Jasons' Rio Diary

2005: Having freshly returned from New Orleans, I have to say that particular hellhole is not on my list of things to deal with. Marcel keeps trying to stake me anally, and I again have to say I don't appreciate it. We have bigger problems, but he doesn't know or care. I suppose I have in him an ally of sorts, as he'll probably listen to me next time I whip out a prophecy on his ass.

I returned to my office to see the most important thing on my wall. A countdown timer, set to 0 out the day Augustus screws the pooch. And so began a night of contemplation after resettling in Tina and Andre.

First need: Communication. I will need secure communications in all things. To achieve this, I'll need some financial backing. Some investments here and there and some well placed bets are not going to go amiss. The main goal here is going to have to be finding some digital links that aren't translatable. Given the technomancy path, I have to presume any communications are tappable. The solution is to let them listen, but speak a language they don't know. Occam's razor points to "invent a new computer language."

Shitballs.

Second Need: Allies. With the Schism dividing the clan, this is harder than it looks. I'm going to have to devote some resources to building some boltholes and safehouses for people, and letting it be known that Alamut West is here. It's a bit pretentious, but this could be the best place. International city, multiple access routes, and a political structure that's very laid back. I seriously doubt I'll be able to end the Schism, but I do need as many people as possible knowing that it's time to be wary of the Giovanni. See also, communication.

Third Need: Recon. For this, I'm going to need to develop my personal Auspex to the highest levels I can, in addition to learning the sorcerers' ways so that I can pursue technomancy. The Giovanni are hell on wheels with finance and necromancy. Necromancy I'll have to leave to Brenda, but I should be able to pursue the finance with my own means. See previous regarding communication. It's quite lovely to have all the books in the world and all the time in the world to read them, but if your glasses are broken you're beyond hosed. I have to read the documents to know where the money is going, and read where they plan to do things.

Fourth Need: Action Plan. Once the three cornerstones are in place, the final piece needs to be set. What we're going to do about it. Given their previous interest in guns and ammo, I have a distinct feeling I may need a few of those. The more traditional may look upon guns as tools of the dishonorable, but the Giovanni lack all honor despite their loud protestations to the contrary. They will want them, I will have them, and I will use them. The coordinated strike, as much of the clans' strength as can be mustered...Haqim himself might be proud of it.

But lets' not get carried away here. We just got the plan on paper, and as I look upon, there is a centuries' worth of work, and I've got a decade to do it.

2005 - 2031:

Epilogue of New York - yowza. Seriously, I hate the Giovanni houses. They're fucking creepy, and they are allergic to electricity. We get in, have a nice meal with Donatello, and then Lurch takes us to our rooms. And seriously, he was Lurch. The room is done up in memoraria, which adds a macabre touch to the whole thing. A family, all laid out and dressed nicely. It's peaceful. And then it gets weird. A nice landscape of the 19th century vintage, so close I stepped in. Metaphorically. Somewhat. I mean, I was rocking the 19th century style, and yes, I looked good, but then Cass yoinked me out of it. Reallllly annoying. But yeah, I really need to stop doing that shit. Cass yoinked me out of it because her room had a funhouse mirror. And by funhouse I mean "Psychotic portal that reflected a dying version of everything not undead, and didn't like being touched." Talk about guys who need a laugh. Cass refused to stay in her room, and I can't really blame her - but my room wasn't a whole lot better. Seriously, the gunslinger on my half of the bed left like he was going to his other painting in Hogwarts. And then night was a series of dream within a dream because the matrix is fucking real and it hates us. It was just...getting called back to bed by cass, waking up with the coverlet, talking to the painting, rinse and repeat until nightfall. On the whole, I've had more comfortable sleeping in a 6 man tent with 5 other farting burping snoring stankass guys back when the sun was just a thing.

Wake up, get dressed and prep to deliver Marie to Daddy, and get Tina back. On the way, some dude from Manchester by the name of Something Dunsirn is offered up as a bodyguard. gratis. Sure, I like having free cannon fodder. Although Marie did not sleep well either, from the look of it. And Ol' Boy Dunsirn loved him some Scottish death metal. My god Donatello hurts my head, his house is creepy, and we could have stayed at a hotel. But the exchange went off mostly harmlessly. Without going into details there was a ton of machinegun french that I could just barely keep up with. Turns out Michel isn't a complete asshole, just a weird scientist who loves him some Cylons. He had a couple wheel Tina out. Apparently she was place in a stasis loop of some kind that I didn't completely understand, but she wasn't easy to control.

I couldn't quite disguise the paternal pride I felt. That's my girl. That said, Michel was apparently a little surprised that there are vampires with a sense of honor. Compliment accepted. And then with Tina to get her a little unwound, touch base with a few people for the night, and then fly our asses back to sweet sweet Rio. With a business card from the Dunsirn guy, advertising himself as a Street Samurai. Seriously, he thought that whole meet was pure awesome. Where the fuck does Don find these people? They do not get out much. And they are somehow...bizarre. It's like the Addams Family was a template.

25 years later

Seriously. Busier than a one-legged man an asskicking contest here. Busier than a Singapore hooker during Fleet Week. Busier than a...you get the picture.

Astral travel is cool, but not without it's drawbacks. Namely, my consciousness can't stay conscious if my body is unconscious. One would think that we could work it out better, but alas. So I had more than a few times where I was sitting in on an R&D meeting or a design session and suddenly WHAM - I wake up and it's night. Gods but that's annoying. But I've learned enough to do...a ton. And looking back, I think I may deserve a vacation. But first, the high points. Advancements in Auspex, guns and computers have come rapidly. Of necessity, I'm learning how to build shit. Now in order to create things, we need money. So now, of necessity, we're branching out. Aggressive expansions into resorts and I've got a stranglehold on the resort casinos in South America. Which means I have a metric ton of cash. Like...I have to buy a couple jets. Or 5. I need a naming convention for the fleet. We'll name them after Enterprise shuttlecraft. Easypeasy.

Wow. Apparently I am a bit of a nerd.

Meanwhile, learning...languages, guns, and even learning how to make blood coffee - seriously, that blood sake was what did it. If we can make sake and blood mix...coffee.

Now as far as what we're sinking the cash into from gambling...well, it's mostly energy and favela rehabilitation. Cass is doing some sort of like...Robin hood thing and Hugo (How did that little squidge get to Rio?) is her man Friday. Okay, that works. Hugo got a list, and a reminder that those people are untouchable. And if he thinks they are touchable, I have a soundproof firing range and 500 rounds of education waiting.

But I digress. Hugo needed some lessons in where to hide his ill gotten gains - let's not kid ourselves, Ravnos do not get that rich that fast with a H&R Block 401(k). I loaned him a couple accountants who were able to funnel his money into Swiss and Cayman accounts that weren't quite traceable, and a couple other little helpful things here and there.

Brenda's found herself a creepshow horde of necromancers. That'll be helpful in the long run, but oh my god I am not inviting them over. They'd probably laugh at the favela project. Which honestly, it's a rather delightful test bed for a future inroads. Everyone needs light, and everyone needs to talk. So, we're getting electricity, to power a hemp paper and textile mill, and rolling the money from that into electronics manufacturing. Now the paper is going to let us get into newsprint that's cheaper and sturdier than traditional, while the electronics are going to let us make cellphones and tablets that everyone will want.

Even the Giovanni.

Thankfully, I've kept in touch with Masood throughout all this - I think he might be a little concerned I'm burning myself out a little, so we're going to take a breather in Baghdad. I think it may be time to let everyone in on the secret, so they can know what's motivating me like nothing ever has before.

2 centuries.