherwise, this would be too easy. Note to self, call the sorcerer, see if he can ship an amulet or two. In theory, if I tell him I'm going to make fools of the tremere, it could be mine just for the asking - but it never hurts to play nice with your brothers. And then there's one final tickle in the back of my head to remind me we're again on the clock. Katrina is about a month from happening. Fuckberries. Questions of morality arise - is it moral to abandon the kindred of New Orleans to their fate, or should I let them know, even if they don't believe me? And whom do I tell? Just the people I like, or should I tell as many as I can, and risk being seen as a worrywart right up until a Category 5 can of asswhooping shows up? Frankly, the only one I think should be told is Morgaine. Her I like. The rest of these bastards can all wear a helmet to the hurricane shelter. I'll give her as much lead time as I can, she may have affairs to tidy, and she probably has a better idea of who should be spared. This shit never came up in any philosophy course I took. Maybe if I watch some Dr Who it'll give me an idea of the ramifications.
But how to convince her.
An aside on the Giovanni
Well. Let's be honest, this deserves it's own section. I may move it as a running reminder of purpose. Running tallies are as follows:
Assets - Me, Brenda, Cass, Tina, Andre, and Saturn. A little favor from the king of Rio. An insane amount of money, and the ability to make more. Secrecy. They don't know that we're temporal anomalies. (Seriously, Time travelers just sounds weird and Back to the Future-ey.)
Potential Assets - Any non-Giovanni necromancer. We'll have to tread very carefully on this one, as their entire plan is a necromantic ritual.
Liabilities - Clan Giovanni. All of them. Including the guy who's staying in the place across the street. Once they found out how much we know, an entire frickin' clan is gonna come crashing down on our asses. We'll need to hedge against that.
Action plan step one. Build allies. Make friends. Quite honestly, this is going to be selling out. Start with other necromancers - frankly, I think that's going to be Brenda's gig. She speaks their language, and she can point them at places where they can do their own investigation and independently confirm. Liabilities with step one are as always the Giovanni. Necromancy and money are their wheelhouse. They've got several millennia of experience on their side.
Okay, before I go too far down that depressing road, I still know their Dirty Little Secret. Lightbulb. What if they've purposefully let their whole rep slip as a way to get everyone to look the other way? Misdirection, the illusionists' best friend. Look at this hand with two fingers in my cousin, don't look at the other hand that's collecting souls for a hearty return to the 12th century. Maybe if we convince people to look at what the other hand is doing, they'll realize the first hand was holding the flash powder. Hell, I've already done it once in New York. The real trick is to scale it up.
Currently there is no step two, as step one is going to keep us busy for at least a decade.
The overarching plan is to stall their plan. Keep the ghosts out of their hands. Maybe in a half-century we can liberate some of their stocks.
Questions: How do we track where they're getting their supplies from? How do we keep our knowledge secret? Logistics, supply, demand...Coming up with the code for these answers is going to keep me busy for at least three years. I may have to invent a new language for security purposes.
Risk-Reward Debate
So weirdly, getting Brenda to come to New Orleans was a matter of "Oh hey, I'm working with Ray on this thing."
This thing is complex. Side trip to the Lamplight for a private meeting with Morgaine. It's quite possible I lost points. But from her perspective, I'm a mailman who's occasionally amusing who suddenly came to her with dire "the end is nigh" shit. She may think I'm a little bent. At least until August 23rd.
Side note - I'm getting a leeeetle lot of help from the sorcerous one. Also, he's been to Alamut. How do you feel a pang of nostalgia/homesickness for a place you've never been to? It's just weird. But yes, I asked for some ideas, he gave me a rock. Remind me to never use spirits' touch on his presents. Seriously, he was chanting and doing shit with the rock that was bizarre, but I now have an awesome commo link. Unfortunately, I gotta keep it in my mouth or it goes poof. Which sucks. But, he's casting some horoscopes on me and the target to help guide our way to success. You laugh but once you're undead, casting auguries can be a pretty sane plan of action.
But yes, we're establishing and prepping to meet Morgaine. Hopefully she's got enough poker face to not let too much out. The last thing I want is to be accused of inciting a panic and having His Nibs trying to cram himself up my ass.
So now we get everyone together, and prep for meeting Morgaine. But first, we meet a few of the other folks and dress. Brenda gets her Wednesday Addams groove on, meanwhile, I'm just the standard .net millionaire. We make an interesting pair. Our first new face - Nigel Porter, a rather intriguing alchemist. Okay, I know from a intellectual standpoint that this can happen, but still, it's just weird to have someone who does that and publicly admits it.
That said, talk to Morgaine for a bit - she basically tossed me the keys to the lamplight and told me to lock up. I reallllly didn't think I would be able to convince her that easily. Either that or she got some independent confirmation. She mentions someone else in town from Denver named Etienne or something. Quick rifle through the memory, not ringing any bells, but cool. Old home week may happen sometime in the next couple decades. She asks if I could be so kind as to drive her to the airport. Sure, I can do that. See her off to the airport, and I'm being watched.
Oh yeah, one of the Princes' watchful eyes is on me like stink on shit. The night gets worse, as I lose him for a minute before I see him at an exit. Sadly, my Auspex sees through the illusions And he has a phone for me. Old school flipphone, which is like...eh. Fine I can deal with it. It's for me. Loverly. The Princes' genteel, cultured, well lubed voice slides into my ear.
I don't feel safe.
But, since my instincts say be flip under pressure, when His Nibs asks who he's speaking with, my mouth takes over and says "Jablowmeh. Heywood, Jablowmeh." In some cultures, that would be a mark of bravery. But not in this one. Sadly, the Prince is unamused, and there's really not a whole lot I can do except take Avery for a ride in my rented Vette. Seriously, went from Morgaine and her epic bounty to someone who spent the last year bathing in the sewer and getting beatdowns from the Ugly Stick.
All in all, it's a step down. I may not get my deposit back on the 'vette. I may in fact leave this to be stolen later. But enough of the Nos and their cheese-n-feet odor. Worse things are ahead in my life, and they'll be coming soon. Such as the conversation with the Prince.
There's really no nice way to put this - the prince reamed my ass. Oh yes, a life boon because I embraced without his leave 5 years ago. If he would have bothered to make sure his city was safe 5 years ago, we wouldn't have this problem - and if wishes were fishes we'd all eat sushi. Oh well. He can just hang that one over my head later. And he will, assuming he survives Katrina. He probably will, to be honest. Princes are generally tough shits to flush. Now that said, if he does, then the debt is erased, and I can breathe easier at night. If he doesn't, somewhere down the line I expect it's going to be "I can't kill you, you're my friend. Jason, kill my friend." Fucking bullshit like this is why I dislike politics. But even if he does survive, he's gonna be severely weakened, and Morgaine is a little stronger. She may very politely owe me one. I do her a favor, the favor with the prince is lowered, and life moves on apace. Also, I do have to pack up her library and get it to Rio. But, at the end of the night, there's progress on the Marie front. An invite to a masquerade ball - I can meet her, politely ask her to haul ass to New York, and talk to her dad so that I can get Tina back. And Cass is apparently okay - he's gentler with the ladies, or some bullshit.
Childer can be so damn difficult. Next night, meeting with Ray. Life is good, because one of the nice things that got dropped on me was that Ray's under a Blood Hunt. In New York, and New Orleans.
As I walk the streets of New Orleans, a single tear falls from my cheek, turning to a diamond and shattering against the pavement. I feel sorrow as a minor action. Or some bullshit like that. But as we walk in our reverie, something weird happens. There's a disturbance of some sort, a woman getting absolutely savaged by a ratdog, and some retiree yapping up a storm. 20 bucks on the dog. But, Auspex being the awesome that it is, notices that the womans' not bleeding as much as she should, and her voice is familiar. And...neither of them are breathing. God is tuned to the Jason Channel and laughing uproariously before going to write the next episode. That done I finally get the damn dog away from the woman, and the words coming out of her mouth...it's Brenda. Fuck a duck did she change. And Grandad is protesting about his dog. The dog gets scruffed and we get outta there before the cops try to figure out who to arrest.
First door on the right gets walked into. And so begins a horrid joke. A white guy a black woman, a latin woman, a grandad and a dog all walk into a tittybar. Brenda is famished, the old guy's protesting and freaking about his dog. I advise the old man to sit down, shut up, and his dog lives. It really...really scares me when Brenda pulls that. Brenda gets some lap dances, some blood,and then...we have a meeting with Ray to go to. He says he's got some information. Could be useful, could be not useful. But I think I'm gonna lean toward the Princes' offer on this. To be fully honest, I may want to advise someone else to get out of town, and go favor the hell up so I can cash out with the prince. Maybe Marie.
Graveyards suck.
So after we get fed and oh my gawd I smell feet get me the hell out of here, we finally get to a good place where we can talk to Old Guy (Hugo apparently.) Brenda picks a graveyard - because this horde of weirdos going into a strip club wasn't bizarre enough. Hugo gets sat down and the gospel is read. Sort of. The "Bad shit" alarm sounds rather aggressively in the back of my head, and I respond in traditional manner; out with the .45, and preparing to shoot. Except the world makes no damn sense. Blurry, cold fog, and all I could really make out were shapes. Shapes that looked intimidating and were coming toward me. Two rounds and some blood later, the wisdom of the sages came into effect - "when the lily of the mountain is facing the draining shade of Death itself, they had best bolt the fuck outta that shitstorm or they're gonna be using his guts for garters."
Up and over, and that's the end of that excursion. Sort of. Brenda gets over punches me and says I shot at her. First off, I missed. Second off, she didn't exactly look like her. I see a blur coming at me, a couple rounds are in fact going in its' direction. For some reason she just got all miffed. Women. Once again, New Orleans drives itself more firmly into the land of the psycho ex-girlfriend of cities. Back to the lamplight for some serious consideration, and then to keep an appointment with Ray. But first, sleep away the day.
The next night, awakening to the realization that I'm flipping hungry. Hugo and Cass are both early risers, and Hugo discovered what a light interrogation by a Rio cop is like. The finish on the bar was lightly marred, and quite honestly I'm not sure why I'm worried about it. I mean it's a month from being a shredded ruin. But, Cass and Brenda do have enlightenment on the blurs. They claim to have seen 4, and the other stuff I didn't see is a harbringer of ill omen. At this point, I really wasn't aware there were any other types of omens. Brenda buries herself in books, Young Hugo looks at the library like it's gonna beat him up for lunch money. Kids. No value in education. 4 things showing up in a graveyard at night, and from the description, there's something about the 4 horsemen of the apocalypse. As if we didn't have enough problems. A saving grace is that they didn't have horses. So right now they're the 4 Pedestrians of the Apocalypse. Once they level up, they'll be Monty Python and the Holy Grail Horsemen, complete with Patsy clapping two coconuts together. At this rate, we have plenty of time before they get horses and the Apocalypse begins in earnest. (240-some years, but who's counting.)
Next, breakfast. Blood, rum, bourbon. It's gonna be a miiiiillld night. So popping back to the hotel for a shower and fresh clothes, and unpouch the rock from Eren and check to see if it's okay to talk. And what he has scares me on a few levels.
His horoscope for me is confusing to him, but it makes sense to me - I'm on a quest to redeem myself from when I was a criminal. That does bring up a higher probability of "I meant to do this". Very interesting, but not quite germane to the subject at hand. And it'll give Eren something to chew over for awhile. Eventually I'm going to have to bring them in on Operation Jules. Further to the todo list, the number 5 is unlucky, but the number 4 is felicitous. Now also, water is bad. This is not a good sign since New Orleans is pretty much below sea level. Oh, and graveyards are bad. Thanks for the warning last night made that abundantly frickin' clear. Me, Brenda, Cass, Ray, and Hugo. Currently Ray's the odd man out in this equation. Hugo is still an unknown, and whether or not he remains an associate depends on how he acts. The worst (?) thing from Eren is that to ensure success, I'm going to have to become involved. Fuck me gently with a chainsaw. Although given that His Nibs has a firm grasp on my short and curlies becoming involved in some manner is going to happen. I wonder if I tell him about Katrina, he'll forgive the life boon, given that he could collect a shitload of boons from the people he tells.
Back to the matter at hand. Ray takes me on a guided tour of the Tremere important spots, and mentioning that he's set us up with a meeting with some witches. Great. More people to get into debt to. And they want to meet on a paddleboat. Eren's warning rings fresh in my ears, and I'm just so not into water. A bowling alley gets suggested. Ray's a little peeved, but a backup plan is suggested and agreed upon, which leaves me time to consider what to do about the graveyard. Inconveniencing Ray is one of the few joys I have in this town.
Same old song and dance
So days are sunny in New Orleans. I discover this when something starts going off in my ears - It's like a freakin' dog-whistle alarm, and it's annoying. Aiming for the snooz button, my vision is presented with an angry looking someone dressed to kill - SWAT body armor, a shotgun, and various other accoutrements of making unlife miserable. Including my old enemy Mr Sunshine. Somehow there was a rig set to bring the sunlight in.
Who the fuck keeps tipping these people off? My existence is far too exciting for someone who wants to just sit at the house, drink blood, and create the next computer language in between rounds at the rifle range.
The debate began with an opening riff on the zen koan "What is the sound of one shotgun firing". I'll tell you, it's loud, annoying, and rapidly drowned out the alarm. 12 gauge birdshot shredded the thick light-proof curtains, letting in more of Mr Sunshine. Now, being as I'm not really one for philosophical debate, my rejoinder was more practical - "A Sig Sauer 40 caliber round enters your shotgun barrel at a velocity of 1100 feet per second. Calculate the explosive radius of your 12 gauge round going off in the barrel." Hint; the shooter was inside said explosive radius. And then our shooter cursed. A very feminine curse. I get a look from Cass like this is somehow my fault. Seriously, not amused. This is some severely jacked up shit, and the world somehow gets worse, as Psycho Woman chucks a molotov at us. The Lamplight graciously activates the halon system, whereupon fire goes away. Now we can get back to the first priority, crazy broad with the sun. Now I know there wasn't a mirror there when I went to bed, so I shot it. Side note - compared to launching a round down a shotgun barrel at midday, that was cake. Cass joins me in shooting out the reflector, and then Ravager the WonderDog saves the day. I wonder if Cass knows that's what Hibby's going to be like in a few years. That'll be a Kodak Moment.
Back to the here and now, Crazy Broad came in for more fighting. Bold, yes. But kinda stupid, and Cass sacked her ass for a 5 yard loss and somewhere in here her world got freaking bad. Brenda arrived on scene sometime in there and made her older than dirt, to a degree. But - she was old and strapped for war. Seriously, not just strapped but "Check all weapons when entering Bartertown" strapped. Welcome to Thunderdome, bitch. So after excitement, the police. Because when there are gunshots and explosions, Bourbon Street becomes annoyed and the cops are called. So the cops show the hell up, we zip downstairs song, dance, donate to the policemans' ball, dominate gently, and get a fuck of a sunburn when the cop leaves in the bright bright sun. Man, seriously. Adrenaline gave way to exhaustion and I shamelessly cratered out.
So once nightfall arrived, I wake up and discover things have transpired. One, Cass is very enthusiastic about a talking to. Second, Auspex is almost freaking useless against this woman. Third, I know her. Back in New Orleans Round One, this was the woman who freaking fired off the elephant gun and followed up with grenades. She may have been the first victim of the Beasts' rage, and she's got the scars to show it. So we're kinda even. Part of me feels really guilty, but a little slip in to her mind shows she's in a lot more pain than previously suspected. As in, she's apparently willing to die defiantly rather than ask if she could be taken to the doctor. To be fair, she probably thought we'd laugh. But she kinda passed out, and we sailed her to the ER for a dump and run, and then off to talk to Ray. Note to self, I gotta circle back to her later. She said her friends in the church would avenge her. Why didn't her friends in the church come with her? Seriously, who's pushing her buttons? There are no coincidences. In a city this large, the same vampire hunter I tore up 5 years ago sidles up to me at the faceoff dot and wants to go again? Someone told her we were here.
Gotta kind of hand it to Ray, he doesn't take chances. Little booth, white noise generator, and a discussion. Apparently this is never easy. There's 2 coteries of the mages, and they hate each other - because of course they do. If they didn't, there'd only be one. The one we're going to meet has a cost for the meeting; that being some blood. Vampiric blood. Well, I can convert my blood to a non-blood substance, which pretty much negates the advantages. Sadly, I can't get a meeting with anyone I would want to throw under the bus this fast, so we're going with that. But before I give blood, I gotta get some blood. And hunting we go. For a sober-ish person. On Bourbon Street. At night. It took two hours, but I found enough to fill up and spare some. That last bit of business taken care of, it's time to see what the witches are offering.
Meetings just flat out suck.
So Brenda decides to decline the meeting, because she's smart like that. Hugo tags along, and Cass is definitely along for this ride. Ray being Ray, he's along too. So in the soakingass rain, we hit the voodoo museum. We're being watched, because of course we are. This time it's a Trinity knockoff, complete with crotchrocket, leather outfit, and nigh-uncontainable chesticles. Someday, I'm going to have a night in this town that is actually mellow. But not tonight. Through the doors, and I swear it's a Tardis. A creepy, creepy Brenda would have squee'd Tardis. I keep Ray to the front as much as I can, because I absolutely don't trust him to not suckerpunch me. Shockingly, Ray probably thinks I harbor some resentment, so he's not trusting me. We eventually sort it out, and this gets intriguing. We should have hit the wall way before we actually did. Checking the GPS for independent confirmation is useless, as I got no bars and no service. Fuckery. It didn't stop me from reminding Hugo every 30 feet to not touch anything. Is very bad to drink Jo-bu's rum. Especially if you've got sticky fingers.
Walking way way farther than we should have, we finally meet the folks. Gramma the Raisin, MC Hammerpants, and Cornrows. Apparently they are the Coven of the Quadroon Legacy. Because the SouthSide Hoodoo Posse was taken, and so was Rusted Root. There's a little foreplay, discussion of this that and the other, finally names are exchanged. I give the name on my passport, which they politely declined. I'm not sure why, but my negotiating style with this tends to be "never give an inch" for some reason. So after a lot of time, the deal's on the table. They get us into the chantry, we get them a map from the DeSauveterre family. A map on the back of a painting. I caught a couple elbows from Cass during the discussion, because honestly my game slips a little when there's options on the table, and right now the option from the Prince is looking better.
So I shouldn't have called Hammerpants "boy". Seriously, the kid does not like Gramma Raisin, and he was seriously just looking for any excuse for a fight. Maybe he's screwed a few things up and he's looking to show how valuable he really is. In any case, the "coven" is a thing born of necessity if I can read body language right. Hammerpants chafes under Gramma Raisin, and Cornrows just seems lost. But, they're not much more tightknit than us, let's be honest. Brenda's the one I trust the most, Cass gets me out of jams, Hugo's kinda useful, and Ray's more disposable than a used Trojan.
But I digress. We get a day to think this over, some funky shit is done over our blood (okay my blood poison - that shit looks nasty coming out, and they probably guessed I altered it somehow. Hopefully it didn't eat through the chalice. I admit to spooking Cornrows a little when she gave me the knife - I mean I have fangs for just such an occasion. So we head out, and Trinity has been replaced by a Trenchcoat. Great. A quick plan is made to lose them, I didn't play my part very well, but we went into a shop where we could pick out clothes for tomorrow nights' masquerade. fitted masks, all that. There's bourbon, cigars, measurements, and the peace is disturbed by a wolf howling.
That shit ain't natural, and so we're hauling ass. A slightly risky Celerity-run and Cass is jumping from a balcony that's being occupied by a Lupine, because the night didn't have enough for me to think about. Ray actually surprised me by whipping out some blood and picking up the Lupine. How the fuck, I didn't care because it gave me a nice stable target for putting 2 rounds right in the bastards' head. I didn't kill it, but I really didn't expect it to. I mainly wanted its' attention on me so people could lay into it from behind. 4 on 1 is about an even fight at this point. On whim, I tried Dominating it to run away - if that didn't work, I had 7 more reasons for it to go find a better place to be at the ready.
Son of a bitch, it worked. Note to self when dealing with Lupines. Whip out the dominate first, and then go to the firing range. Maybe if I work at that a little more, I can have one roll over. Fetch. Heel. Sic Balls. Also, I would still like to be the king of all Londinium and wear a shiny hat. That done, it was time to get clear of places where his friends could jump us. Cass' clothes were wrecked, and Ray was gentlemanly enough to give her a jacket. Dinged body armor is tres gauche. So in the mall, we get some clothes, send them off, and then because I really needed to make back a touch of what I'd just spent, we went to Harrahs' Casino.
We almost didn't make it in, because Hugo got carded and totally fumbled his ID. Cass was polite enough to not crack him one, she just went through them and confiscated all the shitty ones while I smoothed things over with a hundred dollar tip to the doorman. Then on to Lesson One for Hugo. Seriously, pickpocketing's fine and dandy, but if you want the real money, you go where the money is. Thus he got to sit and watch as I Texas Held 'Em Up to turn 5 grand into 20 grand - not a bad few hours work, and honestly it was relaxing for me. And then Security Buzzkill showed up and advised me that the management wanted to see me. Seriously, the house gets miffed when you start taking their hard-stolen money.
Up to the management we go, who's Benny Giovanni. There will be a night where I can swing a dead cat in this town and not hit someone who wants something from me. And on that night, Caine will show his ass up and want a bootleg copy of Windows 3.1.
Benny starts by telling me how much he knows about me. Dammitall. So I tell him briefly and without a lot of detail about what's brought me to this festering swamp. Shockingly, he's offering to help. Family being one of the things we agree on. So that's three offers of aid on the table. This is looking better and better - maybe I'll tell everyone that there's one other offer on the table and see who lowers their price. Weirdly, Benny didn't mention the Banhammer. Maybe Leo's trying to keep that coup to himself, or New Orleans is a backwoods hole in Giovanni terms. Though I'm not sure why, there's a lot of things to make them squeal like a buncha schoolgirls.
As an aside, I'm not taking the deal with the Giovanni. I mean, I'm gonna have to deal with them eventually, and right now any offer I get from them is going to be repaid with the Banhammer plans or a ludicrous boon (Repayable with the Banhammer Mark 2 plans.) So again I defer, consider the idea, and then back to the Lamplight to let Brenda know we're going to find secondary lodgings.
First off, I smell feet. Nasty, nasty feet and swampass. It's like everyone and everything is dishearteningly aware of us. So with that, the guns out and people are alerted. Nobody's there, but it looks like Brenda was kidnapped. I checked the books, and yes, she got kidnapped. She hates being staked more than most. I think it's the absolute powerlessness of the thing. I call, and her phone vibrates on the table. Son of a bitch.
The rank smell indicates Nosferatu. The only Nos I've seen are firmly in the Princes' employ. Logical inference being that His Nibs found out about Brenda, and she's his guest for the night. So with that cheerful thought, we're going to have to go to a masquerade ball, make contact with the lady, and then see who makes me a better offer.
Up until the dead chick...
...it was a really nice party. But I digress. After Harrahs', we went back to the French Quarter to get a nightcap. Of course, because nothing is ever simple in this town, it quickly because a night of "being nice to the alcohol poisoned lady who was about to get taken to a married mans' hotel room for something she wouldn't like." She yakked in the trash can, I had some blood (I mean, come on, that's why I freaking picked her out in the first place) and got a nice buzz on. And then I had to go and try out my cajun impression to the cajun guy, who was unimpressed.
Sigh. I'm starting to think this town has something against me. Or I should stop getting so drunk.
Either way, the next night was the party. Time to make some shit happen. First things first, the young Hugo had to become presentable, so that anything he did would have a little sense of style. That took a couple hours and a visit to a haberdasher, a hair salon, and a place that specialized in masks. Suitably attired, with a nice rental car, we went off to the soiree. On the way, we saw Harrah's Casino burned to the ground. Fairly recently too. I believe we should have an introspective moment of silence for poor Benny Unclefucker.
Upon arrival, amusement one - the Princes' date was Brenda. Well isn't that speeeecccial. Seriously though, what kinda blackmail does he have of her to get her crammed into that layer cake she was wearing? After that it was meeting people, doing things, and seeing all of the elite of New Orleans in one place was certainly a thing to behold. Weirdly, it wasn't all that bad. And Brenda can tango. I suppose she's got hobbies too. And the tango may be one of the less creepy things I've seen her do with dead bodies.
Then came what was, in hindsight, my first screwup of the night. I handed Hugo off to Manon the Setite for safekeeping. I blame her gold dusted breasteses and the idea that nobody would really cause the Prince grief in his house, at his party. More fool me, but more on that later.
Priority 1: Marie D'Richet. Damn - she's all in a Leia-esque outfit and my inner geekboy started running lines and thinking this was the best night ever. I asked for the favor of a dance, was granted said favor after her snake-eating-itself handcuff was removed (this symbology is important. Must discern origin and use.) I did not cut a rug nearly as well as his nibs and Brenda. Seriously, my headspace was not in the dance space, it was more convincing Marie that her Daddy wanted to talk to her, and I would like Tina back before Daddy goes all kinds of psycho. That was easier, and then to item 2 - a walk while I explained to her why it would be a reallllly great idea to get the hell out of New Orleans.
We took a walk, and had a nice conversation about things like hurricanes, parents, and my suspicions about Josh the painter and her father. She did admit to having a portrait done of her by Josh, which makes me think Daddy was the one who bankrolled the initial operation lo those many years ago. We spoke more about the path of Technomancy. I gotta get me some of that. And then I spoke some more about things here and there and she asked about my clan, whereupon I admitted yes I'm an Assamite.
I'd almost forgotten her guard dog. Pulls out a sword, or quite possibly a lightsaber. It was green. I'm pretty sure I sighed. Yes, Elminster, it's the biggest one I've ever seen. Really. Although given the state of affairs, his reaction was perfectly reasonable. But she's worth more to me undead then she is really really dead. So I had to bite my lip and keep the Gandalf comment behind my teeth. The walk back was noticeably quieter. I was cool with that because well, other shit was on my mind. To wit, His Highness. We went back, marie absconded with the rest of Hogwarts, and I prepped for job 2.
Off to go find the Prince and do some chattering at him about Katrina. It was amusing before approaching to talk to him, as the other Primogen were talking about the possibility of me making arsonous things on the Giovanni. While I wasn't exactly weeping, that wasn't my thing - though if they want to believe it was me, sure. The other tidbits were about Brenda. Overall, it's kinda fun having Auspex when nobody knows it. The conversation with the Prince, well...he was discouraging, and I admit to being an amatuer. I mean really I could have hinted that I'd drop knowledge in the domes of others, and they would all owe me a bunch of small favors, which could shift the balance of power in the city to something much more to my liking. Like I said, not my first Hindsight screwup of the night. Apparently if the information is verified, and proves useful, he would consider knocking it down a bit.
I suppose having an Assamite on the payroll is too damn nice not to keep the thumbscrews around. Again, partly my own damn fault. Overall though, we call this a win. A really freakin good win; I'm getting my childe back, I'm getting a measure back from the prince, and some further explorations to Technomancy have been accomplished. Given all the accomplishments of the night, I suppose I should have seen Dame Fortune coming up behind me with the Louisville Slugger after a speech about teamwork, but alas.
So I go find Hugo. Stoned to the fucking gills on something, with a dead woman curled up on his lap. He was not like this when I left him. And I definitely did not recall a dead woman being a part of the ambiance. Brenda's place? Sure, she's rocking the Undead Crazy Old Cat Lady thing. But here? Not so much. Off to rock with damage control, getting both Hugo and The Dearly Departed Diane Cloutier to the car. And then off to find Brenda, ask her to let the Prince know what was up, and that we needed a nice cover story for the dead lady while I got the body to an appropriate place. I feel I must reiterate this was not the kind of party where a dead body woulda livened things up in a good way. I should know, I've been to those parties. Stoned Hugo is a pain in the ass to no end, so I rather shamelessly put up the Quietus bubble until such time as my phone rang. Brenda playing secretary, tells me to call our old friend Detective Carter. It is gonna be hard to outlive that fuckwit - that said. , oh and the Prince would like to see me as early as possible. Who'dathunkit.
Detective Carter was nice and professional, creating an appropriate scene, and then we left with our lights off. And then the police were called to report a stolen vehicle, which 10 minutes later went into the river. And hearkening back to the good old days yet again, even though the good old days were pretty crappy. Hugo was starting to sober up a liiiitttle bit, so we went to get something to eat. As a sidebar, Manon is either really old or she gets a kick out of drinking vampiric blood. It's a weakness I can use later on if I catch her ass.
Hugo drank a lot, and as soon as he was with it, he was losing his goddamn mind. I really do wonder what he was hopped up with. But first things first - get a few more people for him, get a snack for me, and for the love of all things holy get this thing done.
Once we told our stories of what had happened, we got ourselves a stern talking to. No playing with the snakes. Even the hot ones. Especially the hot ones. Not even a little bit. I'm expected to "Check In" regularly, like a good dog, so I'll have to write a script to send him a Christmas email. Blah. That'll be ten minutes of my unlife wasted. Hugo, however, has to be the court entertainer for a year. Light punishment, but he's a neonate.
All the boxes are checked, the plane is gassed up, and next up is a quick stop in New York to pick up Tina and then New Orleans can goddamn well fend for itself for a few years.
