Jasons' Rio Diary

Jasons' Journal

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. And the Flagship will be named Serenity. 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. Rum. All the things I miss having in my mouth from the days when digestion was a thing.

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. And as a side note, who the hell goes to Baghdad for a breather? Seriously, I think that may say more about my mental state than anything else.

2 centuries. Time to pack.

A reflective pause

As I'm making sure I've got everything and everyone I need and in order, I'm realizing that goddamn did I make strides. I never would have done this before. Is this a hidden part of me, or is that I'm moving this fast because I know what's coming? Certainly the drive of the caste plays a part, and Masood warned me of it. Would I have truly been pushing myself across so many different spectra had I been a different caste, or even a different clan, even given the same knowledge? I can't really know that, but I'm going to say probably not. And yet looking at the years I've had to work with, I'm still barely a fledgling. I'm simultaneously pleased and concerned. I'm pleased with myself because I'm at the forefront of my fields. If I released any of the BanHammer models, there'd be a war inside 3 months - you give the army boys new toys, and they're gonna want to play with them. Additionally, in the realm of computers, I'm one moment of brilliance from cracking the trinary system - and I've already written up design documents to make current programs compatible. I'm concerned because even with that and everything I have, the people I'm going up against could utterly wreck me with an insignificant gesture and never consider me again unless my corpse left an undesirable stain on the carpet.

Can I keep up this pace and still manage to avoid stomping toes, keep making friends, and gather enough force behind me to keep the Giovanni from enacting their plans (and this is critical) without them noticing? Probably not. It all comes back to having friends. Creating Alamut West would be ideal. Not New Alamut. never. There's only one, and to make a "New Alamut" smacks of hubris and worse, dishonor. Again, I think that might be the blood talking. Like how I felt when I saw Eren gathering stones in a cavern there. What it must be like to have been there. And going to Baghdad might make it worse.

But I digress - this is to take inventory of what I've done, and allow myself a pat on the back. Again, it feels like everything I've done has been guided somehow. There's a purpose to everything I've done, like the languages I speak, the things I've mastered and surpassed mastery of. There's always been one overarching goal. Stop the Giovanni. I'm starting to feel confident that I can do so. I think I'm going to hold on to that feeling until Serenity touches down in Baghdad, because that's when all hell is going to break loose.

Hey, I know that guy!

2031

So my travel plans are pretty much set. Clothing, hockey jerseys with body armor and holsters for casual time, couple nice suits with flex-kevlar for formal occasions, the latest test pistols from the machine shop (Ren and Stimpy) and some nice collapsible assault rifles. Just in case. I don't think I could get away with grenades, but my "bodyguards" can get away with a little bit more than me, even if their real function is walking ammo can if we get into deep shit.

So in the midst of my preparation for coming out of the closet (police box?) to Masood, I get a call. One of my managers wants to know if it's cool for a guy who's losing a ton to trade in emeralds. Uhm...are they legit, do they appear to be stolen, all that - everything looks good, so after a quick appraisal, they're good. Really, I think the only reason he called was it was about a mill in emeralds. So the night proceeds apace, I go over my ammo counts and what they're going to show up on the manifest as, and then there's another call. All hell has broken loose at the casino, and it's not the kind that brings in money. That's annoying, so I bring up the security and it's not good. Masked men are shooting at people, but it's like they're...shooting with a purpose. This isn't mayhem for mayhems' sake, they're rolling toward Senor Emerald. Advise security of what they're doing, and then I notice these guys are taking bullets and they're not really slowing down. Fuckberries, they're vampires. That just made it my problem. Sigh. Fortunately, the resort's actually close enough to reach out and touch someone, so I do. Admittedly, I should have asked the douche his name, but I really wasn't in the mood for pleasantries. Apparently, they were after the emeralds, and they're weren't in an asking kind of mood. Oddly, they were following a trail of green, and I got mental flashes of a guy in a green mask. Dafuq. Get on the horn to the manager, tell him to clear a path, detain Emerald Guy, and wait for me.

Me and Tina hit the Jeep loaded light - seriously, these guys were carrying submachine guns. No reason to get all uptight and bring the heavy shit. There's a little discussion with the local captain, because BOPA's coming about 20 minutes behind me which is not good news. I swear, those fuckers love to keep construction companies employed because they kill the shit out of buildings. As a result, my local properties have double-payout rider if BOPA's involved in their destruction. Cost overruns are a bitch. The captain does not want me going up there, even if all the wingnuts are doing is suppressing fire. Finally, I convince him, but then mentally contact. As soon as they realize it's me doing the head-chatter, they start shooting at me.

Seriously, fuck these guys. They killed my suit, and then while the cop is tackling my ass I was able to pull off a nice snapshot and kill one of their pistols. Yeah, I meant to do that. Suck it, John Woo. Meanwhile, I did maybe kinda sorta tell these guys that as a child of Haqim, I found their intrusion unwelcome.

Of course they pulled out a rocket launcher. Seriously, where do these fuckers get rocket launchers, and why do they all want to be aimed at me? New protocol for vampiric gunfights - head shots are acceptable. This is not out of maliciousness, but simply because it won't kill them, and it'll make them think twice before they break out the rocket launchers. However, future plans don't really help against present explosives incoming. Tina took the worst of it, but it seemed like they were not really aiming to kill people in general, they were...stalling. Still, after that they left. Smart, because I was busy making sure my new friend the chief of police was going to die, and then making sure Tina wasn't going to get ashed. They're quite fortunate that she only got a little charred. 5 units of whole blood later, she's gonna be okay, but that shit's gonna leave a mark. Sigh again. Time to head home, questioning the Emerald Asses all the way. They were really closed up about the whole thing but somewhere along the line I got an image of a guy in an emerald mask. Damn little to go on, so they're shuffled down to the B-list. I'll deal with them if opportunity arises, but I have other priorities. Is it sad that I have B-list enemies? It is. Now I'm pretty much going to have to tell Tina why the fuckers who tried to nuke her ass are on the B-list. To wit, the priority is gathering people together to take on the Giovanni.

Home again home again jiggety jig...to a note from a Jeremy Pseudonym, asking if he can meet me and Brenda about mutual interests. Well that's not vague at all, but at least he's left an email. Call Brenda, she got a similar note. Though the whole email thing means he's a not a scroll humping Tremere, so points for that. Invitation accepted to my house, because it's definitely more tasteful then Brenda's living room (which is currently done in Early Addams.) Get Tina situated in bed, and then we'll deal with the rest of it later.

Next night, time to meet Jeremy. And in a blast from the past, Jeremy is Jamie. Like...the Jamie I knew from the breathing days. I mean I know crazy shit happened and a lot of us got hammered back in Timeline the First, but I didn't know everyone was going through the same loopback thing as me. Maybe. I dunno. Jamie's the first one I've run across. So he breaks out a white-noise generator after the room gets cleared, and oh fuck did that thing hurt my ears. Kill it and we open up a secure link courtesy of me. Apparently he's done well, and is worried about some vampire porn thing from his boss. Okay, that's weird but, yeah potential Masquerade breach. Oh yeah. That. Apparently they're analyzing it deeply enough to realize that it's not CGI. I track down a few of the actors, and then eh. It's not a thing I can't fix, I can add some CGI tracers to the file so if anyone looks, it's not really vampires. Really, go back to your sparkly wet dreams, ladies. So that sorted, we get into old home week, and what I've been doing with myself besides computers. Guns. Lots of guns. Jamie did bring a desert eagle, and seriously - he got an upgrade. Caseless, more stopping power in a smaller package, fewer moving parts, better fire rate, and if he needs some custom ammo, I might do it for shits and giggles.

Then came the real thing that boggled me. He knew me and Brenda got shot back. He was however, cagey about the hows and the wherefores. Over guns and telepathy, we discussed plans - he's actually planning to find where the Giovanni are holding souls and poison the well, as it were. Ambitious, but that means he's cozying up to the Giovanni. I'm not a fan of the idea, but apparently it can be done and he's going for it. If it works, good times. I did let him know that Brenda's a Nagaraja - and really good at Necromancy. I'm running Jamies' plan by her to see if it is viable. He might be getting duped by the Giovanni. Meanwhile, I'll CGI fangs over the real fangs and set up a couple watchers on the servers here so that anything that comes out gets a similar treatment. And if I do manage to find someone I know in this mess, I'll have to talk to them and quietly advise them that someone is unhappy about the porn. Meh. Actually I do kinda owe him, he gave out some information that's useful. He remembers more about the future than I do - things are moving faster. Ur-Shugli woke up and completed the Breaking a century before he was supposed to. Wars and other events are happening faster than they were supposed to. We may have to move the clock up a bit.

Then came Boggle number two - Brenda didn't know she'd been thrown back in time. So that was an interesting conversation in and of itself, but it was fruitful. there were a few "Now that makes sense" and similar comments, but she apparently needs a ride to Beirut. Well, hell, as long as we're all going in that direction, why not. And then on the ride over, we discuss how to stop an Antediluvian who is a rather selfish prick and is trying to cause mass catastrophe as a pawn sacrifice in the Jyhad. Beirut, Baghdad, then Dresden. My pilots are making some serious coin this run.

Postulations - The more I think about it, the more it's obvious this was planned. I came back with the knowledge to establish ourselves financially, and Brenda came back with all the knowledge of the dead that the Sabbat had to offer. Jamie knows more than he let on about the whole how we got back, which depresses me slightly - that said he's a Camarilla Cleaner. He's still a little uptight, but what can you really do. How the fuck did he come back? Which is probably why he's being as "That's someone elses' story" about it. Someone found people who had the same start point, offered them the chance to go back, conditional on us altering the timestream. Theoretically, we could all work together, but we seem to be going about it in different ways. Hopefully we'll be able to settle everything out and point clans in the proper direction. Though how we unify the dispossessed without Ur-shugli demanding fealty is going to be...tricky.

Someone's getting billed for this.

So I'm working on writing a script to find and replace real fangs with fake fangs, really monkey-work. It's easy if it wasn't the scope of the whole damn thing. It'll take some time, but Jamies' boss'll be satisfied, whoever he is. And don't tell anyone I said this, but the mental challenge is the thing. Sure, there's favors and boons, and the money's not bad, but really the thing is being able to have a story to tell to the other hackers that you can verify.

Anyway, back to the story. I get a call on the BatPhone, and it's Hugo. Something about emeralds, the russian mob, and the emeralds smell like blood. Weirdness enough that I didn't want to discuss it on the phone. I kill the connection and get into his headspace. It's weird in there. So I tell him to bring the emeralds and his buddy (Amalcar? Really? Who names their kid after Hannibal's dad? Gotta be a Brazil thing), and get ready to receive guests. I go hunt into Erens' headspace, ask him for a consultation on "Why would you put blood into an emerald". He agrees to come over, as it is more than a passing curiosity - apparently the Tremere do a thing with blood in stones, but it's usually cheap quartz. Note to self, make sure I can find these boys something to do with their unlives. There may be some itching for a contract amongst the warriors. Also, strange cut emeralds with someone wanting them back badly is some kind of running theme of late. I'd like to know more.

So then I get another call from Cass. There's 6 dead bodies of fences in the morgue, and we have permission to go investigate and cover that shit up as need be. Her cop buddy capitan Rebecca has asked nicely. Also, passing mention of how she's getting older, and there may be a discussion of ghouling in the future. Rebecca already knows about the existence but ghouling is usually a serious step. That said, we've only got 48 hours before the case gets passed along, and sometimes having Auspex abilities that most toreador would pawn their fangs for is handy. All this weirdness is looking to be connected somehow.

Hugo and Amalcar come in, and the emeralds smelled like blood like crazy. It's a pretty fair amount, but I sift over them a little, use auspex on them, and I get a vision. Chanting in some weird language, and someone licking the stones. He's pissed all the time though - it's almost like he was transferring his anger to the stones. Possibly done under duress? Just strange overall. I didn't get a solid look at the person doing it, but still. It's enough to pique the curious. Then putting the stones on the coffee table, I start putting a puzzle together for a discovery. Someones' making a mask of these emeralds. Hence the strange cuts, but then this answer leads to more other questions.

Eventually the whole gang arrives, and 4 out of 5 vampires confirm that these stones are enchanted, with the 5th one not even knowing how to determine it. Cass stared at the emeralds for a long time, confirmed emotional transference but there's no actual souls. Eren kills the lights, lights a candle, we get some blood on the candle and yes, the smoke wafts around to people and the stones. Very odd, but it's a nice trick to see who's got what. Brenda's voodoo is a little odder. She needs a chicken. A live freaking chicken. Yep. The stones are enchanted as hell. But none of this tells us why they're in the shape of a mask.

That said, the emeralds are angry. Time to think about securing these things. Amalcars' a little nervous about parting with them. So finally I just buy the emeralds from him - let's be honest, that's all he wanted and it's easier to buy and secure rather than secure. I look over at Eren for a method of securing because Hugo getting all kinds of antsy, and then my perimeter warning goes off. Hugo gets in an "I told you so" - I'll crock him layer and explain things. If I'm lucky, it's just the Russian mob.

I'm not that lucky.

The room fills with smoke, almost like obtenebration but a little different - I can barely see, it reeks, and I'm not liking it. Then I got sucker-punched by someone with claws, and oh thank you for whatever made me put on the Kevlar t-shirt, cause that shit huuuurt. Job one is to make sure Amalcar and Andre survive, which took some blood and moving, then it's time to get something that'll damage them like they did unto me. Fair's fair after all. Guns won't do it this time, but I'm not exactly partial to having one on me all the time, so I haul ass to the kitchen and get out a knife. And cause I'm a little old school, I lick it. Also, pragmatic. Time to stab a bitch.

Or not, as the case may be. I miss, miss again, and that's quite enough of that bullshit. The knife gets switched out for the Mark 12 AttentionWhore. Brenda's got someone going through the window, and that someone is not friendly, so he gets a free bullet to the skull. After that things settled down, and we were able to take stock of the situation with a fuller view.

Two dead vampires courtesy of Cass, and she's looking a little conflicted about the whole thing. Everyones' got some dings, but overall we're okay. Joy upon joy, we have two entorpored vampires. Apparently one got away, because some of the emeralds are missing. time to confuse the trail a little and give the pursuers some more to work with. Thin their numbers, and then we can interrogate the entorpored ones. If need be, Brenda'll get a little old school on their asses. Now then physical damage to the house.

The first floor is a goddamn wreck. See, this is why it's pretty basic here. When shit like this goes down, it's replaceable. That said, the coffee tables' shot, the chickens' a mess, and someone shot Marvin on my area rug. Well, not really - but you get the picture. We're going to be a couple nights healing, and then we have to figure out the rest of it. Meanwhile, I'm pretty sure I know why someone's killing the fences - but draining their blood is a bit much. We're gonna have to dream up some hemophagic malaria bull story to make it work. Still, any leads on the ~real~ killers is going to be handy. Their methods, and what they're doing with emerald masks is going to be intriguing. Time to wake up the 3d printer for a scan and extrapolate. Once I find out the who, I'm going to have to bill the hell out of them. 175 grand for the emeralds, 1 area rug, 1 coffee table, 1 bullet, 1 t-shirt. Plus a prorate of my time on this.

So....someones' making emerald masks, whoever's doing it may be coerced into doing so, and they've got what appears to be blood magic and Gangrel for their stormtroopers. I have to put off Baghdad for at least a few more days, which is going to make a bunch of people unhappy, not the least of which is Masood. I really don't like making him unhappy.

Ghouling Rebecca. That's a serious thing. Question one, does she want it, question two, does she deserve it. Obviously she can keep a secret, but becoming a ghoul is kind of taxing. I mean, Andre is a wonder at many things, but sometimes he gets into the personal space and is a little overprotective. Which is great because it keeps my arrogance to a minimum, thank you again armored t-shirt. I will have to meet her and ask about her relations with others. Family will have to be explored, see if there's anyone else who needs to be looked at and possibly worked with. Also see if she is viable for Operation Jules. Frankly, she's a police captain which makes her a rarity - but those ties can only be maintained for so long before she's going to have to retire. Deserving is going to be probably yes. But can Andre handle having a sister, as it were. Ugh.

Moment of irony. First time in 3 decades I have a yen to travel, and I'm going to be late.

So Damn Busy

So. Showered, cleaned, and we're going to not mention is that I did kinda top off on the two dead guys. A lot. It was rather uncivilized of me, but hey. All the protein, vitamins, and carbs of grandmas' best turkey dinner right there. So I kinda lost my shit for a little while - but it was, and I cannot stress this enough, delicious. More importantly, they started it. So after I came to my senses, a shower was in order - mainly because I wasn't too concerned about eating like I was before the Queen. Also the rest of it. I spent a lot of time healing, and there was some kind of infection happening until it healed. It wasn't pleasant, and to be honest a little annoying and at the same time worrisome. The other worrisome part is that I walked out of the shower a shade darker than I was. I don't know that anyone not me could have seen it, but I'm pretty sure it's a sign that I shouldn't do that too often. But it was, as I noted, an unrivaled repast.

So I came out of the shower to find Andre working the phones to clean up, Eren was outskies, Cass had already showered and left, Brenda bailed, so it was time to start cleaning up the bodies. So I took the two to the workshop and started to work. Everything they had was handmade, pretty well crafted, so I took an item and went deep into a rabbit hole of who these people were. From what I could gather, our attacker wasn't too old - maybe 60 or 70 as a vampire. But still, there was a lot of jaguar ephemera, he was chosen to serve the jaguar god Teztelopoca, spent a lot of time as a ghoul, and then was Embraced later on. The ceremony itself was odd, he'd gotten a fullbody tattoo, and it was indirect. Like someone drained him, put a clay jar in his mouth, and he woke up all clean and undead. Various adventures, and then he wound up at my doorstep.

That was three hours of my night gone, when I came out of it Cass is looking at me and going "Where the bodies?" They weren't where I left them, and the camera feed shows Brenda taking the bodies. While I'm not miffed about her taking them for whatever plans she has, I was a little miffed she dominated Andre. Seriously, it's going to be a week getting his head unshanked. Pretty sure I sighed somewhere in there, but we had to get to the morgue to look over these 6 dead guys.

One hall pass later, I'm in a Morgue with Brenda and cass. Sure there was a gratuity to make it all nice and legit, but Brenda was like a 5 year old at Toys-R-Us. I looked through all the computer goods, guessed a password, and amused myself while Brenda did...whatever she does. Really it's not a good idea to look too closely at some of the things she does because it's like opening a container of Chinese to discover a mass of earthworms. As long as there's results, I'm not looking too closely. And there apparently were results. Overall we know there's one group doing this, and they're all sporting a serious jones for these emeralds. Said mask is apparently some sort of ritual mask, the only match I found for it is some dead gods' mask in Mexico city, made of jade. So we're probably dealing with some Aztec splinter blood cult. This I need like a kick in the head.

With that mess sorted, information delivered, we get a call from Hugo. Amilcar has gone missing, he's in a hotel, halp. So I sit in the car, leave my body and rocket to the hotel. Astral Plane, when you gotta see it now. I spend a good minute casing the entire hotel, no Amilcar. That's okay, I have a second shot, and it's called reach out and touch his mind directly. Amilcar is a goddamn mess. Not only is he drunk, he's pretty freakin high on something. Oh, and he's in love. And he's a blubbering freaking mess. I did not need to know that. I mean, I'm not exactly one to judge, giving my messy eating earlier, but he was just whipsawing back and forth. He's in hell, but hell should be hot and not have a bad muffler. At he's not in a lot of pain, but he's a good Catholic boy at heart. Back to me and my head, relay the message, he seems okay. From Hugo's end of the line, he found something. There may be an exchange afoot later, but that's going to be for tomorrow. Hugo needs a place to sleep. Hugo's sleeping in Brenda's crazyhouse for the night. Call it a penance of sorts for being a little annoying.

Next night started off so well - dinner at Cass' place, where she's got an anonymous little bungalow townhouse thing going on. Kinda cool, but not a lot of room to grow. It'll do for her, I guess. Nice security, room for later endeavors. Cass catered in, and while we had a few nice drinks, Rebecca and her bodyguard (apparently one of Cass' security guards on special assignment) got the discussion about the emeralds. Lots of things were discussed, and I mostly listened. the overall impression is that Rebecca'd make a decent ghoul. No family, so nobody'll really notice if she drops off the map. We did explain the whole ghouling thing - she kinda blanched at a few parts, but I did note that Cass is apparently cool with being the donor at this point. It does make it less of a moral thing for me. Rebecca was kind enough to defer the question until later - I'm going to guess that in about a year, Rebecca'll take the deal. There's just something about immortality that makes it worth it.

Brenda is not right in the head. I mean less right than normal. Like she didn't recognize me not normal. Great. So now to find her, and the emeralds, because gods only know how long she's going to be out of commission. Hugo gets volunteered to go find Brenda. Now because I'm an absolute genius, I was able to remote activate her phones' gps and send the coordinates to Hugos' phone. Meanwhile, me and my hyperactive nose were going to Brenda's to go smell for the emeralds. As much as I like Hugo, there's something about him that's...lacking initiative. Like he's hell on wheels when he's got direction, but as far as deciding the direction, there's something not all there. We'll have to work on that.

There are various theories on why there's suffering in this world. Since I am well-assured of a divine existence, we can toss out the random chance ideas. The one I'm currently leaning toward is that some people are chosen, like Job, to suffer because God made a bet with the Devil. I'm not sure who's betting for what, but I'm pretty sure there was at least 50 bucks riding on what I did.

Brenda's house is an unholy creepy place. You walk in, and the floor groans. Actually groans. And the whispers in the air were only adding to the spooktasticness. To ice it all down, as soon as I kicked the lights on enough to see, there was a tick tick tick of stiletto heels coming down. Veronica the maid asks about Brenda, and that I shouldn't be here. That alone woulda made Shaggy, Scooby, and the rest of the gang haul ass for the Mystery Machine right quick. Because I am absolutely dumber than those guys, I'm off to sniff for emeralds. They're downstairs, with Busty Maid in Heels following me the whole way, quietly admonishing me that I shouldn't be here. Tough noogies, but I can't really say that. I follow my nose to the right door, the whispers getting louder and more audible, but not enough even for me to make it out. What I can make out is the maids' breathing getting faster and heavier. This isn't good. I find the right door, and it gets worse. The door and room just warp and weave and get all kinds of trippy. So I pull back a little, and ask the freakin' ghosts to knock it the hell off for a minute because there's something I need to do that's important. And just like that, the basement is normal. Score one for having a nice voice, I guess.

Open the door, the Maid's not following me, but her breathing isn't getting faster because she's scared. It was something else. Someday, I'm going to get the courage to ask Brenda if these people are broken when she finds them, or if she breaks them afterward. Either way, the results are the same. I'm walking through a minimorgue with various parts floating in jars. Does nobody but me realize how rank formaldehyde is? It almost covered the blood I was sniffing for, and in the midst all of this the only sounds are me walking and not looking back at the necrophiliac maid watching all this and having some special time. Finally I found the right jar, and it's quite possible the Devil went double or nothing at this point.

The emeralds were in a jar of preserved dicks. Two elbow gloves went on each arm, and as I opened the jar, the stiletto maid hit the magic note and passed the hell out, or something. I did get the emeralds, and flipped the glove inside out for a nice little carrying case.

Worst. Porno. Ever.

So I make my way out, make sure the maid can freaking walk, resolve to never come here again, and head out. As a reward for a job well done, I got a shower from god, as it were. I still took a nice loooooonnng shower after I got in the house. It was still not enough. It'll never be enough. But eventually, Brenda's back, and there's...confusion. First off, Hugo's car looks like he disguised it as a cop car. Cheap hologram Ravnos trick, but it'll probably work on everyone else well enough. Meanwhile, Brenda. It's her voice, her aura, but not her face. And she has no goddamn idea who I am. How that happened, I'd like to know - I got a few hours of tonight I'd love to forget.

Mess cleaned, two more items on the to-do list to go. Although if my gut is right, they're both related. Though once we get this shit cleaned up, we are filing a flight plan and getting the fuck up outta here for a week or so for Baghdad R&R.

Crazy has a smell.

So I send Tina off on an errand, to wit, utilize her Auspex on the managers car to find out what happened. Thankfully, she does have that pretty well handled. So now the next job is to get Brenda uncrazied. That meant we had to track her movements. It was, the insane asylum. So we went there and - to be honest, I'm not sure what happened. I've got some memory, but they're really ephemeral. All I know with certainty is that I was going somewhere with Hugo, and then I bailed on that action and was kicking ass with auspex at the soccer game. (Yes, I still call it soccer. Old habits die hard.)

So I didn't make any money off the game. Meh. I went home, and well, there was a mental patient in my living room. I realized this because he had a wheelchair with a ton of restraints on his hands and feet, an updated hannibal-mask, and somewhere along the line he'd crapped his diaper. I smelled the crazy. In case you're wondering, crazy smells like vinegar-soaked oranges. Also, a filled diaper. I quickly realized that this was Brenda's crazy come to visit me. It's her problem, she gets to deal with it.

So a vampire wheels an escaped mental patient down the street at 4 am. The punch-line? Not many people actually noticed, but it's a thing for another time. I'm not too proud to pull a ding-dong ditch, ever. And it almost worked. Brenda was back to normal, which means whatever I did to get her unmental worked. I interrupted the maid announcing my entrance with a no I'm not here and bailed the fuck out.

Back to the house, where we fumigate and get the crazy out of my damn walls. Tina came back in pretty solid spirits, let me know that the manager basically got Presenced like hell, and walked into the woods with an amazingly hot chick. I've heard this song before, and it goes a little something like "What the fuck is wrong with you people?". Still no Hugo, but I don't get a sense of trouble from him. It's crash-time.

Next night. The assistant manager calls. I am starting to hate the phone, because he lets me know there's a package for me. X-ray has determined it's a hand, and it's moving. Greeeeeeat. So we load for an ambush, and head up to the casino. Thankfully there's no ambush, but the assistant is praying to some heavy duty saints. I open the box, and Tina's just going whiter than white because there's the hand of my manager. The odd thing is it's not animatronic, it's live, warm, and it's got a pulse. and a watch that I can get some goods from. So I do, and I get a lot more than I bargained for.

Revelation the First: My manager's gay. Which is weirder than weird. Admittedly, there is a gay culture here, but machismo is still a thing here, and there's still a deep undercurrent of "Sure, you can be gay, but you'll never get anywhere with it" in Rio. Which means there's some awkward questions for the wife at some point. Does she know he fakes it? Which brings me to revelation the second; he's kinda got the hots for me. That's gonna make rescuing him some kind of awkward. Sadly, we're going to have to dominate the shit out of him to forget the last few nights. Revelation the third follows in quick order, in that these guys have some heavy presence and obfuscate, to the point where it was kinda rough for me to watch. There was some kind of ritual that I'm sure the Tremere would pawn their fangs for, and his hand was removed, but left alive. Finally, the hoochie who brought him here looks at the watch (meaning she knows I've got a decent amount of Auspex) and says something to the effect of she's willing to swap emeralds and the four bodies for manager and Hugo's friend. I think we're getting the shit end of the stick here. As an aside, why can't people just fucking ask? Is there a Tradition of Fuck You Lot that I've not been made aware of yet?

We drive back with the box in the trunk. Tina doesn't want to say a damn thing. I think she was close to barfing. Meanwhile, my head was in overdrive, preparing to make a deal and preparing for the inevitable betrayal. Bringing assault rifle, holdout pistols in the jungle boots, and maybe an auto-shotgun just in case I absolutely positively got to kill every motherfucker in the room. With respect to Jackie Brown, weapons technology has come a long way. So I get home, get to planning a little, and the front gate calls, saying Gandalf is on a horse and would like to talk to me.

Sigh. And we just fumigated. I talk to Gandalf, and it's Hugo. Apparently he's on a quest to save us from Ringwraiths or some bullshit. I'm guessing we went to crazytown, and Hugo brought back some souvenirs. I tell the guard to go ahead and escort Gandalf on up, it's a prank, not to worry. Sure enough, it's Hugo. On Shadowfax. I can still see through his illusions, but they're better than they were. So, we put Shadowfax in the garage, call Brenda, and give her the lowdown. Finally, we go to the cleaners, get the bodies back, and now to get the people together. I think for this one, we'll want Sawsan and Anselmo. They're new, I do need to find out what they're like, and then we can talk afterwards before I fly out. Eren gave me a pebble, just in case.

Dealing and dancing

So now that the gang's all together, we piled our asses into the Mule. Basically, it's a nicely armored hummvee that's kept in nice shape, has room for 8 in a pinch, and has a couple upgrades that were not approved by the department of defense. Meanwhile, I'm dressed to kill; several pistols ensconced in various places about my person, low profile armor, and some spare clips in the jungle boots. Hair back, and shades on. Not just any shades though - these are the Oakley wraparound shooter glasses with integrated HUD, comms, multiple filters for low-light, infrared, ultraviolet, records 1080i video direct to my phone, and mp3 player. No they weren't cheap. But they are handy, and they'll be fashionable for decades.

Precious little information on the actual club, and I have a ton of information on everywhere. Seriously, it's like the place didn't exist, but everyone in the little village that's only technically part of Rio knew where it was. So we went around the block a few times, found a good lay of the land, and then we decided to recon en masse. Lily took the top, Anselmo took the bottom, I took the astral realm, and Brenda went to whatever weird place dead people go. I think. Meanwhile Cass and Gandalf were chillin the hell out and watching the dead bodies in my area rug.

I'd like to indulge myself for a moment - for those of you who've never seen the astral realm, you're missing out. It's a land of ideals. Like, the ideal self. As an example, Ideal Jason has 8-pack abs, hair down to his ankles in a dead-perfect braid, disgustingly well defined legs and pecs and is also hung like a moose. (Odd how that's still a thing, even though it's not nearly as useful/fun as it used to be. Mortal hangups.) But enough about me, the realm is the thing. It's not just me, everything is in the ideal form as imagined by its' creator. It's a land where the sense of self is king. Even if that sense of self is a little narcissistic, it's still the perfection and beauty of the place. Between you and me, I fucking love the astral realm. The flower is an ideal flower, the hummvee is an ideal hummvee, and the club is the ideal mesoamerican ziggurat. *Record scratch*

Wait. That wasn't a ziggurat when I was circling it a few moments ago. But it is now, and leads to some very intriguing questions about the mind of its' creator. This is the kind of thing that makes me think I shoulda brought a shotgun. Ah well. Hopefully we can keep this on a polite level without too much trouble. But in we go - and through a hole used by some mythical "the fuck is that" creature from Aztec mythology. Inside, it's about the same - like someone dropped a chunk of Ancient Aztec culture here and forgot to tell them the Spaniards kicked their ass. Well, there's worse things that could happen in the world. Get a quick look around, get a lay of the place. The blue-collar look like lower caste grunts, and the richer folks (relatively) had more decorative robes like a priesthood or something. So overall we're on her ground. Best to be polite. Duly noted, don't see where my people are hidden, so it's time to bail. Only the mythical whatsit was back and it didn't like my silver cord. Fight or flight, even though it woulda been an interesting battle, I did not have time for its' bullshit. So I bailed on that shitstorm, and back to my body I went.

According to Cass, it took all of 9.8352 seconds. It is goddamn creepy when she starts doing her stopwatch routine. But, we gave explicit instructions to Hugo G. Andalf that he was to stick around the treasure in the rugs and safeguard it until we came back. He muttered something about not being so mysterious Aragorn. I swear, this is why you never make a deal with a Malkavian. Even the best deals leave you a nutbar for weeks. And so we made our way to the club. I did take a few to admire how Cass was able to get her body armor to form with the dress and not leave too many people thinking she was wearing body armor. I flipped to infrared and started checking the place out. If there was shooting, I wanted to make sure I knew who would just be inconvenienced by a headshot as opposed to being sent to their next life. And then at the bar I saw someone that tickled the back of my brainpan. After some pause, it was...Bruce. Good Christ did all my old friends get whipsawed around? Really - how the hell did 3 D&D group members become...this? And seriously, is there anyone else from the group out there?

Sidle up to the bar, and Bruce isn't Bruce, he's Duarte. Meh. I'm Jose. Unfortunately, his fashion sense went to shit, because he had a mullet and a trenchcoat made from human skin (dyed black, but still - a face was kinda hanging out.) It was good to see another face from the days when rolling a 20 was cause for a shout of oh hell yes, and I think he mighta felt the same. So we had a quick chat, and he was kind enough to warn me to be well and clear by midnight. The Wisdom of the Ancients holds thus: "When the mulleted dude from your past wearing a trenchcoat made of people says curfew is midnight, curfew is in fact midnight."

I pop the comms and let everyone know about the curfew, and decide to press my luck. The lady I need to talk to is the lead dancer - I kid you not, I would have given her money and made all kinds of promises to her back in the day, but...not tonight. However, during my discussions and chitchat about Kender, Dwarves, and Shit getting real at midnight, Gandalf decided to make an entrance. Or tried to. I wasn't really paying attention, but Cass had to go to the front to break up a fight. Apparently Gandalf was fighting the guards of Rohan. Why? Because the plan can never go smooth, that's why.

So with that distraction going through my head, I go up to meet the lady in charge. The pleasantries are there, but still. This was business - even though she'd changed, she knew I was there for a trade. I gave up the emeralds, she mentioned Lily and Anselmo. I admitted to having brought friends as a precaution, because really who wouldn't. We chatted quietly for a few clucked our tongues over the unfairness of it all, and generally killed time while Cass and Gandalf hiked my area rug to the backstage. With amilcar and Manager in tow, there was ruckus. Got Anselmo to take the two prizes to the hummvee and I proceeded backstage to shoot whatever was coming, giving Lilly the clear to come down and cover me as needed.

It wasn't. Cass and Gandalf had already left - I know this because one guy was writhing around in agony over the fake fire crawling all over him, while there were two more guys just going through the motions. Again, and Again. I could smell Cass' blood on one of their sets of claws, so they must have tried a sucker punch. Note to self, the dogs are not well trained. They're...I wouldn't call them thugs, but they're not good troopers. Whereas my people are. Mostly. When they're not having delusions of Middle Earth. Of course, Gandalf was bringing his A game on Cass all the ride home - Galadriel, complimenting her willowy elven form...the only thing that kept me from laughing all the way home was the fact that Cass had gotten raked for good and proper down her side. Even after healing, there was gonna be a mark.

During all this, I have no idea what happened on Brenda's run-through, but she seemed really really pleased with herself. Given her Wednesday proclivities, I for one am shit scared to ask what happened there. Maybe I'll ask on the Dresden to Beirut leg of our flight. Unfortunately, it's going to be a week before we can get the flight plan approved and the funds channeled. So we have time to kill.

Now as an epilogue to this, my manager is in a serious mental crisis. He's gay, but he is also totally in love with the dancer lead. He can't even hold the whole "cut his hand off and mailed it to me" against her, because I wiped that from his mind. I gave him a couple weeks off, and we're doing late night meetings with his wife as well. Mental health through dominate. Sure I'm cheating, but I can't exactly tell them "He's gay, but a vampire twisted his head around so that he thinks he's in love with her." It wouldn't end well. She thinks there's another woman, and there is. But once he's back to himself, she doesn't need to. Now once he's back to himself, she does need to worry about the boys, but that's a problem for later.

Much, much later, apparently.

Addendum: I think Duarte and I have reached something of an understanding. Fate hasn't exactly put us on the same side, but I think we have enough of an understanding that we won't haggle about the fine print if we have to work together.

Anselmo is a harder nut to crack. He's an expatriate of the sabbat, which means he's got some serious soul-searching to do. The question there is lingering - how much is the viniculum going to call him home. It's ironic really, to escape being blood bound to elders, they've bound themselves to each other. Perhaps those chains are acceptable when the alternative is eternal devotion to an undying lord who thinks of you as mobile furniture. The other question that remains is Ur-Shugli. He and his kind were the undying lords that brought about the rebellion of the Sabbat in the first place. We'll talk about things and then hopefully he'll decide. Within the schism, I find myself actively agitating for the Dispossessed. I wasn't brought back to be furniture, or some ancients' beloved pet. At the same time, I can't just Rambo my way through Venice and put a bullet through Augustus Giovannis' forehead and then go Arrivederci.

More to think about on the flight.